Easy Rider

The iconic American chopper – all stretched-out forks, ape-hanger handlebars and forward foot pegs – is often seen as the ultimate expression of freedom on two wheels. But look closer and you'll notice something oddly familiar. It’s not just a machine for the open road. It’s a horse. Or at least, it's trying to be.

The thought struck me while watching an old clip of Barbara Stanwyck in Forty Guns. There she was, sitting tall in the saddle, legs stretched forward, back straight, reins high. It was the classic Western riding stance – and it hit me like a freight train. Swap the horse for a chopper and nothing changes. The same posture, the same swagger. The only difference is the soundtrack – the rumble of an engine instead of hoofbeats.

That got me thinking about where choppers came from in the first place. After World War II, American servicemen came home with a taste for speed and simplicity. The big Harley-Davidsons and Indians they’d left behind suddenly felt bloated, sluggish and dull. So they did what any self-respecting gearhead would do – they stripped the bikes down. Off came the heavy mudguards, crash bars and other useless frills. What was left was lean, mean and fast. These stripped-down machines became known as "bobbers," named for their bobbed mudguards.

But some riders took it further. They didn’t just want lighter bikes. They wanted attitude. Enter the chopper – named for the way builders "chopped" the frames and forks to stretch the front end out. The longer the forks, the more extreme the look. The seat dropped lower, the handlebars climbed higher and the foot controls moved forward. The result? A riding position that had nothing to do with practicality and everything to do with style. Without even trying, they’d recreated the posture of a cowboy in the saddle.

Think about it. The rider sits back, legs extended, arms raised like they’re holding invisible reins. It's pure Western horsemanship, just with chrome instead of leather and a petrol tank instead of a saddle. The forward foot controls force you into that cowboy sprawl, hips open, spine curved like you’re riding the range. It’s not about comfort. It’s about attitude.

Harley enthusiasts will tell you it’s all about style. Function? Forget it. Try weaving through traffic on one of those raked-out monstrosities and you’ll be cursing the day you thought looking cool mattered more than making a corner without wrestling the handlebars like an angry bull. But style wins, doesn't it? The whole chopper scene is a love letter to the American frontier – the horseman swapping spurs for exhaust pipes.

Films like Easy Rider hammered the point home. Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper weren’t just bikers. They were modern cowboys, roaming a country they no longer recognised, much like the drifters of the Old West. The bike wasn’t just transport. It was a statement – a middle finger to conformity wrapped in polished metal and cheap thrills.

The irony? Real bikers – the ones clocking thousands of miles a year – don’t touch choppers. Too impractical. Too uncomfortable. But practical isn’t the point, is it? The chopper is fantasy made real. A horse you don’t have to feed, shoe or muck out. Just fire it up, hit the road and pretend the world isn’t closing in.

Freedom? Maybe. A fashion statement? Definitely. But if you think you’re riding a motorcycle and not some petrol-powered pony, you’ve missed the whole point.