Wheelin’ around
Jewish bikers shatter some motorcycling myths
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Print![]() | Renee Kornbluth, a member of Hillel’s Angels who teaches motorcycle riding at Fairleigh Dickinson University, shown during the 2006 Ride to Remember. Courtesy Renee Kornbluth |
Ilan Mamber hears two kinds of music. One is in the synagogue, Beth Rishon in Wyckoff, where he is the cantor. The other is on the open road, where the 800cc engine in his Honda Pacific Coast hums as he cruises down the highway.
“The ultimate is a beautiful ride in the country,” said Mamber. “When the weather is perfect, and the road is perfect, you can see and feel everything much better than in a car; you become part of it,” he said in a telephone interview.
For Mamber, though, and other members of the Jewish motorcycle riding community, riding goes beyond a nice day in the country. There is a special camaraderie associated with riding with other Jews and doing good works.
Stereotypes of the typical “biker” are out the window, as far as Jewish riders are concerned.
“We are a subculture of a subculture,” said Gil Paul of North Edison. “Motorcycle riding in general is a unique sport. We have surgeons, dentists, lawyers.” Paul is a sales executive and a member of Hillel’s Angels, a New Jersey-based club that grew out of Mamber’s initial interest in riding.
If the name Hillel’s Angels brings a grin to your face, how about the Chai Riders, another area club with members in New York, Long Island, and New Jersey. The clubs are among some 40 across the country and overseas that come under the umbrella of the Jewish Motorcycle Association (http://www.jewishbikersworldwide.com).
The club names are good for a chuckle. North of the border there are the Montreal Maccabees and Toronto’s Yidden on Wheels. Northern California has the Ridin’ Chai club. The Jews that Cruise ride out of Pittsburgh. Iowa City has the Hawkchai Riders (Iowa is the Hawkeye State). Then there are the Chais of Texas, what else?
In addition, there are clubs in Australia, England, Israel, and South Africa.
It is more than just cute names, however, said Mel Morris, communications director for the JMA. “If you’re on a bike, say in Iowa, you can call somebody, they’ll invite you over,” he said. “What is our bond? We ride motorcycles and we’re Jewish – Reform, Conservative, Orthodox. That’s what it’s all about.”
“Jews have been riding motorcycles since motorcycles were invented,” said Mamber. In the late 1990s, people began to ride together in the Bergen County area. From that came Hillel’s Angels. Morris, a former Mahwah resident now living in Florida, was one of the early members.
As clubs proliferated, they began to discover each other, and that eventually gave birth to the JMA, Morris said. The initial get-together for the JMA was a “meet-and-greet” for members of various clubs in Delaware in 2004.
Locally, the riders do charity work, such as entertaining disabled youngsters. They support Israel, riding in the Salute to Israel Parade in New York. Their signature event, however, is the annual Ride to Remember, or R2R, to commemorate the Holocaust, said Morris.
The inaugural ride was to the Holocaust Museum in Washington in 2005. The following year, Jewish motorcyclists from across North America converged on Whitwell, Tenn., where a school project collected millions of paper clips as a symbol of Holocaust victims. The riders raised $35,000 for the school Holocaust education program. (The project was the subject of an award-winning 2004 documentary film, “Paper Clips.”)
In May, the Jewish bikers rode to Virginia Beach. Next year, they plan to convene in Toronto.
A highlight for the local riders is the Celebrate Israel parade, which was held this year on June 5. “We proudly ride up Fifth Avenue,” said David Himber, president of the Chai Riders.
Himber is dean of students at Yeshiva University. Weather permitting, he commutes the 25 miles from his home in Brooklyn to YU’s Washington Heights campus.
What do the students think when they see the dean ride up on his Yamaha Stratoliner? “Cool,” they say.
Avi Kuperberg of Fair Lawn, a Chai Rider, says he is an anomaly at his shul, Shomrei Torah in Fair Lawn, when he rides up on his Honda Goldwing, “People get a kick out of it,” he said.
“It’s the rebellious side of all of us,” said Kuperberg. He knows about things of the spirit — he’s a practicing psychologist and an Orthodox rabbi. He cited the Israel parade, and spoke of tremendous “Jewish self-pride” in riding with other Jews.
Dr. Charles Knapp, a dentist, is a prime mover of Jewish motorcycle activity in the Fair Lawn area and an early Chai Rider. He and his fellow riders kick off the season with a “Poker Run” ride beginning with a bagel-and-lox breakfast in the Temple Beth Sholom parking lot.
They combine good works with fun. This year members participated in Gooch’s Garlic Run, an annual ride of some 2,000-plus motorcyclists, many police officers, to raise funds for ailing children. The ride went from Morris County to Newark’s Ironbound section, Knapp said.
He and the Jewish riders began the day with a kosher barbecue in Fair Lawn. On the second Wednesday of the month, they meet for dinner at a kosher restaurant in the region. “We’re Jewish, we do Jewish stuff,” he said.
As much as the Jewish bikers ride for pleasure, they ride to help others, said Lauren Secular. She is the Chai Riders treasurer, a member of Hillel’s Angels, and active in the wider motorcycle community.
She cited visits to brighten the day for special-needs children at camps Simcha and HASC in the Catskills. Because of Orthodox practice, she said women bikers give rides to the girls at Camp Simcha.
Safety is paramount for the riders. “We’re not Hell’s Angels, we want to enjoy life,” Knapp said. “We definitely focus on safety,” Himber added, noting that Chai Rider members must take a safety refresher course every three years.
Hillel’s Angels also highlights safety. “We stress continued education and safe practices on group rides,” said Paul, safety officer for the club. “We try very hard to minimize the risks.”
Another stereotype to do away with is that motorcycle riders are young. Bob Nesoff of New Milford, a Chai Rider, began riding at age 66. “I will be 73 and I am still learning,” said the writer and journalist.
“I’ve heard that Jews aren’t athletic,” he chuckled. “Why, because you’re Jewish, you should sit down and play canasta?”
Nesoff began by taking riding lessons at Fairleigh Dickinson University in Teaneck, he said. That is where Renee Kornbluth teaches new riders.
Kornbluth, a member of the Hillel’s Angels, began riding while in Thailand in 1989, and the sport took hold. She said her participation in the 2006 R2R to Tennessee was a tribute to her parents. She is the daughter of Holocaust survivors.
An IT consultant by profession, Kornbluth said her motorcycle riding and Jewish connection are intertwined. “In a way, it has brought me back to my Jewish identity,” she said.
As with Himber, the YU dean, Kornbluth’s motorcycle is her main form of transportation. She rides all year. “I froze for the first 18 years. Now I have a heated jacket,” she said.
Kornbluth said her students at FDU range from 17 to 79. The course runs two days and includes classroom work plus actual riding.
Most important is the ability to stay calm under pressure, she said. “You don’t have to be a great athlete,” she said. “You have to be patient with yourself.” The “mechanical skills will become second nature,” she added.
Passing the basic course leads to an endorsement for a motorcycle license, Kornbluth said.
“Yes, it’s more difficult than riding a car, but it’s also more fun,” she said, and not everyone gets it the first time around. “It can take longer if you’re older, and you may have to take the course twice.”
For riders like Dean Himber, 67, riding a motorcycle was a dream he had as a teenager. Then, in his 40s, he said to himself, “I am a big boy now and I am going to go riding.”
Mamber said his passion for motorcycles was born both out of his memory of being taken for a ride back in Israel at the age of 10 and his need for transportation as a young man working in Brooklyn. He taught himself to ride.
For the riders, the concept of Jews on bikes is simple. “We are people who support Jewish causes and get together to ride motorcycle,” said Himber.
“I just enjoy motorcycling,” said Kuperberg, who rides a plush machine with cruise control and four speakers piping in music. “It’s a wonderful experience.”
“It’s better than riding in a cage,” said Knapp, the dentist. “It clears your head.”
“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey,” Himber said.
There is one more stereotype to toss out: All bikers have tattoos. Most Jewish bikers do not.
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PrintInteresting article about an interesting group! It’s nice to see an article on the positive aspects of motorcycle enthusiasts. THANKS!
And for the record, it’s “Hells Angels” without the apostrophe. In the Hells Angels™ philosophy, there’s more than one hell.
I used to write a column for Thunder Press, a biker magazine, and about 9 or 10 years ago, they published this (FYI- I am a founding member of Chai Riders and know everybody in your article:
It’s been many years since I rode to elementary school on the back of a Vespa. More ironic is the fact that I rode to Yeshiva holding my skullcap tightly to my head. (It was then that I realized why men should wear bobby pins.) I was twelve then, and knew that I would own a scoot as soon as I could. Six years later, I did. No matter what people said: “Jews don’t ride motorcycles,” or “you’re an embarrassment to yourself and to your people,” I felt alive on my ride.
Fast-forward 28 years, to the National HOG Rally in Asheville, North Carolina.
Seven thousand bikers were standing around before opening ceremonies when I arrived with a couple of members of my HOG chapter (both of whom are not Jewish). I wore my STAR of DAVID Motorcycle Club T-shirt; the words encircling a large Star of David.
People gawked, nudged each other, and pointed. One man asked me to bring him a beer and a Nazi helmet. I told him that I’d bring him the helmet, with the head of the guy who wore it, still inside.
These weren’t locals, or 1%ers, every biker there was a member of H.O.G.
Was my shirt offensive? I don’t think so, but, like many of us who ride two wheels, I’m often horribly misunderstood.
The opening ceremonies ended, and as we headed out into the parking lot, I heard a woman screaming at her husband, “Look, look, look!” I turned, anticipating an attack when she said, “Irving, Irving, look at that shirt!” I couldn’t stop laughing, half due to the relief that there wasn’t going to be a brawl. She wanted to know where she could get the shirt, and she wasn’t the only one who asked.
There are plenty of raisons d’être for a bike club, why not a Jewish club? My father rode a motorcycle in Vienna, until the day the Nazis marched in and took it away from him.
There was a Jewish bike club called Maccabee in Europe in the 30’s.
It, once again, recalls Shylock’s speech in The Merchant of Venice (“hath not
a Jew eyes ... if you tickle us do we not laugh…”). Suffice it to say that Jewish motorcycle clubs have all the same problems and go through all the same crap as every other motorcycle club; which include the press’s and therefore the public’s perception of us.
Unlike our ancestors who rode horses out of necessity, we ride because we love to. Not unlike many of these ancestors, we like to think of ourselves as noble knights, riding into some foray with sword in hand, or rescuing damsels in distress astride our mounts.
It isn’t exactly like that anymore and, to tell the truth, I haven’t seen a dragon since “Dragon” Goldfarb cruised Kings Highway back in the 60’s (and he was too much fun to be with to slay).
So, how do we, “The Knights of the Iron Horse” continue doing the good work of the days of yore? We go on myriad runs that support myriad charities. In truth, these are mostly happenings, the charities secondary to the event. Now far be it for me to think that there is anything wrong with happenings. On the contrary, I love ‘em, hell, I was at Woodstock. They’re great, they’re exciting, they bring lots of fun people together, and they raise substantial sums of money for wonderful causes. But, it’s not enough! So what’s the difference? We do it face to face.
In October 1999, the Chai (Hebrew for life) Riders—my club, which we jokingly refer to as Mel’s Angels— was covered in an article published by The Forward, a 102-year old Yiddish newspaper.
We rode up to New York’s Catskill Mountains one Sunday in August. It was a
back-roads ride, not unlike any other club ride, except that we had an unusual destination: a camp for children with either severe learning disabilities or Down’s Syndrome. There were only 13 or 14 of us that braved the pouring rain for half the trip upstate and we rode into camp with no idea what to expect.
We were directed through the camp to the basketball court, where we parked our bikes.
En masse, the campers began to move toward us. We quickly warned them that the bike’s engines were hot and they’d have to wait a while until they could get closer to them.
With these over-active kids bouncing around, we talked about bikes and riding. They drew closer and closer, until we were finally engulfed. What sheer delight! I’m still smiling. These kids were all over our bikes and us.
Their conditions prohibited actual riding, but they donned our helmets, in some cases our leathers, and mounted up. Most of the kids had to be lifted onto the bikes, and hundreds of pictures were taken.
Have you ever seen the look on the face of a child when he sees something for the first time, something that is foreign to him or his environment; the smile that lights up his face or the glow that remains? Now picture a child with Down’s Syndrome, sitting on a big old Harley, a tiny helmet on his head, his arms stretched forward grasping (or trying to grasp) the handlebars.
Picture it!
Had we ridden in at night, the glow on the faces of these kids would’ve lit up the sky. We spent two or three hours at the camp. We left exhausted and exhilarated. The kids are still talking about it. You want to know something? So are we.
What did the reporter say about the trip, after interviewing us? “They went to a camp for special children to show off their bikes.”
What did he miss? Did he think we were on a jaunt and just happened upon this camp?
We never would have expected this sort of misunderstanding from of our own.
Maybe he should have actually come up to the camp with us and not do an after-the-fact report. He had ridden with us once before, in an attempt to uncover the mystery of the Jewish biker, but it seemed to have done little; his words were based on his preconceived notions of bikers in general. Who knows?
We have to try harder to make them see past the hooting and the hollering, past the screaming throttles and loud pipes and make them be a part of all the glorious things we do for these children. Make known the good work we do, and show that beyond our “Live To Ride, Ride To Live” motto (which we pronounce “Live To Ride, Ride To Eat”) we also live by the words of William Shakespeare from Romeo and Juliet,
“...the more I give to thee, the more I have…”
Hi Guys;
Very intertesting article. I was the fifth bike in at Witwell Tenn. It was`a wonderful experience. i will be 74 in October. I just returned from Houston Texas on my ‘97 Valkerie. I made it to Texarcana Texas at 7P.M. of the second day,and completed the trip to my grandchildren in Houston the next morning. Its`approximately 1800 miles.(2807 Km.to be exact) I am past president of Y.O.W of Toronto and an active member of the Toront Wings. If Ashem allows it I will be biking till 90. It is FREEDOM !!
Great article, the JMA is a great organization!
Ride safe, hope to meet the whole club some day.
Robby
Ridin’ Chai of Northern California
Cool article! Tonight, on our show on Galey Yisrael in Jerusalem, we are interviewing a military father and son who are taking a motorcycle tour across Israel - tune in live on Tuesday night at 11:50pm here: http://tinyurl.com/YishaiLive1 or download later here: http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-yishai-fleisher-show/id448068499






















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