The Raleigh Chopper, like the Space Hopper and the platform heel, was a triumph of form over function. The relaunch of this 1970s classic comes too late for William Cook, who would have kissed more girls and done less work if only he'd been allowed to have one

Like a lot of middle-class kids, I was never allowed a Chopper, but that didn't stop me admiring them from afar. In the 1970s, this absurd but beautiful bicycle was the acme of childhood chic. The boys who rode Choppers wore Wrangler jeans and beetle-crushers, danced to records by Mud, Slade and Sweet, and snogged all the girls at youth-club discos. The girls who rode them were even cooler (and even scarier).

The kids who had Choppers and the kids who did not are now teetering on the edge of middle age. In the 1980s, men bought red Porsches to fend off the male menopause, but these days most of us don't have quite so much ready cash, which may be why Raleigh is relaunching the bike that did for cycling proficiency what glam rock did for Top of the Pops.

"Demand for retro products such as the VW Beetle and the Mini Cooper sparked the idea," says Raleigh's sales director, Carl Wright. "The Chopper has been restyled for the new century and a new generation of kids." The frame is now alloy rather than steel, but apart from the gearstick (which has been moved from the top tube to the handlebars), it still looks much the same: that big back wheel, those apehanger handlebars and that laughable, adorable banana seat. In April, 2,004 new Choppers (it really should be 1,970) go on sale, priced £199.99. "It's taken Raleigh nine months to redesign the Chopper, and we know it's going to prove as popular today as it did back in the Seventies," says Wright. Whether it does or not, this is a welcome return for a bike that defined a decade that was somehow far more silly - and yet a lot more groovy - than any decade before or since.

"British originality," proclaimed the first poster, which depicted a lad on a Chopper in front of a British Rail Seaspeed hovercraft. "Once there were ships. Then there were aircraft. Now there is Hovercraft, a whole new way of zipping across the sea - at high speed. It's this sort of original thinking that puts Raleigh out in front with innovations that really take off." Yet, although the Raleigh Chopper still feels as British as Noddy Holder (or a British Rail hovercraft, for that matter), like all the best aspects of youth culture, it had its origins in the United States.

In the 1940s, American bikers discovered that stripped-down motorbikes went faster - especially without the rear mudguard - and so they started "bobbing" or "chopping" their "hogs" to increase their speed. This soon became a fashion statement as much as a practical measure, the modifications transforming anonymous machines into personalised accessories. By the 1960s, bikers had begun adding bits rather than removing them, but the old name stuck and "chopper" became a byword for any sort of modified motorbike.

It wasn't long before Californian youngsters started turning out customised push-bikes, mimicking the grown-up motorbikes in the fast lane. The fad of bicycle polo spawned a push- bike with a big fat seat, which became a backyard classic. As surfing spread from the surfboard to the skateboard, so the Californian chopper spread from the interstate highway to the suburban cul-de-sac.

When a home-made craze takes off, big business is never far behind, and it wasn't long before so-called "muscle bikes" such as the 1963 Schwinn Sting-Ray were being mass-produced in the US. Raleigh responded with two stateside models called the Rodeo and the Fireball, but things really began to happen when Raleigh's Alan Oakley flew to America to check out the scene, sketched a design for a brand-new bike and created the Raleigh Chopper.

The Chopper was launched in the US in 1968, but the best possible advert for its British launch was Easy Rider. Released in 1969, this seminal American road movie became a huge hit among Britain's youth, and no adolescent den was complete without the poster. When Raleigh launched the Chopper here that same year, it seemed the closest we were ever going to get to those magnificent motorbikes and that tantalising mirage of transatlantic hedonistic excess. Well, which would you rather grow up with? Ted Heath and Harold Wilson bickering about power cuts and the three-day week or Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper cruising across America? Raleigh released 500 Choppers to dealers in Newcastle, Manchester and Croydon in the run-up to Christmas. They sold so well that, in 1970, the Chopper went nationwide.

In America, there had been other muscle bikes. In Britain, on the other hand, basic bike design had barely changed since the Second World War, and to British eyes the Chopper was quite shocking. It was hard to believe this was a Raleigh bike. Founded by Frank Bowden in a bicycle shop in Raleigh Street, Nottingham, in 1888, Raleigh led the world by 1892, but its respectable public image continued to reflect its provincial roots. Raleigh made sensible bicycles - the sort that fathers bought for their sons. The Chopper was the kind of bike your sister's boyfriend rode, to your dad's disapproval. Even the colours reflected a tweenage flair for the trash aesthetic: Infra Red, Brilliant Orange, Flamboyant Green and - best of all - Fizzy Lemon. For a generation who blew their pocket money (and rotted their milk teeth) on sweets such as Spangles, Refreshers and Opal Fruits, this was a bike with perfect taste. No wonder it outsold every other brand of children's bicycle.

Like the Space Hopper and the platform heel, the Chopper was a victory of form over function. Raleigh had to warn buyers that the bike wasn't designed to carry passengers, and even Mark Rich of the Raleigh Chopper Owners Club now admits they were slow and heavy. But none of this seemed to matter. It was a bike for posing on, not racing on, which is why the drop-handlebar version never achieved the same iconic status. Riding a bike had never felt more awkward - or looked so neat. "It handles like a Tesco trolley with a wheel missing," reported Total Bike a few years back. "Who the hell cares?" Even the bike's appearance on Blue Peter, ridden by the programme's clean-cut presenters, couldn't dent its rebellious image. The Chopper was an adman's dream - a popular mainstream product with underground appeal. And it cost less than forty quid.

The Chopper finally bowed out in 1982, but the bike with the foam-filled polo saddle and the motorcycle-style rear reflector has refused to lie down and die. The England goalkeeper David James collects them, and there's an awesome array of enthusiasts out there in cyberspace. Forget about mountain bikes or BMXs. The Chopper was the only bicycle that could make a pre- pubescent boy feel like Steve McQueen. If my mum and dad had let me have one, I'm sure I would have snogged more girls and passed fewer exams. In the end, the admen were right. The Raleigh Chopper wasn't all that different from Easy Rider, after all.

For more information, visit www.raleigh.co.uk

Post your comment

Please note: you will need to login or register before you can comment on the website