Move Over, Break Dancing

By Kathleen Brady.

Here is how you do it: jump on a bike and pedal in a straight line. Brake abruptly, spin the bike over the jammed front wheel and stand semiupright on "fork stander" pegs that you have attached to either side of the front tire. When the maneuver is completed, pedal off nonchalantly. Congratulations. You have just freestyled. You are a "bike breaker." Go join skate boarders and break dancers in the Street-Life Hall of Fame.

But wait. There are still a lot of tricks to be learned. Any biker worthy of his wheels knows the "Vander roll," a forward somersault over the handlebars as you pull the bike along behind you. Then there is the "cherry picker," in which you lock the brakes and bounce on one wheel as if the bike were a pogo stick.

The latest craze for teenagers, mostly boys, bike breaking first rode out of the California fadlands. Today urban parks and streets all across the nation spin with the kids' aggressive energy and hair-raising choreography. They have their own argot: "rad" means good; a "squid" or "nipple head" is an awkward rider; "to Wilson" is to fall. In San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, somebody brings the music -- Phil Collins, Run-D.M.C. -- and somebody else a ramp for the daredevils to soar above, and the showboating begins. Says Dave Vanderspek, 22, the leader of the Curb Dogs Club: "Instead of getting attention by breaking windows, now I have people screaming for me when I'm rippin'." Adds a more diffident biker: "It's a good way to meet girls."

In New York City's Central Park, the Rad Dogs, five Hispanic teens from the Bronx, enthrall crowds with their bike-borne acrobatics. "That was a Miami hop, followed by a pedal picker and a helicopter," explains Paul Perez, 16, after a display that bends the laws of physics. Marco Quezada, 16, tells the Rads' story: "We had nothing much to do until we saw a guy with a trick bike who did a few things, simple stuff, but we were real impressed. So we all started going out to get bikes of our own. That was two years ago, and now I suppose we have maybe 100 tricks between us."

The Rads may pocket $300 on a good day. A member of one of the professional teams now traveling the country may earn from $35,000 to $85,000 a year for appearing at shows under the auspices of such bike manufacturers as GT, Haro and Red Line. Bike breaking has all the signs of a street craze going mainstream: bikers are showing up in commercials (Pepsi, Swatch watches) and in music videos, and grateful merchandisers are climbing aboard with lines of bikes, gear and clothes. Says Happy Freedman, a semipro cyclist and salesman at Larry & Jeff's in New York City: "The freestyle craze is only starting. By next summer, we are going to see it going on everywhere."

How do you cut yourself in on the fun? Well, freestyle-ready bikes like the Rad Dogs' will set you back $500 to $750 apiece. You can take lessons from a pro for $100 a day and try to make the grade in a club. And then, once your arm is out of the cast, you will never forget freestyling. It is just like riding a bicycle.

With reporting by Roger Franklin/New York and Lisa Harris/San Francisco