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" A faint, tinny hum tickles my ears shortly after I exit the interstate in Hercules, Calif. Hum grows to buzz as I pull into a business park of sprawling asphalt and scrawny saplings. Stopping in front of a low-slung office building, I kill the motor and pop open the car door. Suddenly the din is phenomenal, a concerto for remote-control airplane, weed whacker and chain saw. It&amp;#039;s the sound of pocket bikes. The sound, that is, of the shin-high motorcycles whose popularity has exploded in recent months, especially here in the San Francisco Bay area. Behind the building, three large men on tiny bikes whiz by, blazing down a straightaway on a course marked by orange cones. They lean hard into a 90\u00B0 left turn, pop upright, then drop to the right, knees skimming asphalt. Hunched over wee handlebars, their legs bowed like butterfly wings, the riders look like clowns, the evil kind. The flying monkeys theme from &amp;quot;The Wizard Of Oz&amp;quot;--da-dum, da-dum, da-dum-dum--springs to mind. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Mini Grand Prix, brought to you by Shrinky Dinks. Europeans have raced pocket bikes for decades; Valentino Rossi, the Lance Armstrong of MotoGP, got his start on them. In the United States, cadres of enthusiasts have been riding pocket bikes for at least five years, noodling around parking lots like this one or competing at racetracks. Price is a key part of the attraction: $2000 buys a fine, Italian-built machine, while $4000 pays for the pocket equivalent of a Ducati. Besides, pocket bikes are a kick to ride. A top speed of 50 mph may sound skimpy, but when you&amp;#039;re 4 in. off the ground, whipping around turns like the pod racers in &amp;quot;The Phantom Menace,&amp;quot; it feels like 150. Nevertheless, pocket biking remained a cult sport in the United States until late 2003. That&amp;#039;s when Chinese knockoffs priced as low as $200 began to flood the U.S. market. They were sold everywhere--flea markets, auto supply stores, Wal-Mart--and people assumed that you could ride them everywhere, too. You can&amp;#039;t. Nearly invisible to motorists and lacking horns, headlights and turn signals, pocket bikes aren&amp;#039;t street legal. Yet, gangs of half-pint Hells Angels were soon seen zipping through the streets of San Francisco. By early summer police around the country had clamped down. Private property and racetracks were the only places where riding was allowed, and lawbreakers risked being ticketed and having their bikes confiscated. Even before a teenager in New York City was killed riding one of the machines this summer, dozens of media outlets, including USA Today, reported shrilly on the Pocket Bike Problem. The message was clear: As a threat to American Youth, pocket bikes rivaled rap, pot and low-rider jeans. The warnings didn&amp;#039;t seem to have the desired effect. In 2003, a relative handful of pocket bikes were sold in the United States, but this year the number has skyrocketed to around 100,000. And that begs the question: If everybody hates these bikes, then why are they so popular?  Scanning carefully for low-orbit traffic, I cross the lot, the weekend practice track for a group of Bay area riders known as Team Sucka Free. A dozen guys are gathered around a shade canopy; bikes, parts and tools are everywhere. One rider lifts his machine onto a tabletop stand to change a tire. Another tinkers with his motor, which runs at full throttle but won&amp;#039;t idle. A third adjusts the ape-hanger bars on a mini chopper. 49 MPH IN 5 SECONDS Inline Sports, in Sunnyvale, sells a little bit of everything--hammocks, hockey equipment, patio furniture, and lately, a whole lot of pocket bikes. The company is one of the country&amp;#039;s leading retailers of mini motorcycles. Ted Simpson, a store manager and zealous pocket bike racer, is giving me a tour. He walks to the end of a long line of bikes. &amp;quot;These are the first-generation Chinese models,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;If you take them apart you can see they&amp;#039;re just crap.&amp;quot; The fairings are flimsy and the bolts can practically be snapped with bare hands, he says. The air-cooled 2-stroke engines -- breakdown-prone copies of those used in weed whackers -- put out about 4 hp. Newer Chinese bikes have improved construction, he says, but still use inferior motors. Pocket bike purists -- the sorts who discuss clutch repair for hours on end, the types who post daily missives on Pocketbikeplanet.com -- decry the Chinese imports. Sold like toys and ridden irresponsibly, the machines are giving the sport a bad name, they say. Simpson agrees but takes the bad-publicity-beats-no-publicity view. &amp;quot;The Chinese bikes are the gateway drugs of pocket biking,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;They are getting more people into the sport.&amp;quot; He walks over to a mini crotch rocket of gleaming chrome and glossy blue fairings. &amp;quot;Here&amp;#039;s an example of the latest and greatest,&amp;quot; he says. &amp;quot;This is a Brutale, built by DM, an Italian company that makes only 400 bikes a year, all of them by hand.&amp;quot; Lovingly, he ticks off the features. They&amp;#039;re all chain-driven. And, like a full-size sportbike, the Brutale has a chrome molybdenum trellis frame, steering stabilizers, and anodized aluminum wheels fitted with grippy racing slicks. It measures 15 in. high x 37 in. long and weighs about 47 pounds, making it roughly half as large and one-tenth as heavy as a full-size machine. Pocket bikes have no true suspension, and shock absorption is handled by the tires and the flex of the frame. The Polini and Bi-Zeta engines are designed specifically for pocket bike racing and, needless to say, they are a far cry from what you&amp;#039;d find in a big sportbike, which may generate 150 hp. The pocket bike engines pump out--deep breath, please -- about 10 hp. Small, yes. Simple, yes. Low-performing, no. &amp;quot;The acceleration on them is ungodly,&amp;quot; Simpson says. &amp;quot;I can do 0 to 49 in 5 seconds and, mind you, I weigh about 215 pounds.&amp;quot; The Brutale&amp;#039;s one cylinder works extremely hard, and the bike redlines at an astounding 15,000 rpm. And the pocket bike has the kind of peaky performance--it nearly doubles its horsepower at high rpm--that is the hallmark of a good 2-stroke. &amp;quot;This bike is a marvel of engineering,&amp;quot; Simpson says.  TRIUMPH OVER YOUTH East of San Francisco in the sun-cooked Central Valley, the Stockton Motorplex Park is the Daytona Speedway of Bay area pocket biking. When I show up on a Monday for open racing practice, the mercury is flirting with triple digits and firetrucks are racing about; air conditioners on overdrive have toppled the power grid and there&amp;#039;s a blackout in several neighborhoods. Matt Myers, the manager of pocket bike racing, joins me as I watch bikers from behind a trackside barrier. He&amp;#039;s silent for a few minutes, and then he reaches down and flicks a little switch. Cool mist begins to spray from ports on a thin black hose running overhead.&amp;quot;It helps on days like this,&amp;quot; he says. The Motorplex track can be configured a dozen different ways; today, Myers has set up a 10-turn course. In front of us, a rider in black leathers shoots into an S-turn sequence, loses traction and hits the pavement. He hops to his feet, curses and jumps back on the bike. A lap later, he low-sides again in the same spot. &amp;quot;Last Sunday we had two broken collarbones and a foot injury that required surgery,&amp;quot; Myers says matter-of-factly. &amp;quot;Small as they are, things happen very quickly on a pocket bike.&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;m about to find out for myself. Simpson is here, and he has brought a bike that I&amp;#039;m to ride. I change into a borrowed set of leathers, black and yellow, with plastic knee and elbow guards. I plop down on my bike and, with knees above hip level, use my feet to scoot along. I feel more than a bit ridiculous riding this glorified gardener&amp;#039;s stool. Then Simpson yanks the pull starter, and the pernicious little beast comes to life. Simpson yells instructions, his words partially drowned out by the engine: &amp;quot; ... twist throttle, what you give is what you get ... pretend your rear brake isn&amp;#039;t there ... stick to your line or you&amp;#039;ll get taken out ... ready?&amp;quot; I open the throttle and the bike surges forward with surprising power. The starting lane feeds into turn one, an easy left, and I wobble and weave as I twist my feet up onto the foot pegs. There&amp;#039;s no such thing as steering resistance on a bike this small; it turns the instant I even think about shifting direction. Turn two is followed by a long straight. Simpson passes me, looks back briefly, and then powers ahead. Showoff.  POCKET BIKE RIDER: 0, NYPD: 10 Wanna get 10 traffic summonses fast? Ride an 18-in. motorcycle down Fifth Avenue. Here, sir, are your violations: 1. No indicator lights. 2. No rearview mirror. 3. No horn or signaling device. 4. No license plate. 5. No headlight. 6. Too-small muffler (noise pollution). 7. No registration. (DMVs in the States don&amp;#039;t register pocket bikes.) 8. No insurance. (You want to buy liability coverage? Yeah, right.) 9. Improper lane change (no turn signals). 10. Reckless driving. (With these machines, just being on the street is considered reckless.) Worst-case ticket total: $2250 --Jonathan Gromer In a left-right-left sequence at the rear of the track, I make a rookie&amp;#039;s mistake. My entry speed is fine but my balance isn&amp;#039;t--I&amp;#039;m still struggling with keeping my feet on the pegs--and I glance right at the side of the track instead of left into the turn. Instantly, I veer toward a set of hay bales, and it takes a quick swerve to avoid them. Soon after, I ride back to the pit area, kill the engine and stroll around to collect myself--I wish that I had the track to myself for a few laps to get used to the diminutive machine. Simpson approaches and offers some advice: Loosen up on the handlebars, young Jedi. Tension maketh the pocket bike squirrelly. I head out for a second set of laps, and then a third. The riding becomes smoother, faster, more fun. I roar along just above the ground, swooping into the turns like a snowboarder. Two nimble riders buzz next to me; for a few seconds, the three of us are riding in formation, rocket bikers in a Japanese anime flick. Then they dart ahead. I wish I had lasers. In front of me there&amp;#039;s a kid, maybe 7 years old. You&amp;#039;re toast, little dude. I open the throttle and the bike surges forward. He&amp;#039;s 10 yards ahead as we enter the back turn, the one with the hay bales, and I power through it smoothly. Five yards. A short straight is followed by the crux, a tight left-right-right sequence. I slalom through it, then pull out onto the track&amp;#039;s long back straight, gun it and pass the kid. Laughing, lost in engine noise, I think tiny, happy thoughts. PUTTING A ROCKET IN YOUR POCKET  The Fast One The best bikes are engineered and made in Italy. Take the GRC RR: For about $3500, riders get a 15-hp liquid-cooled 50cc Single, fancy Dell&amp;#039;Orto carburetor and chromemoly frame. Myriad performance parts--clutches, sprockets, radiators--can boost top speed from the standard 35 to 45 mph up to about 75 mph.  The Good Buy There are plenty of options in the broad middle of the market. For around $1300, you can pick up a new Czech-built, steel-frame Blata that looks like any one of your favorite sportbikes. Features include a 3.5-hp 40cc air-cooled engine and 4-in.-dia. wheels. The top speed is 28 mph--respectable performance in the pocket bike world.  The Cheap (Fun) Knockoff Most of the 47cc to 49cc machines now coming out of China wear no brand name. One bike goes by &amp;quot;Cagliari Daytona RVS.&amp;quot; But we&amp;#039;ve seen them called &amp;quot;Daytona-style,&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Ninja,&amp;quot; &amp;quot;GP,&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Hurricane,&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Boreem&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;AMG Sport.&amp;quot; Your $200 to $550 buys a 4.2-hp air-cooled 2-stroke with anonymous parts. --Ken Juran "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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