Lina Gasparova mounts her Honda early in the morning if she has a court case that day. When the other attorneys see her pulling up, the jokes start to fly: "Here comes our leather legalist." Racing around the city on her motorcycle, Lina challenges the stereotype that lawyers arrive on the job in business suits and behind the wheels of comfortable sedans. Biking has been her choice of transport, her hobby and her life style for the last three years.
Of the handful of female motorists in Kyiv who prefer two wheels to four, Lina is probably the most visible. She is also the only woman among the forty members of the city's Crazy Khokhols biker club. When she shows up at the Korsar Cafe on Kontraktovyy Square, her comrades in leather are all smiles. They greet the lady lawyer as one of their own.
So how did Lina get to know these guys? It all started when she met Vlad Pletin, the president of the club. "We made friends at work and went out a lot. Then three years ago, in June, I was invited to celebrate my birthday in Odessa, where a biker gathering was being held," she says.
Lina rode to Odessa "Second Class," or on the back of a bike, as other girls on the trip did. The main problem with this form of transportation is that bikers often change their "Second Class" girls. During the course of a single gathering, a dozen different young women can take your place for complementary rides. If one of them captures the imagination of the bike's owner, she will stay there.
Nevertheless, Lina was duly impressed by the experience and people she had met. A weeklong gathering in Austria followed, after which "my desire to become a biker grew. I wanted my own motorcycle and to learn how to ride it, instead of going to lame nightclubs for fun," she recalls.
She got her chance that same year (2002), when she was forced to call up the rudimentary skills she had acquired as a 16-year-old in a village near her hometown of Lutsk: during summer vacation, some local boys let her ride their Soviet-made Yavas. "So when my biker friends asked me if I knew how to ride, my female pride forced me to answer yes," says Lina.
In order to cover her story, she started practicing - at night, so that no one would see her. First, she built up her speed and practiced taking turns on the highway. The most scary, Lina recalls, was learning how to lean into the pavement. Then came city skills: where to stop at red lights and how to pass other vehicles. It was more about getting used to the motorcycle then actually riding it. "The desire to ride fast, furious and beautifully was so great that I couldn't sleep. So I would get up in the middle of the night to take my bike out for a cruise. But owing to this, I learned how to ride," she says.
Lina's first motorcycle, a Yamaha Virago, was a lot more powerful than her current Honda Shadow. But the Virago, which means strong-willed woman in Italian, lived up to its name. It also cost a lot to maintain. Lina often had to make a choice between shelling out cash for new riding gear or spare parts and some other feminine luxury. Taking into account that Ukraine's sports wear and automotive industries leave something to be desired, she usually ended up ordering what she needed and thus paying even more. "For example, my first little accident, when I fell off my motorcycle and damaged the mirror, frame and kickstand, cost me up to $300.00," she says.
"Three years ago, I couldn't even find a mechanic, so I relied on my biker friends," says Lina. Gradually, she learned to oil the chain, adjust the engine and fix small problems herself. A good imported motorcycle doesn't break, it just requires a lot of service, which eventually adds up to a serious investment. Since 2002, two motorcycle service centers have opened in Kyiv.
The Crazy Khokhols also started off gradually, showing up at motorcycle gatherings as a group of friends on bikes. Then one time in Odessa the gathering organizers were stumped when it came time to introduce the Kyiv enthusiasts, whom they didn't know what to call. After their sixth gathering, 10 of the most regular enthusiasts decided to form a club. When some began to protest against the inclusion of a woman, citing American rules, "I spoke up," says the lady lawyer. "I ride, I have my own motorcycle and I had taken part in more motor shows than half of those present." She was voted in unanimously and initially received the nickname Wench, because of the Virago she rode. After she bought a Honda, they started calling her Sisi, which in Russian referred as much to the engine size of her new bike as to Lina's bust size.
Still a rarity on Kyiv's streets, Lina tries to exude the best of biker traditions. But not so long ago, she would get coarse comments from male car drivers, which she attributes to stereotypes propagated by the media. "One needs to isolate the image of films: a dirty biker broad with unwashed hair, in leather with the military disposition of an amazon," says Lily, "yeah, that's part of the biker image, which I hold to, but only during motor shows, where I wear more provocative clothing with an erotic accent and bright cosmetics, because people are expecting a show." Leather, of course, is worn even during rides through the city, because it protects the rider from falls.
There are a lot of girls at the club who ride "Second Class" - some over 25 with money of their own, who can afford to buy a bike. But the hobby is expensive and many woman still feel obliged to get permission from their husbands or parents. "I am not married," and "my mother doesn't mind because she understands that I am an adult," says Lina.
Lina also doesn't take any flack from her colleagues or boss, as she owns the law firm where she works: Yuridichny Spravi (Legal Affairs).
"I have been practicing in Kyiv since I finished law school at Kyiv State University seven years ago, so I have regular clients. People know me and the quality of my work." Lina arrives at work on a motorcycle and wearing special coveralls and a helmet, which she removes before seeing her clients or the judge. "At first, of course, this caused a stir, but now I can brag that I can make two or three different court sessions in different parts of the city in a single day," says Lina, adding that her biker image only adds to her popularity.
Being the only woman biker at her club also gives her a social advantage, but club rules prohibit romance among members. "I often regret this," Lina confides, "because I think that the best men in town are at our club." Men who don't ride motorcycles, on the other hand, don't understand her: "They think that I am a crazy woman, who is looking for freedom, independence and even sexual adventure." Then there are bikers from other clubs, where the number of women members is next to nothing. "I take advantage of this and have admirers from other cities," she admits. However, she still has to be careful not to hurt the image of her club. Moreover, the men from her club get jealous if Lina flirts with bikers from other cities.
One romance with a biker from Cherkassy raised eyebrows among some of her fellow Crazy Khokhols, who refused to allow the club's only female member to get married. When Lina, however, does get to the altar, she plans to be dressed in white leather and have
a cortege of motorcycles follow her from the church.
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