The original manufacturer of the iconic Italian Vespa scooter, Enrico Piaggio, would have been overwhelmed with pride last weekend as thousands of extreme Vespa enthusiasts swarmed on Ubud in central Bali.

He could never have dreamed his little scooter, nicknamed the wasp when it first rolled off the assembly lines in 1946 would, 60 years later, end up as the cultural icon binding together scooterists across an archipelago on the other side of the world.

Never would Piaggio, a former aircraft engineer, have imagined the myriad ways his little wasp would morph into Madurese mollusks, mobile Dayak galleries and perfect candy pink and mauve classic Vespa confections amid a rolling armada of artistic variations of the original Vespa design.

The back of Kohir’s Vespa is a mobile Dayak art gallery. (JP/J.B Djwan)

Of more than 2000 Vespas which made their way to the soccer field in Ubud last weekend, only a few resembled the original wasp design, with many bikes sporting an endless variety of configurations and modifications.

These brave little bugs put-putted their way across thousands of kilometers, sailed seas and jumped potholes to get to Ubud for the international meeting of Vespa scooters.

The event, "A Celebration of Indonesian Scooter Culture", hosted by Bali's Dewata Scooter Club, brought together every possible breed of Vespa riders: Rastas riding ripped Vespas, neo-primitives flying the flag for ancient cultures from the back of skull encrusted Vespas, heavy weight Harley Davidson adherents and dozens of locals.

The locals brought along the family Vespas that have carried them and their produce around for decades to this international Vespa show and tell.

Didgeridoos, drums, dangdut and gamelan supplied an ever changing backdrop for the crowd as did matronly foreign madams who joined the fun, casting themselves back to the 60s and dancing barefoot with Rasta boys young enough to be their grandsons.

Dozens of uniformed police from Gianyar mingled with torn t-shirt-wearing Rastas, grandfathers took toddlers for a quick turn about town in sidecars while dangdut beauties shook their booty in a deliciously subversive swat at the freshly passed anti-pornography legislation. All were expressing the nation's credo, Unity in Diversity, in truly joyous fashion.

And it is this breaking down of generational, religious and cultural gaps that Vespa worship seems to inspire.

Scooterists of all ages and backgrounds joined the crowd from 71-year-old Rusno and his traveling companion, 65-year-old Kohir, both from Balikpapan in Kalimantan, to toddlers hugging close to their Scooter-head parents.

"I feel young again... like a teenager," said Rusno, who developed his Vespa fetish just five years ago -- a passion he blames on Kohir, whose skull-and-Dayak covered Vespa must make him King of the Kalimantan Vespas.

"My hobby is working with primitive elements on my Vespa. This has taken me five years to build," said Kohir, pointing out the large Dayak iron-wood monkey riding high on the Vespa's sidecar and the dugong, monkey, buffalo and deer skull decoration adorning the side.

Rusno and Kohir's wives decided to stay in Balikpapan, because "while my wife likes my hobby, she is too embarrassed to ride about with me", Kohir said.

Rusno says his 62 year-old wife has taken a liking to Vespa's with almost as much enthusiasm as him, bounding on the back of his 1990 PS and taking off for weekend spins around town.

"She also feels young again on the Vespa."

At the other end of the age scale is Eric Madonna and his three traveling mates who have spent the past 27 days on the road from Bangkabelitung, an island off Palembang in Sumatra, to reach the Bali convention.

"The drive was hard but fun. The roads are good, and we traveled at about 50 kilometers an hour. The hardest stretch was through East Java. The traffic was heavy, but good," said Eric, who along with friends will turn around this week and ride the grueling 2000 kilometers back home.

The return trip will likely draw the eye of police who, Eric said, stopped them several times as their punk Vespas were a magnet for both supporters and detractors of the national hobby.

Living the Vespa life is an expression of freedom for many people, explained Pei from Bogor, astride his plastic bottle and buffalo-horn fastened bike. He says that unfortunately sometimes society judges scooterists based on the exterior of their bikes and the stereotypes they encompass, without knowing the person behind the handlebars.

"Some people say when they look at us they are uncomfortable because of the way we dress. But my Vespa hobby is from the soul -- it is difficult to stop. I love the Vespa life and its freedom, but I follow my parent's wishes. I think that is still the most important thing," said Pei.

For Ponech, a long-haired hippie from Jakarta, societal prejudice towards the Vespa cult and its Rastafarian undercurrents has proven troubling.

"We identify with the Rasta life, but we are not wild people as society often presumes. That image is simply part of the performance. To me it's important that I can take care of myself and stay clear of criminals and their way of life. My motto is love the Vespa until the end of your life."

Perhaps, Frenchman Patrix Zaffini from Seminyak best summed up the Vespa celebration.

"This is a gathering of Indonesia's tribes -- it's unique in the world. I have lived in Asia for more than 20 years and you cannot find an event like this anywhere except in Indonesia. This is the spirit of the Easy Rider, but while that was based on the beauty of the big bike, this is based on the beauty of the rat."

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