Phone messages left for the second rider, Brandon Edwards, 21, of Ijamsville, were not returned.
Rolle focused attention on a popular culture that rewards people for performing stunts no matter how gross, stupid or dangerous. Not long ago, he said, an 18-year-old Frederick County man was charged with beating up a high school football player while other young men filmed it.
"I think he was killed by a video camera," Ray Matlock, 58, says of his son. ". . . It's the thrill of being on the Web."
(Ricky Carioti -- The Washington Post)
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"There's so much of these reality shows on TV, and shows like 'Punk'd' and 'Jackass,' " Rolle said. "They can say, 'Don't try this at home,' as much as they want, but you can't tell me a 16-year-old is not going to try this at home. They don't care whether it's dangerous. . . . If it gets them in the spotlight for a time, they'll do it."
Matlock's death also offers a look at a fast-growing subculture of daredevils who perform heart-stopping acrobatics on sport bikes. Long popular in Europe, the movement has caught fire in the United States in the past five years. The aim is simple: Do things no one has ever seen. Then put it on the Web.
Known as "Ninja bikes" and "bullet bikes," sport bikes are streamlined machines that allow the drivers to hit high speeds while riding the bikes belly down, head first and low to the street.
"It's a relatively recent subculture . . . that still tends to stay to itself," said Jason Colon, editor of Cycle World's annual Sport Bike special edition. "There's a lot of guys in Middle America. A lot of guys coming out of places where there's no winding canyons."
Of course, motorcycle stunts are almost as old as the internal combustion engine, and Evel Knievel became famous nationwide for his bone-crunching motorcycle jumps in the 1970s. But now minicams and the Web have made it possible for almost any fearless soul to demonstrate courage -- or foolishness -- to the entire world.
Trawl the Web and you'll find promotional sites for stunt teams with names such as Starboyz, Unsane Ryderz and Scooter Trash. Some talk about their worst spills and injuries. Others sell T-shirts with logos. Many hawk videos of their wildest tricks.
Almost every Web site warns that the stunts are dangerous or urges amateurs not to perform them on the highway. But several also invite amateurs to submit footage of their hair-raising tricks. Participants are mostly men in their twenties, though some men in their forties are doing stunts and even a few women, Colon said.
But Colon also said the activities are moving into the mainstream, with promoters trying to take stunting off the streets and onto drag strips and racetracks.
"It keeps stepping up and reaching higher. It's all about going to the next level," said Greg Sunday, 26, a member of KC's Most Wanted stunt team in Kansas City, Kan. Sunday's first sport bike was a Suzuki Katana 600 cc. He started riding when he was 16 years old. He also started stunting on the street. About three years ago, he and his brother Grant and two other young men formed the stunt team, performing at local drag strips and tracks.
Now they go on the road, and there are big events such as Bike Week and Stunt Wars, both of which are held in Florida.
"It used to be all about doing 70-, 80-, 90-mile-per-hour wheelies. But it's not that fun anymore," Sunday said. "I don't do them anymore. Too dangerous."
A shrine has grown at Matlock's crash site. A red Ron Jon surf shirt was taped to the guardrail, and people have scrawled farewells: "R.I.P.," "Showboys 4 Ever" and "I will never forget you -- hold it big, love Ashley & Cameron." A photo shows Matlock sitting near a flag from the Grateful Dead. There is a decal from Holding It Big Entertainment.
