It’s part of our job as moto-journalists to try what’s outthere in the American market and report back. The ultimate test is to take a bike, customize it and ride it to Sturgis. What could give you a truer test of a bike’s ability to look cool and endure a long run? I’ve been fortunate enough to customize and ride everything from nearly bone stock bikes to ground-up customs. Each trip is an adventure. Each run has varying characteristics, and with each journey there’s a new woman, but that’s my problem.

 

This year we needed to make a choice. I had a Kenny Boyce ProStreet frame that I planned to load a Twin Cam engine into and rideto the Badlands. I also had a 2000 Buell M-2 and I had recentlyinstalled dual Mikuni carb heads on my ’48 Panhead. Since I’m alsoworking on a Pro Street custom for Dr. Ladd Terry, the Bikernetmorale officer, I decided to hold onto my Pro Street project for nextyear. Another doctor, Dr. Hamster, had been working on his 34 VL andwas excited about riding it to Sturgis. We both knew that the antiqueride would be a long shot.

 

On top of the time/money consideration, I enjoy riding the M-2. It’s the hotrod of Harleys, light, agile, brakes like a madman and hauls ass. The guys at Harley like to refer to Buells as their street fighters. I have to agree. So I decided that I needed to put some miles on it and experience its ability for distance. Like last year when I told folks that I was going to ride a rigid toSturgis, I got the same reaction to the Buell. I rode it toLaughlin with a passenger and soft saddlebags. The bike handled likea dream. At 100 mph, it was more stable than most Big Twins, andacceleration was always at hand. There’s no hesitation from zip to 100 mph, and that’s my riding range.I was advised at one point to put a smaller pulley onthe rear for lower rpms while cruising. Later I found that themodification had its glitches. I found that the bike was glass smoothat 100 and still zippy and that was good enough for me. We began aseries of mild mods with a cam change to the Screamin’ Eagle raceversion and added the stainless race header. My partner to Laughlinhad a blast and was so comfortable she passed on several rest stops.We kept going and ran out of gas in the desert. So you can understandwhy there’s a new woman each year. She’s still out there somewhere.In the final analysis the decision was made to ride the Buellto the Black Hills Rally.

If you’ve read the techs, you know what wedid to this puppy, so I’ll go beyond the build to a few conceptionsabout Buell. First, there is no fairing to speak of, but I actuallyfound the bike extremely comfortable to ride. The little chin fairingkeeps the big blast off your chest and I didn’t need anymore. I mayregret those words as I hit the Colorado monsoons, but so far, sogood. Some guys complained about the sitting position, but I found itcomfortable once I knew how to sit. Like any bike, you need to findthe groove. The brothers talked about leaning on the bars and toomuch weight on the wrists. I found that if I leaned over the bars Iput excessive weight on my grip, but if I sat on my ass, it was nodifferent than other bikes, although under hard braking situationsyou are thrust forward.

 

Some felt the ride on a Buell would be rough, yet most wereunaware that the bike is basically a rubbermounted Sportster, andincredibly smooth, especially at 80-100 mph.

 

Others thought I mightlook ridiculous, and I told them I look ridiculous all the timeanyway. What difference would this year make? Others don’t like midcontrols. If you’re not used to them, you may find that you need toadjust, but once you get the hang of them, you’ll find less pressureon your back.

 

Alright enough perceptions and conceptions, let’s get readyto ride. The Buell has 400 miles on it since we made thecosmetic changes and cured some rocker box leaks.

This last week weinstalled Joker Machine billet and anodized turn signals on it and hidthem as much as possible.

 

We picked up a small oil cooler from ChromeSpecialties and installed it with longer oil lines at the front ofthe bike. The oil capacity is about 2.5 quarts, which always makes menervous, so we changed oil and plugged in the largest Dyna oil filterwe could find. The filter and cooler combination allowed us to squeakin 3 quarts and take some precarious kinks out of the lines. I alsostopped by Joker Machine and they liked the mods so much they told meto run one of their point covers or die.

 

Dewey’s Custom Pegs makes thecleanest air cleaner cover on the market and it fit like a dream.Finally we ordered a chrome hardware kit for the rear pulley. While disassembling the rear wheel, we polished the right wheel spacerand the belt adjuster guides–not bad touches.

So Sturgis 2001 is one week away. If I collect enoughaluminum cans off the beach I’ll have a pile of quarters for spendingmoney. The woman in my life is the best candidate to run Bikernetwhile I’m on the road, and I’m ready.

 

This is our quest each year,to build a vehicle and make it to the Badlands to talk about it. I’llhave a full report upon my return. Hang on.

The next morning, after breakfast at Stan’s diner in Scottsdale, we rolled north toward Payson on our way to Holbrook. Stan’s is a small joint in a dull rectangular building downtown, that Stan tried to spruce up with adobe chairs and tables. A skinny waitress came to take our order but since this was Myron’s regular digs, he went directly to the chef in back and nodded. That was enough. The chef knew what to do. Karl and I attempted to order with smiles on our unshaven mugs but the waitress was dry as toast, and edgy. The cactus twig of a woman could not comply. We had been trying the low carb regimen and Karl had lost 40 pounds, but she couldn’t allow us to substitute potatoes for tomato slices or cottage cheese for toast. We ended up ordering everything a la carte. At first our easy-going hackles were raised because we wanted to hit the road early and slice away some dusty miles, then eat in some strange hole-in-the-wall joint in nowheresville, Arizona. But the more we irritated her, the more fun we had. She was spitting in our scrambled eggs by the time we finished with her, but it was worth it. Phoenix is a strange city. Surface streets are straight and packed with stoplights. We headed out a country road through one boulevard stop after another. Suddenly we were out of the flat city and into the country, winding into the Mazatzal Mountains on Highway 87. At one point we pulled off the highway at an All-Bike junkyard Rye, Ariz., a town with a population of 300. There were acres of bikes rotting in the elements. At this point there were four of us. Myron was riding his black, detailed 2000 Dyna with a 95-inch kit, stretched tanks and a custom windshield. As usual, his bike was immaculate with chromed Harley mags and diamond cut cylinder fins. He had soft bags beside the rear wheel and a bolt-on sissy bar with bags attached. He was one comfortable mutha as we cut through the canyons. The man generally wears a long sleeved T-shirt with a regular T-shirt over it and his HAL vest, plus a scarf. He rides fast and tight. Myron has always reminded me of longtime friend George Christie, the president of the Ventura chapter of the Hells Angels. Although Myron is a massive weight lifter, and George trains in martial arts, the two men are similar height with jet-black hair (graying some, now). Both men are born leaders and strong riders. Karl was on his lowered Softail with drag pipes and drag bars, with his buoyant wife of 25 years at his back. The couple have raised three gigantic kids, consequently Karl doesn’t have new bikes yearly, custom paint jobs and chrome. He’s saddled with a non-working mother and three money-soaking monsters to raise and he’s proud of every minute he can keep the clan in college, clothes and wheels. I respect the fact that Cheri stays home with the kids. It’s a full time vocation and perhaps the most important job on the planet. The mountains were striking and I’m constantly amazed at the Arizona beauty. The state is diverse and open. No wonder people are lining up to move there. It’s a killer place to live. The diversity is unreal, from the arid, open, hot-as-a-mutha desert to the rolling, pine-strewn mountains and the Grand Canyon area. We stopped in Payson for gas. I had clocked 87 miles and took 1.9 gallons. I was still rolling along even in erratic terrain and getting 45 mpg. I bought a cheap tire gauge and checked my tire pressure. Brownie had jacked it up per the tire specs, but I was more flexible and had another priority — the ride. The front tire being on an extended front end didn’t need 50 pounds of pressure and the rear 180-18 Avon needed to be as soft as possible, so I dropped the 40 pounds to less than 30. As I stood there, Cheri chatted away about one thing or another, constantly making sexual references to the most absurd articles. She somehow found honey mustard dressing sexual, or elevators, though I could understand her phallic reference to pickles. As we moved into the hills, the incline felt good to the 98-inch S&S motor. Rumbling up a winding incline, we found ourselves behind several motor homes and a logging truck. When we hit a passing lane, two tourists melded to the right and the logging truck and one camper stayed to the left as if in a 1/4 mile they could pass the other dog-slow travelers. I down shifted and poured the fuel to the stroker, which climbed on the other vehicles like they were standing still. The lumber truck was barely reaching the rear bumper of the motor home when I split between them. I blasted over the rise ahead and began a high-speed decline. I slowed slightly to let the others catch me, but they didn’t come. I slowed some more, then suddenly noticed a thundering 18-wheeler bearing down on me. I had upset the trucker and he planned to flatten my ass. The rigid Blue is light, and I was discovering lightning-fast throttle response. I bolted forward. I spun the throttle, again, and it came alive like the crack from a high velocity .22. Then I noticed a new vibration. It was coming from the tank. The truck was trying to gain on me again, and I slipped the polished 42-mm Mikuni more fuel and she responded like a tongue to a sensitive clit. The bike jumped and roared ahead. Again, a rattling screamed at me from the top of the frame and I pulled my gloved hand off the left grip and put it on top of Harold’s paint work, which glistened in the sun. My teeth immediately responded to the touch. Something was wrong, but I had a semi barreling down on me and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to pull over and give him an open target so I pressed on the tank with my left hand and pushed harder on the throttle with my right. I raced past the signs indicating a dangerous decline ahead and warning truckers to check their brakes. The guy behind me had no notion of using his as he sped to catch me. Fortunately, I could outrun him, if I were riding a bike built for mountain riding. This was my first opportunity to test the handling of the 38-degree raked frame with the 6 degrees in the Weerd Bros. front end. I had specifically built in plenty of ground clearance by cutting the Samson pipes and lifting the front header. There was nothing on the left to interfere with the road and I had a solid six inches of ground clearance underneath the frame. As I leaned I felt the bike want to tumble so I poured more fuel and the front wheel tracked the corner smoothly. The next corner was well marked for speed and curvature. I dipped low and accelerated. Although the rake generally, with speed, wants to force the bike to go straight, the additional rake in the triple trees minimized the trail and the front end adjusted easily to the turn, but I was trying to hold on to my vibrating gas tank at the same time. Another series of turns were dead ahead and the screaming logger was shifting gears 30 feet from my rear Avon. He knew the road better than I did. I took the shift as a signal of manageable turns ahead and turned the throttle. The bike jumped forward and I released the tank to handle the curve. To my left were open oncoming lanes through sliced mountains. To my right was a sheer precipice and a majestic valley a couple thousand feet below. I pushed the Blue Flame and it responded like a thoroughbred. It felt strange. I had ridden choppers for years, but in the last decade I hadn’t ridden a bike with this length of front tubes. The Jesse James touring chopper had a severe turning radius restriction with the bags, but this machine seemed to have no bumpers, no drag, no pegs that prevented me from leaning it closer to the asphalt, so I pushed. The only thing that would hold me back from making the next turn was Avon traction, a flexing Daytec frame or a squirrely front-end. I seemed to handle turns to the right easier than to the left, and I dipped as the curve unveiled itself. The truck was right on my ass as I hit the 35 mph turn at 60. The most terrifying aspect of any turn is the visual. Can you see the chamfer and the complete arch? Is there a mountain on the inside preventing visibility? Are you heading downhill? Downhill racing is the worst. You can let up on the throttle and the bike won’t slow down. That’s the last thing you need when you realize that your bike cannot make the corner. I needed deceleration and it wasn’t there. I had pulled away from the truck, but the tank was singing a violent tune. I ignored the horrible vibration and dipped the machine to the right. To my amazement, it went over easily. Nothing scraped, skipped, twisted or jiggled. The tire remained firmly planted to the road’s surface and I accelerated through the turn and into the next one. The truck loomed behind me except it wasn’t barreling after me this time. The postings along the side of the mountain warned of the steep slope, brake testing and slow trucks. The driver had chosen to ignore the warnings and careened after me, but now in the rearview mirror the trucker’s load seemed out of balance. The massive logs were jostled. The truck leaned at an odd angle. The driver had abandoned the pursuit in favor of saving his own neck. Smoke poured from the brakes as he tried to control the 80,000-pound vehicle before he encountered another curve along the perilous slope. I glanced at the valley below and decided he was more of a threat now than when he was pissed and in control. I turned up the heat and headed quickly away from the collision-bound truck. We had several junctions ahead, including 377 to Holbrook, 277 to Snowflake and 260 to Show Low. With each curve I was forced to test, I became more confident in the Daytec chassis and long Weerd Bros. wide glide front end. I had never owned a chopper that handled with this much ease. I seemed to be able to dip the flaming scoot over so far that my calf was parallel with the pavement. I hit the town of Heber where we had planned to stop for a piece of peach pie, but I blew right through. I passed the 377 turn off and prayed that the trucker survived, but was on his way to Snowflake. I split off on 260 toward Show Low and quickly found a safe place to pull over to check my tank and wait for the others. The rear tab on the tank had broken and the vibration between the remaining tab was eerie, but with the 3M weather stripping holding the tank to the frame backbone and the front tab in place, all appeared secure. Myron pulled up with Karl and the emotional Cheri shouted, “That truck was after your ass.” We only had another 30 miles to go but we hit a hardware store and, based on expert breakdown recommendations from Karl and Myron, I picked up more 3M stripping, JB Weld, sand paper and some grommets. I rode carefully for the final 30 miles into Holbrook where we copped a couple of rooms and prepared to operate on the Blue Flame. I almost had to pry the tank off. The rear tab was toast and I spent an hour cleaning it. I mixed and spread the JB weld, put down new 3M weather stripping and reinstalled the tank. It was time for happy hour and we walked to the local cowboy/sports bar across the highway. There’s an odd sensation that comes over a rider with a busted machine. It’s as if you know you must hike to the top of the hill, but you’re bleeding. You know you’re going for it, but not sure how you’ll make it. Still you keep moving forward. Holbrook was our stopping point about 250 miles out. The bar was cool and for some reason, perhaps the unrelenting heat, we ordered margarita after margarita, then chicken wings, chicken tenders and more wings. Those little puppies were smoldering but went down like chips at a Mexican restaurant. We munched as if we weren’t going to eat for a week, then went in search of peach pie. Why is it that once out of California, fresh vegetables and fruit seem impossible to come by. If I couldn’t have sex, I wanted peach pie, and for some odd reason, it seemed as rare as a whore in church.

Buells are the Harley-Davidson street fighter. They are inexpensive,sharp-handling machines that give the American rider something toshout about, something to fuck with and something to race.

This bike won’t compete with the 200 mph Japanese sportbikes, but it will handle like one, and brake like one. So we gothold of one and evaluated it for the Sturgis 2001 run. Since I come from a custom bike or chopper background, I wasn’t sure the Cyclone would do the job for me. If you ask a guy who rides a custom bike what style of bike he enjoysand why, the answer might be strange. I want something distinctiveand bad. I want it fast and cool. I need it to handle, but be achopper. Perhaps an oxymoron of conditions, yet there’s a mixture offactors that go into any ride and machine. Last year I rode astretched rigid with a 14-over front end. What a machine. For a rigid,it rode like a dream. For a 14-over front end, it handled well and Ipassed everyone I dared to pass, generally because I had the groundclearance to shove it close to the pavement and the raked tripletrees allowed me to turn the front end where I needed to go.

Each year the trek to the Badlands takes on a differentdemeanor, and this will be no different. After a week, I discovered a serious sense of enjoyment about straddling the M-2 Cyclone. It’s light, fast, a nimble handler that stops on a dime. I needed to learn to ride it like a race bike with my toes on the soft rubber pegs to enhance turning radius and ground clearance. There is also a notion that in the sportbike position, you’re forcing too much weight on your wrists. I discovered quickly that if I put my ass down,the weight on my wrists was not a problem. The force is substantial, however, when braking with a passenger on board. Ultimately, after riding two Buells, I decided that this motorcycle deserved a shot at aSturgis trek. It had class, felt sporty, even nasty, and I could makeit rumble. So I stood back and thought, “Can I make it even cooler?”It didn’t take long to discover that I could strip it down evenfurther than stock. I picked the Cyclone over the model with hard bags because of its bare bones feel. The crew here at Bikernet.com developed a five-pronged approach. One, we wanted toenhance the Harley-Davidson marriage with Buell and downplay thelittle-known name Buell for the time being. We also wanted to enhance the Sportstermotor and bring out the looks of the Harley-Davidson power plant, andchop it in a Buell way without altering the geometry of theframe, the front end length or lowering it, which is a tradition withour custom bikes. There’s more. We wanted the bike to sound more likea Harley and we wanted to enhance the performance without disturbingthe long-range reliability.

Our team included myself, Professor NuttBoy, consulting fromPaul Davis of Charlotte, Gene Tomasen Jr. from the Harley-Davidson fleet center, and a number of Bikernet readers who knew about and were testing Buells. This is the first of several techs on the modifications and the experiences we have with the M-2. We collected and ordered parts, then ran to the fleet center to get thejob done. The initial plan was to unleash the natural performance ofthe bike without breaking down the engine. We started by removing thecarburetor.

 

We replaced the needle in the slide with an ’88 Sportsterneedle, and drilled out the carb body above the idle adjustplug.

 

That allowed us to knock out the plug and back outthe idle adjuster 2.5 turns.

 

Stock carburetors are adjusted from thefactory to a very lean condition. Usually they are so lean that warmup takes a long time and you get an occasional cough through thecarb.

Others have recommended drilling directly through theplug, but Gene warned that if you slip, you will drillinto the adjuster screw and possibly damage it. Gene also recommendedhead work ultimately coupled with a 44 mm CV carb, manifold androller rockers in the future. I had a Screamin’ Eagle air box for a BigTwin, which I modified for the carb with an open K&N filter. We alsodropped the float bowel and replaced the 42 pilot jet with a 48. Becareful not to strip the screws holding the float bowel in place.Treat them with respect or they’ll cause you nightmares.

We set the carburetor aside and began to remove the timingcover to replace the cams. It’s important to take a scribe to thetiming plate so that you can duplicate the timing once you havereplaced the cams. Then pull the plate and the rotor cup, which isscrewed into the No. 2 cam. Before you go any further, remove the rockerboxes and the rocker arms to unload the tension on the non-adjustablepushrods. Now you can remove the cam cover, but don’t forget todrain the oil first.

At this point we decided to add a racy feature to theappearance of the bike by shaving the cam cover plate. First removethe oil line. Unplug the timing plate wire, dismantle the connectorand pull it through the plate.

 

Gene used a Sawzall and a grinder toremove the aluminum underneath the bolt holes.

 

You will note that there is a series of seemingly endless webbing in this area which is for noisereduction.

 

Notice that in the lower left hand corner, there is a dowelpin. Gene chose to leave it in place as a wiring guide and carve thecover around it.

 

The pushrods are color coded: pink or red forexhaust and brown for intake. The cams are numbered like you readfrom left to right, or back to front, 1 to 4. Make sure you pull theplugs for ease in turning the motor over. Install No. 4 first with redline assembly lube; No. 3 has two index marks. Slip No. 1 in next andNo. 2 last. It has three index marks to line up the cam with the pistonposition and the other cams with an index mark that aligns with aslot on the pinion gear.

 

This is where we noticed that the pitch onthe Screamin’ Eagle race cams was different than the new pinionshaft gears. An emergency run to Bartels H-D was in order for partNo. 24055-91, or No. 24061-91. The factory changed to a new pitch in ’99.When replacing the cam cover, keep in mind that there are fourdifferent length Allens holding it in place. Make sure you have theright length in the right hole. The torque setting for the cam coverAllens is 17 foot pounds. After the cover went back on, it was timeto reinstall the rotor cap and the timing plate.

 

These modifications will help it run better. Buells usually run hot from the factory because of hotter cams and ThunderstromHeads. At this point we re-ran the wiring to the regulator behindthe oil pump for a cleaner appearance. We only had to extend onewire, to the oil pressure switch. Gene Jr. handled it with solder andshrink tubing. Removal of the gastanks is a breeze and access to the heads and top end is easy. But ifyou need to remove the engine, the fact that it is an integral partof the frame and suspension creates unruly problems. The entirechassis must be supported.

At this point we replaced the pushrods from the top of theengine and replaced the stock rockerbox covers with chrome units.Don’t use anything on the self-sealing gaskets except a dab of greasehere and there to hold them in place.

 

With the engine assembled, we replaced the stock exhaustwith a Buell race header kit and module. While Gene Jr. was out oftown, I spoke to the Buell tech of the demo fleet, Alan Varsi, who hasworked at Bartels Harley-Davidson for more than 11 years. The Buell racemodule retards the timing 5 degrees and eliminates the rev limiter.The stainless steel header is 11 inches longer than stock, which makeseach exhaust runner equal in length. The muffler is an aluminumcanister type that is high flow with low resistance for additionalperformance at the high end.

 

That’s it. Laughlin is right around the corner, along with our firstlong ride on the Harley-Davidson Street Fighter. We’re lookingforward to every desolate mile. We’ll report upon ourreturn. A new paint job is in the wings, along with some cosmetic modsto brighten the look of this bad-ass bike.

The Harley shop in Green River didn’t have it, nor did any of the other bike shops in the valley, but there was a shop in Aspen. It wasn’t in the phone book and couldn’t be reached by directory assistance. I called the Harley shop back and was given the number for Aspen Custom Motorcycles. I dialed and there was only an answering machine. Tired and dejected, we rambled back toward town. During one of our last installation attempts, we broke off the stud that held the rear tab in place. Now we needed an auto parts store for a large hose clamp and some rubber insulation to prevent the clamp from tearing through the durable powder coating finish. We pulled up in front of a Napa auto parts store and parked beside a blue and silver pickup with Krylon letters across the back window, “Aspen Custom Motorcycles.” Inside, a thin man with dark hair and youthful features leaned over the counter wearing a black Aspen Custom Motorcycles T-shirt. I introduced myself and he asked us to follow him. Two blocks away, this guy had his shop set up in a single storage unit stall (970) 544-9419. His undercover shop was complete with three stage creme sealer and we bought his only kit, thanked him and hauled ass for the Swank Hotel. In front of our room was an outdoor corridor leading to the bar and outdoor pool. I picked up several towels, borrowed a large bucket and we went to work. The first stage was a mixture of water and a strong detergent that was supposed to soak in the tank for four hours. We didn’t have the time and let it set for an hour. In the meantime, the guys in Randy’s room where having trouble with the plumbing. After I flushed the toxic mixture into a bucket, I poured it down the toilet in Randy’s room. I knew I should have stopped, but I was beyond the point of no return. I returned to the bike for stage two – flushing the tank with a strong solvent. Again the remnants of the explosive liquid were drained into the toilet. Meanwhile, hotel maintenance men and managers descended on Randy’s room, where a couple of riders had set up their joint rolling station. Plungers, tools and snakes were moved from room to room. Four rooms were effected and they were going to have to snake down from the roof. Randy shook his head. “Won’t work,” he said and poured the final stage of thick milky fluid into the tank. This process included sloshing the creamy liquid around the tank for 10 minutes, letting it set for 20, then sloshing again before draining. Randy sloshed and coated the lining of the tank for what seemed to be hours, making sure every crevice received its fair share. By this time evening was upon us. The tank was supposed to dry for 24 hours. I didn’t have time and Randy suggested that we use a hair dryer to speed up the drying process. The instructions specifically warned against the use of hair dryers because the final process was extremely flammable. Randy continued draining the thickening substance back into the bottle it came from, as we pondered the question. At one point, we tried putting the tank in front of the air conditioner to augment the flow, but there had to be a better way. Finally someone hit up the maintenance crew for a shop vac. As the sun sank, we started sucking the fumes from the tank outside our room.   At one point, two girls showed up, one 22 and the other 27. They wanted to smoke a joint and party some, but the fumes held them at bay. Both were wearing shorts and tank tops and carrying shopping bags. One included a couple pairs of spiked heels that they quickly unwrapped and promised to sport for us. One had on a top buttoned up the front over no bra, and her tits were pressed so hard against the mint green fabric that the heavenly mounds creased the material. When she leaned over to slip on the shoes, we gasped in unison. Whatever it is that makes a woman’s body magic to a man, is a wonderful thing unless abused by either party. If a woman minds that a man gawks at the flesh exposed by too little clothing, she should cover herself. These girls didn’t mind. In fact, they enjoyed it and wanted more. We could have given in to them except we had a mission and a deadline. After the girls asked some probing questions and we didn’t respond appropriately, they rolled themselves a doobie and departed. There was another problem with nubile girls finding their evil ways into our lives. We were staying with 100 of our closest, most gossipy friends in the same goddamn hotel. Speaking of gossip, I hadn’t heard from Zebra for two days. He was supposed to hook up with a pack of riders in Tennessee, and perhaps they roasted him instead of a pig. I didn’t know his whereabouts, but I kept calling his cell phone hoping to hear the number had been permanently disconnected. At 6 a.m. Friday, the phone rang. Larry the mobile mud slide maker was leaving his room to meet me in the parking lot to lend me gas. I was hoping to sleep in, but noooo. I wrestled my ass out of bed and out to the bike with the tank. After setting it on the bike, it was difficult to tell that it had been through hell the previous day. I mounted it, hooked up the lines and went back to bed. I told Larry never to call me at 6 a.m. again and to keep his gas. I wanted to let it air for a couple more hours. At 9 a.m. we put gas in it for the first time from Howard’s truck, just a quart. We loaded up and hit the first station. We were Denver bound. Some of the guys were heading into the pass above, but rumor was that the straight shot was down to Green River, over to the 70 Freeway and into Denver. It was 30 miles out of the way, but we chose the straightest shot. The freeway is only two lanes wide but it meanders along railroad tracks and rivers toward Vail. We stopped for gas in Eagle and were passed by 30 Hamsters blasting onto the freeway. How they beat us I will never know, but I sent my navigator his walking papers the next day. We caught the furry beasts outside Vail. Traffic began to bunch up and we kept riding faster, splitting lanes and running the gauntlet between the very fast cars and extremely slow trucks. Treachery was all around us as we crested a pass and could see the dots of a pack of bikes in the distance. The tank was holding and the bike hadn’t burped, coughed or sputtered. It could handle anything I dished out. I turned the throttle and it responded. About 25 miles outside Denver we blew past the guys in yellow and another couple miles down the road it began to rain, then hail. We ducked off the freeway, pulled on our slickers and found a log cabin watering hole.

I had a bad feeling about this mod. First, I don’t like to pack anyone, any time. If you want a ride on my Panhead, carry a hand-towel and a bungie cord. I avoid giving a girl a ride home from the bar, even a babe with gigantic hooters. I would preferred to follow her home. I’m not the kind of rider to take a woman on a long run. I would rather have a variety of women in various towns and cities. Okay, I’m a bastard.

Okay, so the pressure’s on. Sin Wu want’s to ride once in a while, and I want to get laid daily. Gotta give up something. I kept the stock Road King classic seat for additional passenger comfort. It’s covered with dust, in the corner, but that quick change aspect is covered. I ordered the custom billet tab for the rear of the stock seat, and had it powder coated black, so both seats were ride-ready. When you purchase a new saddle, it doesn’t always come with the rear tab. The base is plastic and screwing fasteners in and out will wear out the threads.

Here’s a handful of the fasteners and bag bracket spacers.

I ordered the front and rear detachable docking hardware kits, but be careful. I leaned toward the new lower backrest/sissybar for styling, which wasn’t in stock, but the pad was. I bought it, then the backrest was back-ordered so we bought the taller sissybar for immediate gratification, but when we got home the pad didn’t fit and we were forced to buy the tall pad. Watch out for this dilemma when ordering. Make sure to check all the installation instructions to make sure you have the correct puzzle pieces. There are several back rest options so watch that aspect when ordering.

Here’s the massive chromed Classic H-D axle dress hardware.

This is simple installation. Slip on the plastic wedge and the cap grips over it. Push them into place–done deal.

We also ordered some classic hex bolt covers and stainless Allen caps to begin an engine detailing process. We purchased chrome caps to detail the front brake calipers and classic chromed front axle covers. We didn’t use the plastic chrome caps ultimately but brush painted the raised edge of the calipers black. I’ll tell you why in a bit.

This was supposed to be one of the easiest mods we undertook, but we learned quickly, that wasn’t the case.

This is the front docking port in place, but not tightened.

When we black powdered a ton of components previously, we assembled the bike securely with Loctite and care. That was our undoing. The Phillips-head beside the shock needed to be replaced with the front docking hardware. Take one bolt out and replace it–no problem, right? The Phillips screws wouldn’t budge and we proceeded to strip the heads. First, I wished I had an impact driver.

I had loaned mine years ago. It was never returned. Watch out for that.

I discovered an aerosol spray by Chemsearch called Yield in the auto parts store that loosens rusted bolts instantly. It worked like a charm, with a little patience the bolts came lose. An American Rider reader complained that this product isn’t available in retail stores. That’s true. My longshoreman connection hooked me up. You may need to find a factory worker or mechanic who has a connection.

After reading the Low Detachable Backrest kit info that came with the taller kit, the Backrest Docking Hardware kit directions, the Front Docking Point kit instructions and the 100th Anniversary FLHT and FLHR Backrest Pad kit directions, I guzzled my first Corona.

I couldn’t handle the pressure.

I opened the next Corona. The operation would have been simple if the directions were. I read them over and over. There were too many variations between years and configurations to sort through. The Front Docking port directions confused me with illustrations involving rear bag support spacers designed to bounce out the saddlebags and clear the release button on the backrest.

Why would the front docking port directions come with spacers for only the rear saddlebag mounts? I was lost.

This was a matter of trial and error.

If you’ve built choppers as long as I have, there’s always a way to make anything work, so ignoring the confusion, we spanked our asses in gear. I ignored the spacers, installed the front docking rubber that was designed specifically for the King with a notch for the shock.

There’s a bracket that runs from the front docking station to the rear, but first the rear docking port bracket needed to be installed. On some models equipped with air shocks the shock filler bracket must be removed. The directions said I didn’t need to remove it on the 2003, bullshit. It was directly in the path of the docking bracket, so off it came.

This shot shows the bracket in place, with the shock air port moved. Note the single empty hole in the bottom of the bracket. That’s where the rear bag mount bolts into place. The trick of the night.

Three lousy bolts had to be removed, the rear bag bracket 1/4-20 fastener and the two 5/16s fender support bolts. First the 1/4-20 spun the thin, tin clamp that holds the nut in place. Then the 5/16, once removed, could hardly be replaced. Nothing aligned properly. My lovely assistant had to squat and lift the tip of the fender, and in one case we were forced to remove the lower bag rail to align the top bolts.

This still doesn’t totally jive. Actually washers had to be fed behind the top Backrest mounting bracket also.

“Can I let go of the fender, now?” Sin Wu asked grunting. The top docking port bolts are packaged in two sizes, 1 inch and 3/4 inch. The directions warn that if the rear inch-bolt comes too close to the fender, replace it with the 3/4. We replaced both and used the 1-inch jobs in the front holes on both sides.

Without the rear fender rack detachable bracket, another option, two washers were thrust under the rear docking port bracket to make up for the thickness of the rack bracket.

Part of the confusion was the numerous detachable elements available for various models. There’s also the two-up detachable rack front docking kit that surfaced from time to time.

That’s all there was to it. We bolted all the elements in place and tested the back rest and bags. Sure enough the King Classic bag lid smacked into the backrest latch when opening. We ultimately spaced the rear back bracket out only about an 1/8 of an inch and we were good to go.

We tried it with the spacers, without, then with smaller spacers that worked perfectly.

Sin fed me chips and salsa and dabbed my sweating forehead with a bandanna, while I slipped the saddlebag bracket, 1/4-20 nut, into place using a long magnet. It worked on the right side. On the left we unbolted the entire fender support, replace the nut, adjusted the thin, tin tabs, and bolted the sucker all back together, only to have the nut fall out again. In this case we squeezed a slim square 1/4-20 nut behind the docking bracket and bolted the back bag bracket on with a spacer. It worked like a charm.

“Can we ride?” Sin cooed. I told her to gear up. We were just about ready to roll.

I used electrical contact cleaner to loosen the tin insignia plate, but discovered that wasn’t the intended plan. Leave it be, goddamnit.

Here’s the totally clean caliper. Big mistake.

I ground the lip unevenly, but it then fit into the recessed slot on the caliper.

After grinding, all was well. Sorta.

The air in the garage eased as I warmed to her company. For an easy half-hour we played with the details of the bike by installing nut caps and front axle caps which I snugged down against a coating of silicon to prevent vibration.

Some silicone on the axle nut will prevent vibration that may loosen the cap.

I discovered that the front chrome caliper caps stuck directly against the existing tin insignia. I took one off and cleaned the area thoroughly with electrical cleaner then the self-sticking surface didn’t reach the base.

Here’s the 100th Anniversary backrest that will not fit on the short back rest bracket. We sent the short unit to Custom Powder Coating, in Dallas, for a coating of black.

Note that there are various pads and various fasteners and spacers for different applications. Don’t try using common sense.

I ended up with 1/2 pint can of Rust-oleum paint and a small brush for touch-up details. I sent Sin Wu in the house to prepare for the ride. That meant striping out of her threads and waiting for me in bed. It’s the code. We must workout before we ride.

–Bandit

Editor’s note: I’m sniveling through this, but I’m sure with some experience this would have been a breeze. I suppose that’s what dealerships are for.

The King stripped for powder coating.

The plan was to strip the bike of all the brackets, tabs and accessories we could get our hands on and have them black powder coated by Custom Powder Coating in Dallas a Bikernet Sponsor.

We ordered additional accessories to enhance the clean black effect. First we ordered the Harley-Davidson black mag wheels and floating rotors with black centers. We pondered the front fender and trying to black out all the trim. During research we discovered, in the Winter P&A catalog, brackets to allow a Fatboy fender to be bolted in the King front end. The Fatboy fender is a cleaner unit, but it still has rivets and ribs. We opted for a solid black Street Stalker fender that’s clean as a whistle and light as a feather.

We also decided to switch the rear turnsignals out for the new Screamin’ Eagle teardrops and the narrower light bar. When they arrived we had to tear the lights down. We cut the two plug wires in a staggered fashion. The light bulb was then removed and we used a coat hanger tool to hook the plastic base and pull it out of the shell. Lastly we ordered the Harley-Davidson fender, license plate mount.

The first thing we did was to clear off our bench and tape down a couple of large sheets of paper. We organized every nut and bolt, screw and spring.

I ordered the billet seat tab from the catalog in the Multi-fit area. When I ordered a slim seat it didn’t come with a tab so I had to move the tab each time I switched seats. I powder coated both for more simple assembly in the future.

Nuttboy and I started the process removing the bags. I began the process of removing all the bag brackets and roll bars. Each time we removed a fastener we set it on the sheet of paper and wrote a description.

We had to pop the plastic side panel loose and take the seat off to get at the roll bar fasteners.

This shows one of the bag bracket fasteners that are inserted into the bag rails. I thought about pulling them for fear that the heat from the powder coating process would weaken the spring tension. We tested the theory by leaving some in place. We didn’t have a problem, either way.

On the left side I had to remove the passenger footboard to take the derby cover off. With each note on the sheet of paper we listed the number of fasteners for each application. The more information the better. I had to remove the seat and the King side panels to take the bag roll bars off. Many of these items were held on with Torx bolts. It’s a good notion to buy a set.

This footboard had to go to reach the derby fastener.

I started to remove the shift levers and discovered that I had to remove the footboard to reach the inspection cover Torx fasteners. I wasn’t sure if the footboards would have black in their future. At first I reviewed the area of the black board that would show, just the rim. Then we turned the board over and studied the way the rubber suspended pads were installed. We discovered that the pads are removed easily with a punch to the edges of the bottom protruding rubber lips. The boards went into the box for powder.

This was a simple process to tapping the edges of the rubber with a large tap and rubber hammer. We tried driving them out with the tap first, through the center. That didn’t work.

The mechanic’s law calls for one screw or fastener to seize every time. We had to drill out one of the inspection cover screws.

I tried to take off the kickstand the old fashioned way by removing the tooth then pivoting the arm forward. The spring wouldn’t come loose. I had to remove all the fasteners.

Metric fasteners haunted me from time to time, including the red Loctite touched horn fasteners which were #10 metric sockets. The Showa front end was covered with metric 12 point fasteners. It forced us to hit a commercial tool shop for 12-point metric sockets.

As the last of the fender rail parts came off we marked the loop that carried the license plate. We planned to replace the license plate holder with a fender-mounted job that attached below the taillight. We cut off the existing license plate loop, then I brazed washers and nuts so we could screw small orange reflectors in place.

We marked the old license plate rail with a felt pen so the cut would fall just under the fender rail cover.

We didn’t use these reflectors. We were looking for Harley orange reflectors with steel backs.

After a swapmeet run we had the right stuff for the job.

Sin Wu wandered into the garage just as I turned off the torch. She shuts down productive activity wherever she goes. She had a couple of alloy knitting needles that she offered us. I discovered in short order that the long alloy knitting needle worked perfectly for removing the hard-to-reach cotter key behind the brake pedal.

I had the toughest time retracting the clevis pin from of the pedal that hinged on the master cylinder piston. Finally it was removed with a punch from under the frame. The brake pedal caused me so much pain it didn’t make it into the powdercoating box. We painted it with a rattle can after prepping.

Continued On Page 2

Bandit and I were checking out the Amazing Shrunken FXR. “Thedamned thing,” referring to the shrunken FXR project we had beenhammering at, off and on, for almost two years, “has attitude,” hegrowled, “a bad-assed attitude.”

“Yeah, but will it have sound attitude?” I mused. “I want it toget attention. I want it to be felt in their chests before they seeit. I want them to hide their children from the evil they fear.”

The Amazing Shrunken FXR has developed into a mythic ethos. Froma cardboard box full of rejected, beat-up, and cast off parts, thebike has become a sculptured icon, a physical dream, and perhaps awrong turn down a bad dirt road, three miles back.The project began back in the spring of 2001. After a lot of fitsand starts, the Buell Project, the Sturgis Run, the Deer Gut stewadventure, Bandit’s painful recovery, the Red Ball prep, variousevents including a trip around the world and soiree’s, we slappedparts on, hammered steel into shape, welded this and that, cussed andfarted and got to where we are with the help of a RevTech driveline,Custom Chrome, BDL belt, Joker controls, Cyril Huze sheet metal andCompu-Fire electrics. The bike is raw boned, trimmed down, and meanlooking. That’s where it stands, inert and waiting for inspiration,up on the rack at the Bikernet garage.

Bandit regarded the raw metal frame with squinty-eyed intensity.”What you thinkin’,” I asked, keeping my own gaze focused on thepotential of the bike. At my question he stretched out his gangly,egret-like frame to its full 6’5″. “It’ll be a loud mother fuckereither way you play it,” he intoned in his gravitas basso-profundodeep voice. “We’ve shortened the frame and rear wheel base so muchthat it’s barely a cunt-hair from the exhaust port to the rear wheel.”

We cut a piece of an Samson Evolution system with a Mikita touse the exhaust port, then started welding other pieces in place. Wecut it back to make a tight turn and create space away from the oiltank.

“Fuck it,” I responded in my best Pancho Sanchezimprovisation, “let’s just start from the port and see what happens.”

We rummaged through a pile of Samson scrap exhaust pipes that wehad scavenged from a dumpster behind the Sampson factory. Flingingout fish tail tips, shot gun systems and swoopy cruiser exhausts,most of them dented and damaged so they couldn’t be re-used. Mr.Samson gave us only the best to modify. We eventually came up withenough pieces to fabricate a Frankenstein exhaust system.

As I grabbed for a section 1 3/4-inch chrome pipe, Imistakenly grabbed a goodly chunk of fur. Bandit’s midget, crazeddemon of a feral cat yeowled in protest and sank his needle-liketeeth into the back of my hand.

“God damn that crazy bastard,” I screamed, “he’s as crazyas a peach orchard boar.” I’m sure Bandit has a mescaline salt-lickfor that freaked out feline.After I extricated my hand from the jaws of Bandit’s feline Cujo, Ireturned to the exhaust system at hand.

Our intent was to minimize the exhaust system as much as possible.We ran the pipe straight down from the front exhaust port, thenturned it to hug the bottom of the engine case. We had originallyhoped to put a flattened pipe under the frame, but reasonable roadclearance dictated a different path. So we tucked it in and aroundthe engine case, then inside the frame, coming out just at the edgeof the back wheel.

“Our first mistake,” Bandit spouted, “we needed a smallerdiameter chunk of exhaust to form guides when welding chunks ofexhaust together. If we had slipped it in one piece even a quarter ofan inch. it would have held each chunk in alignment. That’s onetheory to building pipes. The key to fabing your own pipes is havingenough scrap to slice and dice, then cutting and working each pieceuntil it’s as close to a perfect fit as possible. Finally the tackingprocess is critical. That’s were the guides didn’t come in. If we hadguides we wouldn’t have offset pipes tacked into place. That problememerged severely a week later during the grinding process.”

“It took two days of playing, cutting, fitting and welding toform a completely custom exhaust system in place,” Bandit added.”Make sure you wet towels and form a fire barrior around your tackingarea to protect the rest of the bike. I used a small 0-sized torchtip and common hanger to tack the segments of pipes together. I’m notconfident enough with our new MIG welder with thin sheet metal, so Istuck with the torch.”

” It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours,” Bandit added, “acompletely unique system that would be tucked under the transmissionand attached to the driveline solidly under the tranny backing place.Then we faced the muffler aspect. The pipes were too short to be openor we would have been arrested within a block of the headquarters.”

Needing some kind of ‘standardized’ muffler elements, we went toour local San Pedro Kragen Auto Parts store. With the clamp-on piecein hand, we found parts and pieces enough to create a 7″ mufflercase. “Most of the elements were too heavy and glass packed,” Banditspouted, “We couldn’t weld on a glass pack.”

Back at the garage, with torch in hand, Bandit cut out a sectionof baffles from some scrap Sampson muffler. Spot welding the bafflesinto our jury-rigged muffler, we produced something that may, likeJapanese Fart Wax, diminish the painful ‘Brap-rap-rap’ flutter ofunrestrained exhaust back pressure. A right-angle turn-out willdirect the dragon’s breath exhaust from the screaming 88cc Rev Tech,high-performance engine to an unsuspecting public standingslack-jawed and terrified at the curbed edge of civilization, theirhair-dos blasted straight by the sizzling after-burner of the AmazingShrunken FXR.

“He gets sorta twisted,” Bandit muttered shaking his head.”Actually with the baffle in hand we went to San Pedro Muffler Shopand looked at the myriad of tips and tubing alterations we couldmake. We found a tip and had a chunk of 1 7/8 tubing spread to matchthe tip. That formed the other end of the muffler. We just had toweld the three elements together.”

I welded the baffle in place, positioned as it was in theSamson System. I discovered that the two elements didn’t want to weldtogether. I have a feeling the tip was made of an inferior metal.

With the die grinder we cut notches for the muffler clamp.

“After welding and fitting I stood back and was proud of ouruniquely tight system that would allow Giggie, from Compu-Fire, tomachine mid-controls for a final touch,” Bandit interupted. Theexhaust played perfectly into the Shrunken aspects of the project. Iremoved the tacked system and began hours of gas welding to make itwhole. That’s when all hell broke loose. While working on anotheraspect of the bike with my back turned to my partner, he began togrind the welds. The college art history professor sought perfectionwith each weld and ground right through the thin walls of the18-guage exhaust pipes. It was amazing. I was sure the system wasruined.”

This shows the amount of area ground down so far we were forcedto fill it or destroy the system and start over.

“Some builders tack systems together then take them tomuffler shops for professional construction. I thought that was mynext move. Unfortunately a regular muffler shop doesn’t have themandrels to make the tight bends we had proposed. I was devastated,but the man told me that he could fill the welds with his MIG welder.

More welds to fill the mad grinder’s cutting work.

“Unfortunately each weld was now a 1/2 inch tall and wide zit atalmost each junction of the pipe. Nuttboy began the grinding processagain. More holes were found and I filled them with gas welding usinghanger rods. I joke now that if the bike runs like shit we blame iton the exhaust system. If it runs well, it’s the same roll of thedice. We’ll see.”

“Making your own exhaust system can be a blast, just don’tget heavey handed with the grinders. Pipe is thin and a little weldthat shows won’t matter much since we didn’t plan on chrome, butblack Jet Hot coating. I’ve sworn off chrome exhaust systems on mybikes for the future.”

That big bastard just won’t shut up. The next episode in thismechanical adventure will feature Giggy’s attempt a electrifying thesteel monster. Next weekend, barring any new bike projects, Giggy’sinopportune finger damage at the power tools, splattered deer guts,San Pedro political insurrection, Sin Wu’s beguiling charms, a caseof beer, or any other form of diversion or chaos, we will be closerto cranking this monster over.

To Continue……..

Back to Part 2……..

Back to Custom Chrome on Bikernet……..

Back to Joker Machine on Bikernet……..

Like the enigmatic fortunes you find inside thosefolded Chinese cookies, our visit with Dr. John–the”frame doctor,” was a mix of New Age mysticism andpractical guidance. The week before, Bandit and Ibrought the rolling Pro-Street frame to the gooddoctor. We gave the him our best ideas of what wethought the bike should become. Basically, we wantedthe bike to fit my body proportions, to shrink theframe around the engine and to still have elements ofa street chopper.

Bandit and I had been trying to create a bike that hada real “signature” identity, yet we weren’t sure whatthat would mean. We tried to convey our concepts withawkward babbling.

Stroking his long, gray beard with a knowing gravity,the doctor calmly listened to our ravings. Eventuallyhe gave us a broad grin through the tangle of beardand said, “Don’t worry, boys, I understand exactlywhat you need.”

We had left the bike with vague misgivings.”Do you think he really has a clue what we want?” Iasked Bandit.

“I dunno,” Bandit said, staring off into the acrid,smog-laden sky.”The guy’s kind of strange, but everyone I’ve talkedto says the guy’s a wizard,” Bandit musedmysteriously.

When we pulled up to Dr. John’s shop, there was ourcreation leaning up against the wall. Not averse tostreet-corner poetry, I intoned, “What a bitchin’fuckin’-lookin’ bike.”

“Man, that bike is really unique,” Bandit exclaimed ina more civilized tone.

As we oohed and ahhed about the bike, Dr. John camearound the corner, grinning. I jumped onto theseat-less bike and grinned. It fit perfectly, betterthan an O.J. leather glove.

“I really think you’ve got something good goingthere,” the doctor spoke with unconcealedappreciation. “I wasn’t sure it was going to workuntil I got into it. The bike began to speak to me. Ithink it’s got the right karma,” the doctor spoke withmysterious gravity.

All this mystery was not without reason. Dr. Johnstarted this trek to ultimate frame adjustment workingat Goodyear Tires. A fortuitous opportunity, sponsoredby Goodyear, for advanced training at L.A. Trade Techgave him the chance to try motorcycle repair.Recognizing that he was more interested in bikes thantires, he began a course in bike repair withinstructor Pat Owens.

Dr. John soon connected up with a bike shop calledMotorcycle Menders. Right away, he could tell that hehad a better-than-average sense of what was needed tofix most frames. Eventually, he opened his first shopin Covina in 1983. In 1990, he moved to his presentlocation in Anaheim.

Dr. John’s expertise is extended to both traditionalstreet choppers and to the more exotic road racebikes, where competitive tolerances and alignmentshave seconds off of lap times. The challenges to hisexpertise in frame adjustment include the extremes ofcreating a bike for a 6’9″ rider and a Harley with a25″ over stock front end. For his own use, he isbuilding a karma-tingling three-wheeler with a VWengine.

In his shop, amongst a tangle of tweaked Ninjacarcasses, “destruction derby” ATV frames, twistedchopper forks and even a mangled Vespa body, Dr. Johnholds court. Side-tracking his stories about gettinginto the frame adjustment business, he mixes conceptsof metal stresses with ideas of mental stresses,Eastern philosophy, acupuncture points, shakras andauras, martial arts movements, elements of a good dietand muscle alignment of the spine.

The conversation stumbles easily into his personalexperiences. After an injury of his own, he explored avariety of methods of pain control, eventually meetingan American Indian psychic whose exotic beautyhypnotized him as much as her cosmic consciousness.Here, a glint comes to his eyes and a wry smile bringsone corner of his mouth up. “A rare beauty,” hemuses. “An aura just like Cleopatra of ancient Egypt.”

Bandit nodded in agreement repeatedly, like thoseDodger dolls that bobble in the back windows of cars,to the good doctor’s banter. Bandit slurped his greentea while listening to enchanting tales spun by theDoctor. While I shoveled in heaps of steaming andspicy-hot Kung Pao chicken, my eyes teared up and mynose started running.

“The magnetic flow is a flux of energy in the bodyof…” The steaming pots of green tea and plates ofexotic Chinese food sent wisps and tendrils dancing inthe air above our table like a chorus of swaying,sensual nymphets.

“The assorted colors of shakra balance…” Thisadventure had the aura of Zeke the Splooty about it.We were on a cosmic motorcycle Magical Mystery tour.

An hour or so later, Bandit and I were back on the 91Freeway with the bike strapped to the bed of hispickup, staring ahead kind of dumbly. “What a trip,Dr. John is,” I said.

“Yeah, but I think he did a great job on the frame,”Bandit said.

“Yeah, cosmic man,” my head was stuck in the ’60s.”What do we do now?” I asked.

“Let’s check out some trippy paint for the bike,”Bandit smiled. “Let’s drive down to Stanton and see ifWes at Venom can come up with something exotic enoughfor this mystery machine.”

“Go for it,” I laughed.

It’s days like these that make bike building seem likethe right thing to do. Bandit slapped in a tape of’60s funk and we were sailing down the road like acouple of latter-day Kerouac and Keseys.

“Hand me a bigger hammer, goddamn it,” Bandit hollered across the garage. We were slamming together as much steel as we could to get this Frankenstein of a bike together in time to show it to the crowds at the Queen Mary Motorcycle Show this weekend.So far this week we’ve managed to cut 1.5 inches off the swing arm. This brings the wheel into the back end of the bike at the point of the pivot. We are designing the bike with brevity in mind. We are hoping that the finished impression will be a bike shrunken around the RevTech 88-inch motor and Rev Tech 6-speed. Oh, we’ll have devilish accents here and there, but the overall concept is lean and mean.

To that end, we are cutting off any unnecessary tabs and struts. Of course, everything changes as soon as a UPS box arrives. Joker Machine parts arrive every couple of days. The foot controls arrived. The new front Avon tire should be here Monday or Tuesday. It arrived, we had it mounted pronto and the fender was looking good. I hauled it to Urs who is a master body man and he widened it to fit perfectly. Having the right tools makes a big damn difference.

A new front tire was called for because the sexy front fender from Cyril Huze was too narrow, since he builds bikes for 19 and 21-inch from wheels and we’re running an 18 (our fault).

After banging the hell out of the fender to try to squeeze out a fraction of an inch clearance, we decided on a smaller sized tire. We ordered an 18/ 100-90. We hope this will allow us at least 3/8-inch all around.

The new Cyril designed stretched tank arrived with the fenders. We cut out part of the bottom of the tank at the back where the front of the seat is, since every goddamn thing we do is backwards. Every builder in the country stretches bikes, we shrink ’em, so the tank won’t fit without mods. This move helped bring the tank down closer to the engine and since the FXR is short, well you get the picture. The tank tabs are in place and welded.

We decided to use an old rear fender off one of Bandit’s past bikes–a Fatboy. We turned it around backwards, the front end will be bolted to the center of the swing arm. Our next problem was how we were going to hold up the stern. After a lot of head scratching, cussing and phone calls we met with master fabricator James Famighetti who suggested that we create our own struts that will be bolted on the inside of the lower rear shock absorber bolt, then welded to the outside of the fender in such a way as to add to the over all look and strength of the fender and conceal the stock aspects. Mounting fenders to swingarms is treacherous. It will vibrate like a dog attacked by killer bees, so it better be strong and still able to remove for touchup.

No problem, you say? Ah, ha, not so easy kimosabe! We are pretty sure the strut will have enough clearance for the Rev-Tech brakes on the right side of the rear tire. When you come around to the left side, you’ve got the pully to contend with. So on this strut we added a 2″ dog leg to clear the pulley. I made up the patterns on cardboard and the Fam-Art brothers cut and bent the pieces. Then it was time to fit. We’re getting there.

The BDL pulley from CCI is smaller than the one we used for the mock up. So with our fingers crossed, when all these parts come together this week it will be amazing if they all fit. They did, well, perhaps not perfectly, but we’re getting close.They did, well, perhaps not perfectly, but we’re getting close. If not, “Bandit, get me a bigger hammer, goddamn it!”

Here’s the score. The fender needs tabs and it’s ready. The rear fender needs rivet removal and the massive tabs tack welded. The shock tabs have been cut since the Progressive Suspension shocks from Custom Chrome need to be set wider away from the fender tabs. Let’s see if we can make it to the show. We’re still waiting on Huze oil tank mounting tabs.

The saga of the Amazing Shrunken FXR continues. This project is notonethat is merely slapping together after-market products to build a facsimileof a customized Harley-Davidson.From the start, Bandit and I sought to create a unique ‘signature’ bike.Even though we have used a lot of after-market products, most have beenmodified to fit our design plan. The products we use, from the FXRPro-Street frame to the Rev-Tech engine to the Joker Machine qualitycomponents, to Cyril Huze, Avon and BDLare some of the finest products available.

Because some of the fundamental elements of design were modified, we havebeen constantly fabricating new brackets, tabs, mounts, and studs. Eachmodification created new issues relating to the fit and function of thedrivetrain. It seems as if we’ve bolted and unbolted the elements of this bike ahundred times.For example, the frame was modified by Dr. John to fit the Rev-Tech engineinto our overall design concept. The top motor mount was bent to fit thenewspacing. We used this motor mount point to position the Cyril Huze teardropgas tank. When we positioned the tank we related it to the handle barclearance at maximum turn position. Rubber mount brackets were welded inplace. The tank was cut at the underside back end to fit low on the frame.It looked hot. Next I cut the La Pere seat pan to hug the pointed rear ofthe gas tank and strengthened the seat back. There is a continuousdouble-‘swoop’from the handle bars to the back of the rear fender. The seat pan lookedhot.

Then we tried to put the engine in. It didn’t look fit. The engine wasmere fractions of an inch from fitting. Even if we could have hammered itinplace the subsequent tight tolerances would surely create problems as thebike rattled and roared down the road.

At this point, we cut the original tank brackets and repositioned themodified tank a little higher on the top frame tubing. The tank looked hot,the engine fit, but now the handle bar swing is a fraction of an inch tooclose to the tank. This means we will probably have to have custom handlebars.

It still looks good and we’re still optimistic. Even as wedroppedthe tank down on the new rubber mount brackets and began putting in the5/16″bolts, we found that the right rear bolt was too long to fit. So we got abolt with a thinner head and with my small fingers, I got the bolt in andstarted. We were still looking hot.

We decided to see if the belt fit since Bandit had cut andrewelded the swingarm 1.5 inches shorter for that Amazing Shrunkenlook. Bandit said no, the belt wouldn’t fit. It wasn’t suppose to. Isaid it looked close. As welooked at the bike we realized we’d had to remove the engine, drop thetransmission, which meant we’d have to support the swing arm. It alwaysseems harder than hell to make something easy. So with a couple of scissorsjacks, hunks of wood, and a crow bar, we were able to loosen the rubbermounton the left side of the pivot point of the swing arm. Then we gingerlyslipped the belt in, put the rubber mount back and bolted everything backtogether. Damn! It fit perfect and we were looking hot.

Wait a minute. The right side of the belt was almost touching the edgeofthe back fender. Quick surgery with a saws-all cut a chunk out of thefender. Fender fits, belt don’t rub, bike still looks hot.

As we cram more operational parts together, the room to move gets lessandless. Next we positioned the oil bag, which also brought up the issue ofthebattery accessibility. With bungee cords, a busted yard stick and some woodshims, we finally got the bag in what seemed a reasonable position. Fourrubber mounted brackets were fabricated then welded into place. It lookedHot. Everything was bolted in place. And everything looked Hot.

Ah, but not so fast kimosabe. We shaved the fins off the back ofthe oil bag for more clearance. With the two rubbermounts in place atthe rear of the oil bag under the seat pan we had enough clearancefor the battery, in the front for the engine and exhaust, under itfor the starter motor, but no clearance for the ever moving rearfender. It needed at least 1.5 inches of shock play since it’sattached to the swingarm. We had to peel the bag out of the frame andtake it to the Famighetti’s metal fab shop, Fam-Art, for theirexpertise. They came up with a plan to scoop out the back of the bagto the battery box without shortening the overall look of the bag.Then the fender will have the clearance to move with the swingarm andstill look hot.

Next, we neet to investigate whether the Joker controls canbe mounted mid frame. At the same time we will begin fabrication ofthe Amazing exhaust system. It’s gotta be lookin’ hot one way oranother.

–NuttBoy

To Continue……..

Back to Part 1……..

Back to Custom Chrome on Bikernet……..

Back to Joker Machine on Bikernet……..

You’ve been there. You handed the Makita cordless drill toyou’re drunken buddy, and he drilled a hole in your big screentelevision. You tried to wrap the extension cord around his neck andfinish him off. We came close to blows in the garage a couple ofmonths back. I spent days carefully welding chunks of Samson exhaustpipes together to form a one-of-a-kind exhaust system.

All the welds were performed with gas and hanger rod. Thepipes weren’t perfect, but they fit the bill. They were actuallyintended to be prototypes, to be duplicated by a paid professional.After the first pass was completed the pipes fit like a glove,although they were artistically rough around the edges. Nuttboy cameby on his Wednesday afternoon escape, and I handed him a highspeedgrinder and instructed him to round off the welds. I worked onanother project and paid no attention while sparks flew. When he wasfinished he tapped me on the shoulder and said humbly, “Not sure thisis what you had in mind.”

He had ground right through the pipes and left gapingholes alongside most of the welds. In addition, I discovered to myteeth-grinding dismay, that there were still large sections of thepipe ground so thin, that as soon as the torch tip came within 6inches of the surface the pipe melted away. I spent another whole dayfilling the gaps. Who knows what will happen when the struggling bikefires to life. We’ll have the only exhaust system on earth withbaffles throughout.

That’s not all. The grief continued. I hand made a mufflerusing a portion of a Samson baffle. We purchased a chromed, truckfender tip from San Pedro Muffler and went to work, but after hoursof screwing with the shiny metal we almost shitcanned the unit. Thefender tip was made out of a strange metal, almost pot metal, thatdidn’t seem to take to the gas welding and wouldn’t respond tobrazing. For every hole I filled, another crack lurked. I welded,then smoothed on a bench grinder only to find cracks and holes tofill again. The shorty muffler probably weighs 50 pounds due to thevast layers of welding rod. As it stands, this is a pure prototypeexhaust system. We should use it for testing then shitcan the rankpiece of shit and start over.

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Frustrated, but pleased with the overall look we were readyfor final metal work. This bike is being built by inexperiencedhands, not professionals, in our backyard garage. Sure, I’ve builtsome bikes, but I wouldn’t consider myself a metal fabricator. I cameup with the initial design and we roughed out elements, but we neededa master metal worker to finish what we started. There are preciousfew, true metal craftsman, who I know. One is Billy Westbrook,another is Jesse James and recently, in the news, we displayed metalwork by Roger at Goldammer (Goldammer Cycle Works Ltd.,www.goldammercycle.com ,1-250-764-8002). High quality workmanship.

They’re out there but not on every corner. I stumbledonto another super-slag artist under my nose. James and LarryFamighetti are Hamsters and own a corrugated steel metal shop inHarbor City, California, called Fam-Art. You’d be tweaked to rumbledown Narbonne Street and stumble across this rusting corner buildingthat’s got to be the oldest swaying dump on the block. Theyspecialize in structural steel (you could never tell it from theircreaking tin shed) for homes and buildings. Large chunks of steel,massive shredders, presses and welders are scattered around the funkylocation that’s reminiscent of the first shack Harleys were built in.

Nuttboy and I darkened their doors a couple of times toask them to flame-cut a couple of chunks of steel for our fenderbrackets. The more I hung around the more quiet-James began to showme steel components he had fashioned for some of the local riders. Herebuilt and reformed Harley taillights to eliminate all the edges andgrooves, then welded them to fenders so that ultimately there were noseams. The more I gawked at the sculptured parts, that demonstratedhis ability, the more I knew we had discovered a man capable of BillyWestbrook fabrication qualities. We hauled the entire FXR to Jamesthe next week.

James relocated the straps in such a way to narrow the shockplacement keeping that shrunken look in mind.

This is a close-up of the right fender strap. It’s beencorrected, reformed and readied for final welds.

We cut and fitted the tank and made the mounts, butJames filled the underside, rear section for a perfect fit.

We jacked up the front of the tank and mounted it, butJames filled it and formed the front of the tank to match the customridge along the top. He even made paint work suggestions that I foundinteresting. “If you paint a ridge like this with a light color,”James said, “The ridge will disappear.”

We decided to paint the bike a light House of Kolors pearland create a dark teardrop panel on the top of the tank. He alsocreated and welded fork stops to the neck.

As we rolled out of the shop that day James still hadfinal welds to complete. He straightened out our seat pan, but neededto figure out a mounting arrangement. Finally we needed the CyrilHuze front fender brackets checked and welded into place.

We should have the Shrunken FXR back in our clutches inthe next couple of weeks. We need to finish our rear brake andshifting mechanisms with Giggie from Compu-Fire, fire it up for atest ride and tear it down for paint.

Oh, I need to untie Nuttboy. I need that extension cord.

The Shrunken FXR returned recently from Fam Art, in HarborCity, California (310-326-2141). They welded, shaved, mounted theseat, manufactured fork stops and saved our poor- construction asses.James Famighetti mounted our Cyril Huze front fender, welded andformed the tabs and informed us that the Avon Venom was too large forthe narrow glide front end. It was our turn to work on it.

Note that James mounted the seat pan so that the edges wouldnot touch the frame paint in the future.

Like any self-respecting bikers we hate to have a bike, oreven components out of our mistrusting mitts. We had another dilemmathat needed handling. The bike still didn’t have a kick stand, and weused two 2 by 4’s, to hold it upright, when not perched on the lift.There’s a trick to this maneuver. If I backed the Pro Street FXR outof the garage and wasn’t hauling the wood planks, I was screwed. Ifalone, I could stand there for hours waiting for someone to strollpast carrying two 2 by 4s–unlikely. After a couple of unsteadyoccurrences, the bike didn’t move without the wood chips on the seat.You can imaging the major pain in the ass this caused.

We ordered a weld-on, Sportster style, kick stand fromCCI, and it arrived complete, with all chromed hardware and thebracket to be welded on the frame. There was one problem indetermining the position. The front Avon was a 100/100 18-inch, andwe planned to replace it with a 90/90. We needed to have the finishedPerformance Machine wheel in place.

The Avon Road Runner tire arrived, and we had it installed at thelocal Yamaha dealer. James pointed out to us that our front tirespacing wasn’t perfect so I sliced a spacer to give us about a1/4-inch spacer on the right side of the wheel and about a 3/4 inchspacer on the left. The tire, almost centered, now had clearance, andthe wheel floated effortlessly under the modified Cyril Huze frontfender.

Now we were cleared to install the Hot Match weld-on kickstand.This is a tricky assembly process. First, you need to be absolutelysure you don’t plan to change the front wheel, to a 21, or extend thefront forks. If you do, the kickstand will need to be bent ormodified to fit. It’s not the end of the world, but it will destroythe chrome.

The other trick is determining the right position. Here’swhat my feeble brain told me, since the directions with the Hot Matchdidn’t cover positioning, except to recommend that you take yourtime–no shit. First I stood my Road King straight up and lifted theside stand until it was locked in place. Then I measured from thepoint that would touch the pavement to the ground. It varied fromaround 2.5 inches to 3 inches. I noted that the Hot Match lever wasnearly 3 inches shorter from the point of contact to the center ofthe pivot point. I took that into consideration. I also noted that Ihad lowered my King with shorter shocks, then added a larger Avontyre (a 150). Ground clearance was also a consideration.

Then we picked a placement area on the frame. Our designcalled for little or no forward controls. I kept the tab under theBDL belt drive system and hidden as much as possible, without beingso far back as to create a balance problem. If the weight is forwardof the kickstand, sometimes it can topple the bike. One otherconsideration. When the stand pops up you need to be able to reach itwith a toe, and it better not ride on the belt, or you’re toast. Makesure to check all that, before you burn any rod.

I sprayed the frame rail and the components with asilicone splatter preventative. It obstructs slag from sticking tocomponents. It also made the frame a slipper bitch. I tried settingthe stand end on a socket nearly 3 inches off the deck. Then Iconsidered the differing lengths of the stands and shifted to 2.5inches. Sin Wu was called, from the bedroom, to hold the stand firmlyin place. I marked it, with a grease pencil, then ground the edges ofthe bracket to be welded to the frame. Extra grinding took place toform a snug, metal to metal fit. In order to make all this work weneeded to partially assemble the kickstand without the ball andspring.

The easy-to-read directions called for disassembly, but we left ittogether and used it to hold the bracket in place for tacking. Beforetacking I backed the bike out of the clamp, holding it upright,positioned the bracket in the white grease pencil marks and leanedthe bike carefully until the stand rested on the flat surface. Itlooked cool, so we re-clamped the bike securely, held the stand inplace, protected the belt from hot slag and tacked the sucker withour Millermatic welder. Then we took the stand arm off the bracketand welded it some more. That would hold it securely until we torethe bike down for paint.

The Hot Match unit from Custom Chrome is a well madeprecision unit delivered show chromed. The instructions includedrecommendations to apply anti-seize to the spring and ball. Theyendorse using Red Loctite on the pivot pin threads. We didn’t becausethe bike would be torn down for paint in the near future. The armneeds to be placed firmly over the bracket and pushed into placebefore the pin will ease into the hole from the bottom. It doesn’thurt to have a spare set of hands and someone holding the bike.There’s also a pivot pin set screw to prevent losing that preciouspivot pin and kick stand arm, on a desert highway, in the middle ofArizona.

That’s it, except to mention that when we head to thepaint shop, we need to tape off the chrome bracket, so the painterwill paint over the welds but not the chrome tab.

As you can see this bike is damn close to the spray booth.I need to coerce Giggie, from Compu-fire, to ride his FXR out to theBikernet Headquarters with our mid-controls. Once the Joker Machinehandlebar controls are bolted to the modified bars, we’re ready for atrial run, then off to paint. Stay tuned.

–Bandit

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–Bandit

Back to Part 4…