Every custom motorcycle build is an adventure. It takes me from one crazed time in my wild life to another. Fortunately, I'm not spilling my guts about another woman I lost during a knuckle-busting build. But this build did represent turning points. I'm about to step off into my 62nd year and sign up for Social Security. It also represented our stinky economy, and for the first time I pulled the plug on riding this bike to Sturgis.

Imagine for a second, the middle of July. Days were long and hot, and the Bikernet shop boiled with activity. The Sturgis deadline was fast approaching. I needed to plan stops, hotels, food funds and a place to stay in the Badlands. Then suddenly we were forced to shift gears. Actually, we took the planning process out of gear. One day, I scrambled for the finish line; the next I coasted. I couldn't find the stress switch for a week and relieve the pressure.

Most of my parts were baking in the Tony Pisano, Worco powder-coating ovens. It took me a week to realize the Sturgis Rally would survive without me, and I could relax. I was no longer under the gun to finish this build and risk my life riding an untested motorcycle halfway across the nation. Then it dawned on my feeble brain. I had a terrific opportunity to finish this bike and test it for a year before riding into the Mojave Desert and across several Indian reservations. Plus, I could kick back and enjoy the summer, pressure- free. I bought an ice-cold six-pack of Coronas, a couple of fresh limes and grabbed a sun tan. Not bad.

Tony is a pro powder-coater of the finest order and knows what it takes to tape off motor mounting plates and plug threaded holes. He saved long days under a grinding wheel. The powder work came out supreme. This year I tried something new. I powdered even the sheet metal, then asked a pro to paint panels on the tank and a flat black stripe down the Chica rear fender. He handled that aspect in a flash. Then I turned the job over to George the Wild Brush for the 5-Ball Racing logo on the tanks and pin-striping.

George drives around Los Angeles in an old Toyota truck with a camper shell, the home of paint headquarters. He folds down the tailgate, uncovers his vast, dripping assortment of paint and goes to work. He's old school to the bone. He pinstriped the giants' drag race funny cars in the '70s.

Here's where my fuck-ups began to surface. After the tanks were powder-coated, I decided to test them for leaks. I had planned to coat them with a sealer, and received Kreem tank sealer from Bikers Choice.

Here's the quandary: You can't seal tanks and then have them powder-coated. It might all go to hell in 400 degree ovens. So I held off. Then I decided to hit a local radiator shop for the test. We discovered one small leak where I welded in a rubber-mounting bung in the bottom. I ground it clear of paint and re-welded it. No problem. The painter touched it up for me. It was on the bottom of the tank and I was good to go. I thought.

Next blunder: Instead of pressure-testing my handmade exhaust system, I decided to try another sealant available from Kreem and Bikers Choice. It's blue madness and can only be used on new pipes. I followed the directions, but it's a messy operation, and of course, I attempted this process for the first time, after I painted the pipes. What did I learn from these hiccups? Test tanks and pipes before you coat them with anything, period.

The first item to be installed was the new Paughco narrow, taper-legged springer front end. It slid right into place. If only I had four arms when I'm working in the shop alone. The front end already had the 23-inch Black Bike Wheel installed with a special Avon Tyre. I just needed to grapple with the front end, fasteners, bearings and top crown. No problem. I also installed the GMA front brake bracket and spaced the front wheel for the 14th time. It's a tight fit, and I need something art deco to mount on the front of the bracket. GMA, now owned by BDL, only builds a springer front brake bracket for the right side. I was forced to flip this one over. I could have machined the leading lip off, but I decided it could be used for some unique reflector, or quirky hood ornament. We'll see.

When I disassembled the bike, I carefully collected all the parts on this table. I also zip-locked all my fasteners and wrote their job descriptions on the back of each card. That was seriously helpful during assembly. Next, I dropped the Crazy Horse 100-inch engine in the Paughco frame, with the JIM's transmission and the Baker kicker system installed. Since the chain ran against a portion of the frame, I ordered a ½-inch 24-tooth tranny sprocket from JIMS and installed it with this special JIMS nut, designed with a built-in locking device. Unfortunately, no matter what I did, the holes wouldn't line up, so I safety wired the nut to the sprocket to prevent it from backing out.

Then I faced one of the toughest assembly jobs, installing the Spyke alternator stator plug in the right engine case. It's easy and difficult at the same time. This time, I smeared the tunnel and the plug with Never Seize and tried to push the plug through the case tunnel. I also carefully backed out the set-screw and scraped any burrs of the case edges. That didn't help, but I ultimately wrestled it into place. I'm always careful of electrical connections, wiring, proper grounds, etc. Nothing leaves us alongside the road more often than electrical problems. So, I don't like pushing and prodding charging components.

Once the stator was in place, I used self-locking fasteners from Harley-Davidson to fasten it down. Spyke is careful to supply all the proper assembly instructions, but it's always tough with aftermarket engines. Because it was somewhat of a guessing game, I installed the Spyke rotor a couple of times to make sure all the clearances were proper. Then I could move onto driveline alignment and the installation of the BDL narrow enclosed belt drive system.

I've worked with BDL components for at least 15 years. They are solid as a rock. I used the inner primary to pull the engine and transmission into alignment. I left both major components loose in the frame until I pulled it up tight with the inner primary. Don't forget the John Reed Code. I use Never Seize on all bolts rolling into soft aluminum. John warned about damaging porous aluminum threads by running hardened steel against them over and over. Never Seize allows them to glide in and out of the cases without stress or abrasion.

With the driveline aligned, I tightened down the rear engine mounts and then checked the front ones for gaps. I shimmed the front motor mount perfectly, then tightened it down.

Next, I focused on the transmission. The Paughco mounting plate was tight and the JIMS trans case was fine in the rear, but slightly elevated in the front. I dug around until I found the correct shim washers and drove them under the trans and around the front tranny studs. It's key to go through these motions for proper alignment and to save problems with the belt. It's surprising how easy the BDL system slips together if the driveline is aligned.

I followed the BDL instructions and bolted the engine shaft insert to the pulley then drove in the alignment pins and tightened down the Allen fasteners. I pulled the pressure plate pins out of the clutch and removed the clutch plates. With the clutch hub and the engine pulley holding the belt, I carefully slipped them on simultaneously. I attached the left-handed clutch nut and tightened it with an impact gun. I did the same with the engine main shaft nut. I turned over the engine and checked belt alignment and pulley alignment. I spaced out the front pulley slightly with a shim and was good to go.

BDL TECHNICIAN NOTE:I received a call from BDL, “You fucked up, Bandit,” Dan said. He pointed out how I didn't mention using Loctite on the transmission mainshaft splines when I installed the clutch basket. “That's more important than many folks realize,” he said. Vibration from the spines can tear up the basket splines and ultimately the clutch plates.

I generally don't Loctite the mainshaft splines until the bike is tried and true, encase I need to remove the clutch. “Harbor Freight sells a cheap vintage steering wheel puller,” Dan said. “They work like a champ for pulling BDL clutches. If a hub is too tight a little heat does the trick, melts the Loctite.”

With the clutch back in place and all the elements tightened down I installed the Spyke starter and pinion shaft. Giggie, who just passed away the other day, told me years ago, how to check the spacing. To keep the starter strong and not fuck with the ring gear, the starter gear should rest about 0.150 back from the ring gear. Too close and it doesn't have the space to begin turning and jams against the ring gear. Too far receded and it won't make good solid teeth contact.

With the primary almost buttoned up, I moved to the LA Chop Rods new-fangled internal throttle installation. Internal throttles are cool but precarious. If a bike stumbles and falls over, the first damage is generally to the bars. It's easy to replace an external throttle or a grip. But what the hell. We're not building a bike to fall down.

About this time, the Sturgis event hit the summer calendar, and folks arrived from Australia for the ride. Doc from Heavy Duty Magazine, in Australia, picked up a Victory for the run. Nicole Brosing, an Australian tattoo artist, flew to the coast, rented the same Road King she rode last year, grabbed her girlfriend and split north to San Francisco then east to the Badlands.

I wrenched in the shop, drank Coronas, smiled and caught a sun tan. Gard Hollinger from LA Chop rods slapped extra engineering into his internal throttle system. His instructions were detailed, but I was still nervous as I attempted to determine the proper length. It's always a sharp notion to take the bike off the lift so the bars can rotate for testing the overall length. It's actually a breeze to install, although I honed out the bars slightly, for an easy slip. Gard devised the cable lock-down with a brass sleeve to prevent damage to the internal cable and afford a solid grip for the set screw. This throttle, with extra bearings, is smooth as silk.

Then I turned to the classic spark plug wires from Low Brow. This is a cool system and adds class to any ride. They come in a kit form with all the elements needed, except a roll of solder, flux, and a gun. It was a simple operation, but I actually mounted the coil a tad on the tight side to the underside of the tank. Fortunately it all fit. Make sure to slip the boots onto the wires before you solder the brass fittings into place. Lowbrow attaches the other ends before shipment.

I simply attached the spark plug wire to the spark plugs, ran the lines out of harm's way to the coil, added an inch for safety, cut the wires, trimmed them back for soldering, and crimped and soldered the fittings into place. Frank Kaisler told me to make sure to wipe all the flux off after soldering. So I did as Commander Kaisler instructed. He uses alcohol or solvent to clean the area, preventing future corrosion.

I took a day off to help Nyla's brother, Brad, build some diesel motor mounts for their 32-foot Cho Lee motor sailing vessel. They were smack in the middle of a complete restoration. It's a beautiful boat. I've sailed it to Catalina Island several times, when it belonged to an old friend of mine. Another deadline loomed. Less than a week away, the Easyriders Bike Show would rock the Broken Spoke Saloon in Sturgis. Bikernet sponsors the Panhead Class each year and I needed to create the trophy. Panhead Billy won the award. When I can reach him, we will feature his classic rat pan.

I shifted to the wiring. I used Phil's Speed Shop wiring system. It's designed for lots of custom applications and makes wiring a breeze. He includes instructions and a wiring diagram. The billet chromed box includes the ignition switch, the high-low beam switch, circuit breakers, starter relay, neutral light and starter button. I just ran the wires, used my Frank Kaisler soldering tool and ran the wires through the old H-D soaked canvas loom. I know that's not the correct term for it, but it's a close description.

I ran into one problem that held me up for weeks. I like the CrazyHorse bottle cap engines. They offer three ignition alternatives. First, the original Thunderheart unit, an adjustable timing Thunderheart, and finally a cone motor system. Unfortunately, they don't tell you enough about the stock system. I thought it was like a Compu-Fire system in the cone. It's a one piece unit. I reached out to other Crazy Horse engine builders who told me I needed a Thunderheart ignition module. So, I ordered the system from Thunderheart, but when it arrived it didn't jive with any wiring diagram I received from Thunderheart or Crazy Horse. It was a riot. Every time I received a wiring diagram or a box from Thunderheart, I thought I was good to go. Then some goddamn thing wouldn’t match, and everyone had split to the Badlands. I paced the garage waiting for answers.

The Thunderheart tech guru sobered up after a week in the Broken Spoke swimming pool, doing belly shots with the lovely waitresses. He dropped me a simple e-mail: “There's only three wires goddamnit, black for ground, red for ignition and green to the coil. Go for a ride.”

That solved that mysterious issue and I moved on. Three more puzzling obstacles surfaced. I cleaned the Paughco oil tank with solvent and small nuts and bolts. I counted the fasteners before I slipped them into the tank. It was sorta rusty, and I didn't want to roll without cleaning it. I poured a cup of oil in it and flushed it out. I hooked up the oil lines, and Crazy Horse sent me very specific instructions, but this will blow your mind. I couldn't figure out venting. I'll get back to that.

I hooked up my gas lines. I filled the tanks and one leaked. I threatened to fire myself on the spot and another challenge surfaced. The pinhole at the front of the tank, where I cut away a section to allow for fork stops, stuck out like a sore thumb. It was obvious, but we didn't spot it during testing. I called Jim Murillo, a professional painter and cried for assistance.

“Don't use Kreem, it peels,” he said. “Use Casewell two-part Phenol Lovolac System.”

I ordered some and their customer service was supreme for a small $36 order. Some companies get it, when it comes to taking care of customers. This is where tank seals become terrifying. I needed to kick my ass into the middle of tomorrow. Make sure your tanks are sealed before any finish is applied, including powder coating. I suppose I was over confident. What the hell.

The directions called for cleaning the tanks with lacquer thinner, nuts and bolts, sand, you name it. I tried the lacquer thinner and immediately fucked with George's pinstriping. I called him, panicked and drank whiskey heavily. Fortunately a Bikernet reader shipped me a fresh bottle of Bulliet Whiskey, and Dusty, one of the 5-Ball Racing Team Salt Flat members, hand-stripped several pounds of walnuts and shipped them out.

Incredible. I let the tank dry thoroughly, made up a small portion of the Casewell sealrant and poured it into the tank. I knew where the hole was, and fortunately it rested in an easy-to-reach corner. I tilted the tank in the sun and returned to the whiskey. George saved my ass once more.

With the tanks fixed and returned to the bike, all was well, and I put a key to the Phil's ignition switch for the first time. Here's another quirk. Crazy Horse doesn't tell you how to time your new 100-inch engine. It times itself. The bike didn't whine, growl, spit or cough. It fired immediately to life and purred. I checked the oil pressure, perfect. Then I unscrewed the cap off the oil bag to make sure the lubricant returned to the oil bag properly. Yep, it was returning, but the cap popped off into my hand. I wondered about venting. Everything was fine except for pressure in the oil bag.

Again, I started a research project. The Crazy Horse installation material didn't mention a crankcase vent and I searched the engine. There are two 3/8-inch spigots between the heads, as if for a cross-over oil line. As it turns out they are designed as vents. I found out from Dar at Brass Balls that they just run a line under their gas tanks. I pulled one end, no oil flow. It had to be the vent, so I improvised and used another old machinery oil fitting to hold a screen to prevent crap from strolling back into the precious engine.

That solved that issue. I was ready to rock, but my seat hadn't arrived from Duane Ballard. It was a wild old sprung BMW seat he scored. When it finally arrived, it didn't fit. It was too high and too far back. I was faced with another quandary. If I moved the bars, I could barely place my boots on the footboards. I scratched my beard, looked at the box of walnuts, and then it dawned on me. Glenn Priddle, a leather seat master, who studied under classic saddle makers, made me a seat a couple of years ago for the 10th Anniversary of Bikernet. It was a wide, classic solo seat. I dug it out, dusted it off and it fit like a glove, dropped the seat height 2 inches and move the seat position forward 3 inches. It actually fit the frame better than the old classic from Duane. I dodged another bullet.

Every year when I build a bike, my mantra includes a solid, tough, rideable, unique bike that will last. But each year the unique project throws a few curveballs. It's part of my Zen education. Life is not meant for perfection. We need challenges to test our endurance levels and help us through the tough spots, find answers or solutions and persevere. Often my predicaments are caused by a lack of experience. For instance, if I ever use a Crazy Horse engine again, I'll know all the quirks and set-up issues.

Now, let's see if I can ride it for any distance. I would love to ride it to the Badlands next year or to Arizona for our Too Broke for Sturgis Run.

We'll see what happens next, as I take her through the Eddie Trotta break-in routine. Eddie starts a bike for the first time, let's her run and checks her over. Then he takes it out for a one-block jaunt, and checks it over again. Then he ventures forth for one mile and returns for another inspection, then 5 miles, then 25, then 50 and she's ready for a cross-country blast. Hang on!

Editor's Note: You've seen the “American Iron” feature. Chris Maida, the editor, asked us to reshoot it, but we kept the original shots near the Wilmington, Califa, Port of Los Angeles rail road tracks. Just happened that a train rolled past in the middle of the shoot. Enjoy.–Bandit

I just did the Old School bit and rode this bike to Sturgis on our Bikernet.com 2005 run from the West Coast.

I cottoned to the pure machine marquee. I didn’t plan to paint it at all, unless absolutely necessary. I wanted to leave most components unblemished metals and incorporate as many iron types (for color) into the mix as possible. I wanted this mess to contain brass, copper, aluminum, steel, and stainless. Of course the steel corrosion dilemma dictated that we use some powder coating for a protective seal. The front end came in black to avoid chrome, so I supplemented the bike with a few additional black pieces, but the frame and some others were powdered to mimic a copper patina. Some aluminum parts were clear coated to prevent complete dulling and afford an acceptable pin striping surface. Some brushwork was applied.

It started with a Shovel engine that a brother gave me with a title. I loaned him a bike when he was down. Due to family illness he was forced to sell everything. There’s nothing better than an engine with a title. I took it from there and ordered a Paughco classic frame to fit me and handle like a midnight dream. Too many choppers today look good but don’t handle worth a damn. I wanted a bike to fit, handle well on freeways, yet be light in city traffic and parking lots. I spoke to Ron Paugh at Paughco and they built me a 4-inch up, 3-inch out, 35-degree raked rigid, wide enough to handle a 180 tire.

I don’t care for wide tire, fat-assed, beachball monsters. I decided to set my limit at 180 and run an O-ring chain for the traditional look. I stuck with a Paughco front end to top off the chassis. It’s one of their new tapered leg springers, 9-inches over with three degrees of rake in the trees. It worked out to be almost 5 inches of trail and handled as light as a dirt bike.

The engine had early stock heads, House of Horsepower cases and was a 105-inch stroker, too much for a rigid chassis. I wanted this bike to last, be a beater, but not be a dog. I contacted friends at S&S and they suggested 93 inches of street power for a balanced, reliable drive train. The stroke was reduced to 4.5 inch with 3 5/8 inch bore. The bike is fast but not a vibrating monster. I also spoke to Lee Chaffin at Mikuni and he suggested a 42mm, flat slide, Mikuni carb. “It will give you sharp throttle response,” he said. If I planned to run the Shovel on the salt flats he would have suggested a 45 mm venturi.

I have a couple of codes when it comes to building choppers. I like to keep them as simple as possible. On the other hand I like an oil cooler and filter to keep the drive train alive. I came across a system that bolted to the front motormount and doubled as a cooler while holding a spin-on filter (Rohm billet oil cooler mount). It was perfect. Other chopper codes include having enough taillight to prevent being run-over and enough gas to take you 100 miles before you hit reserve, or you’re looking for gas stations constantly. In this case I nearly broke the code a couple of times.

The Sportster gas tank originated on the verge of being beneath the acceptable fuel capacity, 1.75 gallons. It was an old Aluminum XR 750 race tank that we heavily modified. Get this: Some aluminum tanks are against the code, they’re too weak, notorious leakers. I broke the unwritten rule because it was a factory tank—cool right? Not so. “They broke during flat track races,” Berry Wardlaw, the Boss of Accurate Engineering, said at dinner in Deadwood, South Dakota, after I welded it twice on the way to Sturgis. “They ain’t worth the powder to blow ‘em to hell.”

I put more work into that tank than the Martin Brothers pour into a set of one-off artistic sheet metal. First I added additional rubber mounted bungs to the base of the tank for added support, since I didn’t on the last Sturgis rigid. It broke twice. Because the tank would reside on a severe angle we moved the petcock to the rear, also for more fuel capacity. We drilled the tunnel and welded in a plate to allow the entire center section to augment petrol storage. Then I installed a Crime Scene speedster cap for an old school hot rod appearance.

Kent from lucky Devil Metal Works in Houston supported the aluminum theme by hand fabricating an aluminum fender to match the tank, front and rear. We scrapped the front job.

Back to the code. Remember the taillights, so a semi will at least recognize that it’s a motorcycle under his rip-roaring wheels. This is a tough one for me. I like the minimalist approach, but endeavor for some level of survival. The crew at Eye Candy Custom Cycles (.com) developed this hot looking, side-mount ’59 Cadillac taillight. I thought it was the cat’s paw and that I could mount it to glow through to both sides. I installed it to the BDL inner primary, so close and tight to the frame that no one could see it. I broke the code.

I also grappled with some elements of the wiring, but it worked out fine—that’s another story. I’ve been tinkering with bikes for 30 years, yet learned a tremendous amount with this build.

The bike continued to roll together like a dream with the Kraft Tech oil bag, hard copper oil lines, the Lucky Devil sprung seat and 5-speed Rev Tech Transmission. The wheels were Custom Chrome aluminum rims, stainless spokes and chromed steel hubs. This was the first time I ever used Brembo brakes, no problem and I’ve worked with Joker Machine controls for the last five years.

Let’s focus on mistakes I made, so you won’t make them in the future. The hard lines were cool, but I could have installed rubber hose and been finished in a half hour. Plus, since the Kraft Tech, round oil bag, was rubber mounted and the hard lines solid, the street vibration fucked with them and they cracked. I needed vibration resistant furrels. Let’s stick with the oil bag. It’s cool, solid and bolted right up, but battery choice is critical. There was very little space between the battery terminals and the frame. Ultimately, a Bikernet babe was called to the front, to stitch a rubber protective cushion to prevent shorts. That’s too close for everyday comfort.

I broke in the bike using the Eddie Trotta formula for success, but missed one element, high-speed interstate travel. If I had put a few miles on the bike at 80 mph, which is against the break-in code, of 55 or less, I would have noticed the severe gearing. That’s where I went wrong. I started with a JIMS 6-speed and stock gearing. Then I discovered that the new Starter system from Compufire, that runs off the engine, wouldn’t be available for Sturgis, so I had to punt. I mounted the Dyna coils under the oil tank, which prevented a standard Compu-fire starter from being installed quick. A kicker was the answer. It fit with my hand made exhaust system using modified Samson mufflers, but I was forced to shift back to a Rev Tech 5-Speed transmission, because I needed the kicker. I should have considered a gear change at that point, but didn’t.

So what happened on the 1500-mile trek to the Badlands? The bike ran like a raped ape, strong and true. The handling was superb, everything remained in place except for the bullshit running lights I attempted to use for more visibility. They vibrated, spun, popped the bulbs and tore at the wires running through the fender rails. The ragged glitch in the road was the gearing. I ultimately replaced the running lights with these no-count reflectors and a H-D teardrop turnsignal under the right muffler.

The bike clocked 300 miles before I left town. Another 200 miles down the road toward Arizona, it had the mileage numbers to afford me enough break-in miles to drop the hammer and let her fly. At 90 mph I peeled past big rigs on Interstate10 heading out of the vast Los Angeles plague of concrete and stucco homes reaching dangerously close to the Arizona border. Crossing the state line, into the helmet-free state, I felt relieved to experience 100 degrees in the open desert flying toward Phoenix, another blight of concrete and southwestern architecture. I sensed the buzz in the frame and handlebar grips through Custom Cycle Engineering rubber mounted risers. The Shovel was over-revving and I needed that 6th gear release from extensive vibration, but I kept pushing for the love of speed, a light 520-pound, 93-inch chopper can deliver. She sliced the open road like a high-speed rotary knife through French bread.

I was beginning to buzz my feet off the Joker Machine pegs and adjusted them at the next stop. Rubber inserts on rigid pegs are mandatory, but I flaunted that rule with impunity. Just 60 miles out of Phoenix with the temps cresting 104 degrees and our group, of a half dozen, barreling along at over 90, the Sturgis Shovel quit, pure dead in the fast lane. I reached for the plug wires, then the ignition key that hovered less than a ½-inch from the whirling BDL belt drive. Better not go there, I thought as I signaled to lean right into the slow lane then onto the rough texture of the emergency lane where my baby came to a stop. That’s when I noticed the terrible, over-flowing gas leak at the back of the tank, all over the rear head.

As if the devil knew, one more mile and I would burst into flames in the middle of the searing desert. He flipped my ignition off. I never found an electrical problem or mechanical woe. She turned herself off because the vibration had taken its toll on the aluminum tank.

The next morning I was back on the road after Nick and Charlie at Custom Performance, (Turbo builders for Harleys, in Phoenix), had my tank rewelded and Nick recommended larger, softer rubber mounts. We were back on the road, where I took care of the beast for the rest of the run to Sturgis (kept my speed down), or until I could change the gearing. As it turned out, as I pulled into Deadwood, gas dripped onto that rear plug again. Bad news. There are codes and builders who know which ones can be broken—none. You can check the entire Sturgis Shovel Project build in our Bikernet Tech Department. The tank was repaired in Rapid City, but just two weeks ago I was forced to have it welded for the third time in Los Angeles. When will I learn?

Ride Forever,

–Bandit

Owner: K. Randall “Bandit” Ball
Home: Wilmington, California
Builder: Bikernet.com
Year/model: 1956 Sturgis Shovel
Time to Build: 9 months
Color: Shit brown

Engine/Transmission

Year/Model: 2005 S&S
Builder: Richard Kransler, Phil’s Speed Shop, and S&S
Displacement: 93 inches
Cases: House of Horsepower
Flywheels: S&S side-winder
Balancing: S&S, 1300 Bob weight
Connecting rods: S&S
Cylinders: S&S with longer skirts
Pistons: S&S forged, 8.2:1 compression
Heads: 1966 Shovelhead by Phil’s Speed
Cam: S&S
Valves: Black Diamond
Rockers: S&S rollers
Lifters: Custom Chrome
Pushrods: Custom Chrome

Carb: 42 mm Mikuni
Air Cleaner: Fantasy in Iron

Exhaust: Bandit and Samson
Ignition: Compu-fire, single fire
Charging: Compu-fire
Oil Pump: S&S

Transmission

Year/model: 2005 Rev Tech, 5-speed with kicker
Case: Rev Tech
Gears: Rev Tech
Clutch: BDL
Primary Drive: BDL open belt
Kick Starter: Rev Tech

Chassis

Frame: Paughco Chopper
Rake: 35 degrees
Stretch: 3-out, 4-up
Front Forks: Paughco tapered-leg springer
Swingarm: none
Rear shocks: nope

Front Wheel: 21-inch Custom Chrome
Rear Wheel: 18-inch Custom Chrome
Front Brake: Brembo Caliper and Springer Bracket
Rear Brake: Brembo Caliper and Softail Bracket
Front Tire: 21 Avon
Rear Tire: 18/180 Avon Venom
Rear Fender: Kent Weeks
Fender struts: Bandit

Headlight: Custom Chrome
Taillight: Eye Candy Custom Cycles
Fuel Tank: Aluminum 750 XR
Oil Tank: Kraft Tech
Handlebars: Custom Chrome narrowed
Risers: Custom Cycle Engineering dog bones
Seat: Lucky Devil Metal Works
License Bracket: Eye Candy Custom Cycles
Handlebar controls: Joker Machine
Foot Controls: Joker Machine

Hang on. This is the last of the scintillating segments on building the Sturgis Shovel before I write the treacherous saga of the ride. Somewhere we will publish a feature on the bike in a mag and on the site. Oh, there’s one other tech that will come to pass—hard line assembly. I’m waiting for a CD of images from John Gilbert of Bike Works mag.

So let’s get started. I was burnin’ daylight before the Sturgis run. I saved a ton of cash going with all powder and no additional chrome or polishing. It cost me just $325 to powder all my components for lasting protection.

Throughout this article I will point out my mistakes, so you can avoid them. I did an 80 percent decent job of mocking up the bike prior to powder. That meant that 20 percent had to be dealt with after the finish was applied. Bad news. The only thing I didn’t think through or make brackets for was the ignition switch and circuit breaker brackets. That may seem minor, but wasn’t as you will discover. On the other hand it wasn’t a big deal. You be the judge. Actually, if we wired, fired and rode the bike before final teardown, it would answer all the questions. But few builders take it that far.

I was jazzed to toss the Paughco Frame on the lift covered with pads. Foremost Powder had plugged all the threaded holes and tapped off the neck bearing surfaces. They did a helluva job. I shaved motor and transmission mounts for a proper ground and installed the S&S modified 93-inch engine and JIMS trans. Then I could install the Paughco Springer without a balancing act.

The Springer is easy to install, but takes care. I greased the bearings, slid on the dust shields and ran the whole springer through the neck. Keep in mind that installing the bearing races in the neck is not complete until the bike has been down the road. Any paint, dust or uneven race angle will mean that the bearings will seat further once on the road. Ride it for a week then lift the front end off the ground and jiggle the wheel by the axle. If there’s any movement or dangerous slop, take the bars and top tree off once more and tighten the stem nut until there’s just a hair of drag. Long front ends are more critical because of the leverage against the neck.

I didn’t bolt down the engine and trans hard, just the tranny plate which ultimately I had to loosen. The engine needs to be completely at ease for the BDL belt alignment so I just spun some stainless bolts into place. Then I installed the front wheel with Doherty spacers, the Brembo brake caliber and centered the wheel. Keep in mind that Brembo supplied the bracket, which is designed to replace a stock, late-model Harley springer brake system. I didn’t have the proper spacer, but a Harley shop had one and I was good to go.

Then I installed the Brembo Caliper. They supplied me with a series of shims. I used feeler gauges to determine centering the caliper over the rotor and stacked the shims until it was set. This is an interesting bumbling, experienced manner for writing articles. I have the insight of riding experience behind images of the bike yet complete. Ultimately we removed the front fender.

I build the front fender, single sided bracket after Kent’s, from Lucky Devils Metal Works in Houston, caliper mounted fender mounts, which work perfectly. My problem was the initial position of the caliper, too far forward. So I mounted it on the heim joint rod which didn’t work. When the bike went over a bump the front lip of the fender rode up with the caliper and the rear lip rode down with the springer touching the tire. It had to go. So I rode to Sturgis without a front fender ducking rainstorms all the way.

Next I installed the rear fender. Keep in mind that the rear fender, the oil tank and the rear wheel fight for the same spaces. They almost need to go together simultaneously, especially the oil bag and rear fender. Everything slipped into place with nyloc nuts, stainless Allens and red Loctite.

At the time I ran stock gearing with the JIMS 6-speed, until I discovered that I was faced with running a kicker. I didn’t change the rear wheel gearing from the 51-tooth, but I should have. This evening I’ll install a Custom Chrome flat (Sportster styled) 48-tooth sprocket and hope to knock the revs down seriously.

I also mounted the rear Brembo brakes and centered the caliper over the Brembo rotor. No problem. Even my Softail styled anchor bracket worked perfectly welded to the frame and tucked the caliper between the frame rails.

While I’m messing with brakes I’ll cover brake and clutch lines and cables. Instead of making up lines I ordered RevTech pre-assembled lines from Custom Chrome plus all the fittings washers and fasteners. Keep in mind that the front brake master cylinder uses larger master cylinder banjo bolts. They come in 10mm and 12mm. Watch out, and don’t hesitate to order a couple of extra bangos bent at different angles to make sure you’ll have what you need.

I measured my lines and clutch cable lengths a number of times then added an inch for safety. That’s where making your own lines can be helpful. Keep in mind that the front end will turn (clutch cable) and depress (front brake). You’ll need some slack. Plus you might change the angle of your handlebar levers, which will impact the position of the cables and lines. I used Tephlon tape on most fittings although some builders don’t recommend it. Since most of this stuff is chromed, I like the extra sealant.

I use only DOT 5 brake fluid in my bikes, ‘cause I can splash the shit all over the place without concern for paint damage. In many instances you can fill the master cylinder and rock, just by waiting for the bubbles to rise. Another key is to find the right pump can and fill the lines, caliper and master cylinder from the bottom up. Use a new pumper or a pump that’s dedicated to brake fluid only and attach it to your brake bleeder on the front wheel. Most of the time that works like a charm.

I’ve found that most front brakes will basically bleed themselves. Fill the master cylinder on the bars and pump it slowly allowing the bubbles to rise. Let it set overnight and most of the bubbles will rise just by pumping it with short strokes at the lever and watching the bubbles jump to the surface.

In this case I discovered that some air was trapped in the caliper, so I pulled it off the bike, taped a file (the same width of the Brembo rotor) and turned the caliper so the air could escape through the bleeder nipple. I bleed it a couple of times then returned the caliper to its rightful position. She was good to go.

The rear brake wasn’t so easy because the air couldn’t rise to the master cylinder. I bleed it from the front and the rear, and I think it still has air in the lines although the Brembo brakes worked fine. I received a lot of compliments and comments on the brakes, which I found strange. Brembo has a terrific reputation, but not on Harleys. Riders were surprised to find Brembos on a Chopper.

Now for the clutch cable. First I was confused about which cable style to order. I hope to put together an article on it in the near future. I picked the most common late model Evo cable and measured the length several times. Here’s the key. If you’re not replacing a stock cable you have no notion of the length. I pulled a stock cable and measured it, but I didn’t know what model it came from. I went by the length of my stock cable and found the 1990-1999 Fatboy cable length. Then I measured the extension due to the Paughco Frame, CCE risers and CCI bars. Much guess work. If I had all the bucks in the world I would have bought three cables lengths.

The end cap cable is the reason Baker, JIMS and RevTech transmissions come with a fresh gasket and a quart of transmission oil. They know that you’ll be forced to pull the end cap to install the cable in the ball driven throw-out bearing mechanism. It’s simple but cumbersome. Don’t loose the balls. You’ll need a massive C-clamp removal tool to pop that sucker free. Carefully lift the inner ramp and remove the cable coupling, attach the cable, which you have already screwed into the trans face cover. Return the coupling to the inner ramp by watching the puzzle face. Then put the ramp back in place and the retaining ring and bolt the face cover back into place. Don’t forget to add at least 20 ounces of Trans fluid. It will hold 24 ounces dry.

I learned something on this trip. If water gets in the trans it will act up, shift strangely. Drain the fluid and change it. Check your vent.

I ran the cable several ways to find the path that fit best, didn’t rub the frame or catch on anything. I used one Arlen Ness cable clamp to secure it and hooked the cable into the greased tephlon bushing in the Joker Machine handlebar control, then replaced the small C-clamp and I was ready for final clutch cable adjustment after the BDL primer was installed.

I’m going to cover the 300 BDL installation here and try to explain my shift. My plan was to run the Compu-Fire engine based electric starter system designed by Giggie before he left and took a job at Rivera. Rivera is making inner primary plates for this new system, but when I contacted them Ben Kudon’s response was hesitant. They weren’t ready. Of course I contacted our long-time sponsor BDL and initially they weren’t scheduled to make units, then I was pleased to find out they were, so I ordered one. But Sturgis crept into the picture, and suddenly I was without a starting system and coils hanging under the oil bag interfering with any new starter install.

I had a 300 BDL belt system and a starter but no place to put it. Kent from Lucky Devil shrugged his shoulders and said, “Why don’t you run a kicker?”

Sinwu ripped off her top, jiggled her tits and said, “You have one from Muller in Germany.

I jammed down the headquarter stairs to the shop and tore open the box. I was jazzed. This is one of the coolest kicker systems to come along. It cleared the rear exhaust pipe and the kicker arm was stylish, unique and strong. I couldn’t believe my luck.

The JIMS 6-speed lined up with the BDL inner primary like a dream. All I needed was to pull the tranny face and press off the trap door, then replace the trap door and tranny cover with the Muller system. Muller even shipped a clutch ramp system that afforded smoother clutch action.

Hell, I’d even build a cool brass plug to cover the speedo-cable hole in the side of the JIMS trap door.

All went well until I removed the JIMS trap door to discover the 6-speed protruding gears. The door was machined to accept the gears and the 5-speed door was not. I was stuck. I contacted Muller in Germany for a 6-speed replacement door. No answer. I called JIMS and ordered the kicker they distribute for the 6-speed. It never arrived, so I called Custom Chrome. If I could order a 5-speed quick, I could use the Muller system. They responded and in three days I had a Rev Tech Replacement complete with kicker and 23-tooth chain sprocket. I yanked the 6-speed and began to install the Rev Tech 5-speed in 4-speed case with a five-year or 50,000 mile warranty.

At this point I should have replaced the rear 51-tooth sprocket with a 48 or perhaps a 46, but we’ll see. I removed the kicker cover and installed the clutch cable once more, sealed the tranny and filled it with 24 ounces of fluid.

I pulled the massive, left-handed, mainshaft sprocket nut with a JIMS special tool and flopped it around backwards to afford me the clearance I needed for the RevTech chain to pass the 180 Avon tire. I locked it down with the JIMS tool and an Allen setscrew and red Loctite. She was good to go.

Next, I needed to set up the BDL 300 belt drive system and the Compu-Fire Charging system. I slipped in the Stator, then the small tapered washer, followed by the Compu-Fire Rotor. It’s pasted right on the rotor not to smack it with any hammers. You might knock one of the magnets loose.

According to the rules sometimes the offset pulley mount doesn’t need the massive flat washer/spacer for proper alignment. But the first move includes installing the inner primary with the engine and tranny loose. I used never-cease on the threads of the transmission and tranny Allens to prevent damage to the threads. Take it back—first I had to remove the inner primary studs from the transmission. They were tight as hell and I used Yield and heat to set them free. Then I positioned the engine and the Trans with the primary.

I ran into problems. Nothing wanted to line up. I called a couple of buddies for guidance. I held the engine where it was with a shim under the front motor mount. Then I bolted the primary to the engine and trans. The front of the tranny raised almost .100. I started looking for shims. Bob from BDL told me the code was to shim the tranny plate and not the tranny, so I went to work. It wasn’t a problem to scour around for the right thickness washers. Soon the transmission was aligned, the primary fit easily and there was no drag on the transmission mainshaft.

Next, I needed to check the pulley alignment. I installed the pulley using the insert then the pulley and Allens. Since I would be removing and replacing the parts, I didn’t drive the alignment pins into the insert from the rear just yet. I discovered another glitch. I needed some washers or shims behind the engine pulley for alignment. I also discovered that the mainshaft nut wasn’t bottoming out, so the rotor flopped around. That wasn’t right.

I’ve installed a dozen BDL systems without major alignment problems. It takes patience, but once it’s correct, she will last and last. This is a tapered shaft transmission and once it’s installed it doesn’t slip off without a JIMS transmission hub puller tool.

With the pulley and the clutch in place you can test alignment a couple of ways. I used a cast T-Bar across the faces of the pulleys. They need to be exact, which means shims behind the engine pulley.

I made a mad dash to Walkers Machine and bought all the goddamn shims he had. The massive washer that comes with the rotor was only .035 too large. The next item was the inset in the engine shaft nut. I had to machine it to slip over the protruding shaft. This is also an area that takes some running and retesting to make sure it doesn’t seat and settle in, out of alignment. It’s easy to spot a problem. You’ll notice rubber dust around the pulley where it’s riding against the lip.

Remember that the clutch nut is also left-handed. Then the clutch slips into place and with some tugs and working the belt gently, it goes on. If not use two chunks of wood a large bolt and a socket to gently push the pulleys apart. Once it’s run for a while it will be much easier to remove and replace.

Okay, so I installed the tank, with the Spyke petcock and stripped the spigot threads. It hung for most of the ride. We’ll cover the tank more in the ride saga, so hold on. The seat was also a challenge. I slipped off, so I changed the seat, to one with a lip, then changed it back an added taller springs. That worked.

With the primary aligned I still used never-cease on the primary threads because I knew that I would remove the inner primary once more.

Hang on for this one. I needed to find a place for a toggle switch/ignition switch. I also had this massive aluminum starter motor boss on the inner primary that was going to waste. So I drilled out the starter shaft and installed a marine ignition switch. I glued it in place with a two stage epoxy then drowned it with liquid electrical tape, two coats. It seemed perfect except that the key sang in the wind only 1 inch above the peeling primary belt. No key rings or dice.

On the inside of the primary I made a brass strap that ran from one starter mounting hole to the other, holding two circuit breakers. One was a 15 amp for the lights and a 30 amp for the ignition. This became a very tight electrical area, dangerously close to the whirling CCI O-ring chain. As it turned out the circuit breakers were a hair or two from the coils. Cozy. I made a couple of wires long enough so that I could remove the primary and set it next to the bike to work on wiring issues.

The next thing I knew, under initial testing, the whipping chain chipped at the aluminum, dangerously close to the electrical. Larry Settle, of Settle MC Works loaned me a chunk of tephlon, which I carved and made a buffer, which worked perfectly to protect the chain from nearing hot wires.

Then came the Eye Candy Custom Cycles ’59 Cadillac taillight. They also make an old Ford style light, which I prefer, but I felt the need for side visibility, especially on the right. The mounting called for the primary once more to hold the taillight/brake light. Finding the proper location was a chore. It either rode too close to the chain or the mounting called for screws through the frame or into the wiring loom. I monkeyed with it for hours and finally designed a tough mounting system that might survive. All went well, but the frame rail still blocks the light and I might move it outbound.

I ran the thin sparkplug wires through the frame in shrink tubing, wired the coil and the Joker machine brake switch and headlight through the hole in the frame too close to the fork stop. Even on a simple chopper an idiot can find his way into trouble.

Finally I mounted the stylish Aeromach mirror on the left bar only. It came with all the hardware needed and never gave me a problem. I know I’m missing a link or two, maybe a necessary credit. Don’t hesitate to drop me a line if you need a question answered. You can reach me daily at Your Shots or drop a line to Bandit@Bikernet.com.

Over the next couple of days I will attempt to complete the first saga of the ride to Sturgis. I hope to launch it on Friday. In it I will dig into the problems I encountered, mistakes I made and how I fixed them. Hang On. But beyond the glitches, actually the wiring worked out fine, but I should wire in a kill switch. The bike rode well, comfortable for a rigid, started without major hassle and ran all the way to Deadwood. I can’t complain.

Last episode I was hit hard with life's bullshit obstacles to freedom and creative expression, but that's how it goes. I generally build at least one bike a year and each one represents a milestone of sorts. Or each one represents another year in the life and times of Bandit. I'm not unique. This notion applies to everyone and every project from building a new home, to building a boat or finishing a book. We're so damn lucky to have the freedom and resources to accomplish our goals, small and large. As you sit back and relish any accomplishment, you know it represents a moment in time–hopefully a good time.

That's very kind of you to offer to runmy bio but honestly it makes me wantto take a nap just thinking about it.How about a pic instead of my stumppulling flathead single '40 Ariel? Wewere born in the same year and havebeen working together for about fifteenyears to keep my bank account drained.As the bike approaches completion itappears to be getting younger and youngerwhile I am definitely getting older and older!

So, recently we tore the March page out of the Calendar and flew into April. A running Racer by the end of April–for the Smoke Out in May, is the goal. The pipes were a major obstacle, yet Jesse James, Illusion Cycles, and Roland Sands inspired me.

I spotted a tight shotgun system on one of Rusty Coones' Dyna Glide custom built in his Illusions shop. That's the direction I wanted to go for the racer look, not along the bottom of the frame in stock 1915 fashion. The muffler on Rusty's bike was a short/short Supertrapp developed with an exhaust guiding cone built by the Illusion team. The two-into-one pipe was designed at WCC, but I decided to give my own spin to the action for the Crazy Horse 100-inch engine.

I also recently featured a bike built by Roland Sands with his own shotgun Vance and Hines system. Check it out. It also has a very short muffler system, but I had an all-stainless Scorpion sport bike muffler from the mad designer John reed.

With Roland's design inspiration, I went to work. I had to make the system run tight to the bike, so ultimately I could install a Baker Drive kicker system to the JIMS 5-speed transmission. It had to run high enough not to mess with the rear axle and not too high for leg burning threats. I had one break; the Crazy Horse engine was designed with the intake manifold running out the left side of the engine. That allowed me to manufacture pipes as high as I wanted–watch the legs, damnit.

Making pipes is a tricky business. This system is teamed with lots of exhaust manufacturers, so I initiated a phone conference with D&D, and they supplied me with various ends and bends to give me a head start. Vance and Hines and WCC were involved with the design and inspirational aspects, and the Boys from Bassani stopped over for lunch and brought a hand full of bends and a chunk of muffler tubing for my speedometer mounts, a very diverse team. Plus nowadays, when you mess with pipes, the diameter fluctuates from below stock diameters to over 2-inch Bonneville racing exhaust performance demands. I took a day dealing with various sizes and ultimately decided on a 1 ¾-inch system to the two-inch muffler opening.

Then I had one of those calm and serene days in the shop–everything fit. It's a Zen thing, when the stars are aligned, and I drank just the correct carefully measured amount of Jack Daniels the night before. For some strange, inexplicable reason, I was tranquil with the dogs wrestling at my feet. The R&B Sirius station shop background music didn't spin any Michael Jackson tunes, and only the 4-tops and Jerry Butler lured me into a false sense of mechanical confidence. I patiently cut, ground chunks of pipes and brackets, then tacked them into place.

I've been making exhaust systems for about six or eight years, and each year I learn. For instance, I was through the roof to find Hooker Header alignment sleeves, only to discover they hinder performance. That meant I had to move more slowly, meticulously and make sure each segment fit perfectly. I also learned that exhaust wrap can also hinder ultimate performance, by being a heat transmitting barrier. Plus I'm still working on my MIG, pipe-segment welding skills. This year I'm going to clamp a bunch of pipe chunks together and weld them at different feed speeds and electrical settings. I'm determined to nail it down.

Next, I moved onto a dash plate, cut with a plasma cutter out of a chunk of 16 or 14 gauge sheet metal. My crazy thought was to install the Phil's Speed Shop ignition system onto this plate with the Bikers' Choice Speedometer. In 1915, Speedometers and the constant loss oil pumps were mounted to the top of the tanks, right out in the open, so I decided to follow suit.

Bassini supplied the tubing for the Speedo, but I needed to be reduced the diameter a 1/2 -inch. I cut it with the Makita and pinched it down until the speedo fit in, and I could still wrap it with something to prevent vibration from beating it to death on the roads to the Badlands.

Phil's Speed Shop supplied me with a template so I could mark the holes and weld in studs to hold the ignition system down. It housed, circuit breakers, ignition switch, starter button, starter relay, neutral light and high/low beam switch.

Gard's cable guide, from LA Chop Rods, tacked into place–very cool.

I ran the Biker's Choice speedo cable and drive off the rear wheel in 1915 fashion, but with late model components. I used LA Chop Rods cable guides and grommets tacked to the frame. I played with the plate and position for hours and hopefully got it right. I also cut a notch in the Bassani Speedo mount so I can hopefully reach the trip gauge adjuster. It's going to knat's ass close. In each perplexing case, I shot for functioning symmetrical positions, that don't interfere with other components, like turning the bars.

Next, I had the spare gas tank ready to rock, but needed to mount it above the bars. Talk about angst, I looked around for something to use for mounting, like other fire extinguisher clamps, then it dawned on me to use the an old set of handlebar risers, upside down. I found an old set of Jammer risers and bolted them to the bars between the DBBP bronze risers, so far so good. Then I cut them, estimating the height needed to clear the bars, but I was wrong. What happened with harbinger to my Zen aura?

Here's a shot of those beautiful risers cut too short–whatta bitch.

I don't know about other crazed builders, but often a glitch turns into an opportunity. I turned to my lathe to cut a couple of extensions. They widened the base for greater strength. I reached out to NICK Trumbo at Bassini exhaust for a couple of straps. My notion was to weld the brackets to the straps, so if something went wrong, it wouldn't crack the tank and create a dangerous gas leak. I've had my problems with gas leaks in the past.

There you have it. Next, we'll mount the fantastic Black Bike Wheels (Avon Tyres), with GMA brakes from BDL, slice the Tanks for fork stops and Chica is going to build a Factory Racer ribbed fender. Rock and roll.

How's this for a real factory racer from 1926.