The cool part of being the editor of a chopper magazine is that you get to see a lot of choppers. Many, many choppers. I don't think a day goes by that I don't receive a letter, an email, or a package with pictures of someone's newest creation. And, in the course of looking through all these potential bikes for the magazine, I see a trend emerging -- show bikes.
Some 30 years ago, the chopper world was mostly an even split between radical show bikes that rode in trailers from city to city competing for trophies, and daily riders who had rattle-can black paintjobs. There was nothing wrong with either style then, and I don't see anything wrong with either style now. In fact, if it wasn't for those radical, unrideable bikes of the '60s and '70s, where would the custom-bike world be now?
I bring this point up because a few people have called me to give me a hard time about some of the bikes we have featured on our pages; citing them as show bikes that you wouldn't take a trip on. My response? Of course, you wouldn't plan a cross-country trip on a bike you invested $50 to $60,000, of which some of the paintwork may cost $8,000. That type of bike is no different than the trucks you see on the cover of TRUCKIN' magazine or the cars in STREET RODDER. They are all rolling works of art that were fabricated to express the creativity of the builder and the vivid imagination of the artist who handles the paint and graphic work. I say to you now, publicly for all to read, there is nothing wrong with building a bike you wouldn't ride any farther than down to the local watering hole to show it off. Hell, if I could afford to build a similar bike, you can bet your last dollar I would (and it would) never see a dirty road, rain, or city traffic. Say what you will about how that would never be you, but if someone dropped a few million dollars in your lap -- I guarantee your lifestyle would change. And, along with that change, you would be building a few of your own dream toys.
Suppose, I hit the lottery this weekend and walked away with the $32 million that the billboard across the street from my windowless office is advertising. The first thing that would happen, I would hire one of my friends to clean out this windowless office for me. Second, I would go on a shopping spree and buy a modest house with a six-car garage and a workshop. The car aspect of the garage would be filled with my all-time favorite car, a '36 Ford five-window coupe painted fire-engine red. Parked next to that would be a new Viper coupe and a Ford F-250 crew cab shop truck. The other three spaces would be for all the bikes I would rush out to buy. Then, I would stock my shop with one of everything from the Craftsman catalog, along with an English Wheel and all the necessary metalworking tools to build my own sheetmetal.
While I was spending my days screwing up vast piles of metal trying to make a fender or gas tank in my shop, you can bet that some well-known master craftsman would be building my first show-quality bike. I am not ashamed of that fact. Besides, with $32 million in the bank, what else would I do with it? I figure the frustration brought on by learning to build my own toys would need to be calmed by swinging a leg over a bike that everyone drools over.I have the bike in my head already -- a Softail-style chopper with right-side drive, a 250 rear tire, and a drive-side pulley/rotor combination. The frame would be stretched about 3 inches forward and 8 inches up. I see a one-piece gas and oil tank unit and a seat that rides independent of the rear fender. Naturally, the motor would be somewhere between 120 and 131 ci with a 4-inch open beltdrive connecting to a six-speed transmission and a hydraulic clutch. Suspension would be air in the rear and a 14-over damping-rod-style fork -- using V-Rod 49mm legs, of course. The paint would be no less visible than if the Goodyear blimp landed in your frontyard -- bright-orange as the basecoat, topped by multi-layer white, black and gray flames.
It would be a dazzling showpiece that accumulated somewhere around -- well... let's see, it's about 25 miles to Cook's Corner from my house and 75 to the Rock store; do that twice a month multiplied by 12 -- 4,000 miles a year, assuming it doesn't rain a lot.
I figure with whatever is left over from my $32 million, at that point, I could buy a tricked-out boxvan with matching flames, a refrigerator, a fully stocked toolbox, and spare parts to haul it to shows all around the country. Hey, just in case you win the lottery too, should I order one for you?
I figure the frustration brought on by learning to build my own toys would need to be calmed by swinging a leg over a bike that everyone drools over.