We may very well be living in the golden age of bike building. In fact, for those living the dream and running their own shops, times have never been better, and there are arguably few hassles. With the rich assortment of parts and tools available, it seems like the only limitations nowadays are a builder's imagination, or sometimes the customer's. It's a builder's nightmare -- you come up with a concept for a sweet ride, and you've got it all worked out in your head so you can start the grinding, cutting, and welding. You've ordered the parts, but then you start getting the "suggestions."
"Maybe we could change the front wheel to a billet tribal barbed wire iron cross."
"I saw this bike that had gold nipples on the rear spokes, don't you think that would be cool?"
"And some purple neon spark plug wire zappers."
It's the dirty secret of bike building that has some shops turning out bikes that secretly make them gag. Luckily for you, and us, Graves Custom Cycles isn't that kind of shop, and we're not that kind of magazine (hell, there are plenty out there that will show you these kinds of abortions in full features; we'll only show them on the last page!).
While preparing the build for this Drop Azz custom (we'll let you figure it out), Jerry Graves conspired with his customer-to-be, whose only requests were that the bike have downdraft carbs and green paint, and that he wanted Jerry to bust loose and build a bike they could both be proud of. It makes perfect sense to us -- if you like a crew's work well enough to trust them with your ride, why wouldn't you let them do their job? Do you think the Pope told Michelangelo what to put on the ceiling? Probably, but ole Mike probably muttered "Screw off," in Italian under his breath and kept on painting.
Starting with his very own Dropseat frame, Jerry and the Graves Custom Cycle gang further contorted the tubes for a more radical humpback stance, with 6 inches of rise and 2 inches of forward stretch. With the frame taking shape, the gas tank was an obvious progression, forming a sleek and hulking shape that would add to the look of the bike without disturbing its flow. Knowing that space would be at a premium and freeing them from a bulky eyesore, the oil bag was ditched in favor of putting the lube in the frame tubes, with only a neatly routed braided line as an indicator of what would be really going on. Raking the frontend way out there, the obvious choice for any sort of wheel travel would a springer frontend, fully smoothed out and looking like nothing you would get from a catalog. Another trick feature is the massive 13-inch full-floating Performance Machine rotor and matching caliper up front that's strong enough to pretzel-bend most frontends. One panic stop grab on this setup and you're guaranteed a billowing plume of smoke from the front rubber.
Trying to further accentuate the hunchback look of the green machine, the seat was dropped as low as possible, which created one minor snafu: the chain. Rather than give up on his desire, Jerry came up with a clean-looking sprocket roller that is mounted off the framerail to re-align the chain to accommodate the insanely low 14-inch seat height before it curves upward to wrap around the appropriately dubbed sprotor. Crisis averted; they moved on to mounting their own custom fender in the back, just scarcely above the massive 280mm rear tire. With barely enough room for a piece of paper to fit between the fender and the wheel, the plate mount and rear light were routed to the left side of the bike with a slick mount of Graves' own design.
With the majority of the fabrication done, it was time to slide in the massive motor that would power this green machine. A Patrick Racing 125ci block was fit in between the rails. In keeping with one of his customer's two desires, the Graves gang mounted the cavernous 58mm (that's over 2-1/4 inches each to you) downdraft carbs to fuel the beast. To separate the motor from the crowd of crate motor look-alikes, the massive cylinders and Patrick Racing heads were topped with Pan-style covers and the whole shebang was polished to the nines, and you know it's filled to the brim with go-fast shit. Warm it up, twist the throttle, and smell the burnt rubber. Hey, that's our favorite recipe! Once peeping Toms can bring their eyes up to speed, notice the lack of externally routed wires, cables, or hydraulics. Further confusing the masses of gawkers at rallies, the oil filter mount was aced with the filter and associated plumbing part of the epic-sized Belt Drives Limited Top Fuel primary setup. With all that clutch, you best be having a strong grip to launch this hand-shifted runner; a gentle foot would be a good idea, too.
Once the bike was fully fit together, it was disassembled for paint and chroming -- hey, that's how it happens in real life, we don't care what you see on TV! Seth Paton masterfully laid down the "drum set" flake and color coat they call Mountain Dew, then applied the crisp-edged purple flames before handing everything back for final assembly. With pride and skilled craftsmanship, the bike was put together for the final time, transforming from piles of shiny parts into the lean, green machine you see before you.