2004 Front Range Choppers Roadster

I remember the first time I actually really looked at an American V-Twin. I had traveled across the country to experience freedom and do what most 18-year-olds like to do. No one in my family even knew how to ride a motorcycle, but I was introduced to a guy who rode his rigid shovelhead across the country. I remember hearing him pull up and looking outside to see what the thunderous noise was and can still see this stripped- down, all black rat bike complete with sleeping bag and oil spot quickly forming underneath the engine. I was in awe, not necessarily with the bike, but with what it represented; freedom. I was full of questions and this guy, who I can't even remember his name, just looked at me and nodded, never really saying much. I commented on how it would be so cool to have a bike like that some day. He excused himself and I went off into a daydream that was filled with traveling across the country on a bike, only to be brought back to reality with a hot greasy hand on my forearm. "That will ensure that you catch this bug and there's no stopping it," my biker friend said to me. I looked down and saw a dark, greasy handprint on my forearm and could hear the oil drip off onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen. I had the bug and never looked back. I gravitated towards guys that rode and it somehow became my job.

What the hell does that have to do with the Front Range Choppers '04 Roadster that's gracing the pages of this magazine? A lot. That first rat bike immediately formed my perception of what was cool. Bikes have to look tough, have character, be rideable, and have subtle details. I remember seeing the Front Range '04 Roadster at a show in Denver that was replete with billet barges, not my thing, but I can respect the craftsmanship. I thought, 'wow this guy really knows what he's doing'. Then I got a chance to spend a few hours with the bike, hang out at the shop, and talk to owner, Pete Slaktowicz. I looked around and realized I was in a museum as well as a shop. An old knuckle was on the floor waiting to be rebuilt, and he had a vintage Indian engine from his 1913 on the back counter ready to be stuffed in its original frame as well as a 1912 Indian on the showroom floor, which looked like it was ready to go boardtrack racing. Then Pete started to name off a few other bikes he had like a '46 Indian Chief, a few panheads, a couple of shovels, and he also showed me his knucklehead that he was putting back together that was the epitome of no-nonsense cool.

I figured out quickly that if I listened, I could probably learn something so I opened my ears and studied the digger on and off for the next three hours. That's when I realized that he nailed this bike and on first inspection, I had overlooked so many tiny details that made this bike what it is-a perfect match of an old school tribute to Northern California diggers and modern technology. What I learned by talking with Pete is that he has been building bikes for as long as I have been alive. He's soft-spoken, doesn't want to be in the spotlight, and is a legend in the Denver biker community. He talked about the old days of what it was like when he first started building bikes and what it is like today.

Today, Pete builds bikes from what he likes, and has his own deep cut rotor business. You can see an example of the rotors he cuts for Indian Larry Legacy on this bike. The details and fabrication on this bike are true to the "less is more" ideology and it also has a bit of bling-bling. It started with a Santee Gooseneck frame that was heavily modified for this project. Then came a stock length DNA Springer with some water jet cut rockers and a rebound spring stabilizer. "I build my bikes to ride. I knew that with this set up it would handle well, and I was not disappointed. This is a fun bike to ride and it's really fast," said Pete. He used to drag race bikes back in the day when it took all day to get to Sturgis because you couldn't possibly go any faster than 55mph. I am betting that you could probably get there a lot quicker on this bike with its 121-inch Patrick Racing engine, Front Range Choppers modified Yaffe exhaust, and five-speed Spyke transmission.

The handlebars are an original set of panhead bars and give it that digger, low handlebar look. Then came the gas tank, a sportster tank that was heavily modified with reversed panels on each side and a custom clean flush mounting system. The first thing people see on a bike is the paint, so it has to be good and this bike is no exception. All the paint and molding took place at Toxic Venom and really set the bike off. The Pagan Gold metalflake combined with subtle pinstriping on unusual places from the spring stabilizer to the tranny plate, shows there was a true vision and this wasn't some slap together job. It was thought out and a subtle tribute to Indian Larry. Pete and Larry had met in Sturgis and developed a business relationship, as well as an understanding that they both knew what they were about. It wasn't about the money, fame or success, rather it was about the bikes and making a bike look trick with the tiniest details. That's why Larry liked the idea of having his question mark insignia available on deep cut rotors made by Pete. It was about the small details and also the reason why Pete used them on this bike-to pay homage to a true, no BS bike builder.