The lowly acetylene torch has been called more than a few things over time-like the "gas axe" or "hot wrench"-and has been used (and abused) on choppers since its inception possibly more than any other metal altering device. With enough Bondo a would-be amphetamine-fueled chopper builder could cover up slag, scars, brazing, and all manner of unsightliness left behind by jittery, careless hands, but sooner or later the truth would come out. Usually while staring up at us from the blacktop or gravel lot of the swap meet-pass.
Today this same rejected frame poses a challenge to those with skill, desire, and the lack of a drug habit that most likely devalued the frame in the first place. Bring it on. Bay Area resident and old Harley fan/painter/builder Max Schaaf found such a diamond in the rough under a claw-foot tub in the Oakland hills. It was a '56 Pan frame that was subject to a gnarly rake and plenty of crustiness, but it had some stories to tell with its now yellowed blue candy covering complete with acetylene smoke accents. It's ironic that the paint was finished with the same tool that started the mutilation.
Max accepted the test the old frame offered and knew that with what he had in his shop he could build a bike out of it that would look like he just cherry-picked it out of the proverbial barn or forgotten garage we all dream about. For this to happen, he deraked the frame back to stock and fixed the neck area before meticulously matching and blending into the original paint job with his own smoke wrench. It didn't stop there; he added some rod to an old peanut tank, molded it, and colored it the same way because with a frame like this how could the tank not match?
The drivetrain came from Max's running '46 Knucklehead and the rest from around the shop. Lots of old chopper goodies like the carefully extended I-beam VL springer, the 21- and 18-inch wheels with only a rear mechanical drum, the ribbed fender, engraved ROTH bird deflector, and Flanders bars. Max put together the super-upswept pipes, but not too carefully so they would look like they belonged on the once glorious, now forlorn sled.
"I built the bike as a challenge...to see if I could make a bike that looked as if it had been locked away in a garage for 40 years. I built it in 13 days...very long days. Period-perfect bikes are challenging, but in some ways less creative... You're following more guidelines, but that also was a cool challenge," says Max. "If I jam the lee pedal all the way down hard, it puts the bike in neutral, but it runs good and starts easy. It's a happy mo-sheene."