One Bad Mutha

1938 Knucklehead Case

 For 3 years now I have been searching for an original left side knuckle case with papers. This is for many, the most challenging step to kick off a rare and radical chopper or restoration and here's the story of how I found it.

 

I had been combing Craigslist posts, forums, Chopcult's classified ads and Ebay sales for far too long, I nearly gave in and purchased a re-pop Taiwanese piece of crap a couple times. Then one evening I went to a bike night in the outskirts of Chicago where I met and befriended another vintage bike nut who calls himself  the Top Wop, Big Dick, Joey Dicks. A little long in the tooth, but a hell of a name. We admired each other's bikes and began talkin shit. I told him I had my eye out there for a set of knuckle cases.

 

He replied, "I might actually know someone that may be able to help you. His name is Knucklehead Ted." The Top Wop and I drank down a few more brews that night and made plans to meet up the following week. I didn't hear from Joey Dick's the next week nor the one after that. I had nearly lost all faith by this time.

 

Then one morning leaving work after night shift at the Sugar Shack, I get the call. I see on the caller ID, Top Wop, Big Dick, Joey Dicks. I answered within the first ring. "Hey Jim, it's Joey, listen man I finally got in touch with Knucklehead Ted." Apparently Ted's health wasn't the greatest. He had slipped from his roof replacing some shingles. At his age recovery was looking grim. I guessed he was all busted up.

 

Ted said he would be willing to let go of some knucklehead parts for the right price. We met up and Joey and I headed out to an undisclosed location in the unincorporated Chicagoland suburbs. Although the vibe was good; conversation in the van was nil. Excited and nervous at the same time I felt like I was going to meet a Kingpin in the Mexico City drug Cartel.  

 

When we arrived at Knucklehead Ted's home, I looked across his property, it appeared as though his lawn mower hadn't been running for at least the last couple summers, and his home's most recent paintjob  was around the time Milli Vanilli started their singing careers. That shit's funny, if you're not laughing; Fuck you.

 

We approached Ted's front door but before we could knock the door began to open. Knucklehead Ted doesn't appear immediately instead he lets his drooling Bullmastiff answer the door. Joey and I fall back on our heels a little bit, not quite expecting this type of introduction nor did we wanna get our Nike's wet. The little bit of doorway we can see is dark. Then he appears.

 

Knucklehead Ted definitely living up to the mental picture I had fabricated in my mind. An older gentlemen not of great size but great style, rockin a distinguished beard that would make jolly ole Saint Nick envious and wearing worn-out overalls and a red flannel shirt.

 

"What the fuck do you want?" Ted says. Joey and I stammered; Joey then replied. " It's me Ted, Joey. Remember how I said I had a guy interested in some knucklehead parts?" He then acknowledges Joey, opening the door further leading us into the house. Ted turns around with no warning and says "you better have brought cash, cause I don't take checks, Sport." "Yeah, no problem, I brought cash." I said.

 

Downstairs of his split level home is a Harley pickers paradise. Parts are spread out all over the place, you can hardly move around once you leave the staircase. "What is it you need?" Ted asked. "I'm looking to get a knucklehead case with a title, if possible." "Yeah, I got one," he points to a box against the wall near the back of the room." It's in that box, grab it and bring it over here. Lets see if it's still in there."

 

I'm barely able to, due to the immense clutter many would refer to as hoarding. I get it though and place it on one of the steps where Ted is standing. He opened it up and began digging around with one hand. His entire arm is deep into the bottom of the box. "Yep, here it is." He said.

 

Ted pulls it out and places it in my hands. I can't believe it. I try and show my poker face but, he's got me and he knows it. "How much cash you got with you," Ted asked. I looked at him and smiled and said. "Well... hopefully just enough."

                                                       The End

 

 

 

 

 

KEANU LETTIN YOU KNOW HOW IT IS.

Hell Bound and Whiskey Bent

As hell bound and whiskey bent as we are at Chopper Chronicles we take pride in the building of our bikes. However when we notice another cut from the same cloth we wanna give tribute. Last night I was talking with my friend James over at Spruce St Fabrication in Riverside, California about one of his latest builds; this thing is shit hot! We had to post it. This bike was constructed in 6 months with all fabrication work done in house by James.

He kept it simple and started with your standard Paughco frame, cutting and smoothing away any unnecessary gristle. The power plant is of the aftermarket variety punching 96 ci with dual plugged heads making sure no fuel is left to surplus. When he drops the foot clutch on this little hussy it turns into a fire breathing sling shot. It sports a 4 speed cowpie tranny with a BDL open primary. The candy maroon paint was blasted by Rob Riley out of Riverside, California and accented with stripes and lettering by Lefty's Pinstriping of SoCal. Nice work James.

sprucestfabrication.bigcartel.com

Life Behind Bars 

Words to live by; get it while the gettins good. Sometime last week we decided to get out of this crazy city for a few days and headed down to Austin, Texas for a little R&R (Ridin and Raisin Hell). The following chronicles our story of what happened down in Austin.

 

 It started out as the usual getaway with virtually no planning; non-stop pavement pounding and 18 hours later, we arrived in Austin. In a town packed to the gills with hipsters and hippies we felt a little like a shark in a fish bowl. Not to mention, we didn't get the vibe that the cops in Austin liked the cut of our jib.

 

We woke up early Friday morning, had my favorite breakfast dish. Eggs over hard with bacon and toast and a low ball topped off with Jim & Ginger.

 

"Lets hit it," my boy Matt of Milwaukee's Cook Customs said while extinguishing his Camel cigarette on the empty plate in front of him. We kicked the sleds over till they were suckin air through the Bendix carb on their own and started off down four deuces HWY from Austin's outskirts till we reached the downtown area.

 

 

 

 

 The temperature was perfect in the low 80's. Traffic wasn't so great, so we hit the sidewalk instead. Just till the end of the street when we rolled up to Po Boy's Surf and Turf on Lavaca ST.

 

I will say the Barbeque did not let me down in Texas, but do these people eat anything else but barbeque and tacos? That's one man's opinion. We grabbed a couple two, tree drinks and some eats then out the door we went to be greeted by Austin's Finest, or should I say Austin's fattest. Not to be punitive, but this ole boy was a little puffy. Standing maybe 5'4 and easily 400 hundred pounds. I loved that cowboy hat though.

 

He told us Austin PD received reports of a couple of motorcycles driving down the sidewalk alongside 4th street and that our bikes matched the description given by the caller. Of course we didn't have any additional information to help the police officer with his investigation. Apparently, we had bent a few ordinances trying to short cut the traffic; always doin shit the hard way. After what seemed like an hour his Chief came back and said nobody ever saw our plates.

 

We were free to go and ordered to leave the city limits with a warning. Officer No Neck tailed us all the way out of town. Cleared of all the charges with money, women and our health we made it 45 minutes to the west stumbling upon the coolest place I've seen in a long time. The Oasis on Lake Travis.

 

 

 

 

 

The crowd may have been a little stuffy, but the place took you in with its view. Words can't describe how rad this place was, but I'll give it a try. Picture three or four tall buildings maybe five stories high sharing one foundation built atop a hill too steep to walk down. At the backside of these buildings, that are reminiscent of old Mexican architecture, are balconies extending from each floor which overlook the majestic Lake Travis.

 

 

 

After the live music, whiskey and cigarettes, we were back on the winding road all the way to bottom where we decided we had pushed our luck enough for one day. After all was said and done we now know why people love it here. It was a beautiful ride down in Texas.