Sugar Free

It all started with Doug.  He would fire his bike up across the street and I could feel something inside me get all sorts of anxious.  I step outside just in time for him to take off.  I wouldn't think too much of it until a few years later.  I got the itch.  "Doug, I want to ride." fell out of my mouth one day and it felt good.  Real good.  Without hesitation he said, "Let's do it."  So I went on a hunt to find the type of bike I wanted.  At first, a brat style bike was calling my name.  The lines, the wheels, but most of all the freedom.

When Doug would get back from a run, he looked like a new man every time.  Weather he broke down, dumped it or had smooth ride, he always came back with a sense of clarity that would show through.  I wanted that.  I needed it.

Doug lookin' Grizzly 

After about 4 or 5 months of looking for a 750, Doug called me up and said his buddy had a 68 sportster for sale.  I didn't think it was a good idea at all.  With a need to get out of the house for awhile,  We headed up to Milwaukee to see Cody Davidson.  As I stepped into the shop I saw a rusty pile of motorcycle and felt the need to sit on it.  "Can we make it run?"  "We can make it run."  It wasn't until we stopped for some food that I looked back at my truck and saw that ironhead shinning under the street lights in Culver's parking lot that I knew this was my bike and come Hell or high water, I'd be riding this bitch in the spring.

First step, get her running.  After checking everything that we had eyes for, Doug honed in on the mag.  He decided on a rebuild and we called it a day.

With a rebuilt mag and a whole lot of anticipation, we started kicking, and kicking, and kicking.  Nothing.  I know Doug wanted to hear her fire up as much as I did.  With sweat dripping like tears from a born again, we had to pack it in.  Before he left my garage, Doug said he would call the man and see if he had time to lend some advice.

That man would be Warren Heir Sr.  First words out of his mouth, "Not another chopper!"  After giving me and Doug some shit for this ugly bike,  it was up on the lift and getting timed.  Warren told us what to do and without any questions me and Doug were spinning wrenches.  By noon we were ready to kick.  Combustion, back fire and FLAMES!  I was buzzing.  So, I'm holding the throttle wide open and Doug is kicking for what seemed to be hours and all of a sudden,  Two feet of flames shoot out of the carb and hit me in the dick.  Ok.  Cool.  Warren suggest we dive into the top end next time.

A few weeks later, with everything removed but the engine we roll it back into Sr.  In 4 hours The entire engine is on a shelf, in a hundred pieces.  Full rebuild.