STEVE’S R80RT

Sometimes life has a habit of sitting you down on your arse and forcing you to reassess, as happened to Bike Shed regular contributor, Steve, who has had a few dramas, that ultimately led to him build bikes like this, his latest, R80. Steve was riding his V-Max and suffered a huge heart attack. He managed to keep upright and ended up in hospital for two weeks while the ticker mechanics worked out if a top end rebuild was required. Steve didn’t fancy having his crank cases split so lay there waiting, wondering what to do with the Beemer sat in the garage. Then it struck, “Soul’d Out” – “fuelled by passion”. Steve followed his recalcitrant heart and got to work designing a custom build, but before work could begin he needed slightly more practical surroundings, so discharged himself from hospital, deciding to see out the summer before going back in for an overhaul.

If bikes could talk then this one would have a tale or two. Originally it was owned by a vicar who rode it to Russia and back, before a school teacher from Swindon bought it.

Once out of hospital Steve relaxed for exactly no hours before stripping the old air head down, curing oil weeps and leaks with a new gasket and seal set. The comprehensive service records showed that the clutch was only 3000 miles old so that was left alone, the output shaft was also good so reunited with the engine, using the correct Castrol Optimax grease of course. Once painted and topped up with fresh oil the engine was ready to be installed, but not into the original frame, that needed some jazzing up.

An extra frame rail was grafted in to accommodate the handmade, fully adjustable, twinshock saddle. Tank mounts had to be removed and relocated, all other unnecessary appendages were ground off and smoothed. A local outfit took care of the loud, pearl orange paintwork on the tank, frame and hugger whilst Steve entrusted the black parts to his own hand. Apart from the yokes, wheels, battery box, front engine cover and top cover, these are coated in fresh black satin powder.

With a considerable amount of the original bike missing this R80 is evenly balanced at exactly 97kgs at both ends. Braided hoses add a bit more feel to the brakes and Continental TKC 80s give just enough grip for enthusiastic riding.

A daydream in a hospital bed to reality in just a few weeks, that’s perseverance personified. Steve, must be pretty proud of himself.

Whilst the parts were at the paint shop everything that could be cleaned, greased, oils and refreshed was and readied for the fun part, assembly.

Steve spared no expense when ordering parts and carefully put everything back together using new fasteners and plenty of diligence. The new owner can rest assured that this ride isn’t going to fall apart on the way home. Cat out of the bag!

Yes, Steve needs the loot so is sadly having to part with his pride and joy. If you like what you see get in touch, you might need to be quick though in case he changes his mind. Click here for Steve’s contact details. You can see Steve’s previous R100 Boxer-build Here and his CB750 Here.

 via The Bike Shed

BSA A50 BY HAZAN MOTORWORKS

By Shaik Ridzwan | The Mighty Motor

Barely six months ago, Max Hazan shifted his workshop from Brooklyn to Los Angeles. But the cross-country trip barely interrupted his stride. This stark and beautiful BSA A50, the first build to come out of Max’s new LA shop, was completed in just five weeks.

It’s a commissioned bike, built for a client who already has a Hazan XS650 in his garage. And with such a short deadline, there was no time to shop around for parts. Instead, Max had to build everything from scratch—and being a master craftsman and artist, that’s how he likes it.

The design is the simplest form of a motorcycle, with the shapely BSA motor being the center of attention. Attracted to the lines of the cases, Max selected a 1966 A50 engine to use as the foundation of the build.

The cleanest way to mount the gas tank was to make the tank part of the frame. There’s a sediment bowl from a tractor right below the tank, feeding fuel via hand-formed aluminum lines direct to the single Amal Monobloc carburetor.

The bars are super-clean, cleverly machined with hidden parts and cabling routed through the frame—an approach Hazan also used for his acclaimed Harley Ironhead.

Another remarkable detail is the oil ‘bag.’ Lab equipment has always intrigued Max, so he’s used an aspirator bottle rather than the traditional steel or aluminum tank.

It’s a bold move, but something about it is just right: Movement of the liquid, usually hidden, is now visible. And then there’s the exquisite hand-formed plumbing and mounting hardware surrounding the bottle.

The kickstand is another first. Max made a bolt-action piece to avoid dragging metal during turns on the low-profile BSA. And the rear fender is mounted to the axle spacer, so you can move them both when making adjustments. A Honda CB350 front drum brake was re-machined and adapted for use as a rear hub; up front is a modified Harley hub.

The 2-into-1 exhaust system is equally elegant, curving around the righthand side of the BSA motor. The placement is perfect, with the angles and bends almost defying geometry.

The axle stoppers are inside the dropouts, so you can’t see them. And the best thing about the rear end? Max made it so that no tools are needed to take the rear wheel off. Just twist and off it comes.

This BSA is riddled with more detail than space permits to write about. Take a closer look—you’re sure to find something we’ve neglected to mention.

Images by Shaik Ridzwan. Visit the Hazan Motorworks website or follow Max’s news via his Facebook page.

via BIKEexif

76′ Honda CB750 by Raccia Motorcycles

It’s not every day you get stalked by a Hollywood actor to build you a bike. But that’s exactly what happened to Mike LaFountain from Raccia Motorcycles. One day he receives a phone call from motorcycle nut and actor Ryan Reynolds asking to build him his dream bike. Ryan has a nice collection of motorcycles, but the bike that started it all when he was a teenager was a 1976 CB750. We were lucky enough to ask Ryan a few questions about this project and his passion for old CB’s…

How did you discover Mike from Raccia Motorcycles? Did you see a certain bike he built?

I found Mike through countless hours of Internet stalking. I’ve always been a little obsessed with 70′s Honda CB’s. Admittedly, even more so as they rose in popularity yet again these past 10 years. Mike had done a couple of builds which stopped me in my tracks. It never occurred to me I could probably just email him through his website and inquire about a project. But I did just that and we jumped into this thing together.

What was the brief to Mike?

Not to get overly romantic about it, (although I suppose I’m preaching to the converted here at Pipeburn) but Wabi-Sabi was the inspiration. It’s a Japanese term which basically embraces a kind of beauty which is imperfect. Basically finding perfection in imperfection. I wanted the bike to be mechanically sound, but the aesthetic raw, strong and timeless. I didn’t want anything glossy, or flashy. I wanted it to feel like a bike you’d go to war on. Mike made the vision a reality. In spades.

Did you have a specific donor bike in mind? Or were you open to options?

The only aspect I was rigid on, was the donor machine had to be a 76 CB. When I was a kid in Vancouver, I learned to ride on a woefully neglected 1976 CB750. I bought the thing for $600 worth of hard earned paper-route money. The bike was battered, abused and rough. It wore its scars in the manner of an aging prizefighter.

Riding it was not unlike ferrying myself to and fro on a pipe-bomb made out of duct tape and future hospital bills. But god, I loved that thing. It was an extension of myself. I’d have dragged it to bed with me at night if my landlord (my father) hadn’t surgically installed eyeballs to the back of his head.

Part of the romance I had with the bike was the two years of friction it left in its wake. When my Dad found out I’d bought the thing, he started using his “inside voice” to accentuate the three new veins growing out of his forehead. My older brother had crashed an interceptor 750 a few years earlier and nearly ate it for good. Understandably, bikes were not a welcome item at our household.

Rightly or wrongly, I fought for that old CB. I went to war for it. Despite the fact filling it with a tank of gas would likely double its value, it represented independence and freedom. Having a bike was as if I’d invited in a clear and direct path to a different life. Being young and dumb and frivolous, things changed soon enough.

Before moving to Los Angeles at 18 years old, I sold it to a local no gooder named Nick, who’d turned it into a fucking chopper. Not a fitting end to a bike that changed my life. At the time, I felt a fitting end to Nick might be a mandatory sterilization program, or at minimum, some sort of messy stabbing death – but there’s an ass for every seat as they say. And nobody forced me to sell it to him.

I think Nick works on Wall Street now. Selling a slightly fancier kind of drug. A fitting occupation for his mercenary sensibility and lead-pipe cruelty.

How do you like the finished product? How’s she ride?

I’m lucky to be in the position to have someone build me a bike. Especially one like this. I really believe money’s better spent on an experience than a particular “thing”. Be it a night out for dinner or a trip somewhere you’ve never been. This bike is certainly a “thing” but moreover, it’s an experience. And of course, it can take me to dinner – or some place I’ve never been. And above all, I’m really grateful to Mike and the countless hours of sweat he spilled to build this ride.

It’s runs better than I could ever imagine. More than anything, it feels exactly like my old bike went to heaven and came back, somehow better – yet the same – if that makes any sense.

There’s no narcotic more powerful than nostalgia, and every second I’m on the bike, I feel like I just snatched a piece of misspent youth back and washed it clean. The only strange part, is the fact there’s literally nothing wrong with the motorcycle. And nobody to fight me for owning it.

It runs like it just came off the assembly line, but looks as though it were ridden to my home in New York from Japan. Including the large chunk of road which goes underwater. I’ve already put 700 miles on it and it refuses to frustrate me. That said, I won’t be dragging it to bed anytime soon.

What other bikes have you got in your garage? 

I own about 8 bikes, including A couple of old Triumphs, a 1962 BMW R60/Sidecar and a very special Egli-Vincent Godet. I say, “about” because I bought an old beat-to-shit and brake-less BMW I rode in the movie Safe House. We shot the film in South Africa and I’m still waiting for the thing to clear customs, nearly 2 years later. So I should have it in my garage around September of two-thousand-never.

And if Nick is reading this, feel free to send my bike back. As Mike LaFountain demonstrates admirably, time is the mother of reinvention. Anything can be undone.

Check out the next issue of Iron and Air Magazine for more on this stunning CB750.

[Photography by Gustavo Penna]

via PIPEBURN

North Atlantic Drift: BMW M4 goes Top Gun on aircraft carrier

Picture a racetrack twisting around the deck of an enormous aircraft carrier. Got it? Now take a (mostly sideways) lap in a BMW M4.

The ultimate racetrack

Okay, so BMW’s ‘Ultimate Racetrack’ might not be real, but we love the idea. Isn’t it incredible how CGI can make something so ludicrous appear so convincing? The tail-happy M4 looks right at home attacking the numerous tight turns. It sounds pretty good, too. Perhaps someone should show this video to Mr Ecclestone – in a world of DRS and push-to-pass, a floating racetrack would probably be more than welcome in Formula One. 

Feel like going 'Top Gun' as well? There are numerous ready-to-race BMWs for sale in the Classic Driver Market.