Chopper Customs Articles & Press Releases:
THE HORSE
November 2003
Page 62 - 65
by:
Tim Delancey I Sweko Chopper Customs, Inc.
410 Wallowa Street
PO Box 29
Lostine, OR
97857
541-569-2212
ROCKY
HOLLIE
TIM
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Yeah, this bike is definitely "ol, skool". Generator Shovel, 4 speed,
kick-only, open belt,
suicide, Narrow Glide Springer with no front brake. "Ol, Skool Suicide...damn, look at that
rear wheel. That looks like a car wheel. It is a car wheel. A roadster wheel with an actual
knock-off adapter to a motorcycle axle.
As long as I've been on the scene, there's always been somebody skilled enough to adapt a car
wheel to a motorcycle. So don't give me any bullshit about no bigger than a 130 to be "ol, skool."
The only difference is now you don't have to use a car tire. The only new school aspect of this chop
is the owner. This fucking guy (Rocky) is young, clean cut, has manners, and has no tats. I don't
even think he limps. What the fuck?
Since hanging out at my shop as a young teen, learning to kick start motorcycles and wanting to help
wrench, Rocky was finally ready. He wanted a chopper, and he wanted to go "ol, skool." That was just
what I wanted to hear. I built a 1950 Pan bottom, Shovel top motor and four-speed tranny with close
ratio gears. He wanted a 230 series tire.
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We called Kjell at Choppers Unlimited, and ordered a frame, rear wheel brake system. The front end came
from THE HORSE swap meet page. A guy named Bonedaddy was selling an 11" over Springer for $300. We
made some bottom rockers, fixed all the buggered up threads, replaced all the hardware, and setup the
60 spoke, 21" and ran it. We made a sissy bar and taillight system. Rocky's brother Rick did the paint.
Once these other posers see how much respect from the old timers and pussy from bizzo's, Rocky has been
getting, they might follow suit. Give me choppers, or give me death. Ol' skool choppers.
www.choppercustoms.com
Rocky and I went to Laughlin this year after not going for about nine years. There were only a handful
of people riding real choppers. The weather was probably about 90 degrees, and these guys had on their
full leathers hanging out. I was embarrassed for them. So many of these "Hard Core" Road King riders
were dropping their bikes, slowing up traffic, and causing accidents.
Laughlin was like a swat team festival. From the first minute I met my old crew from Long Beach, it was
harassment from the get go. First "Storm" was arrested about 30 minutes before I arrived. Kept him in
jail all weekend. Won't go into for what, but it wasn't something that merited a jail term all weekend.
In all other cases, it would have been handcuffed and released all within fifteen minutes. The officials
wanted to fill up the bus, and ship everyone to Las Vegas for booking. Since it was on a weekend they
were going to hold everyone, and make some money on tickets and court costs.
That was the first incident.
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Next, the cops kept coming by my buddy's vending booth, and kept rousting me. And I wasn't
doing anything. Later on that evening, a bunch of us went to a little gathering, came back
to the Avi Hotel parking lot to have Rocky (who's bike you see here) follow us to a freinds
house in Bullhead, AZ. All of a sudden, we couldn't find him. Roll around on our bikes to
find him handcuffed, with three swat team guys holding him. Besides the three guys holding
him, there are about eight other swat guys in the whole swat get-up pointing rifles at him.
We get off our bikes, ask, "what the fuck is going on here?"
"Do you want to go to jail for obstructing justice?" the cop barks at me. I Reply "No, but
your fucking with an innocent guy. He didn't do anything." My wife pulls her camera out of
her pocket, and dares me to go take a picture, because when Rocky gets back to Oregon, nobody
is going to beleive him that this really happened. So she's bugging me to get in there and
get pictures; I'm bugged that she doesn't realize that I'll probably go to jail too.
So I get closer to the scene, take some shots, get told to "get out of here or your going to
jail with him" a second time. I give her the camera back, and she says "cool, we can make a
poster for him that says 'Free Rocky' for instant outlaw status." (The next day she looses
the film) We wait there for about 15 minutes. Rocky provided them with proof that the bike
was his, and they let him go. They thought that Rocky was steeling his own bike. The constant
watching and threats was unnerving. Really, we weren't doing shit.
Laughlin -- to much security.
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Laughlin River Run is a Joke, although we managed to have a fucking blast anyway. For me, the drag races
were the best action. Ten dollars tech, and two dollars a pass. I ran my chopper twice and whipped a
hopped-up twin cam twice. The guy seemed surprised I beat him the first time, so I offered him another
chance at me, and he took it. He lost again. I also raced my wifes Stage 4 1200 a couple of times,
rode the mechanical bull, and hit the strong man sledge hammer dinging the bell, like only a guy that
split red fir all winter for heat can do.
Our crew rocked the house. The swat team did their best to keep fun away, but we managed to pull it off.
Infidels do this.
We had a place to stay in Bullhead, AZ. Our friend Jerry was a great host. (Thanks Jerry) The hotels
were charging $250 and up a night, and had a four night minimum. We tried to hang at the Avi, but selling
Harley Girl merchandise wasn't legal according to the Harley Davidson Executives that were on hand,
ready to confiscate and sue. We closed up shop, and went puttin'. Somebody in the crew always had the
next BBQ, private party to go to. It's exactly what an Oregonian needs after a long winter.
I will never go back for that event, although we are planning a "Fuck Laughlin" trip next year in May.
We've got good friends out there, and its a great place to ride. Arizona is helmetless, and the warm
weather was great for us. We had a great time, despite the fact that we weren't wanted. It was obvious
that we were ruining the poser's costume party.
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