The before picture of the REDBIRD's REDBIRD!

In the Beginning there was . . .

I lived in Indiana till the age of seven when my parents divorced. Along the Ohio River Road on a curve there was a pavilion shelter, something like a road side park, this is where the biker's would camp and party on the weekends. Every time we passed the pavilion during the summer I would rubber-neck out the window and stare at the choppers along with some factory bikes. It was the choppers that engraved the image of freedom and individualality in my memories. Not HARLEY, HONDA, SUZUKI, TRIUMPH or any distinct brand of motorcycle, but CHOPPERS! "One day my father's CB 750 will be mine and I could ride the country and see America.", I thought. Well my dad still has a CB 750 and I never got to see America on a motorcycle. I longed to be with the Rebels.

The Confrontation.

Over the years up to the age of 18 I rode and owned 3 motorcycles, none of them road bikes . . . and then, while in the ARMY at Ft. Stewart, GA, a friend sold me a 250 Honda Rebel. The old lady said, "No way, motorcycles are dangerous." Well, it only took about three days and I had her riding that little 250 Rebel into the ground. It wasn't long before the little bike became my every day transportation to and from the base. One morning I pulled up to the four-way-stop in the little town of Midway around 4:35 a.m. on my way to P.T. and decided since no traffic was coming that I would putt my happy-ass right thru the intersection. Before I could even make it across the intersection I saw the blue lights, I pulled over right in front of the police station. Before it was all over the kind officer gave me FOUR tickets, ONE for no registration, SECOND for no insurance (It's the law for residents of GA), THIRD for no license, and FOURTH for failure to stop at a stopping device. The officer did let me take the bike home instead of to the inpound yard.

A month later at court with my platoon sargent the judge let this woman swear she would not drive anymore till she paid her fines and got her license re-instated. You could see her get into her car and drive off thru the huge picture window next to the judges desk. I thought, "This guy is cool, no problem." Walking out the door with my wallet $800.00 lighter I thought, "What a dickhead!" Since I only paid $200.00 for the little 250 in the first place and it cost me $800.00 in fines, I decided to sell the bike to a friend in my unit for what I had bought it for $200.00.

Born Again.

In 1995 a close friend from the service moved in with my wife and I. He had a 1985 Honda Magna 700. It was not long till my old-lady was breathing down my neck for another bike. I found a 450 Rebel in the local traders post after 4 months of looking and traded a Ruger .45 and $700.00 dollars for it. I WAS BORN AGAIN, but it was not long till the wife claimed the cycle and I was out of the saddle again, so I went and bought a brand new 1994 Honda Magna 750, yeee-haaaaw. Many long arguements and discussions on why I did not buy a sporster insued at the bar and many miles have been traveled from Natchez MISS. to Daytona Beech and here we are . . .

And Here We Are . . .

About a week or two ago (5-2-97) I traded a 1969 Ford P/U and $1000.00 for a 1975 Honda CB 750 CHOPPER, the doctor is in. After getting home from the Virgin ride on the chop I commenced to take my chisel and take the molding off the frame to reveal a crack all the way around the neck, under the peanut gas tank. I immediatedly called my friend Walter (Walter is a self-employed essentric machinist) at Fluid Dienamics in Waverly, TN. and asked the favor, "Can you fix it?" Walter replied that he could fix the frame and to come on up to his shop. Walt took a blade and wacked off the tubing from the neck all the way to the saddle, an hour and a half later the tube was replaced with two inch square tubing and my bike was thrown all over the floor of his shop. I felt bad, I asked him to weld a frame not let me utilize his shop space. It would not have been that bad if he would have been able to drive his Viper out of the garage, It was Friday . . . he always gets the Viper out on Fridays. Another friend is powder coating the frame white in which my air brush will paint irredecent red and orange flames (My Fathers Favorite) on the out side of the tubes. Another friend sold me his spare five gallon Harley tanks for $50.00, this and the rear fender will be painted metalflake silver/(a touch of) red mica. The gurder front-end will get powder coated this winter. I need a cold shower, all this chopper talk is giving me a hard on.

What about the Magna you ask? Well the wife is getting a new 1998 Suzuki Marauder and the Magna is the trade-in, after riding the chopper there is no problem getting rid of the Magna, but I will miss it. And now it is time to hit the road . . . .

The Finished Product. (6-17-97)

The chopper is finished and all I have to say is, "SSSAAZZAAMM." I could never be more happy, it is more enjoyable to ride than anything that my buns have touched. I did not powder coat the frame like I had planned, instead I just painted it. Everything else came out . . . well, see for yourself.

By the way, I'm keeping the Magna and am going to buy the wife's new bike next year. The dealers are trying to screw me out of my bike without the benifit of a reach-around. JUSTICE WILL PREVAIL!