Photos: Missi DeBord

The best motorcycles usually come with a story, and every once in a while that story isn’t about the guy who owns the bike, it’s about the guy who built it. That’s exactly what happened here.

At 52 years old, this Southern California native, now living in Colorado Springs, has spent most of his life turning wrenches. After serving in the Marine Corps, he became a heavy equipment mechanic before landing his current job as a Parts Resource Coordinator at a gold mine in Cripple Creek. Building motorcycles isn’t his career. It’s what he does because he can’t imagine not doing it.

Like a lot of kids growing up in SoCal, motorcycles were everywhere. Dirt bikes filled family weekends in the desert, and his dad’s Honda Shadow introduced him to life on two wheels long before he ever owned a Harley. Some of his favorite memories weren’t even about riding, they were trips to Huntington Beach or Newport with his dad just to sit at the boat ramps and laugh as people struggled to launch their boats.

He started riding dirt bikes around seven years old, but it wasn’t until his late twenties that he bought his first Harley, a 1984 FLH. Three months later, it was already coming apart.

Everywhere he rode, people recognized it as the previous owner’s motorcycle. That didn’t sit well with him, so he tore it down and rebuilt it to fit his own style. When he showed the former owner what he’d done, the guy regretted selling it. That was all the confirmation he needed.

Since then, every motorcycle has been another chance to push himself a little further.

A Softail became a lesson in making parts fit where they weren’t supposed to. BMX pedals turned into foot pegs. License plate brackets, oil filter relocations, custom mounts, if he couldn’t buy what he wanted, he’d make it. Later came bikes like the “Dirty Bitch,” a rigid chopper built around an Ultima frame, a rigid Heritage, and eventually the bike he called the “Red Headed Stepchild.” Every project taught him another skill and another way to solve a problem.

Then Sturgis 2025 changed everything. One of his closest friends, Darren McKeag, had grown tired of a bike that never quite lived up to its potential. The original plan was simple enough: haul it home, strip it down, send the frame to Ryan Gore at Paper Street Customs for a hardtail conversion, then bolt everything back together.

That plan lasted about five minutes. “After everything this guy has done for me, there was no way he was getting it back as just a rigid.”

What started as a refresh became a complete transformation.

He handled as much of the fabrication as he felt comfortable doing himself. Frame work was left to Ryan Gore, but nearly everything else became fair game. The rear fender was modified so the B&C seat sat perfectly flush. The oil tank was completely reworked to relocate the battery underneath the seat. Mounting tabs, bungs, oil fittings, and countless little details were fabricated from scratch.

His favorite touches are the ones most people never notice. Nearly every stainless button-head bolt went into the lathe before finding its home, reshaped into subtle cones or hourglass profiles. Fork lowers were shaved and knurled. Wheel spacers, motor mounts, foot controls, anything that fit in the lathe received a little extra attention. None of it screams for attention, but together those details separate a good motorcycle from one that keeps pulling you back for another look.

Like most self-taught builders, he laughs when asked where he learned fabrication. “Trial and error… and screwing things up.”

There’s no formal training. No apprenticeship. Just years of figuring things out one mistake at a time and a network of talented friends willing to answer the phone when a problem refuses to cooperate.

The biggest challenge wasn’t the fabrication; it was the calendar.

In December, Bill Dodge invited him to display the bike in the BC Moto Invitational at the Tennessee Motorcycles & Music Revival. The problem was the deadline was only five months away, and he’d somehow convinced himself to build another chopper for himself at the exact same time.

The final two weeks became controlled chaos. Darren moved in to help finish the bike. While parts were spinning in the lathe, Darren was heating and bending steel. Beau Jones bounced between wiring and final paint details. Zach Cline was fabricating and welding the exhaust. Nobody was watching the clock anymore. It was simply all hands on deck until the motorcycles were finished.

Looking back, he calls it stressful.

Looking at the finished bike, you’d never know it.

One of the biggest reasons is Beau Jones’ paintwork. Despite running a tattoo shop full-time and painting nights and weekends, Beau delivered a finish worthy of the motorcycle underneath it. It’s the first bike this builder has trusted with a truly top-tier paint job, and seeing Darren put miles on it instead of hiding it away is exactly how both wanted it.

Because that’s the whole point. This motorcycle was never built to sit under lights with mirrors underneath it. It was built as a thank-you to a friend, by a guy who believes motorcycles should earn their scars honestly.

Special thanks go to Ryan Gore at Paper Street Customs, Brent Law of Iron Craft Inc., Zach Cline, Beau Jones, Bill Dodge for the BC Moto Invitational invitation, and most of all Darren McKeag, whose friendship made this entire project happen in the first place.

At the end of the day, that’s what this motorcycle really represents. Not just six months of fabrication and late nights in the garage, but the kind of friendships that make this whole chopper world worth being part of.

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