BSA blues

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I just took in trade for some work a 65 BSA frame. 650 engine and wheels

I dug out some parts and threw them on.

A old triumph front ribbed fender for the back.

A maltese cross tail-light on a old sissy bar. placed at the top. instead of using it as a tailight I'm thinking a leather pad for a backrest.



A tank that was rusty and caved in but I couldn't bear not to restore so I cut it open and striaghtened.

I haven't decided what to do about the oil tank, I have several to pick from.

Apehangers of course.

short stack exhaust.....obnoxiusly loud...this a 10.5 compresson engine.

Bates headlight.....perhaps 2 staggered one over the other. How we ran them in the seventies.

I'd like a 8 over girder or twisted springer front forks.....

Pagan gold or big metal flake green......or perhaps pearl orange..[yes I know Ann you hate that color] but it's for me ...not for you
You already stole one of my bikes.;]

Maybe even a metalflake king and queen seat.

But then I discovered a dillema.

After measuring the engine, with a few mods this thing would fit in my old servicar frame.

Be a helluva lot cheaper than finding a harley flathead and tranny.

I have a spare triumph 650 that would bolt right into this chopper frame [BSA and Triumph used the same frame configuration]

But I already have a triumph chopper.

And a BSA chopper is kinda rare nowadays especially with a lightning rocket engine.... very rare.

On the other hand Rascal would get to ride.

I could also use the trike for B.AC.A rides for the kids.

Hmmmm............

Desert Vengeance cont 4

Animal's legs were sending his brain mixed signals, the heat generated by the mighty twin was warming his calves and the cooling from the nitrous lines under the gas tank freezed his kneecaps. That is , if his gray matter had even a chance of listening. Preoccupied as it was with handling June at 180 miles an hour.

Animals senses already approached overload.

Hanging desert valley turns and twists. Busting free of mother earths gravity at every hill crest. The snarling Crocker was in her element.
Rapidly braking and downshifting, hanging his boot to the pavement. Animal broadsided around hairpin turns.

The ghosts of every ancient dirt tracker watched in pride.

Straightening out on long straightaways, Animal would tap the nitrous switch and send the spoked invader wheel reaching for altitude. The wheel's ceramic bearings allowed the rim to spin smoothly giving June the appearnce of clawing at the moon. Instinct was the driver. Animals conscious thoughts as always, centered around the mission at hand.

For a secretive agency like the N.S.A to release a surveillance video of the
'theft' of government property. Whatever was on those chips was definitely a national security issue. You don't screw with an American biker's family and brotherhood. You damn sure don't mess with his country.

Awakened from her peaceful slumber June seemed to be looking for payback. The supercharger's whine screamed a song of retribution.

Reaching the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona, Animal slowed June to a legal speed. Wanted by everyone and anyone who ever carried a badge and then some, it wouldn't do to announce his arrival with a dozen speed cops on his tail.

Turning onto Camelback Road from Grand Avenue, Animal cruised the three miles to his destination. pulling into the gravel lot and rolling up to the building's entrance.

Animal dismounted and walked to the bar's swinging doors. Looking up at the sign overhead spelling out Panama Red's, Animal smiled and entered. Whoever had been listening in on the phone call with Commissioner Henderson probably wouldn't enjoy the private joke.

The soft neon glow filtering through the haze of cigar smoke cast a pale light on the military bearing of the man seated at the booth tucked in the corner. Commissioner Henderson waved Animal over and motioned to the waitress.

Animal slid onto the bench facing across from Henderson. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would not have believed it possible."

Henderson looked at Animal quizzically and asked, "What wasn't possible?"

Animal replied, "The last time I saw you I said there's no way you could get any damn uglier....yet you pulled it off'."

Henderson laughed and responded, "This is the kind of response I'd expect from the poster child for outlawing relations to marry."

After the waitress had served their drinks. Henderson took on a serious tone and said, "We've got a lot to talk about."

Producing a folder from his briefcase Henderson pulled out a series of photos and placed them on the table. Pointing to the photo of the gate crashers he said, "This is the couple who stole the chips."

Animal, studying the photos, couldn't make out the face of the driver. The passengers helmet also hid her face. Barely visible in the picture you could see a few lines of a tattoo on the girl's leg. The chopper looked to be an old XS750 Yamaha. Looking over the bike he saw a custom made oil cooler prominently sculptured into the bike's front down tubes.

He suddenly realized he knew the bike and the girl on the back. With this realization came the knowledge of who the rider was. Animal asked, "Did you get anymore info on what was taken?"

Henderson nodded his head slowly and replied, "It's not quite clear yet but I did get some intel unofficially. It all has to do with a file named Mayan Dawn and a case from the late 80's."

Animal's heart skipped a note when Henderson mentioned the name of the file. Instantly aware of the magnitude of the case, Animal instinctively looked around the bar and saw two men entering with their guns drawn.

Both Henderson and Animal sized up the situation. Grabbing the table in unision they flipped it between them and the gunmen and both dove for the exit. Multiple shots rang out. Animal heard Henderson groan as he was hit in the leg. Henderson fell in the doorway blocking Animal's escape.
Never one to leave a friend behind, Animal reached down to aid Henderson and looked behind him to see one of the gunmen taking careful aim.

.

Pop and Kathy headed out of the bunker on Delores to rendezvous with Marduk at Devils Girdle.

Like all the bikes Animal and Pop had built, this old '62 panhead had a few tricks of her own on her duo glide frame.

Able to outrun and even out handle a race-prepped sporty. This ol' girl's suspension could take to off-roading like a luxury dirt scrambler. Crunching rocks, branches and cactus beneath her meaty tires, she rode like a cloud over the uneven desert terrain.

The twin peaks that signaled the entrance to Devils Girdle towered over the landscape. Rolling into the pass in second gear Delores shook the canyon walls with thunderous echoes.

Pop deftly throttled the panhead through the narrow gap that gave the hideaway its title. Rolling to a stop near the center, Pop set Delores on her side stand and felt his chest swell with pride as he surveyed the surroundings.

Parked neatly around the perimeter of the canyon walls sat one hundred and forty bikes. Standing in a semicircle near a granite table slab at the center, arms folded at their chests, the brothers who answered the call waited silently. From all points of the southwest, these men had all at one time had stood beside Animal and fought for their country in various situations. The most skilled fighters and riders wearing colors of various MC's and RA's had gathered to offer their assistance to a well respected brother of the road.

Pop switched off Delores and stepped off to embrace the men who had come to his son's call.