“Lots of metal, lots of color, lots of everything!” These are the words used by German custom motorcycle shop Thunderbike to describe El Divino, a Softail Heritage 114-based project looking more like a bike worth admiring than riding. AMERiders explains.
The bike sports modifications all over. First, there’s a swingarm conversion especially designed by the shop for the Chicano style. Called Toxic, it was developed with the goal of being a fit for both the 18-inch wheel and another in-house-made piece of hardware, the pulley brake kit.
Then come the modified triple trees for increased steering angle, allowing for the fitting of a massive 23-inch wheel. An air ride suspension is also on deck to make the motorcycle get low for artistic value whenever the need arises.
From the minor parts like the license plate frame to more important ones such as the brake discs, almost everything has been tampered with in one way or another. In all, over 35 new pieces of hardware made their way onto the build, but none seem to be as in-your-face as the paint job.
The golden-wooden appearance is the work of one of Thunderbike’s partners, Chiko’s Pinstriping. Chicano bikes have a lot of metal skin on them compared with other styles out there, and Chiko took full advantage of this to create a scheme you’ll either love or hate: much like with all Chicano bikes, there’s no middle ground here.
As for how much this thing cost to put together, Thunderbike gives no info. They do however list most of the parts used, and since they’re available in the Germans’ online shop, we can tell you all the extras are worth at least 11,000 Euros, or the equivalent of $13,300 at today’s going rates.
We can’t forget that Christmas is coming up in the next few days so here is something for you as well.
The Biker’s Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all-round the pad,
there was nada happenin’, and that’s nowhere, Dad.
The stove was dressed out in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.
With our bellies, all stuffed full of tacos and beer,
Me and the bride hit the couch for some cheer.
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door pulling on my old jacket.
I saw this old geezer on a ’57 Pan,
Wearin’ boots and black leather, a real biker man.
His eyes-how they twinkled under eyebrows so thick,
I knew right away that this dude was Saint Nick.
“‘Scuse me, Brother,” his voice how it rumbled down low,
“Have you got some spare wrenches? My scooter won’t go.”
“I was flyin’ along when she started to get hot,
Then she sputtered and coughed, and died on the spot.”
That bike was all covered with stuffed leather bags
holding brightly wrapped presents with ribbons and tags.
Saint Nick he was frantic, his face wore a frown.
“The children are waiting. I can’t let them down.”
I said, “Wheel it in, Man! We’ll get that Pan tickin’
“We’ve got leftover tacos, if you don’t mind chicken.”
“If we can’t get it running in an hour or so,
You can borrow MY bike — just load it and go.”
So we pushed it on in and unhitched the load,
I could fix what was busted and he’d be back on the road.
As I puzzled and muttered over that righteous ride,
He scuffed on the doormat and went on inside.
He was back in a flash, tacos piled on a plate
And a glass of skim milk that he sipped as he ate.
“It started to clatter,” he said around a bite,
“It started to miss, then just quit outright”
“It’s just been rebuilt from the frame up this year,
But I guess it’s a good thing that I broke down here.
From the looks of the sleds that’re lined up outback,
You’re a man with the skill to put me back on track.”
“You’re good to go now,” I said, wiping my hands,
“It was a quick fix, you can get on with your plans.
“The coil wire got snagged and pulled off, don’t you see,
So when you get on, be careful with your knee.”
We put the bags on and he zipped up his jacket,
Then he kicked it to life with rumble – not racket.
He settled his cap and said, “Say, would you mind —
If I road-test this pig to make sure that she’s fine?’
Flames shot from the pipes as he sped down the street,
Then back by he came and that bike sounded sweet.
He pulled up the bars on that Pan hung with sacks,
And that bike hit the roof like it was running on tracks.
I couldn’t help staring as he shifted the tranny,
But I had to go in — I was freezing my fanny.
When down through the chimney he fell with a crash,
And out of the woodstove, he came dragging his stash.
With a twinkling eye, he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
He patted her ass and then shook my hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe, he ran.
From up on the roof came a great peal of thunder,
As that mighty V-twin tore the silence asunder.
As he roared into the night, he waved and he cried,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good ride.”
~Live Free Ride Hard~
AMERiders think that One Man’s Meat is Another Man’s Poison Definitely Describes El Divino.
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