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Choppers

Part 9: Getting It Running, Registered, and Road-Ready

Final assembly, troubleshooting, testing, and finally… that first ride.

The Final Stretch

You’ve painted it. You’ve torqued every bolt three times. You’ve stared at it more than you’d care to admit. But now comes the part where you find out if your Frankenstein’s monster of a machine actually comes to life. Final assembly is a bittersweet mix of excitement and paranoia—especially if you’re like me and constantly second-guess yourself.

Here’s what you’ll tackle in this phase:

  • Final Wiring – Go slow and double-check every ground and connection. Gremlins hide in the simplest oversights.
  • Fluids – Oil, gas, brake fluid. Don’t forget thread sealer or crush washers where needed.
  • Troubleshooting – If it doesn’t fire up, start with spark, air, fuel, and your kill switch (ask me how I know).
  • Testing – Keep the first few rides close to home and short. Be ready to wrench again. It’s not “done,” it’s just runnable.

Getting It Legal

The most confusing part of building a custom bike isn’t the fabrication—it’s the paperwork. Each state has its own rules for titling and registering a custom build. My experience Ohio should’ve looked like this:

  • Title – Apply for a custom/special construction title. This meant showing receipts, frame info, and photos.
  • Insurance – Check with your insurer to see if they will cover you, or if you’ll need to find a specialty provider.
  • Inspection – Some states require a safety inspection or even a DMV inspection of the VIN/frame before issuing plates. Word is, I need to go to the State Patrol one county over and get it checked out.

But my edperience actually looked like this:

  • Title – Gasbox provided a brand spanking new title with the purchase of my full Lorain Frame. I stopped my local town cop one day to check and see if he could inspect my chop and giv4e me the star of approval, but he stated, and I quote: “I don’t care, I’m not telling if you don’t.” So, I just keep both my stock sporty title and the gasbox title handy when in doubt. Probably not the best plan, but in to quote our lord and savior, Shrek, “that’ll do Donkey, that’ll do.”
  • Insurance – Again, I dont think they’re aware this sportster has been modified. Don’t be like me, do better.
  • Inspection – Have you caught on by now?

I’m reluctant to post this information, but like, I need to be honest. I’m sure most of us are in this boat, so if you find any answers just comment below!

The First Ride

I’ll be honest—my first ride was more terrifying than exhilarating. My hands were shaking. I was listening for every sound, feeling for every vibration, half-convinced the front end would fall off.

But then I rolled into second gear. Then third. The wind hit just right and I could feel every choice I made along the way. It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t perfect. But it was mine. And that feeling? You don’t forget it.

Susie Q’s first shake-down run was cut short when I lost all power and the bike shut off. Hmm, that’s weird, I thought,  because I remembered to fill her up with premium and turn on the gas and everything! After getting stranded in the countryside on the crest of the Appalachain plateaus in my county, I got trailored home and began my investigatory work.

After tracing the electric with a voltage tester, I found that my rectifyer was shot. No problem, I thought. I was still running the 32 year old stock part anyways. I purchased a brand spanking new chrome rectifier (which looks so so good!), mounted it up and went out for the second, and final, shake down.

Sun shining from above, hot pavement below my tires, and the smell of success hitting me in the face at 60 MPH, and I had done it. I felt like the personification of the guitar solo from Free Bird .

With only up to go, I set off on my journey with my little sporty chop. I have taken her to Cleveland, Sturgis, Pittsburg, Daytona, and all over rural Ohio since. Becuase of her, I have made so many new friends and have overcome so many fears and obsticles. Building a chopper with no prior mechanical knowledge wasnt easy (or cheap), but Susie Q came from my soul and she’ll always be my pride and joy.

Categories
Choppers

Part 8: Painting the Damn Thing (Yes, You Can Do It Yourself)

They say paint can make or break a build—and they’re right. It’s the first thing people see, and it’s the one part of the process where your personal style really gets to take over. But if you’re broke and half clueless (like I was), paying someone thousands for a custom paint job isn’t in the cards. So I painted it myself. Plus. . . . I’m like an artist, so ofc I painted it myself.

This week’s blog is all about how I did it, what I used, what I learned, and how you can pull it off without a paint booth or pro experience.

Deciding the Look

Before I even picked up a rattle can or spray gun, I spent way too much time obsessing over the look. I knew I didn’t want a showroom-shiny paint job. I wanted something that matched the spirit of the bike—gritty, handmade, and a little bit wild.

There are a million directions you can go:

  • Rattle-can rat rod vibes
  • Classic scallops and flake
  • Patina or faux-aged
  • Solid black because you’re over it

I went with a mix of ideas I’d seen on old diggers and psychedelic tanks—stuff that felt hand-done and imperfect in the best way.

Materials & Setup

I didn’t have a booth. I barely had a clean space. But I did what I could with what I had.

Here’s what I used:

If you’re doing anything fancy—like metal flake or candy—you’ll probably need a gun setup and a compressor. But for a clean, solid paint job? You can absolutely get away with rattle cans if you take your time. Honestly, I could’ve gone with rattle cans (Everst offered that actually!), but I didn’t realize it would give the same result. . . . so learn from me!

The Process

I ordered all my pieces (fenders, tank, frame, oil bag) from Lowbrow, so they came bare and ready to paint. Then hit them with a self-etching primer. That part’s not glamorous, but it matters. Every flaw will show up later if you skip the prep.

Next came the base coat, then the second, and even a third (wet sanded in between each coat) to really get the most saturated periwinkle I could. Once I was happy, I laid down clear and let it cure as long as I could stand it (which, if we’re being real, was barely enough).

Then came the fun part! I pinstriped, used variegated gold flake, and Alphanamel paints to work up my iconic (is that conceited to say? idc) paint job featuring Japanese Meji-Era hand painted designs (dualing dragon and tiger tank, rooster, spider and web, flames, and goldfish). Topped it off with Rust paste (meant for model cars) and bam! That’s it!

What I Learned

  • Prep is everything. You can’t rush sanding and cleaning.
  • Humidity and/or the cold is your enemy. I sprayed everything in February in a cold garage and it was so cold the paint couldn’t cure properly.
  • Tape pulls paint. Be careful removing masking tape too soon or too aggressively.
  • Imperfect is better than overworked. I almost ruined the vibe trying to “fix” a spot that wasn’t actually that bad.

This part of the build felt the most me. I got to bring the vision full circle and leave my fingerprints all over it—literally. A little paint on your hands never hurt anyone.And the best part? When people ask who painted it, I get to say: I did.