Garage Builder Ballard And His Custom 1919

fifty-Eight-year-old B.A. Ballard of Haslett, Michigan has been riding motorcycles since he was ten years old. As a kid, he figured it was just something that the guys did, “make things and ride motorcycles.” So, at 16, despite being the only rider in his family, he got his motorcycle endorsement and hasn’t stopped riding since.

His first Enduro bike back then was a 1973 Kawasaki 100cc, and his first road bike was a 1978 Honda 750K that he bought back in 1980 and still has today. In ‘96, he bought a brand-new Harley Ultra, and over 100,000 miles later is still riding it around town. He loves that bike so much that he actually bought a 2018 in the exact same color!

Now for the good stuff. This beautiful 1919 Excelsior is actually this retired machine shop owner’s first major bike build despite spending 40 years building and restoring cars, not counting the minibikes he fixed up as a kid. It all started when he was looking for an antique bike to restore and ride in the Motorcycle Cannonball. This stunning bike was finished in his new 2000 sqft shop attached to his home. When the project started, he was working in a 10,000 sqft commercial shop for 30 years but knew it was time for a change. He found this bike as nothing more than a roller with screwdrivers being used as axles. It was missing so many parts that he immediately decided to switch gears from restoring and building a full custom

Owner: B.A. Ballard City/State: Eaton Rapids, Michigan Builder: B.A. Ballard Year: 1919 Model: ENGINE Year: 1919 Model: Excelsior 45 Degree Twin Builder: B.A. Ballard Ignition: Bosch ZEV Magneto/Manual Advance/Retard Displacement: 61CI Pistons: Original/Teflon Coated Heads: Original One Pc. Casting. Intake over Exhaust (I.O.E.) Carb: Schebler Cam: Original Excelsior Air Cleaner: None Exhaust: Custom Primary: Chain Drive/Foot 5 Disc Dry Clutch TRANSMISSION Year: 1919 Make: Excelsior Shifting: 3 Speed Hand Shift FRAME Year: 1919 Model: Excelsior Rake: Stock Stretch: Stock Forks: Stock Excelsior

Builder: Type: Military Braced Non-caged Head Bearings. Triple Trees: Custom Top Triple WHEELS Front Wheel: Stock Steel Clincher/ Stainless Spokes Size: 28” Tire: Coker Button Tread Clincher Front Brake: None Rear Wheel: Stock Steel Clincher/ Stainless Spokes Size: 28” Tire: Coker Button Tread Clincher Rear Brake: Excelsior Exterior Band Foot Operated By Solid Linkage PAINT Painter: Karl Ludtke Color: WWII U.S. Army Greens Graphics: Vinyl Water Slide/Hand Striping Chroming: Industrial Nickel

ACCESSORIES Bars: Custom Hand Bent Risers: Custom Machined Hand Controls: Internal Throttle cable Original Excelsior Solid Linkages Foot Controls: Solid Linkage To Rear Brake/Clutch Gas Tank(s): Custom Built Oil Tank: Original Oil tank / Tool Compartment Combination Front fender: Custom Hand Built Rear Fender: Custom Hand Built Seat: Leather Messenger Headlight: None Taillight: None Speedo: None restoration.

The whole project started out with a 1919 Excelsior frame, forks, engine, transmission, clutch, oil tank, wheels, and a partial fuel tank. The rest of the parts came from either swap meets or were custom built in his shop. The pieces weren’t easy to find either. Most parts needed for a hundredyear-old motorcycle are either non-existent or very expensive, so a great deal of both time and money was put into this build, hunting down parts and designing those he couldn’t find.

Over the several years it took to build and complete this bike, Ballard had help from two very kind gentlemen, one in Colorado and one in Pennsylvania, whom he met at swap meets. They shared their expertise in Excelsior motorcycles and helped by providing detailed information and even some spare parts.

Don’t let the aesthetics fool you; the bike is also a rider and has been ridden several times since its completion. It’s a bit difficult to start thanks to the magneto and left side kick start, but once it’s up and running, it’s loud, proud and runs smoothly down the road. Ballard has even considered flat track racing it on the antique circuit, but it seems a little crazy to dirt race something he’s put so much blood, sweat, and tears into. But then again, “that’s what guys do.”

Lastly, Ballard would like to give his brother Doug some special thanks for his CadCam skills and all of his ideas and input; he has been an enormous help with many projects over the years. Also, a special thanks to Gene Harper and Jerry Capa for sharing their knowledge and extra parts with him; he couldn’t have done it without them.

all Drug was finally behind us, and ole Gloria was chugging at 4,300 RPMs. It was the W homestretch sprint to Sturgis, 2017. Her 95-inch Big Bore didn’t seem to mind the relentless headwind, but her 5-gallon tank suddenly felt like a peanut, and despite my repeated efforts, she still didn’t have a 6th gear.

Like a lighthouse reassuring old sailors that the voyage was almost over, I saw the big Harley sign at Exit 55 and knew

I was close. A half-gallon of gas passed that black and orange beacon, and we were rolling down Main Street, which was already bustling, a couple days early.

This was the 77th annual Black Hills

Rally, and close to 500,000 people were expected. In contrast, this was my first, and I knew but one of those half-million biker pilgrims. Though I hoped that would change, the priority was to find a job, earn some money, and see if working rallies actually worked for me.

After my obligatory cruise around Lazelle and Main, I called the one guy in town I knew, Scooter Tramp Scotty Kerekes. He’d been fueling his nomadic tendencies for decades by working at rallies and was the reason I was there in the first place. His promise of a free place to camp and the chance to earn some “green freedom” sounded perfect to this aspiring vagabond.

After some small talk on the phone, I scribbled his directions onto Gloria’s chrome dash and headed west out of Sturgis. The short ride to the Black Hills National Forest snakes through some canyons and is a great place to sharpen floorboards and asphalt-polish exhaust pipes. After nothing but straight interstate since Michigan, Gloria and I were both thrilled to be using the whole tire while carving those curves, chasing that elusive adrenaline dragon who lives on the edge of control.

In my throttle-induced euphoria, we rolled right into historic Deadwood before realizing I missed the turn for Camp 5 Road. After a quick lap around those fabled cobblestone streets, Gloria and I retreated about 5 miles. We found that little green street sign at the corner of Black Hills National Forest. That unpaved turnoff is in the middle of a wide-open sweeper, so the mystery of how I missed it was no more.

Nowadays, I’ve gone in and out of that potholed gravel hill at least 100 times but will admit to being slightly intimated when dropping-in for the first time. Once

at the bottom, I found a rutted 2-track to the left, which lead to knee-high grass in an overgrown grove of trees. “This is it?” I thought, as wild fantasies of some Swiss Family Robinson utopia quickly vanished from my mind. After meeting some of the regulars, a truly motley crew of motorcycle misfits, I stomped a circle in the grass to lay my tent on and couldn’t help but laugh when I thought of my old dog doing the same thing before finally laying down.

Despite the temptation to pull out my chair, crack a cowboy cold beer, and help my newfound neighbors kick whatever they were passing around, I got dressed and prepared to find an employer. Fully convinced that appearances mattered, even in this fringe of society, I unrolled a fresh pair of black jeans and tucked-in a clean grey t-shirt, which were both packed for this very reason. In my mind, there’d be a sea of dirty blue jeans and black t-shirts walking around, so I reasoned that this getup might give me a slight edge.

My first stop was at one of the two places, The Buffalo Chip. Though it sounded very fitting, it was not a lengthy visit. They let me fill-out a very professional-looking application, but the woman in the window made it reasonably clear that I was late to the game and shouldn’t get my hopes up. On the way out, I stopped to pay my respects at their field of starspangled banners and for some pretty lousy pics of their giant “Chip” sign, which has become an annual tradition.

From there, it was past sacred Bear Butte to the (then new) Full Throttle Saloon. As it happened, the first person I saw was the owner, Micheal Ballard, who I recognized from the once-popular reality show. He was kind enough to let me take a fanboy photo, then directed me to his wife, Angie, when I asked about a job. I worked my way over to the Pappy Hoel Campground, and I was asking for her there, with a confident, “Micheal sent me over,” she whizzed-up on a golf cart and let me make my case. We had a brief conversation, mostly about being a little late to the game, then she rejected my handshake and gave me a friendly hug

instead. I wasn’t mad.

As I was leaving that work-in-progress construction zone of a compound, I saw an RV parked along the fence with a big AMSOIL canopy shading a makeshift shop, so I pulled over and dropped the kickstand. Unfortunately, this was a oneman show, and he didn’t need any help, but it wasn’t a total loss. Once he heard that I was making a bid at “life on the road” and likely also heard the enthusiasm that only comes from rookies, he offered to sell me oil at cost and let me use his tools and shop. Today, after doing a thousand oil changes for another AMSOIL Dealer at rallies around the country since Biketoberfest of 2018, I cringe at how it took me 40 minutes to fumble through a routine service on my own bike! With no dice at either of these two mega-venues, it was back to Main Street to start soliciting smallscale vendors. My luck remained the same, and it became apparent that the Thursday before the big show was no time to be looking for work. To increase my odds of finding something, I took a stack of business cards and a promotional pen from one of the Law Tigers tents. I began leaving my contact info with all those who had no work to offer. I assumed that someone would get fired or quit by Monday or Tuesday, and some work was better than no work. An hour later, I enjoyed a giant turkey leg, which was generously offered by a married food vendor couple, instead of a job. My phone rang, and it was “Chicken Bob” from Laconia, the vendor who said he could use me in Sturgis, but then was impossible to get ahold of. He was happy that I was in town and still looking for work. That brief call concluded with him telling me to go find “Pizza Mike” at the Full Throttle Saloon and tell him who sent me.”Okay, good enough,” I said to myself. I headed back up SD-79, just past the city limits, and eventually found the couple who employed both of these lazily-nicknamed street-food artists. With a smile, and

a quick exaggeration of my minimal experience in food service (4 weeks in a pizza joint, 20 years prior, and that semester of Home Ec, in 9th grade), I had a job! Granted, it was quite a trip being excited about flipping burgers and dropping fries for $10 bucks an hour plus shared tips, after a decade in Real Estate, especially after the last 5 years that saw me selling 30-40 houses a year, but I was.

Without much negotiating and some confidence gained from Scotty’s advice, I told them I wasn’t available during the day. We agreed that I’d work part-time, from 4pm through cleanup, which ended up being “only” 12 hours a day. We were inside the Iron Horse, right next to the stage, corralling one of the biggest parties in town. This, combined with a few secret beers every night, made for a pretty fun place to make some dough, and I saved a small fortune by not cracking my wallet for food once, through all 10 days. That little remedial job also gave me the gift of experiencing my first Insane Clown Posse concert, along with getting to meet Mr.1997 himself, Gavin Rossdale, of BUSH fame. My shift often had me getting “home” after 3am, but left my mornings free to burn at Camp. Afternoons were open to riding the Black Hills, experience the rally, and do all the daytime stuff that’s rare in the vendor world.

With my schedule set, Gloria and I headed back to Camp and got busy doing nothing with the eclectic posse of Camp 5 dirtbags and drifters. Aside from Scotty, who had the opposite work schedule, there were a few others there to earn instead of spending. One was Scorpio Drake, who was in his 4th or 5th year shilling for a big leather vendor while traveling the country on Satan, his MadMax-ified M109R, with biker pup, Titan. Cody Walker was doing the same but captained an old Yamaha Venture Royale, which resembled a Goldwing deeply entrenched in opioid addiction,

and was known to eject its luggage at will. Jersey Mike Rinaldi was in on “vacation” from his shop in North Carolina, turning wrenches for Randy’s Cycle Shack, on Lazelle (and just left Florida where he helped fix my bike. Again). Cycle Source contributor, and vagabond extraordinaire Troy Bensinger, was camped-out next to Chlamydia, his bagged-out Sportster with more diamond plate than chrome. He spent his days behind the camera and computer, working on his craft.

Rounding out the crew that have become friends outside of that annual reunion are Jimmy “Spaceman” Cox, a living and breathing Harley repair manual, and his wife, Rhonda. She has seen more country on her Softail than most guys in Sturgis! Civil War Veteran (I think) Mark “Jed” Mullens was in from Colorado, on his faithful FXR. Jed has since welcomed me into his home and has time and again proven a worthy ambassador of his state. Finally, Nomad Mike McHone, who, at 10 years my junior, may have been the youngest person in camp. Since then, he and I have traveled together for at least a few months, every year since, including a 2-month dualsport odyssey this past summer. He has become the closest thing to a real brother that I’ve ever had, though one misguided dude once thought he was my kid! I went to Sturgis in 2017, intent on making some money, curious to see if I actually liked working at rallies, and hopeful of making a friend or two. I went back for the 4th time this year, reported to a job I have loved since late 2018, made more money than I expected, and had more friends than I had time to see. Mission accomplished! @chipakid