Nieman's 1972 Shovelhead

first saw Chris Nieman’s 1975 Shovel in Sturgis sitting at the Iron Horse Saloon. I was drawn to it because it was a clean looking old school i chopper. One you could tell had been put together with the intent of riding it; to me, that is what it’s all about. Riding them!

It all started for Chris when he was about twelve years old, riding his dirt bike in the field across the

street from his childhood home, raising hell with the neighborhood kids. He graduated to his first street bike when he was seventeen, a 1972 Ironhead hardtail bobber that he got from a nearby little town in Iowa. He tore it apart, learning as he went, he chopped it up, put a set of drag bars on it, painted it green, and rode the crap out of it.

Chris deployed for a couple of years to Iraq and later did another year in Afghanistan, where he spent his free time ordering parts and having them shipped to his dad’s house. He arrived home to the spare bedroom full of parts. He picked up a ‘74 Shovel, ordered a Baker trans, and built a Chopper. Nieman rode it for a while before he eventually tore it apart, and it

became a partial donor for this build. By this time, Chris had been working for Dana Menefee at Siouxicide Choppers in Sioux City, IA, and he was making a lot of contacts in the industry. As it happens, these contacts turned into friends, so many of them were critical in this build. Dana had an 80s frame sitting around that Chris traded a case of beer for, another friend had the tank, and you guessed it, he bartered a case of beer for that too. And with a little help from Dana and another old friend, this bike was pieced together over the course of the next four to five years total. He spent a lot of time picking through the take-off parts and the junk drawers at Siouxicide Choppers. He used a lot of “factory” parts, many of which he modified because he knew this bike

was one he wanted to ride and not have to worry about it breaking down. Somewhere along the line, Chris came across the Crazy Frank fender and knew he had to have it. It was an original, made before Frank went to prison. He acquired it for $400. Of course, it wouldn’t fit the 80s-style frame, so he bought a SpeedKing drop seat kit and modified the frame just to run the fender. The oil tank came from a friend who had put a new one on his own bike and passed became a thing, gathering parts from friends and having to “make them fit.”

Chris met Hideo Tsunenaga from Japan, and they quickly hit it off, becoming friends. Hideo makes custom kickstands. Hideo made Chris a custom snake kickstand and sold it to him for the cost of the shipping.

One of the most complimented pieces on the bike is the magneto cap. Chris was talking to his wife

Owner: Chris Nieman City/State: Sioux City,IA Builder: Chris Nieman Engine Year: 1976ish Model: Shovelhead Builder: Chris, Dana, and Tim Ignition: Morris M5 Magneto Displacement: 93” Pistons: S&S Heads: Harley Davidson Carb: Mikuni 45mm Cam: S&S 514 Air Cleaner: Custom built deflector Exhaust: I built 308L stainless steel pipes Primary: BDL 1-1/2” open belt with Primo Rivera clutch Transmission Year: 2010 Make: Baker 6into4 speed Shifting: Foot shift with an N1 drum kit Frame Year: 1980s? Model: Shovelhead frame converted with speed king castings to make it an older styled drop seat frame Rake: Stock Stretch: Stock Forks Builder: Harley (FXDX) Type: Hydraulic 39mm dual disc Triple trees: Aluminum 39mm Extension: None Wheels Front wheel: Harley 9 Spoke Mag Size: 19 Tire: American Elite Front Brake: Harley dual calipers Rear wheel: Harley 9 Spoke Mag Size: 16 Tire: American Elite Rear Brake: Heavily modified GMA softail brake and bracket Paint Painter: Harley and years of use Color: Black and Gold Accessories Bars: 7/8 diameter 14” tall black powder coat Risers: FXDX Stock risers Hand controls: Modified Harley Foot Controls: Performance Machine Oil Tank: Unknown Front Fender: None Rear Fender: Original Crazy Frank (before his release) Seat: Not sure; it came on the fender Headlight: LED Taillight: LED Cat eye that fits the Fender Speedo: None Photographer: Missi shoemaker Raeann one day about what to do with the cap when she came up with the idea of dipping it like she does fingernails. So, this became her task; using gold nail polish, she repeatedly dipped it until it came out the way she liked. And she absolutely loves that it is the thing people always pick out first on the bike.

Chris stated, “When I decide to build a bike, it takes over my mind until it’s done. I usually develop a vision of what I want it to look like...what stance do I want, and then I develop it from there. This bike is special because I had this exact image in my head and all these people I consider friends gave, sold, or traded me parts, and it just so happened to build the bike I had envisioned.” Well done, Chris!

o

ctober 2018 ended my first full season working motorcycle rallies to sustain my travel addiction. It also fueled my need to

be something other than what society said I should be. By then, I felt like a seasoned vet of the lifestyle. I was barely working, maybe 60 days that year, but I was making more than I spent and couldn’t help but feel like I was winning. I had probably camped out some 200 nights and enjoyed just about every second! I had good reason to think I was the next Scotty, possibly the next Billy, and was truly convinced that was admirable and good. Nowadays, I fully understand the flaw in goals like that and have long embraced the idea of not being the next anybody but simply being the first me and taking a lot of pride in then was just another day on the way to figuring this out: “Mike (Mchone) and I snaked our way east through Tennessee, from outside Nashville. We rode the Tail of the Dragon at dusk and many of the area’s better but less famous roads. I’ve ridden that magnificently marketed road over a dozen times, including during the Hoka Hey Challenge earlier that year, but this was the first time slaying it with Bomber Mike. Needless to say, good times were had, and the fading daylight made for a virtual fireworks display as I chased the sparks flying from his floorboards in every curve and corner.

After taking the 30-mile Foothills

Parkway that’s right off the Dragon, we jumped on one of my favorite stretches in the country, the Cherohala Skyway. For some, it was Space Mountain-like night riding. Without saying as much, I know we were both thinking of pulling another all-nighter, but a dense fog finally took all the fun out of things and grounded us at a parking area of a trailhead. With a picnic table and four stakes, we made what would be our last tarp fort that year. This was clearly a “Day Use” area, but without a “No Camping” sign in sight, we figured nobody would give us a hard time... and nobody did.

The following morning we slowly packed up, then started to roll out, just as the guys who rolled in with some heavy equipment began demolishing the cinder block bathroom building. I wanted to stay to enjoy the show, but I knew Mike had to start making real progress towards home in Maryland. After warming Gloria up for a minute, I made the slow and sharp maneuver around the now naked picnic table we called home. Then, deep into that corner, Gloria’s ass-end washed out on me and almost put us both on the ground. I avoided kissing the ground by using a lot of throttle and having a

little luck on my side. Unfortunately, this also made a minor problem much worse. Seems that the (double) plug I fixed a flat with a thousand miles ago had failed, and my tire was flat… AGAIN.

Now, if I had been a good little doobie and had done what is always recommended, but often ignored, a pre-ride inspection, I would have seen the flat and plugged it again. Since I didn’t, and not only rode on it but also made an aggressive move, I popped the bead, and the tire came off the wheel. Wonderful! Now, the only solution was to get the bike’s weight off the wheel and pop the bead back on with a high-powered compressor. I contemplated laying the old girl on her side, removing the wheel, and taking it to a shop on Mike’s bike. I hoped to have good roadside cell coverage, so calling for a tow would be my easy option. Of course, I had terrible cell coverage, so the small chore of calling for help took an hour. Of course, I was plagued by very frustrating dropped calls.... which meant I had to start the tedious process all over again. Grrr! Within about 4 hours, yes, 4 hours, Gloria was on a trailer, and I was in the truck’s cab that was bringing us to

the closest shop. Since this incurred no out-of-pocket expense, I refused to be upset by the ridiculous delay and instead focused on how it allowed me to see the demolition of that brick shithouse (while “be careful what you wish for” thoughts circled in my head).

Once we got to the shop, I had her up on a jack in a shady corner of the parking lot, just like I had discussed with the owner while on our way there. Getting shop owners to agree to let me do as much labor as possible is usually a great way to save some money when repairs are needed, so I was thrilled that this guy was game. “What a great guy!” I thought. NOPE! After he took the tire off the wheel, patched it from the

“Thanks again, man. How much do I owe you?” “$120.”

Now, I didn’t say what I wanted to say (what?? Are you serious?? For a patch and 30 minutes of labor???), but did ask if he could do any better and that I had no idea such a small job, equal to mounting one tire, would be so much. In the end, I gave him a hundred bucks, told him to call the cops if that wasn’t good enough for him, and walked out. After that, we made our way towards Asheville, where our Camp 5 (Sturgis 2017) brother, Jersey Mike, had given us permission to camp behind his shop. If you’ve

been riding along since last year, you may recall that this is where I stayed on the shop couch for a week, waiting for a part to be delivered, and watching my friend and 20+ year fulltimer, Scooter Tramp Scotty Kerekes, replace his motor.

In the morning, when Jersey opened the shop, Mike tried to diagnose his mystery wobble, and I did a bunch of random little chores (adjusted my drive belt, adjusted my primary chain, adjusted my clutch and cable, changed my oil and filter, cleaned my caked air filter, and replaced the bolts on one of my exhaust headers). Mike left for home around noon, and I hung around the shop until about 5. I planned to spend another night, before heading to Jacksonville for a

week off at a friend’s house, then I would move on to work a couple of rallies in Florida.

Well, as it goes, when you live like a bag in the wind, I decided to head toward Jacksonville instead of staying, and anticipated arriving around 11pm. At a gas stop, about a half-hour in, I saw how much fun some friends were having at the rally in Myrtle Beach and decided to alter my course. I was at Murrell’s Inlet well before midnight. I had fun sitting with a fellow rally rat in the weathered rockers outside of SBB. I bumped into friends and rally veterans, emcee Smiley Gilcrest, Sloan, and Diana, two of the best and most recognizable bartenders in the game.

Around 3am, it was time for my old buddy to get back to his camp, as he was in town to work, and after snapping a selfie and saying, “see you in Daytona,” I was off into the darkness. A quick look at the GPS confirmed that a 5-hour blast straight down I-95 would bring me to my friend Laura’s house. So, I filled Gloria’s belly with the finest 87 money can buy, put on a layer, and was there around 10am. Since my host and her roomie are bartenders, my sleeping all day wasn’t completely out of the norm, and it was just what I needed. After a week of too many late nights,

beers, parties, and naps, I was ready to take Gloria off her kickstand and plant her right where we landed.

Thanks again to Laura and Robyn for opening their home to me and giving me the perfect place to do absolutely nothing for a while. It was perfect!”