Mark had spied a 2000 Confederate Wildcat on eBay going cheap. Not the most desirable of motorcycles even when new, maybe it could be turned into a magazine project. Pollock’s company, Mule Motorcycles, specializing in street-trackers, has built about 100 examples primarily based on Sportster, Yamaha XS650, and new Triumph Bonneville motors. Would he like to take a crack at transforming the used, unwanted Wildcat into a Mule? Richard said yes almost before Mark had finished asking the question, and soon the Confederate was on its way from El Paso to Poway, California, and the converted two-car garage where Richard does his magic.

Quite the challenge it would be, too. Unlike Confederate’s current crop of models, all techno and avant garde in an exoskeleton kind of way, the first-generation Wildcat was—let’s be charitable—stylistically confused. The front end with its inverted fork and six-piston brake was very sporty; the arched fuel tank sitting atop a big V-twin was custom-cruiser; and the back half was discordant combination of low-mounted tractor saddle and girder-like swingarm. Not a successful look.

“I like the idea of an all-around high-performance big twin, but I’ve never been fond of the way those first Confederates looked,” says Mark. “Plus, I don’t like riding with my feet way forward, chopper-style. If anybody could turn the Wildcat into a more standard-style upright bike, it was Richard.”

Pollock’s first step was to hoist the Wildcat onto a workstand, then in his own words, “just stare and stare and stare.” Beneath the bike’s dubious aesthetics there was a lot to like. The TP Pro-Series powerplant, displacing 107 cubic inches and making a claimed 120 horsepower, wouldn’t need any further hotting up. Plus, Confederate had done a good job of tucking in the twin’s ancillaries—primary, clutch, and sideways-mounted gearbox—so it was a relatively narrow package, good for cornering clearance. Wheels and rubber were already sport bike stuff: cast Marchesinis wearing sticky Pirelli Dragon radials. The Italian-made Paioli inverted fork was huge, with tubes measuring a whopping 56mm at the top clamp, 58mm at the lower. Sweden contributed the brakes, a single six-piston ISR caliper up front mated with a grippy, high-iron-content floating rotor. More ISR kit in the rear, a small single-piston stopper with a downsized disc.

Likewise the main frame, a big steel structure, seemed up to snuff. But Richard didn’t care for two things: 1) The dual shocks—mounted cantilever-style like an old Vincent—were too short, which canted the swingarm at an odd upward angle front-to-back and had the secondary bad effect of raking out the front end, not ideal for quick handling. 2) There was no rear subframe, just a little pedestal hung off the frame’s backbone to which the John Deere-replica saddle was attached. Mounting a fiberglass tailsection was going to be difficult.

Not so the shock problem. A phone call to Ohlins quickly had a correctly sized pair of the company’s Emulsion dampers in the mail. Now the swingarm had the right stance and the front wheel was better planted.

“But I still had the bike builder’s version of ‘writer’s block’ when it came to the seat,” Richard says. “I kept staring at it, thinking how am I going to do this? Then all of a sudden, one day, whammo, it was there.” The solution involved outboard struts attached to the top shock mounts, two lugs welded to the frame’s backbone, as well as utilization of the stock tractor seat mount. The XR-750-style fiberglass seat now in place looks like it’s been on the bike the whole time. Bye-bye Farmer John, hello Jay Springsteen.

Next Pollock turned his attention to the front end. He wanted to keep the jumbo Paioli fork tubes but hated how widely they were splayed by the Confederate triple-clamps. Here’s where Richard’s voluminous spare parts collection came to the rescue. Left over from a project started years earlier was a set of Kosman billet triple-clamps originally intended for a Team Muzzy Kawasaki endurance road racer. Because crew chief Rob Muzzy wanted to speed up front tire changes during races, he had the clamps made slightly wider than usual so the front wheel could be dropped out smoothly without fouling the brake calipers. That extra metal meant the tube openings could be safely bored out to accept the Paiolis.

Also making the jump from Wildcat to Mule was the original headlight shell and small tachometer pod. Because the Confederate clutch is hydraulically activated, Pollock wanted its master cylinder to match the front brakes. A trip to the Honda store produced a set of VFR800 assemblies, low-rise and with nicely contoured edges.

Just finished and with break-in miles and Pollock’s inevitable round of final tweaks still ahead of it, the Confederate Mule remains in SoCal, half a country away from Barnett’s in Texas. Mark may have to buy a plane ticket if he wants to see his new ride, already a year in the making, any time soon.

“You’re not supposed to ask when it will be done, that’s the way Richard works. You send him the bike, you send him money from time to time, and then you don’t bother him—I think that’s in his rules,” Mark jokes. “From the photos, though, it looks outstanding, it looks like a fun ride. I’m extremely happy.”

Southwest have flights for San Diego leaving El Paso International every couple of hours, Mark . . . BM