Breaking it down in my world, something old is obviously that stunning1955 H-D Panhead engine, something new could be the rear disc brake, something borrowed happens anytime you build a ground-up custom, something blue works out nicely with that lovely blue paintjob and a sixpence in your shoe is probably what Ryan has left to his name after building this bike called Medusa.
All I remember about Medusa was that she was a winged ugly female monster with snakes for hair in Greek mythology. It was said that if you looked her in the eyes you’d be turned to stone. Definitely not my kinda chick, but maybe the same affect goes on here as I find I can stare at photos of Ryan’s work all day. Maybe I’ve been become unconsciously stoned by staring at Medusa and just sat there gazing away like time didn’t matter anymore. Oh it’s a looker, a mover and shaker I’d love to take a spin on. It’s a pretty damn exquisite Panhead chopper as it is and don’t anyone ever dare to tell me otherwise.
One thing you have to appreciate is the seamless way Ryan incorporated old and new into a bike that’s all its own. The frame is a one-off stainless steel rigid with a chopper-perfect, straight top tube angling down from near the top of the steerer tube to the rear axle. That’s the unwritten goal of any chopper frame and Ryan nailed it. There’s something going on with this frame that kinda blows my mind, though, and that’s the (I assume) cast lugwork rear axle plates where the small diameter stainless tubing joins it.
There’s nothing like that at the head tube where stainless tubing from the frame is simply welded into the stainless steerer tube with a bit of stainless sheet gusseting for strength. Right there is a complete juxtaposition of old and new but it all works and maybe is more interesting because of that. The rest of the frame is fairly straight too other than the curves where the tubing has to make a turn. It’s not the easiest thing to do as stainless tubing is not thrilled about being bent and it takes a skilled bender to keep it from soiling itself so to speak. Medusa doesn’t have a kink or a crease anywhere on the frame so I gotta figure Ryan’s a pretty handy guy with a tough material. It definitely was worth it, though, it looks great and very choppery.
The frame sits high at the front with a fairly steep rake to it. What appear to be narrow glide telescopic forks sitting almost at attention is nothing revolutionary and that’s okay. This bike wasn’t intended to be anything other than one man’s interpretation of how he sees a vintage-style Panhead chopper with modern influences in his head. Putting his stamp on this traditional style fork, Ryan had the lower legs machined into a herringbone surface pattern that’s a first for me anyway. Daring and different, just the way I like it.
Rolling stock is nice stuff although nothing is spectacular or ground-shaking either and that’s the right call on a retro-mod. Chromed steel rims, 21- and 16-inches, with just regular old lacing of skinny spokes to a spool hub up front and the same dynamic going on out back where the independent rotor is grabbed by a highly-polished, four-piston Performance Machine caliper hanging from a quite interesting mount. I don’t care what anyone says about how well they work, I’m just glad he didn’t go sprocket brake route. At least this way I hope it’ll see some nice street time when its hitting-the-show-circuit days come to an end. On a retro-mod chop, you have to go the Avon Speedmaster II ribbed front tire route while out back it’s obviously gotta be a Firestone Deluxe Champion tire with its classic tread pattern courtesy of Coker Tire in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
What’s going on inside the old, but completely refurbished and upgraded Panhead engine that looks like it attended a high class finishing school before seeing duty in the stainless frame is unknown to me, sorry. My X-ray vision has been a little off lately, but my regular eyeball vision is quite okay still. The 74-inch engine out of a 1955 Hydra-Glide Super Sport Solo is surely not stock looking, but the legendary Panhead engine architecture still shines through. And by shines, I mean really, really shiny with bits like ribbed engine covers, ribbed pushrod tubes, billet rocker covers and billet air cleaner which would do their best to burn your retinas out at high noon. And, we can’t forget those beautiful headers probably made out of stainless too with their ribbed machined end caps. Combine that bling with the clean raw engine castings and you’ve got a power plant that looks like an expensive vintage pocket watch with an opening exposing its inner workings.
The ’55 FLH Hydra-Glide Super Sport Solo featured a foot clutch/tank shift arraignment and the spirit lives on here with a jockey shift topped by a milled ball shift knob coming straight outta the tranny by the rider’s thigh. I mean you couldn’t have a clunky tank shifter which are actually pretty cool by themselves on a chopper, it’s gotta be low and mean and it does. Just watch somebody riding one of these and tell me you never wished you could do it too. It’s such a tie to the past like a kick starter has become and there’s one of them on here too so don’t be disappointed. If you’re going to mentally hand shift a bike, you might as well mentally imagine kick starting it to if you never have. Oh it’s always fun, believe me.
Coming off the left side of the engine just a wee bit is an extremely open and very narrow belt drive that looks like it could have come that way on a 63-year-old vintage engine. The open final drive chain is a retro-design must and not even open to discussion. That whole side of the bike looks invitingly dangerous and that’s always wicked Old School cool. Riding this rigid with the Panhead burbling away while foot clutching and hand shifting with belts and chains flailing away under you will make you feel like Johnny Danger on two wheels tripping through time on a Panhead chop. Sounds good to me.
The flipped rear fender is a Paper Street Customs one-off that has just a bit of a middle finger flip to it. Maybe I’m the only one seeing that, but that’s the way I see it so I’m sticking with it. It’s a bit street sassy too in a passive/aggressive way. And, no, I’m not charging you for this session. Back to reality, the rear fender stays are lovely little things that I’m sure are stainless too with bends that ape the bends in the frame. Milled ball ends become hardware mounting points and bring just a touch of style to an otherwise piece of bent tubing.
All I can think of when I look at the tank is “That’s sick.” I never ever use that term, but it’s called for here. There is the hint of the classic Sportster tank shape that has to close to the iconic Coke bottle as a design that never needs fixing. Ryan didn’t fix this one so much as build a whole new version of it that makes you think Sportster but when you get into it, they don’t have a line in common. But it still feels that Sporty way in this ultra slim, compound-curve version that sits high Frisco-style with its own clear view of the road ahead over the top triple tree. The gas cap sitting up at the high peak of the tank allows every single ounce of gas possible at a fill-up and I don’t know what the capacity is, but every ounce is welcomed I’m sure.
Another bit of bodywork I be remiss to not mention is that somewhat traditional horseshoe oil tank that also houses the electrics too. There’s nothing radical or shocking about its shape or use, but like everything else on this bike it does have Ryan’s eye for what’s cool. By that I’m referring to the material, stainless of course, and the textured surface finish that just adds that bit of interesting to what otherwise might not be quite an eye catcher. It’s a small detail, but a good one.
An interesting design juxtaposition occurred when it came time for handlebars. Ryan
whipped-up a set of curved-forward tall risers connected directly to the curved-down-and-back at the same time Z-bars. Phew, that’s my description of what’s going on, but I’d suggest you take a good look yourself and you’ll see what I mean. Any other tube on this bike is pretty straight all things considered, but the whole narrow handlebar setup is crazy-cool curves. Between the narrow tank and the narrow bars and everything else that is also narrow on this bike like the engine and wheels, this is just about as straight and narrow as you’re gonna be able to go on a bike. I like that.
The hand-tooled leather seat is its own work of art featuring the head of Medusa with all her snakes replacing a much more sedate hairdo of hair. That’s a lot of tap-tap-tapping with a leather punch or chisel or whatever Curt Greene of Bare Bones Leather in Bethlehem, Georgia, uses to create leather masterpieces like this. Talk about being in the zone, where a leather worker goes when they’re in the zone is beyond my comprehension. I’d be too “gotta get this done” and screw it up, but nothing I’ve seen out of Bare Bones has been less than absolute top notch.
With all the stainless, chromed and polished bits, there wasn’t a lot to paint, but what there was could have been a make it or break it moment. Oh it wasn’t, and, I can’t imagine any objections to what you’re looking at even if blue isn’t your personal preference. The job of making this bike finished was left to Scott Takes of Underground Art Studios in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, who stepped up and knocked this paintjob out of the park. It’s a bright, yet subtle paintjob that stands on its own, but doesn’t fight for attention with all the other beautiful bits. I’m not sure if that’s black swoopy panel graphics over blue or vice versa. It’s very three-dimensional where paint has distorted the reality of what’s below. It does keep drawing you in and you really want to check every inch out for reasons unknown ─ you just have to. I’m not a big blue kind of guy, but I really love this arty retro-modern paintwork.
Building bikes like this, it’s not wonder Ryan Gore was one of the invited builders to the Artistry In Iron Show. Ryan summed up his whole approach to building bikes and possibly life too in the Artistry In Iron web site where he was quoted as saying, “Over 15 years in the industry, after working for a few larger shops on both coasts, I struck out on my own. My focus now is on handcrafted, custom, one-of-a-kind bikes. Low volume, high quality. I’m a firm believer that “the devil is in the details” but try to walk a fine line between subtle classic design that’s just a tick off from normal rather than gimmicky “theme” oriented design. Form follows function, I build bikes that are meant to be ridden.” Now all we’ve gotta do is wait for the next one. See you then.
For more info on Paper Street Customs and Ryan Gore, you’ve got to reach out to all your social media as Ryan doesn’t believe in web sites anymore.