Unfortunately, in the case of Fitzgerald’s own literary masterpiece, The Great Gatsby, Americans took a little too much time learning to appreciate his genius. The cautionary tale of “Jazz Era” decadence would sell a scant 25,000 copies from the time of its publication in 1925, until Fitzgerald’s death in 1940. Ironically, after it was republished in 1945 the book’s popularity exploded and it is now regarded as one of the great American novels of all-time. Sucks to be him, rocks to be named in his will. (It’s worth noting that with my luck, I’m fairly certain that the same thing will happen to back issues of Barnett’s five years after I kick the bucket, so you might want to tuck this copy away somewhere safe and dry as an investment.)

Let’s get back to our protagonist, Paul, though. Back in his youthful days at the Art Center College of Design, alma mater for many of the world’s leading automotive designers, young master Yang was involved in a motorcycle design contest sponsored by Aprilia. The thought occurred to him that a V-twin is like a slice out of a radial-motor pie, and that it would be really cool conceptually to re-constitute the pie and take things full circle (in a manner of speaking). At the time, Paul didn’t realize that a radial motor small enough to execute his vision even existed, but later he would discover that Rotec Engineering produces a modestly sized 32” diameter engine for ultralight glider planes, providing the vital seed that he needed to put into effect what was in his mind.

For stylistic inspiration, Paul looked backwards in time to the radial’s origins as an aeroplane engine invented by Charles Manly at the turn of the century. Yang decided to build a bike that would pay homage to the Art Deco stylings of the Roaring Twenties, an optimistic period of massive technological and cultural evolution which shattered traditional ways of thinking about the world. This massive expansion of the boundaries of possibility was famously punctuated by Charles Lindbergh’s seminal trans-Atlantic flight in 1927, and the iconic imagery of his radial-powered plane, the Spirit of St. Louis.

Because the Rotec was such a dominant visual component, the rest of the bike needed to be scaled big enough that the engine wouldn’t seem disproportionate, and yet retain a sense of simplicity so as not to compete with it. Aesthetically, Paul realized that he had a tough challenge ahead of him if he wanted to transcend the cartoonish nature of the massive seven-cylinder R2800 to create a hyper-exotic custom imbued with the elegant and timeless qualities of Art Deco. As Yang himself puts it, “If you’re not careful, sometimes the more radical a bike gets, the uglier it looks”.

Paul wanted to play upon the pure geometric shapes of the trio of circles comprised by the two wheels and the radial engine. “My goal with this bike was to present the powerplant as the centerpiece of the vehicle, so I used the circular theme throughout the motorcycle,” he said. Opting for the largest diameter tires he could find (23”) in order to balance the visual gravity of the engine, Paul further referenced a vintage look by deploying identically sized 14-spoke wheels front and back. The ring-like exhaust collection pipes, the bars curved to continue the lines of the frame, and even the springer-esque front and rear suspension componetry all contribute to a design that is simultaneously classic and cutting edge. The symmetry comes through especially clearly when backlit, as the bike’s profile assumes the silhouette of a vintage tri-prop plane. And why not? After all, Rotec designed the 2800 cc powerplant to spin a propeller, not propel a motorcycle.

According to Yang, when engaged, the radial is all about low-end grunt with no real high-end power. The bike idles at 900 RPM, with an operating speed of 3500 RPM generating 110 bhp and 250 ft-lbs of torque to the continuously variable transmission. While Gatsby was certainly not intended as a practical daily driver, Paul and his fabricator, Ysmael Galera, went to great lengths to make it a truly functional ride. In fact, much of the two-year build time went into painstakingly conceiving, designing, and creating nearly every mechanical component except for the store-bought Rotec engine.

As a result, checking out the mechanical guts of Gatsby is about as much fun as a gearhead can have with his pants on, and an exercise in exploring every element of motorcycle design with fresh eyes. The drive train alone was so exotic that I had to circle the entire bike, peeking behind tins and snaking around on my belly before I had even a rudimentary grasp of how power got transmitted from the radial engine to the rear wheel. Every puzzle I solved led to a new one. How did he mount this pinwheel of cylinders to the frame? Where the hell is the gas tank? How does he have the exhaust routed from seven cylinders into two asymmetrical pipes? By the time I had it all figured out, I had worn out the knees on my blue jeans and turned my spine into a chiropractic disaster area.

If as F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “Genius is the ability to put into effect what is in your mind,” then Paul Yang certainly has earned the distinction. It took ten years, and a lot of persistence, but unlike Fitzgerald, I don’t think that Yang will have to wait until after his death for his masterpiece to receive the recognition it deserves.