Lynn Ashcroft Creation

Of all the reasons that lead to the creation of a custom motorcycle, those behind the birth of the Ashcroft Flyer rank among the most unusual. Its gestation was inspired, in large measure, by Lynn Ashcroft's desire to provide a rolling canvas—if that term may be applied to a creation hewn of various alloys, rubber, and resin—for artist Mitch Kim.

---

Lynn Ashcroft with the eponymous Ashcroft Flyer. (Click image to enlarge) 

---

“What Mitch does with brush and paint is, frankly, not humanly possible,” Ashcroft says. “When I delivered sheet metal, frame, and wheels, I placed no constraint on him and merely asked him to ‘go crazy.' He surpassed my expectations, as he always does.” Kim certainly did not spare either the brushes or his imagination in laying out and applying the finished scheme; it is a riot of stripes, surrealistic yet coherent. In deserved tribute to Von Dutch, the legendary Californian whose vivid striping and images defined one of the seminal looks of hot-rodding in the 1950s, Ashcroft refers to Kim as “Von Mitch”.

The canvas chosen is a perfect complement to Kim's artistry. The Flyer's finish is unusual, captivating, and understated. At first glance, one would say it was painted a matte black, with red accents finished to match. But, as is true of the ornamentation, this subtle satin paint scheme reveals unexpected nuances with each successive viewing. A careful blend of flat black, red, and silver pearl creates a beautiful, otherworldly mood.

None of those involved—Kim, Ashcroft, painter Joe Miller or metalworker Joe Kopp—would have applied their skills to a store-bought cruiser. The Flyer's frame, handlebars, tank, fender, headlight, and taillight were all built in the Ashcroft shop. The 41-degree springer front fork came from V-Twin, while S&S provided the heads and barrels for the 95 cu in Panhead V-twin motor. The traditional 4-speed transmission case has 5-speed internals, and is shifted by Ashcroft's own version of the classic “suicide” shifter—made from a '53 Chevy truck shift lever—which adds a clutch release lever to the unit. There are no foot-operated controls.

A prime criterion for all Ashcroft motorcycles is that they be as useful as they are eye-catching, and the Flyer—also known as Hellbilly II—is no exception to the rule. It receives, and thrives on, road time. To treat it as a pedestal-worthy object is to miss half the pleasure Ashcroft bikes can deliver; they are truly worthy of admiration as objets d'art, but are also fully functional, stripped-for-action bikes that look their best in motion. (Click image to enlarge)

For the last decade or so, Ashcroft's passion has been motorcycles. He began as many enthusiasts do, buying a ready-made example—in this case, a Harley-Davidson—and adding custom touches. Most people would have stopped there, but not Lynn Ashcroft. After a year, the H-D went into his garage; only the engine and gearbox came out, surrounded by a bike of Ashcroft's own design. A second custom was built a year later. The business grew over the years, ending up in its current building where Ashcroft and his five-man crew continue to turn out his iconoclastic creations and the occasional restoration, like his immaculate 1918 H-D board-track racer.

Calling Ashcroft Motorcycles a business may seem odd. How many companies can exist wherein the proprietor tends to refuse commissions that don't allow him the freedom to build what he sees? And how many would survive when the boss decides he needs to do the majority of the hard labor—in this case, welding, machining, and metal shaping—himself?