BUILDING ON A THEME
A ’75 Harley with a twist
Terry Murphy’s creative passion can be sparked by chance encounters. On vacation in California in the fall of 2014, the Calgarian was in Huntington Beach with his wife, Jan, and daughter, Cindy. He left them at a park, and walked down a block where there was a store that sold nothing but antique nautical equipment.
“You had to ring a bell to get in, and I waited a minute before the door opened,” Murphy recalled. “The store was full of brass boat equipment, from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. I had no inkling of why I was there; I was just enjoying the moment.
“That’s when I heard this voice, and it sounded like a gravel truck. This fellow — with a big beard — named Captain Jack says, ‘I have what you need for your next motorcycle build.’” Murphy was mystified. How did Captain Jack know he was into motorcycles?
“On the monitor I could see you waiting outside,” Captain Jack said, “and I just knew you built bikes.”
Murphy has been around motorcycles his entire life, and as much as he enjoys riding them, he enjoys building “theme” bikes. His last, called Mid Evil, was an armour-plated Harley-Davidson well remembered in some circles. Finished in 2000, Murphy kept Mid Evil for a few years before he sold it to a buyer who placed it in his Miami Beach bar.
Back at the store, “Captain Jack rolled out a cloth, to reveal a brass gas cap for a 1940 Chris-Craft boat,” Murphy said.
Murphy bought the cap, thinking it would sit on a shelf in his home, and walked back to Jan and Cindy. Telling them his story, they both urged him to use the cap as the basis for a theme bike — and he did. Tabu Kahuna is the result of a two-year build, and it’s one with a “nautical Polynesian steampunk” theme.
Getting started, Murphy didn’t have a frame or an engine, but he did have an early 1970s Harley-Davidson Sportster gas tank. He fit the Chris-Craft gas cap, and talked to airbrush artist Ryan Veness at Blood Shot Airbrushing. They came up with an idea for graphics featuring a devilish, black leather jacket-wearing tiki partaking in various vices, or taboos, such as smoking, drinking and speeding.
With the tank being painted, Murphy visited his friend Mark Blundell’s acreage. There, he discovered a rusting 1975 Harley-Davidson XL1000 Sportster frame that had been modified by Murphy’s late friend, welder Terry Kunto.
“I was at Terry’s years ago when he (was working on the frame), and then it landed at Mark’s place and I found it again like it was meant to be,” Murphy said. “I also got a 1975 XL1000 engine from Mark, which turned out to be in really good shape and I only had to clean and detail it.” Instead of removing the surface rust from the frame and grinding the welds smooth, Murphy simply sprayed a layer of clearcoat on the metal.
While visiting a Calgary salvage business, Murphy met Jack Burrows, a young motorcycle builder. As Murphy was leaving the shop, Burrows said to him, “You won today’s door prize,” and handed him a bag.
“Inside was a brass Lucas motorcycle headlight from the 1920s,” Murphy said. That piece was quickly incorporated, as was the antique glass and brass door from a reclaimed hotel lobby mailbox. Murphy’s friend Peter Feenstra built a battery box using white oak, and the mailbox door is on the left side.
Murphy also got help from his son, Chad, who lives across the street and is often over discussing ideas and doing a share of the heavy lifting. With some of Chad’s suggestions, Murphy continued to incorporate “doodads,” as he calls them, including a carved wooden tiki head he purchased from a street vendor in Hawaii several years ago.
When Tabu Kahuna was in the final stages of coming together, Murphy stepped back. He thought the machine was missing something, and visited music store Long & McQuade, where he bought a set of used cymbals.
“I wanted to use the cymbals to cover the spoked 19-inch rear wheel, and fabricator Al Kerrison helped make the brackets to do that,” Murphy said.
When finished a project, Murphy said he often gets asked what it’s worth.
“I always say it’s the memories of time shared with friends you respect and love, rather than a dollar figure,” Murphy said. “I think its value is in the memories.” Murphy’s wife Jan calls him a “funatic;” she defines a funatic as “one who doubles his efforts when he surpasses his target.”
“I tend to go overkill,” Murphy said of some of his artistic projects, and added, “But that’s the fun of it all, really.” Driving.ca