"Spike" by Shinya Kimura. Kimura rescues old Harleys from their postmortem fates as saloon decorations, museum attractions, and—worse—from having their dissected parts dispersed throughout a backwater of garages to become paperweights, ashtrays, and doorstops. His company, Zero Engineering, based in Okazaki City, Japan, is comprised of a small group of adherents who are loyal to both Kimura-san and his vision. True to the chopper way, Zero’s motorcycles also embrace contradictory philosophies of design, in this case a blend of Western and Eastern paradigms. Kimura chose not to follow the parade of shiny, chrome-plated, technologically freighted, and extravagantly painted bikes. He prefers antediluvian engines stuffed into chopped, rigid, gooseneck frames with an itsy-bitsy peanut gas tanks, leather bicycle seats, big fat balloon tires, wire wheels, and kick-starters. He exposes the mechanical guts of his bikes and virtually shines a spotlight on their prehistoric parts, including drum brake and Linkert carburetors. His electrical system might look as if it were wired by Nikola Tesla. Every piece of his machines flaunts its age. But don’t let the richly patinated façade fool you or the fact that it looks like it’s about to dump oil. It is put together like a fine Swiss watch—okay, maybe a Seiko. Its new form melds seamlessly into the Japanese landscape, as natural looking in front of an ancient Shinto shrine as the steed of a Tokugawa samurai warrior—out of time but not out of place, reincarnated. Kimura believes that old motorcycle designs transposed to contemporary choppers have a metaphysical power to transport riders into the past. In deference to his affinity for old engines, he strips away what a bike does not need to show off its power plant. The fact that old motors and frames are made of less malleable iron and steel, instead of aluminum, often dictates the forms that Kimura must follow and how a bike will ultimately look.