Like the front, the rear caliper and rotor were pirated from the donor bike, though a late-model Sportster rear master cylinder provides pressure. The master cylinder mounts to a tidy cover machined from billet by Carr's buddies at Motorcycle Works. The cover also contains an outboard countershaft support bearing, which prevents the relocated countershaft sprocket, a move dictated by the tire's width, from putting undue strain on the countershaft bearing and transmission. And as observant Buell aficionados have surely noticed, the stock belt has been replaced by a chain final drive.
Modifications to the Lightning mill have been kept to a minimum. Clean air is inhaled through a 42mm Mikuni flat-slide carburetor and Force Side Winder air inlet with a K&N filter. The dirty stuff exits through a Pipe Dreamz Wet Dreamz exhaust system. The action in between is controlled by a Dyna 2Ki programmable ignition unit. Since a lot of fat (if you consider things like rear suspension fat) has been trimmed from the stock Lightning's 441-pound curb weight, the power-to-rate ratio is greatly improved, making performance sprightly, to say the least.
In keeping with the streetfighter theme, the bodywork was kept simple. The custom oil tank and seat pan were also done by Motorcycle Works. The rear fender and fuel tank are sheetmetal wizard Russ Wernimont's creations. The front fender and fairing are factory Buell items, as are the hand controls and switches. As mentioned, these were used because they look just fine and because they're in keeping with Carr's plan to make the bike appear like something right out of the Buell showroom. The forward foot controls are standard H-D replacement items sourced through the Custom Chrome catalog.
While armchair customizers may carp over the use of stock components, I applaud Carr for incorporating them into his design. They give the bike a sanitary finished look, and no one can argue that they aren't functional. A flame-cut shift linkage may look trick, but let's face it, it doesn't work any better than a nicely polished piece of tubing, and very often such a piece tends to give the finished bike a contrived or cartoonish look.
No custom would be complete without a trick paint job, and if the White Pearl base and red stripe look vaguely familiar to some of you, it may be because it replicates one of Carr's favorite bikes from his youth, the 1979 Yamaha RD400 Daytona Special. Sharp eyes may have been clued in by the one-off Daytona Special decals on the oil tank. The House of Kolor White Pearl was laid down by local brush man Eric Warren, and the red was just something he "happened to have laying around." Lastly, Auto Upholstery Unlimited, a local Tampa shop, upholstered the bucket seat, needed to hold the pilot in the cockpit during catapult launches, featuring an ostrich-skin inlay.
Although the Daytona Special had only been on the street for a few weeks when this piece was written, Carr reports it has exceeded his expectations, even if he does admit to scaring himself the first few times he really wicked up the throttle.
I'm a great believer in form following function. One of my pet peeves over the years has been that many customs sacrifice practicality for shock or artistic value. Carr's Buell custom takes the conflicting tack. It's a simple, graceful bike with no pretense.
It also has me wondering. Should Buell, whose showroom performance has been less than stellar, consider building something like this on its own? The answer is a qualified yes. If you replaced the rigid frame with a hidden shock design, mounted some mufflers and an airbox and bolted on a few street-legal amenities, you wouldn't be far from a commercially viable product. In fact, back in the 1960s, Harley did just that. It looked at a bunch of choppers and then built the Super Glide. I'm thinking a Buell power cruiser might be just the ticket to snap the company out of its sales-floor doldrums. Especially if it looks as good as this one.