Rockin’ with a Crocker

When the new Crocker motorcycle was unveiled at the Quail Motorcycle Gathering last May, Michael Schacht, who owns the Crocker name and built that first prototype, told me I could have a test ride next time I was in L.A. That would mean I'd be the only person besides Schacht to have ridden the new bike. I couldn't  pass up an opportunity like that, so I met him at his warehouse/assembly shop, where sat the rough makings of the next 15 Crocker V-Twins.

Yep, Schacht is already making a limited run. As he put it, "Whether I have orders or not, I'm just going to build them." He has invested heavily in cash, time and reputation to make the patterns and cast the parts necessary to build a whole motorcycle, and that first Crocker Big Tank discussed in Cycle World last May was made from the same batch of rough metal seen in these photos.

After nearly twelve years of …

A deconstructed motorcycle is an excellent teaching device, and Schacht pointed out the changes that Al Crocker incorporated during the evolution of his big Twin between 1936 and 1942, when WWII restrictions put an end to civilian motorcycle production. Schacht doesn’t reproduce the first hemi-head engine, which powered the rare original models Crocker built in 1936. Although the hemi variant commands the biggest prices from collectors, issues with rapid wear on the valve gear means the later parallel-valve heads are more suitable for the modern road. Those first hemis had open rockers, springs and valves, whereas the valve gear in the later engine was totally enclosed. Because of these issues, the hemispherical cylinder head is the only option not available when ordering a new Crocker V-Twin. The early Small Tank frame with different steering-head lugs and unbraced gearbox/lower-frame castings is ready to assemble, as is the later Big Tank style, which most newbies love, since they’re more glamorous. Aficionados prefer the smaller tank, which really shows off that fantastic big Twin engine.

Michael Schacht has something to prove. He’s happy to regale anyone within earshot with tales of attempted intimidation from a few old-time Crocker collectors who take serious issue with his style, his business methods and perhaps the mere fact that he’s done what they said couldn’t be done. In a way, his tales mirror the difficulties Al Crocker faced after building a better bike than Indian and Harley, the last two American motorcycle manufacturers left standing following the Depression. After H-D allegedly threatened its wheel supplier (Kelsey-Hayes) with a massive loss of business if that company sold wheels to Crocker, Al suddenly found he couldn’t buy wheels for his bikes. Solution? If you wanted a Crocker, you had to supply your own wheels.

Such tales are meat and drink to Crocker lovers, who have embellished the reputation of their favorite marque to such effect that you’ll need $300K to buy an original. Schacht is asking half that for his new machine.

How does it compare to the originals? Schacht’s test machine is completely paint-free to show the world how it was built and that it’s indeed all-new. It’s a Big Tank, with those lovely cast-aluminum panniers customizers have been copying for 70 years now. Same with the taillight, as seen (ironically) on thousands of Harleys and bobbed Triumphs through the decades. Like George Brough, Al Crocker was a masterful stylist; unlike GB, he was also a trained engineer, and with the help of Paul Bigsby (inventor of the “whammy bar” on electric guitars), he built his own engine and gearbox. Those designs were an advance on anything available in the U.S. at the time, even after H-D introduced its Knucklehead six months after Crocker got the jump on big overhead-valve Twins.

In true American tradition, the Crocker is robust to the point of tankliness, with a cast-steel gearbox forming the under-seat frame, and everything having been overbuilt. Schacht chose “big” for his first engine, which displaces 1800cc. Crockers were originally supplied with engines from 1000cc upwards, and the dimensions of this new engine are copied from Chuck Vernon’s original. In other words, it’s a monster.

I had no real desire to break an ankle starting it, so we used rollers. It fired up easily, with a healthy V-Twin bark that does not say "potato-potato." Once it settled into an idle, the ground shook from the near-liter explosions going off in each cylinder. With right-hand throttle and left-hand advance, the controls are pretty conventional (Indians, with their left-hand throttles, take a moment's thought if you're not used to them), and thankfully, the rocker foot-clutch is fully sprung and not a "suicide" job. The big Meissinger saddle and wide, pull-back handlebars are pictures of comfort.

After I knocked the hand-shift lever into first, the clutch felt progressive and light, and once I used it a few times, its action was familiar; I never gave it another thought. Shifting was easy both up and down, with no whine in any gear. The clutch always held firm, even when I cracked the throttle wide-open from a dead stop—which, not surprisingly for an 1800cc engine, yielded serious acceleration. At just over 500 pounds, the Crocker is no lightweight, but the torque it produces is fantastic and the power addictive. Starts in second gear were no problem, and loping along in third gear meant 60 mph at around 2400 rpm. I didn’t try a top-speed test, but my seat-of-the-pants assessment is that the Crocker can see an easy 110-120 mph. The big beast is fast.

And not just fast, but smooth. Riding up and down the rev range never induced vibes; the big motor is well-balanced and surprisingly mellow. The chassis felt rock-solid because it is, and the handling was totally neutral, with no waggles or wobbles or dropping-in or lagging on corners. My only criticism is with the brakes: They suck, even to a guy who’s used to crap anchors. I would have been surprised if the left-hand front-brake lever did much, but rear brakes on rigid bikes will usually leave a black streak if required. But not on this one. On such a fast machine, at least one good stopper is essential. I’ll consider this a correctable offense, as I’m sure it can be sorted out.

Despite the Crocker’s weak brakes, I could picture myself riding one a long distance, and having a blast doing it. With its smooth, massive power, good handling and comfortable riding position, I’d be pig-in-shit happy to grind those footboards all day long, romping up mountains and leaving a fantastic sound in my wake.

Of course, the other upside of riding a Crocker is looking at a Crocker. The bike, even—or maybe especially—in its unpainted state, is simply gorgeous, with that unique mix of tough and elegant that custom builders have always sought but rarely matched. Is all that, the looks, the lore and the ride, worth $150K? That, indeed, is the question, one to which Michael Schacht and the builders of other stratospherically priced "new" old bikes are awaiting cash-in-hand answers.