"Fuck old school. I’m a real old guy. What looks vintage is vintage. Really!“ Albert laughs. He's a 67 year old biker. This story will cover his saga first, then about his ride.

Al experienced the first years of his childhood in WWII-destroyed River-Rhein-Area in Germany in the early '40s. This industrial region was a main attack-target by the Nazi's opponents. Here stood the cradle of Third Reich’s weapon-production.

During the week before Easter in 1945 the heaviest bombing took place in Gelsenkirchen. All day long wave after wave of allied bombers dropped their steel onto the German cities around. The ground shook like an earthquake, the sound of explosions and detonations everywhere. The civilians hid in cellars and shelters. Many thousands found death without a place to hide from the bombs.

Albert was five years old as on Easter Saturday 1945 suddenly after a final heavy artillery-atttack the guns silenced. No more bombs. Unusual silence, quietness. As Albert and his people left the shelter they found dead people, and dead animals including horses, cats and dogs. They saw destroyed ruins of the houses they knew as their town before. And they saw US-soldiers inbetween, driving around with their tanks, jeeps, motorbikes. The allied forces had marched into their town, and marched into the heart of 5-years-old Albert. After being a child during the whole WWII-era, it now was quiet, the most peaceful Easter he ever celebrated. For this he experienced the allied US-soldiers more as liberators than invaders. He loved them for little gifts like chocolate and bubble-gum, and he liked their outfits, their strange language, and most of all, they were the reason the war ended.

Next contact to this way of living he received as a friend of his older Brother started building bikes for meadow-track-races (like dirt-track US-style). One of his biggest bikes was a 1200 ccm-Harley, probably a former US-Army-bike. This was the experience infecting Al with the Harley-virus.

As a teen he purchased an old Göricke, a small German motorbike and started bobbing it. He wanted the look from the dirt-track Harley he knew. It looked sportive and despite the fact that his little Göricke was not strong at all, he made it look racy and as low as this moped could get.

That was to be the template for Al's bike design through all the years to come. He rode almost every style and kind of bike, but the more sporty and Japanese ones were sold soon. His Harleys he always kept for years, and he bobbed them all.

The one that’s shown here is a former 1979 E-Glide. He bought it with all the crap that can be imagined on a full – or better, over-dressed bike, two bikes wide and three bikes heavy... He disassembled all the cases and fairings, the railings and covers right after he bought it. He stripped it down to the frame and started reassembling step by step.

After the teardown steps took place the bike became army-green, matching perfect with the genuine aviation-jackets Al used to wear for riding. "Another history-thing from my war-memories“, Al smiled.

After a while riding a really Army-lookalike bike he decided to rebuild each part. He got used to the look too much. The next stage of customizing had come. He cut off the rear frame, took a fender from a Triumph and cut this into halves. One half of it found its way to the rear of the Harley, the other half got lost. He found a tractor-seat at a swap-meet and in the beginning he even used it naked, no upholstery necessary. Right before our shoot the smooth genuine leather-seat had been finished. During the next step the bike became matte gray. He liked it exactly as long as he rode it alone. The first time on a meeting he saw three other bikes in a similar style and the same almost matte gray from Audi.

Back to the garage again! Now the time had come to do it right and radical. Lots of parts left the bike, the frontshield, lightings, many details. The bobber became bobbed. As an educated confectioner he thought a while about the color to come.

"Chocolate brown!“ he yelled one day, as he saw a UPS-van pass by. As steps for the final solution he built a jockey-shift and a foot-clutch. The handlebar received a top-bow, a style called Hollywood-bar. Finished again he saw his work and it was good. Al refuses to call the style Old Skool.

"In fact it IS old, just like me. So it’s nothing about style-dictatorship. It just belongs to me and together we are over 100 years old. Fuck that skool-thing! He sneered. Let’s hope they get much older together. Al and his chocolate-bomber.

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