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The Beattie Files: Call me Lucky
Young
Mr Beattie recalls an encounter with a big
character with an even bigger motorcycle
(Ed's note: These are excerpts from young Beattie's book on some of the more colourful incidents in an action-packed life. See the end of the piece for more info.)
February 2025
As we
wheeled the monstrosity out into the carpark at the
Sydney Motor Cycle Show circa 1986, a growing procession
of bike enthusiasts followed. While show exhibitors
displayed some of the world’s latest and most exotic
motorcycles inside, hundreds of visitors ignored them as
they congregated around our small group outside the
exhibition building.
There
was certainly nothing pretty about the bike that was
drawing all the attention. In fact, to be honest, at the
time it was pretty ugly; a conglomeration of unpainted
frame tubes, make-do wiring and home-grown engineering.
But to hardcore bikers, it was unquestionably the star
of the show.
A lot
of its appeal had to do with the massive lump of metal
that dominated centre stage between the wheels. To
anyone with petrol running through their veins, it was a
mechanical work of art, and an amazing engineering
achievement.
When
the Douglas DC3 aircraft starter motor spun the engine
into life, even more show visitors thronged out into the
carpark to see what all the commotion was about.
Five litres of angry V-twin engine exploded into
flame-belching life as each cylinder spat its exhaust
out through stubby pipes that did nothing whatsoever to
muffle the combustion process.
The
creator of this monster, Dubbo’s Lucky Keizer basked in
the glory of it all as his mechanical Frankenstein
spewed fire – anyone who was within range and who wasn’t
singed by the flames ran the risk of being deafened by
the racket.
Lucky
let the engine run for a couple of minutes and just to
demonstrate how well balanced – as opposed to its
creator – it was, he would plonk an empty beer can on
top of the air filter. It didn’t even rattle, the
engine’s primary balance was so good.
For the
remainder of the show – and much to the annoyance of
show organisers and exhibitors – we repeated the ritual
several times, drawing large numbers of show visitors
each time.
I was
Editor of Australian Motor Cycle News at
the time. One of our Sydney freelancers had heard that
some guy out west was building a “mad mega-bike” in his
barn, which was how Lucky and his mighty Merlin found
their way on to the magazine’s stand at the show.
bore
the scars of decades spent at the mercy of drought,
floods and fires.
“It was
really buggered, eh,” said the former speedway rider.
“One end of it had actually more or less corroded away,
but I offered him a couple of bucks for it and he seemed
glad to get rid of it.
“As
soon as I saw it, I knew what I wanted to do. I made up
this bloody big industrial hacksaw and got through a
couple of cartons of piss over two days as I sawed out
the middle two cylinders, which were actually in quite
good nick.
“I cut
through everything from the heads down through the block
and the crankshaft. Then I had to think how I was going
to get the bloody thing to actually run."
For
practical purposes, Lucky ended up machining up his own
crankshaft and camshaft drives, but retained most of the
other major structures and components, ending up with a
5000cc V-twin engine.
Other
driveline components were, in classic Aussie outback
tradition, borrowed from the Kingswood. Literally.
Linking the engine to the wide 15-inch car rear wheel
and tyre was a three-speed Holden gearbox and clutch.
By the
time of its show debut, the bike was still in pretty
basic form, and certainly not anywhere near
street-legal. But a couple of years later, Lucky had
taken it to a whole new level. By now it was much more
street-worthy, with actual working brakes and
suspension, but typically he’d gone a little overboard
in other areas.
Instead
of the original four-barrel carburettor – again borrowed
off an old Holden he had lying around – Lucky had
installed a supercharger between the two massive
cylinders. But just to be on the unsafe side, he’d also
hooked up a nitrous-oxide injection system, which could
add another 100 or so horsepower to the already
stupendous 450hp produced by the giant twin.
“I’ve
had a couple of wild experiences with it,” confessed
Lucky. “The first time I used the nitrous, it blew the
carby right off the motor. It turned out the nitrous
spun the crank up so fast the cam-drive belts spun a
couple of teeth and the motor back-fired. Think I’m
gonna have to put a bit more work into it...”
Word
soon spread of the motorcycle monster from Down Under
and it wasn’t long before Lucky was accepting offers
from major bike show promotors in the US and Europe to
display his crazy creation. Lucky and the Merlin starred
at Sturgis and Daytona, where he also ran the beast at a
bike-pull. Run along similar lines to a tractor-pull,
riders compete to see how far they can tow a weighted
sled. In Lucky’s case, he reckoned the locals were a bit
miffed at the unfair competition.
“They
whinged because I pulled the sled further than anyone
else on the night, so they just banned me from running,
the sooks! It didn’t help that I was pulling the sled
around like it was a trailer,” he chuckled.
Of
course, the big question is always how fast will it go
and Lucky admitted to exceeding open road limits by a
considerable margin on one memorable run.
“I
reckon I got 200mph (320km/h) out of it once, but it was
a bit freaky as I didn’t have a fairing on it so my eyes
were watering and I wasn’t seeing too good,” he
recalled. “Actually, I didn’t know exactly how fast I
was going at the time as I didn’t have a speedo on it,
but I worked it out later from the revs and gearing. I
decided that was enough because the front tyre was in
pieces by the end of it. I definitely lived up to my
nickname that day I reckon …”
Eventually
the big rig drew international attention and the last I
heard it was now in the hands of a private American
motorcycle collector. Lucky also embarked on building
and running a land speed record streamliner bike with a
351 Ford V8 engine for power, but from what I understand
it never made it into the record books. Instead, it can
now be viewed (minus engine) at the popular motorcycle
haunt known as the Moo Moo Roadhouse, in Mooball on the
Tweed Coast in northern NSW.
Haven’t
heard from him in a long time, but I assume he’s now
feeding his need for speed with another mad machine
somewhere in the Outback.
(ends)
More at The Beattie Files home page
The excerpt is from Beattie's wild and woolly book. So far as we know it's had one brief print run and he's threatening to do another. Watch this space.
In the meantime he can be contacted by email.
More at The Beattie Files
home page
Travels with Guido columns here
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