Safety’s Off: KC Kawano’s White Knuckle Bobber

When I think of a bobber, a “bob-job,” a “cut-down,” a “chopper,” or whatever the hell you want to call it, this is what I think of: straightforward, low-slung, powerful, knuckles up, dangerous as all fuck, and American as a heart attack.

This fine specimen was built by KC Kawano over the course of one winter to exacting specifications: his own. He is a man of few words, but his work speaks for itself. He didn’t build the bike to talk about it. He built it to ride it.

When we take into account that KC is an old-school hot-rod builder, and we stand that next to the Knucklehead, we can surmise a pretty good idea of the intention: build an American custom that would capture the spirit of the 1950s.

What we now consider the bobber was born in the 1930s. These early customs, known as “cutdowns,” began as a way to breathe new life into aging motorcycles and mimicked the styles seen on the race track. Depression-era riders stripped the bikes of their accouterments, tossed the fenders, and junked everything else that didn’t either make the bike run or roll. This resulted in a much faster and much more stylish ride. All it took was a little bit of inspiration and some elbow grease. Besides, at that time, elbow grease and inspiration were about all anyone had.

When people are forced to reconsider the things they have, not the things they want, an otherwise inaccessible well of ingenuity becomes available.

The years that followed the end of WWII saw a marked rise in the popularity of the custom motorcycle. Soldiers returned from the war, the economy rebounded, and the “cut-down” evolved into the “bob-job.” The extra scratch gave builders the means to apply more distinctive paint jobs, add chrome, and make other unique customizations to their bikes. This gave rise to what we see here – a near-textbook example of the “bobber.”

Clean, simple, crisp – adjectives that are so ubiquitous that they could be used to describe just about anything. An apple. Maybe a cold pop on a sunny day. And definitely this ’50s-inspired Knucklehead bobber. It’s not meant to set the world of custom motorcycles ablaze, to take home trophies, or to bolster KC’s “insta-fame.” It’s meant to be the kind of bike where the question of whether or not there should be a front brake was never a question at all. How else would it earn its name?

KC’s White Knuckle is a reflection of himself. No frills. It’s the opposite of grandiose, long-winded, and hyperbolic. So when KC answers the question of where the bike came from with a terse, “from here and there,” it’s a refreshing honesty. Maybe things just aren’t that complicated sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, many more things in life would be better off considered just the same.

This article first appeared in issue 024 of Iron & Air Magazine, and is reproduced here under license.

Words by Gregory George Moore | Images by Jeff Stockwell

*Since the original publication of this piece by Iron & Air, KC Kawano passed away in Idaho at 67 years of age. Ride in Peace KC.*