Like the rat bike, the Shovelhead is a four-speeder with the foot-clutch/jockey-shift arrangement. “I like simple designs,” says Chica. “This Shovel looks like an old bike—no battery, no wiring, no oil tank, no primary cover, only a magneto for lighting.” It’s a hardtail, again for the same reasons: “It is simple. Back in the ’20s and ’30s, everyone rode around on these hardtail bikes. Now the roads are great, yet we have all these exotic suspensions. Why do you need them? I like to ride, and I ride these everywhere … except the 710 freeway” (notorious in Southern California for its choppy pavement and assortment of tire-puncturing debris on the road).

Though all his bikes so far have sold in Japan, Chica’s creations are just beginning to make noise on the U.S. show circuit. “People look at the rat bike and ask, ‘Is this bike finished? Where’s the oil tank?’” Chica says, describing the reaction his bikes have re­ceived at several shows.

“He wants to be noticed and earn the respect of his peers,” adds Millhouse. “His dream is to be at the level of other ground-up builders, and so far, they’ve really liked our bikes. The market we deal with in Japan is totally different. They like the older, chopper style. They’re about where we were in the ’70s; they haven’t evolved yet.”

Chica claims that he likes more “summer” style than “biker” style—beach cruising in sneakers, in other words, as opposed to black leathers—and building a custom bike that will make an impact, so that when he rides by, people will ask, “What is that?” He says he’s found a heaven in Southern California: He can ride in the casual clothes he prefers, the weather is great, and parts are far easier to come by.

So, what’s next? Taking a page from his former employer, the late Soichiro Honda, Chica says what impressed him most is that all of Honda’s milestone products were surprises. “I like that spirit, to surprise each time.”
So far, he seems to have succeeded.