Henry Cole meets Allen Millyard | TMS
Forget the design legends with teams and digital renderings. Millyard works alone, using intuition and sheer willpower. No computers. The Flying Millyard catches the eye first—a motorcycle powered by two massive cylinders from a Pratt & Whitney aircraft engine, normally found in Dakota planes. The cylinder head’s finning gleams like art in metal form.
Every bike in Allen’s shed tells a story that starts and ends with pure handcraft. Ministry of Defense skills anchor his engineering, but the magic comes from a restless mind. Allen skips drawings and sketches, preferring to build straight from imagination. Six months to make a crankshaft. Another handful to finish the whole bike. Days filled with tinkering for the thrill of the ride.
On the other side of the garage sits a Honda SS50 that, despite its classic lines, hides a beastly 250cc motocross engine. Even his Kawasaki H2 wears extra cylinders and looks stock at first glance until you twist the throttle.
The main event rolls in—a V10-powered monster built around a genuine Dodge Viper engine. Chrysler’s Tomahawk concept looked insane, but Allen’s creation actually hits the pavement and proves its mettle. Instead of a traditional frame, the engine itself handles the stress, with only subframes at either end. The forks alone dwarf most bikes, beefed up to scale. Everything from the handlebars to the geometry works in harmony to handle the absurd power.
This thing throws down gauntlets to supercars. A Bugatti Veyron pushes 500 horsepower; Allen’s Viper V10 gives you more brake horsepower and twice the attitude. It crushed 207 mph at half throttle during early tests. On Elvington Airfield, the bike clocks a solid 182 mph and still hints at more. When racing, life blurs at 185 mph and above. Tunnel vision kicks in, and every flaw gets exposed in seconds.
Setbacks crop up, like crankshaft sensors calling it quits. Allen shrugs off embarrassment and keeps wrenching till the beast runs strong. For him, these machines beg for hard use, not cozy displays. The workshop is no museum. It’s a launchpad for speed—and real proof that mad ideas and elbow grease still matter.
Petrolheads might dream big, but Allen Millyard shows what happens if you dare to chase those dreams and build something nobody else would. The results roar, fly, and sometimes break records. Forget leaving it in the lounge. If it’s built to go fast, let it loose and hang on tight.
