Adventure Motorcycle Books – The ExhaustNotes Blog

The Wayback Machine: Jerry and the Jersey Devil

By Joe Berk

If you can find a copy of this weekend’s Wall Street Journal, there’s an outstanding article in the “Off Duty” section on the New Jersey Pine Barrens. We blogged about my ride through the Pine Barrens with Jerry Dowgin and his vintage 305 Honda Scrambler a few years ago. The Journal article’s lead photo was of the Jersey Devil in front of Lucille’s (read on and you’ll see what I’m talking about), and that had my attention instantly. I had a great time with Jerry, and that ride and visit went on to become a featured article in Motorcycle Classics magazine.

Jerry went on to his reward a year or two after my visit, and I miss him. Read this blog, and if you can, the MC article. Jerry was a great guy and a good friend.

Rest in peace, Jerry.

I’d heard of the Pine Barrens when I was a youngster in New Jersey but I’d never been there, which was weird because the northern edge of the Pines starts only about 40 miles from where I grew up and geographically the Pine Barrens cover about a quarter of the state. New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the US, but you wouldn’t know it in the Pine Barrens. Pine trees and sand, lots of dirt roads, and not much else except ghost stories and New Jersey’s own mythological Jersey Devil (more on that in a bit). The region is mostly pine trees, but there are just enough other trees that our last-weekend-in-October ride caught the leaves’ autumn color change. That, the incredible weather, and saddle time on Jerry Dowgin’s vintage Honda Scrambler made it a perfect day.

Kicking back in the Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth. Check out the leaves changing colors in the background.

A 305cc Honda Scrambler, the Jersey Devil, and Lucille’s Country Diner. Life is good in the Pines.

Jerry Dowgin at speed in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. He’s been riding the same motorcycle for five decades. Jerry paid $10 for his Honda Scrambler. I offered to give him what he paid for it, which drew only a smile.

There were other things that made the day great. For starters, that has to include riding with Jerry Dowgin, former South Brunswick High School football hero, vintage motorcycle aficionado, and son of the late Captain Ralph Dowgin. SBHS is my alma mater (Go Vikings!), and the Dowgin name is legendary in New Jersey. I didn’t personally know Jerry when I was in high school (he was four years ahead of me), but I knew of his football exploits and I knew of his State Trooper Dad. Captain Dowgin commanded Troop D of the NJ State Police, and thanks to a photograph provided by lifelong good buddy Mike (another SBHS alum), Trooper Dowgin graces the cover of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. Take a look at this photo of Jerry, and the Police Motors cover:

In the New Jersey Pine Barrens with former football star Jerry Dowgin and his awesome Honda Scrambler. I only run with the cool kids.

Jerry’s father, Trooper Ralph Dowgin of the New Jersey State Police. This photo was taken in 1936. The one above it was taken 4 days ago.

Trooper Dowgin’s original leather motorcycle helmet. Jerry showed it to me.

My ride for our glorious putt through the New Jersey Pine Barrens was Jerry’s 1966 CL77 Honda Scrambler. Jerry has owned the Scrambler for five decades. Jerry’s name for the Scrambler is Hot Silver, but I’m going to call it the Jersey Devil. The bike is not a piece of Concours driveway jewelry; like good buddy Gobi Gresh’s motorcycles, Jerry’s Jersey Devil is a vintage rider. And ride we did.

Honda offered three 305cc motorcycles in the mid-1960s: The Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. All were 305cc, single overhead cam, air-cooled twins with four-speed transmissions. The CA77 Dream was a pressed steel, large fendered, single carb motorcycle with leading link front suspension. Like its sister Super Hawk, the Dream had kick and electric starting; the electric starter was unusual in those days. The Dream was marketed as a touring model, although touring was different then. Honda’s CB77 Super Hawk was a more sporting proposition, with lower bars, a tubular steel frame and telescopic forks, twin shoe drum brakes (exotic at the time), twin carbs, a tachometer, and rear shocks adjustable for preload. The engine was a stressed frame component and there was no frame downtube. Like the Dream, the Super Hawk had electric and kick starting. It’s been said that the Super Hawk could touch 100 mph, although I never saw that (my Dad owned a 1965 Honda Super Hawk I could sometimes ride in the fields behind our house).

The Scrambler fuel tank. Honda hit a home run with the Scrambler’s styling.

Everything on this motorcycle is well proportioned. The ergnomics fit me perfectly.

The cool kids removed the Scrambler’s bulbous two-into-one muffler and replaced it with Snuff-R-Nots. Jerry is one of the cool kids.

The third model in Honda’s mid-‘60s strategic triad was the CL77 Scrambler, and in my opinion, it was the coolest of the three. It had Honda’s bulletproof 305cc engine with twin carbs, and unlike the Super Hawk engine, it was tuned for more torque. The Scrambler didn’t have electric starting like the other two Hondas (it was kick start only, a nod to the Scrambler’s offroad nature). The Scrambler had a downtube frame, no tach (but a large and accurate headlight-mounted speedo), a steering damper, and a fuel tank that looks like God intended fuel tanks to look (with a classic teardrop profile and no ugly flange running down the center). The bars were wide with a cross brace. With its kick start only engine, the magnificent exhaust headers, and Honda’s “we got it right” fuel tank, the Scrambler looked more like a Triumph desert sled than any other Honda. In my book, that made it far more desirable. I always wanted a Scrambler.

The Scrambler’s speedo. The switch on the left is for the headlight; the amber light is a neutral indicator. The speedometer is accurate; we rode through a highway sign that showed your speed and it matched the speedometer indication.

The Scrambler’s tool storage compartment.

Jerry’s wife Karin made the toolkit pouch. Jerry’s toolkit includes the original Honda tools and a few extras.

A single overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder, and threaded locknut valve adjustment. Honda’s casting quality was superb for the time.

Jerry and I had great conversations on our ride through the Pine Barrens. We talked motorcycles, the times, the old times, folks we knew back in the day, and more. Other riders chatted us up. The Scrambler was a natural conversation starter. Every few minutes someone would approach and ask about Jerry’s Scrambler. Was it original? Was it for sale? What year was it? I had a little fun piping up before Jerry could answer, telling people it was mine and I’d let it go for $800 if they had the cash. I can still start rumors in New Jersey, you know.

The Scrambler’s rear suspension has three preload adjustment positions.

Relatively sophisticated for the time on a mass-produced motorcycle: Twin shoe brakes.

The Scrambler’s rear brake was similarly equipped.

The 305cc Honda twins of the mid-1960s were light years ahead of their British competitors and Harley-Davidson. British twin and Harley riders made snide comments about “Jap crap” back in the day (ignorance is bliss, and they were happy guys), but at least one Britbike kingpin knew the score and saw what was coming. Edward Turner, designer of the Triumph twin and head of Triumph Motorcycles, visited Honda in Japan and was shocked at how advanced Japanese engineering and manufacturing were compared to what passed for modern management in England. No one listened to Turner. The Honda 750 Four often gets credit for killing the British motorcycle industry, but the handwriting was already on the wall with the advent of bikes like Honda’s Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. I believe we’re living through the same thing right now with motorcycles from China. Or maybe I just put that in to elicit a few more comments on this blog. You tell me.

I’m always curious about how others starting riding, so I asked Jerry if he inherited his interest in motorcycles from his motor officer Dad. The answer was a firm no. “Pop wasn’t interested in motorcycles; he saw too many young Troopers get killed on motorcycles when he was a State Trooper.” Jerry’s introduction into the two-wheel world was more happenstance than hereditary. He was working with his brother and his brother-in-law installing a heating system in a farmhouse when they encountered the Scrambler. Jerry bought his 1966 Scrambler in 1972 for the princely sum of $10. Yes, you read that right: $10. The Scrambler wasn’t running, but the deal he made with his brother was that Jerry would do the work if his brother would pay for the parts (and in 1972, the parts bill came to $125 from Cooper’s Cycle Ranch, one of the early and best known East Coast Honda and Triumph dealers). Getting the Scrambler sorted took some doing, as the engine was frozen, it needed a top end overhaul, it had compression issues, and getting the timing right was a challenge. But Jerry prevailed, and the bike has been a Pine Barrens staple for five decades now.

Jerry shared with me that he plans to leave his Honda Scrambler to his son and grandson. I think that’s a magnificent gesture.

Jerry on his Scrambler at the end of a great day on the road.

Jerry and his Scrambler were featured on the cover of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s magazine about 4 years ago.

Our ride in the Pine Barrens was most enjoyable. It’s amazing how little traffic there is in the Pines, an unusual situation for me. As a son of New Jersey, riding with no traffic in the nation’s most densely populated state was a new experience. But there’s a lot of land down there in the Pine Barrens (the area was a featured spot for dumping bodies on The Sopranos, and that probably wasn’t just a figment of some screenwriter’s imagination). Riding into the Pines (where we saw few other motorcycles and almost no cars), we made our first stop in Chatsworth. Chatsworth is an old Pine Barrens wide spot in the road with only a few buildings and a roadside eatery with no seating. You buy a soda and a dog (of either the hot or brat variety), find a seat on one of the roadside benches, and chat with other riders. It was different and much more fun than what I remembered New Jersey riding to be, but I had never ridden the Pines before. The locals told me it’s always been like this.

From Chatsworth, it was on to Lucille’s Country Diner, a popular Pine Barrens roadhouse more like a California motorcycle stop than a New Jersey diner. Lucille’s is known for its pies, and (trust me on this) they’re awesome. We parked under a carved, presumably life-sized Jersey Devil statue. I’d heard of the Jersey Devil when I was a kid (it’s a New Jersey thing; think of it as a cross between Bigfoot and Lucifer and you’ll understand). We didn’t see the Jersey Devil lurking out there in the pine trees on this ride, but who knows? Maybe he saw us. As a New Jersey native, I know this: Anything’s possible in the Garden State.

Never miss an ExNotes blog. Get a free subscription here:

Keep us afloat: Click on those popup ads!

China’s Shaolin Temple

By Joe Berk

I posted a blog yesterday about Chinese pocketknives and drew a few comments (as I knew I would). One of them mentioned Shaolin martial arts, and that prompted a response from me about the Shaolin Temple in China. Not a lot of folks here in the US have been to the Shaolin Temple. I know of two who rode there on motorcycles (that would be Joe Gresh and yours truly). I covered that visit in Riding China, and I thought it would be good to share a part of that chapter with you today. Who knows…I might even sell a few books by doing so. You know, so you can read the rest of the story about our ride through China.

We continued riding and entered a mountainous region. I liked that a lot. The roads were nice, there wasn’t much traffic, and because we were both moving and climbing, the heat abated a bit. We stopped for a break, and a fellow came along on a 250cc Yamaha that was configured for touring. He stopped and chatted with us and we took turns taking pictures of each other. His bike looked good. We only saw a few other Chinese on our trip who were touring on motorcycles.

A Chinese motorcyclist on a 250cc Yamaha. His luggage is from Lester Peng’s motorcycle luggage company. Lester rode with us last year on the 5000-mile Western America Adventure Ride.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but we were very close to the Shaolin Temple when we stopped to talk to the Yamaha rider. That would be our next destination this day. Another fellow then came by and he had an animated conversation with Sean (our guide). It turns out he was selling, Sean was his mark, and the guy was working Sean hard. This guy owned a restaurant and he wanted us to eat there. He was successful; we did.

We didn’t pause for naps after this lunch, but Sean was soon having another excited conversation with folks outside the restaurant. I didn’t know what they were discussing, but I later realized it was about transportation and how we would get into the Shaolin Temple. The bottom line to this conversation was that we all piled into three small gray minivans that took us about two miles down the road, back the way we had ridden to get to the restaurant.

What I learned later was that there were two ways to get into the Shaolin Temple complex. One was through the main gate, and apparently that cost more. The other was a woodsy trail through the mountains that required a climb over two or three mountains on a slippery muddy trail. If you did that, you could sneak into the Shaolin Temple complex for free. That’s what we did, and that climb was rough. The trail was slippery, and by now the temperature and humidity were up again. Had I known what was going on I would have gladly paid to go in through the front door, but I didn’t realize what we were doing until I was doing my best impersonation of a mountain goat in the hills behind Shaolin.

So here’s the deal on the Shaolin Temple: It’s famous as the home of Chinese Kung Fu. No kidding; it’s both a Buddhist Temple and a world-renown Kung Fu school (the original Kung Fu school, actually). It’s where Bruce Lee learned his craft, and if you’ve ever seen a martial arts movie with scenes that have large numbers of young Chinese guys learning the martial arts, it was almost certainly filmed here.

The Shaolin Temple was beautiful. As we walked along its well-manicured paths, a young guy went into a martial arts routine that was mesmerizing. It was something right out of a movie. The guy was executing all of these snappy martial arts stances (one seemed to flow into the next) in a manner that almost made the display a dance routine. It probably only lasted a minute or two, but when it ended, a large crowd had already gathered and everyone applauded. I enjoyed seeing it, even though I know nothing about any of this stuff.

A martial artist demonstrating his moves at the Shaolin Temple.

More moves. I told the guys I could do this, but I don’t think they believed me.

The Buddhist Temple was beautiful, but by then it was so miserably hot and humid we weren’t enjoying anything. We were in a walled courtyard that allowed no airflow, and I couldn’t seem to get my body temperature down. I was still perspiring from climbing over the mountains.

I shot a few photos of some of the figures inside the temple (yet again, the D810 Nikon’s incredible low light level capabilities came through).

A figure inside the Shaolin Temple. It’s likely Bruce Lee saw these things when he studied here.

Another huge and menacing figure inside the Shaolin Temple. These statues were about 15 feet tall.

On our walk out (we left through the main gate), it mercifully started raining again. The rain finally helped me cool off. So far, this day was the hottest and most humid day of our ride (and I found I was saying that nearly every day for the last several days).

At dinner that night, I thought I would have a little fun with the guys. One of the dishes that evening had black fungus mixed in with the vegetables, and I loved that stuff. As I mentioned earlier, what the Chinese call black fungus is a mushroom of some sort, and I loved the taste of it. A small speck of one of the mushrooms, a black piece about a quarter of an inch long, was on the edge of my dinner bowl. I managed to pick up that tiny piece of mushroom with my chopsticks in preparation for solidifying my reputation as a chopstick martial arts master.

I told Tracy, who was sitting next to me, that I wanted him translate exactly what I was about to tell the Chinese guys in our group. He said okay, but went back to his meal. “No, Tracy,” I said. “I want you to tell the guys to stop eating and listen to what I have to say.”

Tracy looked at me for second, and then he spoke to the group in Chinese. The others stopped eating, looking at Tracy and then at me.

“We all visited the Shaolin Temple today and we saw the birthplace of Kung Fu,” I began. I paused, nodded at Tracy, and he started speaking to the group in Chinese.

“You may not know this, but like Mr. Bruce Lee, I, too, am a martial arts expert,” I said. Tracy looked at me and translated what I just said. The others stared at me, taken in by my serious demeanor.

“You know that I am an expert with chopsticks, as I demonstrated on our second night in the peanut contest,” I said. Tracy diligently continued to translate. “You may not know that I am a master at using chopsticks in the martial arts. In fact, I created a branch of Kung Fu that relies entirely on chopsticks.” As I said that, I motioned with my left hand as if I was shooing a fly away from the food on our table. It was a motion all of us had used across China at all of our dinners to get rid of the flies.

As Tracy continued to translate, and when I saw everybody look at my left hand shooing the imaginary flies away, I lunged out into the space over our table with my right hand, still holding my chopsticks. As I did so, I emitted a piercing “eeeee yah!” (my best rendition of a martial arts cry, worthy of no less a master than Bruce Lee himself). I held up my chopsticks, which still held that small morsel of black mushroom. No one could have confused that speck of mushroom for anything other than a fly captured in mid-air by a martial arts master (with his chopsticks, of course).

A loud gasp of astonishment and admiration went up from all of the Chinese riders. Before they could get a closer look, I plopped the tiny piece of mushroom into my mouth and exaggeratedly swallowed. There was a second of stunned silence at our table, followed by another gasp and heavy applause. Gresh was the only one who rolled his eyes. A legend was born that evening, my friends, and he be me.

We had a great dinner that night (I know, I’ve been saying that about every meal on this trip). Eeeeeeyah! The fly-impersonating black fungus. The chopsticks. The applause. It was wonderful.

After dinner, all I wanted to do was get back to the hotel, take a cool shower, crank the air conditioner all the way down, and get some sleep. I posted a blog that night, I went to bed, and I probably dreamed about being a chopstick martial artist.

They’re still talking about me over there, you know.

The ride across China was amazing, the adventure of a lifetime. You can read about the adventures of dos Joes on the entire trip here:

Join our Facebook ExNotes page!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Help us keep the lights on:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

The Wayback Machine: Aging Out

By Joe Berk

A wise man once said there comes a time in every man’s life when he decides to hang it up…his riding days are over. I guess the follow-on comment has to be: Is that true?

I turned 71 a few months ago (note that this blog originally published three years ago; I’m 74 today and I’m still riding). To a lot of folks, that’s old. The funny part of it is, though, I don’t feel old. A little earlier today I was putzing around in the garage and my Royal Enfield was making me feel guilty. I hadn’t had the 650 twin out on the road in the last few weeks, a character deficiency I promptly corrected. The old girl and I had a nice ride around the neighborhood, I got the oil circulating again (in the Enfield and in yours truly), and I snapped that great photo you see at the top of this blog. That’s snow-covered San Gorgonio Mountain you see off in the distance, a destination I’ve visited many times on a motorcycle.

But to get back on topic: At what age should we think about hanging up our riding gear? Now that I’m a septuagenarian (I had to look it up, so you can, too) I’m wondering about things like that. But then I think about the guys I’ve ridden with and maybe I’ll continue riding for another 20 years or so. Take a look.

Simon Gandolfi, who just turned 90 and is arguably the most interesting man in the world, is a novelist and moto adventurer extraordinaire. He’s ridden around the world on small displacement bikes.

Colorado Dan, the man. He cuts a dashing figure and is a great traveling companion. He’s a year or two older than me.

Another most interesting man in the world…good buddy Willie. He’s usually riding when he’s not pitching Dos Equis.

James, our Texas Ranger and a serious traveler, is in my cohort and he rode Baja with us.

You know, the funny thing is the tone of the conversations during and after a good ride hasn’t changed at all over the nearly six decades I’ve been riding. The topics have changed a bit, but not really that much. We still mostly talk bikes and good roads. But instead of bragging how drunk we were the previous night and who we spent the night with (which was mostly bullshit, anyway) the topics today address different specs. Instead of 0 to 60 times, quarter mile performance, and top ends, now it’s things like our A1C, PSA, and HDL numbers. You fellow geezers know what I’m talking about. But the discussions are just as lively, I think a little more interesting, and probably a bit more truthful. We’ll touch on politics on occasion, but if the conversation gets too heated or goes too far in that direction, I can always get us back on track (and get a good laugh) when I weigh in with a single question:

You guys know what the problem is in politics today? All the guys who really know how to run the country are out screwing around riding their motorcycles.

So, at what age should you hang it up? I’m finding that’s hard to say and most guys my age and older seem to just keep on going. I’ve ridden with guys well into their 70s, 80s, and sometimes even more. Good buddy Dan is heading down to Baja next month to camp on the beach near Gonzaga Bay, and he’s a little older than me. Sim0n Gandolfi, the British novelist and adventure travel writer, rode to Cabo San Lucas and back with us on 150cc CSC Mustangs about a dozen years ago, and he’s about to leave on another epic moto trip at age 90. James from Texas bought a new motorcycle and rode one of the Baja trips with us. He spun off somewhere about halfway down the length of the Baja peninsula to take the ferry across to mainland Mexico, and he was going to ride home to Texas through Mexico. And Willie, another most interesting man in the world, rides every chance he gets when he’s not doing Dos Equis commercials. Like me, all of these guys qualify for that 89-cent cup of coffee at McDonald’s.

Yeah, I think I’m going to stay at it for a while. I think you should, too.

Never miss an ExNotes blog…sign up here for free!

The best riding in the world? In my opinion, it’s unquestionably Baja. Take a look!

Colombia’s Mighty Magdalena

By Joe Berk

I felt a mix comforting mix of “been there, done that” and smugness when I read the Wall Street Journal yesterday. The lead photo in the paper’s “Off Duty” section was strangely familiar, and as the coffee kicked in I realized it was because I’d been there: Colombia’s Magdalena River. My Magdelena photo (one of many) is the photo you see above.

The Wall Street Journal article featured places not part of the borscht belt (i.e., typical tourist destinations), and the stops it recommended along a Magdalena River cruise were locales I’d been to: Barranquilla, Cartagena, Mompox, Magangué, and others. I’ve been luckier than most because I’ve had incredible motorcycle adventures: China, Mexico, the Three Flags Classic, Baja, the Western America Adventure Ride, and more. The ride through Colombia and along the Magdalena River, though, was in many ways greater than the other motorcycle adventures. The Journal’s story had me thinking about Colombia again, and I thought I would share a few photos of the places it mentioned with you.

Mompox

Ah, Mompox. It’s pronounced and sometimes spelled Mompos…an amazing city, unlike any I had ever visited. The night we were there I wanted to stay in the hotel and post a blog for my CSC readers, but good buddy and ride leader Juan told me: Joe, your readers will wait. You need to see Mompox. He was right.

Carlos, me, and Juan having dinner in an Italian restaurant run by a German in Colombia.

Magangué

We began our ferry ride to Mompox from Magangué (pronounced ma gong gay). It was brutally hot and humid and we had to wait a couple of hours for the ferry to arrive, but that ride down the Magdelana was worth the wait. Dreamlike, it was a scene from a 1930s adventure movie. Peaceful. Indiana Jones. That ferry ride had it all. There are more adjectives I could use, but you get the idea.

Headed downstream and facing north on the Magdalena River.

Barranquilla

I first saw Barranquilla (pronounced bar en key ah) on an earlier business trip to Colombia. I’d just purchased a new Nikon D200 (the cat’s meow back then), and it had a backfocus issue I later had corrected (you can’t see it in these photos, though). I felt like Indiana Jones at a beauty pageant. If there are unattractive women in Colombia, I couldn’t find them.

Cartagena

Yep, that Cartegena, the same one as is R0mancing the Stone (although that movie was actually shot in Mexico). On that same business trip, we took an afternoon to visit Cartegana, about an hour and a half down the coast from Barranquilla.

Two Colombian highway patrol officers on the road to Cartegena. My friends thought I was nuts when I jumped out to grab this photo. The Colombian police officers probably thought so, too.

A shopkeeper in Cartagena who agreed to let me take her picture.

There were many things in Colombia well beyond what the WSJ article covered: Honda (the town, not the motorcycle), Covenas, Volcan Los Nevados, La Playa de Belem, Barichara, Villa de Leyva, and more. I saw them from my RS3 motorcycle (the carbureted version of the RX3) and you can, too, if you don’t mind living vicariously through my lens and keyboard:

Join our Facebook ExNotes page!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Help us keep the lights on:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

Too Pretty To Fight?

By Joe Berk

The Harley WLA at the National Infantry Museum was a lot prettier than any other WLA I had ever seen, but I wasn’t impressed. It was way over-restored, finished in gloss OD green (something I had never seen on a WLA before). I couldn’t find anything in my research to show that any World War II Harleys might have had such a paint treatment. I found a reference that indicated Army administrative vehicles were sometimes painted gloss OD, but nothing about motorcycles.

Fancy leather. I doubt anyone ever sat in this saddle.

I once saw General William Westmoreland’s Cadillac Sedan de Ville in Washington, DC, and it was gloss OD. But WLAs had been out of service long before that, and in any event, when I spoke with General Westmoreland he didn’t mention anything about riding motorcycles. If anyone out there knows anything about WLAs with glossy paint, please leave a comment.

Want to know more about Police and Military Motorcycles?

Join our Facebook ExNotes page!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Help us keep the lights on:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

Dave Barr (12 Apr 1952 – 7 Nov 2024)

By Joe Berk

I first heard of Dave Barr on a motorcycle ride with Baja John and friends through the wilds of Tehachapi and Kern County. One of the riders in our group (an Air Force colonel) mentioned Dave’s book on a roadside stop somewhere out in the Owens Peak wilderness area. It had my attention immediately. The Internet was in its infancy in those days and when I made it home, I managed to find more about Mr. Barr online.

The site I found listed a book (Riding the Edge) and a phone number, so I called. I ordered several copies, one for me and others for friends. The guy on the other end of the line was Dave Barr himself and we had a nice conversation. As it turned out, Dave lived in Bodfish near Lake Isabella. One thing led to another and in that conversation, I arranged another ride to meet Dave in person. Good buddy Baja John rode with me.

Dave Barr and yours truly 20 years ago in Caliente, California.

It was a grand ride, starting in Caliente (on the magnificent Bodfish-Caliente Road) and then around glorious Lake Isabella with world traveler and living legend Dave Barr. Dave rode a Sportster in those days; his earlier ride was a 1972 Super Glide. Much has been made of the fact that Barr rode that Super Glide around the world as a double amputee, but it took only a few minutes knowing Dave to stop thinking of him as a double amputee and to see him as a fascinating and genuinely nice guy, and that’s what I remember about him.

Dave Barr’s book, Riding the Edge, is the greatest motorcycle adventure story ever told, made all the more significant by two facts. The first is that Dave Barr, the author, did the ride after losing both legs to a land mine in Africa; the second is that Dave did the ride on a beat up old ’72 Harley Super Glide that had 100,000 miles on the odometer before he started his run around the planet.

Dave Barr’s ride around the world took four years, mostly because Dave financed the trip himself. He’d ride a country or two, run out of money, get a job and save for a bit, and then continue. I first read Riding the Edge two decades ago, and it was the book that lit my fire for international motorcycle riding. I’ve probably read Dave’s book five or six times. The guy was and still is my hero.

Rest in peace, Dave. You inspired me and many others, and your memory will far outlast all of us.

Join our Facebook ExNotes page!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Help us keep the lights on:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

World War II Harleys

By Joe Berk

Harley-Davidson built four military motorcycles during World War II: The WLA, the WLC, the Knucklehead EL Overhead Valve, and the XA. The 45-cubic inch V-twin WLA was the preferred US Army motorcycle, and it was the motorcycle Harley-Davidson produced in mass quantities. We recently visited the Harley-Davidson Museum in Milwaukee, where I was able to grab most of the photos you see here.

The WLA

The WLA Harley-Davidson (if you haven’t tumbled to it yet, the “A” in WLA stands for Army) used a detuned 750cc air-cooled engine. The motorcycle had a springer front end and a solid rear (there were no springs or shocks in the rear, other than the spring beneath the seat post). The WLA, like other Harleys of that era, had a foot-operated clutch on the left and a hand shifter on the fuel tank’s left side.

The Harley- Davidson WLA. This 45- cubic-inch V-twin was the U.S. Army’s principal motorcycle during World War II (photo provided by the American Motorcycle Historical Foundation). This photo is in my book, Police and Military Motorcycles.

Simplicity was the WLA’s defining theme. Its flathead engine could be disassembled using only hand tools. At the army’s request, Harley built the WLA with a carburetor that had nonadjustable needles and jets, a configuration Harley used on some of its police motorcycles. The idea was to prevent soldiers (or police officers) adjusting the carb. The WLA didn’t even have a key. A trooper just had to kick-start it and ride.

A US Army WLA on display at the Harley Museum. It’s authentic.

The Army quickly found WLA improvement opportunities. Travel on dusty roads tended to accelerate engine wear, so Harley added a monstrous oil-bath air filter. The second improvement was the headlight location. WLA headlights were initially above the handlebars (like on the civilian models). Part of the Army’s tactical doctrine, though, included a move that required the rider to use the motorcycle as a shield. The drill in that move involved skidding the rear wheel, flipping the rear out, and then laying the bike down to form a barricade…you know, so you could shoot at the bad guys from your now-prone motorcycle (thus giving new meaning to the time worn “I had to lay ‘er down” and similar expressions). The problem here was that the above-the-handlebars-headlights often broke during this maneuver. Harley remounted the headlight just above the front fender to better protect it.

The Army started buying WLA Harleys even before the United States went to war. In 1940, the Army ordered 16,000 WLAs to be delivered in 1940 and 1941, and then after Pearl Harbor, the pace increased. Harley won contracts for 13,000 WLAs in 1942, 24,000 in 1943, 11,000 in 1944, and more than 8,000 in 1945.

A United States Navy WLA in Navy gray. Note the headlight location above the handlebars.

Even the Navy got in the act with a WL variant painted sort of a battleship gray. The Navy used their motorcycles for shore patrol duties (the Shore Patrol was the Navy’s Military Police function). I saw one with a sidecar at the Harley Museum in Milwaukee. It was a sweet-looking motorcycle.

Harley-Davidson sold 88,000 military motorcycles during the war to the United States, England, Canada, China, India, and Russia. Many were eventually sold to the public. Most are in collections; some are still ridden today. In addition to the 88,000 complete motorcycles, Harley built enough spare parts to build 30,000 more motorcycles.

The WLC

During World War II, the Canadians also bought Harleys for their army, as did many other countries. The other countries used the standard WLA, but Canada had its own unique requirements. These included an auxiliary hand clutch, interchangeable front and rear wheels, and a front wheel stand (the U.S. model had the traditional Harley side stand). Harley-Davidson built 18,000 WLC motorcycles for Canada.

The 61 EL

Harley had introduced its 61-cubic-inch EL Knucklehead engine to the civilian market in 1936. The Knucklehead and its overhead valve engine offered better performance than the flathead 45 W-series Harleys. Harley-Davidson delivered a small number of military motorcycles based on the 61-cubic-inch Knucklehead engine. Man, that must have been a good gig…being an Army dispatch rider and drawing a Knucklehead for your ride. The military Knuckleheads are rare (no jokes needed here, folks). I can’t remember ever seeing one. But, I found a video of one that was for sale in 2017. Enjoy, my friends…

The XA

The Army preferred the Harley WLA to the Indian 30-50, but it had problems with both motorcycles. In addition to the engine wear and broken headlight problems mentioned above, the rear chain had to be adjusted and replaced frequently on both motorcycles. Engine overheating was another problem (the Harley and the Indian both had V-twin engines, and with a V-twin, the rear cylinder runs hotter than the front cylinder). The rear cylinders could seize because of this.

When the British captured BMW R 12 motorcycles in North Africa and provided a few to the United States, the German machines appeared to provide the answer to the U.S. Army’s major concerns with the WLA. The BMW had a relatively maintenance-free driveshaft to provide power to the rear wheel. The BMW’s horizontally-opposed twin cylinders were both out in the airstream, and as a result the BMW engine ran about a hundred degrees cooler than the Harley and Indian engines. The shaft drive did away with the chain and its wear and adjustment issues. The giant oil bath air cleaner was in a great location. And the BMW had a foot shifter and a hand clutch, a much easier to operate arrangement.

The Army asked both Harley-Davidson and Indian to develop prototypes based on the BMW R 12. Harley-Davidson’s answer was the XA, which looked, for all intents and purposes, as if the BMW engine and shaft drive had been grafted into a standard WLA. In reality, what had happened was very close to that. Harley reverse-engineered the BMW drive train and mated its version into the WLA chassis. The first few, including the prototype, even had the Harley springer front end.

A closeup of the 750cc flathead Harley boxer twin.

Another view of a non-sidecar-equipped Harley XA. Note the twin carbs, the air cleaner location behind the generator, and the foot shift.

The Army was impressed with both the Harley and Indian BMW clones, and they gave both manufacturers production contracts. Harley and Indian each built 1,000 machines based on the BMW design. Harley’s XA was more of a direct copy; Indian’s design had the cylinders tilted up like a modern Moto Guzzi. But while the Harley and Indian development work was under way, the army had been experimenting with other transportation concepts and found that the 4WD Willys (the Jeep) was a much better all-around military vehicle. The Army shifted its resources to Jeep acquisition and did not take delivery on the motorcycles Harley and Indian had already produced. The Army can be fickle like that.

Both Harley and Indian did not pursue BMW clones, since neither company saw any significant civilian demand. Both manufacturers sold their machines to the public and walked away from further development. Today, both the Harley XA and its Indian counterpart are highly collectible.

The Real Knuckleheads?

On that topic of knuckleheads mentioned above…no, not the EL model mentioned several paragraphs up, but the guys running the show in the War Department and over at Indian. You see, the War Department’s spec for their desired military motorcycles called for a 30.5 cubic inch motorcycle (a 500cc twin). Indian snapped to and developed the Model 741 you see in the video below. Harley thought about things for a minute and told the Army they didn’t make a 500cc motorcycle, and they let the Army know they weren’t about to start. Harley further informed the, er, knuckleheads that they made a very good 45 cubic inch motorcycle, and if the Army wanted Harleys, that’s what they could buy.

The knuckleheads (the ones in uniform, not the EL motorcycles) quickly found out that Harley was right. The troops let the brass know that Harleys were better motorcycles, and that’s why the Army ordered many more Harley WLAs than Indians.

There’s one more area in which Harley had to set the knuckleheads straight. During the war, the Army told Harley and Indian to cancel all civilian motorcycle production and make only military motorcycles. Indian saluted and executed. Harley let the War Department know they could go pound sand. By keeping their civilian production going, Harley preserved their customer base. After the war, Harley prospered. Indian? Well, you know how that story ends.

I wrote a story for Motorcycle Classics magazine about the Indian 30-50 (Indian’s World War II workhorse) a few years ago. You can view it here. I also have a video of that bike you might enjoy:

Want to know more about Police and Military Motorcycles?

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

So Cal Royal Enfield

By Joe Berk

Sue and I visited the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda (one of our favorite So Cal destinations) to hear Fox News’ Jesse Watters speak a couple of days ago. I’ll post a blog about that in a few days. On the way home, we stopped at a motorcycle dealership in Brea, California. Normally, I avoid motorcycle dealerships for a lot of reasons (as outlined in 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM), but I used to have my 1200 Daytona serviced at So Cal Motorcycles and I thought I’d stop in for a visit. So Cal Motorcycles is a multi-brand dealership selling Ducati, Triumph, Royal Enfield, and Suzuki. I stopped with the intention of looking at the Enfields, but I also spent some time in the Triumph showroom. This blog focuses on the Enfields; I’ll post another one on the Triumphs in the near future.

As you probably know, I ride a Royal Enfield 650cc Interceptor. Joe Gresh and I tested two Enfields in Baja a few years ago. You can see those bikes at the Paralelo 28 military post in the photo above (we were about 500 miles south of the border when I took that shot). Our conclusion was that the 650cc Interceptor was a marvelous machine (I liked it so much I bought one), but the 500cc Bullet needed muey attention before it would meet our low bar for approval. That was a few years ago, though, and that’s why we visited So Cal Motorcycles.

As soon as we parked, I noticed several Enfields parked outside. I had not seen their new singles up close and personal yet. The model line has become a bit confusing for me. It used to just the Bullet (their single), then they added the Interceptor (the 650cc twin), and my 15-kilobyte mind could handle that. Now they have several different versions of the 650 twin and a whole bunch of singles in 350cc, 411cc, and maybe other displacements. I won’t try to explain the entire model line here, mostly because I don’t feel like expending calories trying to wrap my mind around it all. I just wanted to see the bikes and take a few photos. I did that, and I have to tell you: Royal Enfields are still great looking motorcycles. Check out the 350cc Meteor singles below:

The Meteor 350 is the bike you see at the top of this blog and the two you see immediately above. The price on Enfields has always been attractive; on the Meteor it is even more so. So Cal Enfield had a 2023 leftover Meteor and the price on it was especially attractive.

Next up were the Himalayan models, Enfield’s ADV bikes.

The Himalayan has a 411cc single cylinder engine. The colors are attractive. I didn’t see any with luggage, but I know panniers and top case are available. I saw a guy riding one of these one time when I was returning from northern California on Interstate 5. I was cruising along at 77mph; I think the Himalayan was running about 70mph. Enfield’s spec sheets puts the horsepower at 25. I guess that’s enough. My RX3 had 24.8 horsepower, and it took me all over the western US, Mexico, Colombia, and China.

As an aside, a bunch of folks (including Royal Enfield) are offering trips through India (and the Himalayan Mountains) on Royal Enfield motorcycles. I’m tempted. I’ve always wanted to visit that part of the world, and the thought of doing it on a motorcycle is appealing. The photo ops would be amazing, and I’d get another book out of it, I think. Ah, maybe someday. Maybe I should write a letter to Enfield and ask them to sponsor me.

Enfield’s Classic line looked good, too. At just under $800, the freight and setup fees are ridiculous and larcenous (they were lower than what I’ve seen other dealers charging, though). Motorcycle dealers’ posted freight and setup charges are often nothing more than a suggested negotiating starting point, but it’s still annoying to see this kind of imaginative exaggeration. I wrote about this common dealer misrepresentation in 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM.

So Cal Enfield had what apparently is a 650 twin anniversary model. It was a used bike with an asking price of $15,999. Hope springs eternal, I suppose.

Like most motorcycle companies, Royal Enfield has a clothing line. I saw a sweatshirt I thought I might want until I looked at the price. It was $88. I put it back on the rack. I don’t think I would ever pay $88 for a sweatshirt.

I enjoyed viewing the Enfield line at So Cal Motorcycles. My negative comments about freight and setup (and $88 sweatshirts) notwithstanding, I believe So Cal Motorcycles is a reputable dealer. When I rode Triumphs, I sometimes had So Cal service my bikes, and they always did a good job. Unlike my experience at other dealers, I never had to bring my bikes back because they botched the job. If I was in the market for another Enfield, this would be the place I would go.

Interestingly, Sue and I were the only people in So Cal’s Enfield room. The Ducati room was similarly empty (other than lots of outrageously expensive red motorcycles). Maybe we just hit a lull when we were there. The Triumph showroom, on the other hand, was hopping. I’ll talk more about that in a near-term future blog. Stay tuned.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

The Wayback Machine: 7 Favorite Baja Destinations

Baja is a motorcycling paradise and I have a bunch of favorite destinations there. Seven of them, to be precise, although truth be told, I like everything in Baja except for Tijuana and maybe La Paz and Loreto. That said, my favorites are:

- - Tecate
  - San Quintin
  - Cataviña
  - Guerrero Negro
  - San Ignacio
  - Santa Rosalia
  - Concepcion Bay

Here’s where they are on a map:

So what’s so great about these places? Read on, my friends.

Tecate

Tecate is the gateway to the middle of northern Baja, and it’s the easiest point of entry. Both Tijuana and Mexicali are too big and too complicated, and the Mexican Customs guys are too official in those bigger cities. Tecate is a friendly place. The last time I picked up a tourist visa in Tecate, the Customs officer tried to sell me salsa he and his family made as a side gig. That’s what the place is like. I love it.

If you’re into fine dining (not as in expensive dining, but just great food), it’s hard to go wrong anywhere in Baja. Tecate has some of the best, from street taco vendors to Malinalli’s to Amore’s. I could spend a week just in Tecate. It’s that good.

Uncle Joe Gresh with street tacos in Tecate. Wow, were they ever good.

The buffet at Malinalli’s is regional, awesome, and inexpensive. It’s a hidden treasure.

Dos Joes’ motos on an Enfield expedition that took us through Tecate.

The Tecate brewery dominate the Tecate skyline and is visible from just about anywhere in town. A can of ice cold Tecate with sea salt around the rim and a bit of lime juice…life doesn’t get any better.

San Quintin

San Quintin is 186.4 miles south of the border on Baja’s Pacific coast. It’s usually a quiet ag town that has a lot of things going for it, including interesting hotels, good food, and Bahia San Quintin. The Old Mill hotel and its associated restaurant, Eucalipto, is my personal favorite. The hotel is about 4 miles west of the Transpeninsular Highway, and what used to be a harrowing soft sand ride to it is now easy peasy…the road is paved and riding there is no longer a test of your soft sand riding skills. The Eucalipto restaurant is second to none.

What could be better than an ice cold Tecate overlooking Bahia San Quintin after a day’s riding in Baja? We once saw a California gray whale from this very spot.

A man, a motorcycle, and Mexico….the sign on the Transpenisular Highway pointing toward Bahia San Quintin and the Old Mill Hotel. The bike? That’s the 650cc Royal Enfield, perfect for riding Baja. But then just about any motorcycle is perfect for riding Baja.

Bahia San Quintin at dawn. It’s an awesome spot.

Uncle Joe enjoying breakfast in the Old Mill’s Eucalipto. It is an exquisite restaurant.

You’ll notice at the top of my scribblings about San Quintin I said it is usually a quiet town. The one exception for us was when there was a labor riot and we were caught in it. The Mexican infantryman about 80 miles north of San Quintin told me the road was closed, but his English matched my Spanish (neither are worth a caca), and without me understanding what I was riding into, he let me proceed. It’s not an experience I would care to repeat. But it’s the only event of its type I ever experienced in Old Mexico, and I’d go back in a heartbeat.

The Cataviña Boulder Fields

Ah, Cataviña. Rolling down the Transpeninsular Highway, about 15 miles before you hit the wide spot in the road that is Cataviña you enter the boulder fields. Other-worldly is not too strong a description, and if the place wasn’t so far south of the border it would probably be used more often by Hollywood in visits to other planets. The boulders are nearly white, they are huge, and the juxtaposition of their bulk with the bright blue sky punctuated by Cardon cactus.

Pastel geology. The area really is as beautiful as the photos depict it to be.

I get a funny feeling every time I enter this part of Baja. Not funny as in bad, but funny as in I feel like I’m where I belong. I once rolled through this region in the early morning hours with my daughter and she told me “you know, it’s weird, Dad. I feel like I’m home.” She understood (as in completely understood) the magic that is Baja.

I like the area and its stark scenery so much that one of my photos became the cover of Moto Baja! I grabbed that shot from the saddle at about 30 mph on a CSC 150 Mustang replica, which I subsequently rode all the way down to Cabo San Lucas (that story is here).

You should buy a copy or three. They make great gifts.

Every time I roll through Cataviña with other riders, the dinner conversation invariably turns to how the boulders formed. When I was teaching at Cal Poly Pomona, I asked one of my colleagues in the Geology Department. He know the area as soon as I mentioned it. The answer? Wind erosion.

Guerrero Negro

The Black Warrior. The town is named after a ship that went down just off its coast. It’s a salt mining town exactly halfway down the peninsula, and it’s your ticket in for whale watching and the best fish tacos in Baja (and that’s saying something). I’ve had a lot of great times in Guerrero Negro. It’s about 500 miles south of the border. You can see the giant steel eagle marking the 28th Parallel (the line separating Baja from Baja Sur) a good 20 miles out, and from there, it’s a right turn for the three mile ride west into town. Malarrimo’s is the best known hotel and whale watching tour, but there are several are they are all equally good. It you can’t get a room at Malarrimo’s, try the Hotel Don Gus.

CSC RX3 motorcycles at the Hotel Don Gus. We used to do annual Baja tours with CSC…those were fun times and great trips, and introduced a lot of folks to the beauty of Baja.

What it’s all about…getting up close and personal with the California gray whales. They are in town from January through March.

Tony, taco chef extraordinaire. You might think I’m exaggerating. I’m not.

It’s worth the 500-miles trek to Guerrero Negro just to savor Tony’s fish tacos. You might think I’m exaggerating. But like I said above…I’m not.

Man does not live by fish tacos alone, so for breakfast or dinner, it’s either the restaurant at Malaririmo’s or the San Remedio, a block north of the main drag into town. You won’t be disappointed at either.

Sue’s photo of a Guerrero Negro osprey enjoying some sushi.

After you leave Guerrero Negro and continue south, the Transpeninsular Highway turns southeast to take you diagonally across the Baja peninsula. About 70 miles down the road (which is about half the distance to the eastern shores of Baja and the Sea of Cortez along Mexico Highway 1) you’ll see the turn for San Ignacio. It’s another one of Baja’s gems.

San Ignacio

San Ignacio is an oasis in the middle of the desert that forms much of Baja. The Jesuits introduced date farming to the region hundreds of years ago, and it’s still here in a big way. Leave Guerrero Negro, head southeast on Mexico Highway 1, and 70 miles later you run into a Mexican Army checkpoint, a series of switchbacks through a lava field, and when you see the date palms, turn right.

The San Ignacio church, built as a mission in the 1700s, dominates the center of San Ignacio. It’s a beautiful spot, one of the most photogenic in all of Baja.

Another photo of the San Ignacio Mission. You’ll want to grab some photos in San Ignacio.

Dates? Nope, not on that trip, but dates are one of the things San Ignacio is known for. I’ll bet they are delicious.

San Ignacio has a town square that’s right out of central casting, there’s a little restaurant that serves the best chile rellenos in all of Mexico (I’m not exaggerating), and the place just has a laid back, relaxing feel about it.

Santa Rosalia

You know, this town is another one of Baja’s best kept secrets. As you travel south on Highway 1, San Ignacio is the first town you encounter after traveling diagonally across the peninsula. Folks dismiss it because it’s an industrial town, but they do so in ignorance. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this place.

One of the things that’s unique about Santa Rosalia is the all-wooden architecture. The town was originally built by a French mining company (Boleo) and they built it they way they did in France. Like the Hotel Frances, which sits high on a mesa overlooking the town and the Sea of Cortez. I love staying there.

The Hotel Frances. It used to be a brothel.

There’s a cool mining musuem a block or two away from the Frances, and it’s worth a visit, too.

There are many cool things in Santa Rosalia, and one of the best is the Georg Eiffel church. It was designed by the same guy guy who did the Eiffel town.

Santa Rosalia’s church. It’s an unexpected delight. And I’m not even Catholic.

Inside Santa Rosalia’s Georg Eiffel church.

Stained glass. Photos ops abound in Santa Rosalia.

I’ve heard people dismiss Santa Rosalia as a gritty, industrial place not worth a stop. Trust me on this: They’re wrong. It’s one of my favorite Baja spots.

Bahía Concepción

Concepción Bay is easily the most scenic spot in Baja. It’s just south of Mulege (another delightful little town, and the subject of an upcoming ExNotes blog). Bahía Concepción runs for maybe 20 miles along the eastern edge of the Baja peninsula. I’ve seen whales from the highway while riding along its edge, the beaches are magnificent, and the photo ops just don’t stop. The contrast between the mountains and Cardon cactus on one side and the pelicans diving into bright green water is view from the saddle you won’t soon forget.

World-famous novelist and motorcycle adventurer Simon Gandolfi andn yours truly on 150cc scooters. We were on our way back from Cabo San Lucas when we stopped for this Bahía Concepción photo. Hardtail 150cc scooters. Up and down the length of Baja. I think about that ride every time I see a GS parked at a Starbuck’s.

So there you have it: My take on seven favorite spots in Baja? How about you? Do you have any favorite Baja destinations? Let us know here in the comments sction!

It’s Always About The Motors

By Joe Berk

For me a motorcycle’s appearance, appeal, and personality are defined by its motor. I’m not a chopper guy, but I like the look of a chopper because the engine absolutely dominates the bike. I suppose to some people fully faired motorcycles are beautiful, but I’m not in that camp. The only somewhat fully faired bike I ever had was my 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200, but you could still see a lot of the engine on that machine. I once wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics on the Solvang Vintage Motorcycle Museum and while doing so I called Virgil Elings, the wealthy entrepreneur who owned it. I asked Elings what drove his interest in collecting motorcycles. His answer? The motors. He spoke about the mechanical beauty of a motorcycle’s engine, and that prompted me to ask for his thoughts on fully faired bikes. “I suppose they’re beautiful to some,” he said, “but when you take the fairings off, they look like washing machines.” I had a good laugh. His observation was spot on.

A 1200cc Harley Panhead motor I photographed at the Rock Store in Malibu.

My earliest memory of drooling over a motorcycle occurred sometime in the 1950s when I was a little kid. My Mom was shopping with me somewhere in one of those unenclosed malls on Route 18 in New Jersey, and in those days, it was no big deal to let your kid wander off and explore while you shopped. I think it was some kind of a general store (I have no idea what Mom was looking for), and I wandered outside on the store’s sidewalk. There was a blue Harley Panhead parked out front, and it was the first time I ever had a close look at a motorcycle. It was beautiful, and the motor was especially beautiful. It had those early panhead corrugated exhaust headers, fins, cables, chrome, and more. I’ve always been fascinated by all things mechanical, and you just couldn’t find anything more mechanical than a Big Twin engine.

There have been a few Sportsters that do it for me, too, like Harley’s Cafe Racer from the late 1970s. That was a fine-looking machine dominated by its engine. I liked the Harley XR1000, too.

A 1000cc Harley Cafe Racer photographed at one of the Hansen Dam meets. When these were new, they sold for about $3,000.

I’ve previously mentioned my 7th grade fascination with Walt Skok’s Triumph Tiger. It had the same mesmerizing motorrific effect as the big twin Panhead described above. I could stare at that 500cc Triumph engine for hours (and I did). The 650 Triumphs were somehow even more appealing. The mid-’60s Triumphs are the most beautiful motorcycles in the world (you might think otherwise and that’s okay…you have my permission to be wrong).

A 1966 Triumph Bonneville and it’s 650cc twin-carb engine. My Dad rode a Bonneville just like this one.

BSA did a nice job with their engine design, too. Their 650 twins in the ’60s looked a lot like Triumph’s, and that’s a good thing. I see these bikes at the Hansen Dam Norton Owners Club meets. They photograph incredibly well, as do nearly all vintage British twins.

A late1960s BSA at Hansen Dam. These are beautiful motorcycles, too.

When we visited good buddy Andrew in New Jersey recently, he had several interesting machines, but the one that riveted my attention was his Norton P11. It’s 750cc air cooled engine is, well, just wonderful. If I owned that bike I’d probably stare at it for a few minutes every day. You know, just to keep my batteries charged.

Andrew Capone’s P-11 Norton. You can read about our visit with Andrew here.

You know, it’s kind of funny…back in the 1960s I thought Royal Enfield’s 750cc big twins were clunky looking. Then the new Royal Enfield 650 INT (aka the Interceptor to those of us unintimidated by liability issues) emerged. Its appearance was loosely based on those clunky old English Enfields, but the new twin’s Indian designers somehow made the engine look way better. It’s not clunky at all, and the boys from Mumbai made their interpretive copy of an old English twin look more British than the original. The new Enfield Interceptor is a unit construction engine, but the way the polished aluminum covers are designed it looks like a pre-unit construction engine. The guys from the subcontinent hit a home run with that one. I ought to know; after Gresh and I road tested one of these for Enfield North America on a Baja ride, I bought one.

The current iteration of Royal Enfield’s 650cc twin. I rode this bike through Baja and liked it so much I bought one when I returned from Mexico. Here’s more (a lot more) about that adventure.

Another motorcycle that let you see its glorious air-cooled magnificence was the CB750 Honda. It was awesome in every regard and presented well from any angle, including the rear (which is how most other riders saw it on the road). The engine was beyond impressive, and when it was introduced, I knew I would have one someday (I made that dream come true in 1971). I still can’t see one without taking my iPhone out to grab a photo.

A 1969 or 1970 Honda CB 750. This is the motorcycle that put the nail in the British motorcycle industry coffin. I had one just like it.

After Honda stunned the world with their 750 Four, the copycats piled on. Not to be outdone, Honda stunned the world again when they introduced their six-cylinder CBX. I had an ’82. It was awesome. It wasn’t the fastest motorcycle I ever owned, but it was one of the coolest (and what drove that coolness was its air-cooled straight six engine).

A Honda CBX engine photographed at the Del Mar fairgrounds near San Diego. The CBX was a motorcycle that added complexity where none was required. It was an impressive machine.

Like they did with the 750 Four, Kawasaki copied the Honda six cylinder, but the Kawasaki engine was water-cooled and from an aesthetics perspective, it was just a big lump. The Honda was a finely-finned work of art. I never wanted a Kawasaki Six; I still regret selling my Honda CBX. The CBX was an extremely good-looking motorcycle. It was all engine. What completed the look for me were the six chrome exhaust headers emerging from in front. I put 20,000 miles on mine and sold it for what it cost me, and now someone else is enjoying it. The CBX was stunning motorcycle, but you don’t need six cylinders to make a motorcycle beautiful. Some companies managed to do it with just two, and some with only one. Consider the engines mentioned at the start of this piece (Harley, Triumph, BSA, and Norton).

I shot this photo at Hansen Dam, too. I always wanted a mid-’60s Moto Guzzi. Never scratched that itch, though. They sound amazing. Imagine a refined Harley, and you’d have this.

Moto Guzzi’s air-cooled V-twins are in a class by themselves. I love the look and the sound of an air-cooled Guzzi V-twin. It’s classy. I like it.

Some motorcycle manufacturers made machines that were mesmerizing with but a single cylinder, so much so that they inspired modern reproductions, and then copies of those reproductions. Consider Honda’s GB500, and more than a few motorcycles from China and even here in the US that use variants of the GB500 engine.

The Honda GB500, Honda’s nod to earlier British singles. It’s another one I always wanted.

The GB500 is a water cooled bike, but Sochoiro’s boys did it right. The engine is perfect. Like I said above, variants of that engine are still made in China and Italy; one of those engines powers the new Janus 450 Halcyon.

The Janus 450 Halcyon I rode in Goshen. That resulted in a feature story in Motorcycle Classics. It’s engine is by SWM in Italy, which is a variant of the Chinese copy of the GB500 engine. I liked the Janus.

No discussion of mechanical magnificence would be complete without mentioning two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made: The Brough Superior SS100 and the mighty Vincent. The Brits’ ability to design a visually arresting, aesthetically pleasing motorcycle engine must be a genetic trait. Take a look at these machines.

The Brough Superior SS100. Its engine had a constant loss lubrication system. This is the same motorcycle Lawrence of Arabia rode. One of my grandsons is named T.E. Lawrence.

The mighty Vincent. This and the Brough Superior above were both photographed at Hansen Dam.

Two additional bits of moto exotica are the early inline and air-cooled four-cylinder Henderson, and the Thor, one of the very first V-twin engine designs. Both of these boast American ancestry.

Jay Leno’s 1931 Henderson. He told me he bought it off a 92-year-old guy in Vegas who was getting a divorce and needed to raise cash, and I fell for it.

The Henderson you see above belongs to Jay Leno, who let me photograph it at one of the Hansen Dam Norton gatherings. Incidentally, if there’s a nicer guy than Jay Leno out there, I haven’t met him. The man is a prince. He’s always gracious, and he’s never too busy to talk motorcycles, sign autographs, or pose for photos. You can read about some of the times I’ve bumped into Jay Leno at the Rock Store or the Hansen Dam event right here on ExNotes.

A Thor V-twin photographed at the Franklin Auto Museum in Tucson, Arizona. You almost need a four-year mechanical engineering degree to start one of these. Thor made the first engines for Indian.

Very early vintage motorcycles’ mechanical complexity is almost puzzle-like…they are the Gordian knots of motorcycle mechanical engineering design. I photographed a 1913 Thor for Motorcycle Classics (that story is here), and as I was optimizing the photos I found myself wondering how guys back in the 1910s started the things. I was able to crack the code, but I had to concentrate so hard it reminded me of dear departed mentor Bob Haskell talking about the Ph.Ds and other wizards in the advanced design group when I worked in the bomb business: “Sometimes those guys think so hard they can’t think for months afterward,” Bob told me (both Bob and I thought the wizards had confused their compensation with their capability).

There’s no question in my mind that water cooling a motorcycle engine is a better way to go from an engineering perspective. Water cooling adds weight, cost, and complexity, but the fuel efficiency and power advantages of water cooling just can’t be ignored. I don’t like when manufacturers attempt to make a water-cooled engine look like an air-cooled engine with the addition of fake fins (it somehow conveys design dishonesty). But some marques make water cooled engines look good (Virgil Elings’ comments notwithstanding). My Triumph Speed Triple had a water-cooled engine. I think the Brits got it right on that one.

My 2007 Triumph Speed Triple. Good buddy Marty told me some folks called these the Speed Cripple. In my case, that turned out to be true, but that’s another story for another blog.

My 2015 CSC RX3. Before you go all nuts on me and start whining about Chinese motorcycle quality, I need to tell you I rode these across China, through the Andes Mountains in Colombia, up and down Baja a bunch of times, and all over the American west (you can read about those adventures here). It was one of the best and most comfortable bikes I ever owned.

Zongshen is another company that makes water-cooled engines look right. I thought my RX3 had a beautiful engine and I really loved that motorcycle. I sold it because I wasn’t riding it too much, but the tiny bump in my bank account that resulted from the sale, in retrospect, wasn’t worth it. I should have kept the RX3. When The Big Book Of Best Motorcycles In The History Of The World is written, I’m convinced there will be a chapter on the RX3.

The future of “motor” cycling? This is the CSC RX1E. I rode it and liked it. The silence takes some getting used to.

With the advent of electric motorcycles, I’ve ridden a few and they are okay, but I can’t see myself ever buying one. That’s because as I said at the beginning of this blog, for me a motorcycle is all about the motor. I realize that’s kind of weird, because on an electric motorcycle the power plant actually is a motor, not an internal combustion engine (like all the machines described above). What you mostly see on an electric motorcycle is the battery, which is the large featureless chingadera beneath the gas tank (which, now that I’m writing about it, isn’t a gas tank at all). I don’t like the silence of an electric motorcycle. They can be fast (the Zero I rode a few years ago accelerated so aggressively it scared the hell out of me), but I need some noise, I need to feel the power pulses and engine vibration, and I want other people to hear me. The other thing I don’t care for is that on an electric motorcycle, the power curve is upside down. They accelerate hardest off a dead stop and fade as the motor’s rpm increases; a motorcycle with an internal combustion engine accelerates harder as the revs come up.

Wow, this blog went on for longer than I thought it would. I had fun writing it and I had fun going through my photo library for the pics you see here. I hope you had fun reading it.

Never miss an ExNotes blog: