Category: Dream Bike

Dream Bike: 1969 Kawasaki 500cc Triple

The 1969 Kawasaki 500cc Triple.

The ’69 Kawasaki Mach III 500cc two-stroke triple:  Wow!  It was a watershed wunderbike back in the days when the Big Four had serious engineering, the kind that went way beyond Bold New Graphics.  They were trying all kinds of mechanically wild and wonderful things then.  It was a magnificent time to start a motorcycle riding career.

Nicknamed the Widowmaker for its tendency to wobble and wheelie,  the Mach III was the fastest motorcycle of its era, its MSRP was under $1000, and it would whomp a Honda CB750 in a drag race.  I know because I was there.  I had a Honda 750 and my college compadre Keith had the Kawi triple.  I had a 50% displacement advantage and that extra cylinder, but it was to no avail. Keith cleaned my clock at every light.

Good buddy Gobi Gresh is all gaga on these bikes, so I guess that’s what induced my heightened sensitivity to the topic of all things two-stroke triple.  Yesterday morning a note arrived in my email from Motorcycle Classics (the gold standard of motorcycle magazines, in my opinion), and it mentioned an article on a Mach III restoration by Anders Carlson.  I sent it on to Arjiu knowing his perverted puttster predilections, he told me the story was really good, and I read it.  I agree.  I’ve never met Mr. Carlson, but let me tell you, the man can write.

Truth be told, I never wanted a Kawasaki Triple back then in any of the four flavors (I believe that as the line grew, they offered a 250, a 350, the original 500, and a 750 version).  Now, maybe having one would be cool.  I’d be a better man, I think, if I owned one.

I did my first international motorcycle ride ever with good buddy Keith back in the early ’70s.  Keith rode his ferociously fast 500 triple and I rode my Honda 4 from central Jersey to Montreal.  We were in high spirits, as might be expected.   We were two young guys riding our bikes to Canada.  Canada!  It would almost be like going to another country!  We were in engineering school back then, both of us were in Army ROTC, and it was a fun ride.  We joked that folks might think we were draft dodgers, heading to Canada and all.

We swapped bikes for a while somewhere in Vermont and I thought the Kawasaki was downright painful.  That bike could have been an enhanced interrogation tool before the term was invented. It felt like sitting a two-by-four plank.  The 500 triple was fast in a digital sort of way (full on, or full off) and I didn’t care for it.  My CB750 was a much more comfortable bike and it sounded the way I thought a motorcycle ought to.   You know, like an Offenhauser.  The Kawi sounded like a chain saw.

My buddy Peter had one of the Kawasaki 750 triples.  I didn’t know him then, but he told me a story about that bike going into a high speed wobble coming down California’s Cajon Pass (the result being one pitched Peter with a broken shoulder that bothers him to this day).   “I can’t tell you how many times I ran out of gas on that thing,” was his only other comment.  I guess it liked fuel.

Still, the Kawi two-stroke triples are iconic bikes, and the Carlson article I mentioned above is a great read.  If I was going to have a Kawi triple, it would be a white one with blue stripes (the original colors), just like Keith’s and the one you see in the photo above.

Dream Bike: ’95 Triumph Daytona 1200

Somewhere in New Mexico on the 2005 Three Flags Rally with my ’95 Daytona 1200, a bike I still dream about.

I guess a bike can still be a dream bike if you owned one and then sold it. Hell, I still dream about my Triumph 1200 Daytona, so I guess it qualifies. It was a fantastic bike. A real locomotive. Crude, strong, powerful, and fun.  And fast.  Wow, was it ever fast!

I first saw a 1200 Daytona at a CBX Honda meet (yeah, I had one of those, too). It was at a guy’s house somewhere in Hollywood, and this dude also had a black 1200 Daytona.  Well, maybe that’s not quite right…I saw one at the Long Beach Show even before then, but I didn’t really appreciate what it was all about. This CBX guy was laughing and telling me about the Daytona’s design.

“What they did, har har har, was basically just hang an extra cylinder off the right side of the motor, har har har,” he said. “Here, har har har, take a look at this, har har har,” and with that, he walked behind the Daytona and pointed to the engine. Holy mackerel, I thought. It had been a 900cc triple. Now it was a 1200 four, and the added girth of that extra cylinder stuck out of the frame on the right.  They didn’t even re-center the engine in the frame.  Anything this crude, I thought, I had to have. Har har har, the CBX guy was right.  This was a machine worth owning.  I had to get me one.

I guess the feeling passed (they usually do), but that bike stuck in my mind.  I had pretty much forgotten all about that Daytona until one day when I received an email, way back in ’02, from my riding buddy Marty. It seemed there was a brand-new 1995 Triumph Daytona on Ebay.  7 years old, never sold, and the dealer in Wisconsin was auctioning it off on Ebay. In 2002.

Jesus, I was still on dial up Internet in those days.  I can still hear the squelching when I logged onto AOL to get to the Internet.  This can’t be right, I thought, as I studied the Ebay listing.  I called the dealer. He was a Ducati and Kawasaki guy now, somewhere in Wisconsin.  Used to be a Triumph dealer.  He got the Daytona when he was still selling Triumphs, he had put it on display (it was stunning), nobody bit, he was anxious to sell, he lost the Triumph franchise years ago, and he was finally getting around to unloading the Daytona. Yep, it’s brand new, he told me. Never registered. 0.6 miles on the clock. $12,995 back in ’95.  I already knew that.  It was beyond my reach back then.

I did the only thing I could think of. I put in a bid. Using dial up. On Ebay. My friend Marty was shocked. So was I.

Over the next several days, the price climbed. Then it was D-day. Then H-hour. Then M-minute. The bid was $7,195. For a 7-year old, brand new, originally $12,995 motorcycle. I waited until there were just a few seconds left and I put in a bid for $7,202. On dial up Internet. Nothing happened. That was dial up for you.

The auction ended, my dial up Ebay was flashing at me. I swore up a blue streak, cursing the genes that had made me a cheap SOB who wouldn’t pay extra for broadband.  I used dial up to save a few bucks, and now it had cost me big time.  I thought I had let that dream bike get away. Then Ebay announced the winner, and it was me.

Yahoo! (No, Ebay and AOL!)  I won!  Whoopee!

My dream come true, after arriving from Wisconsin by air. I had visions of flying to Wisconsin and riding back, but when I called, the dealer’s wife told me he was out front shoveling snow…
I know. Stunning. Mine. A dream come true.
Beauty like this can drive ya buggy. The aftermath of a CLASSIFIED high speed run across central California on Highway 58.

A few days later, I had the bike, and my dream came true. I put 20,000 miles on it, I rode the thing from Canada to Mexico on the 30th Anniversary Three Flags Rally with Marty (I was the only Triumph among the 400 bikes that rode the event that year), and then I sold it. A dream come true, and I sold it.  I know, I know.   What was I thinking?

I can still dream, I guess, and I often do, of that big yellow locomotive with one cylinder hanging off the right side…

Check out more of our Dream Bikes here!

The Only Time I Bought a New Motorcycle

Our tiny motorcycle world is flooded with hyper-ventilating products. We are spoiled for choice in both gear and bike models to suit an unfathomable number of riding styles, lifestyles and hairstyles. Motorcycle manufacturers pour increasing amounts of capitol into chasing an aging, dwindling ridership. Adrift, bike makers are doubling down on complexity and exclusivity combined with rich textures and finishes. It’s a Corinthian Leather approach to motorcycling that didn’t work for the Chrysler Cordoba, either. The same technology that helps keep computer memory exponentially increasing allows builders to make a (nearly) unique motorcycle for each and every one of us, for a price. It’s still not working for me.

I don’t understand the desires of today’s motorcyclist. I don’t value the things they value and I don’t even understand the conversation when they start talking farkles. To me, farkles are things that break off in a crash. Big, heavy, cluttered motorcycles are the popular choice amongst riders. Riders like massive, unusable power tamed by tinker-toy mystery boxes and acres of plastic covering automotive-quality mechanicals. Strip the faring off of a modern motorcycle and gaze at the industrial wreckage: That’s not why I got into motorcycles, man.

The last time a motorcycle manufacturer spoke to me was in the early 1980’s, by, of all people, Honda. You guys know I’m pretty hard on Honda. Their recent offerings have been bland and sensible, but there was a time when Honda built some of the most desirable motorcycles in the world.

The bike that called my name…the Honda XL600R.

We have lost the ability to be surprised in this Internet age but in 1983 I walked into San Diego’s Fun Bike Center and ran head first into Honda’s new XL600R. I was blindsided by its superiority over every motorcycle I had ever owned. A pulsing red mist settled in over my eyes. With its long travel mono-shock suspension and potent 600cc single-cylinder engine it was not only perfect for dirt, but the semi powerful disc front brake allowed the XL to do a damn good impression of a sport bike on the pavement. Ask that guy riding the Ninja 600 on Palomar Mountain.

I had to have one right now. With $2000 dollars in my bank account I drained that sucker dry and started pitching the deal to area dealerships. The downtown Honda dealer bit and later the next day I was flat broke but invincible.

The bike was a revelation. Trails that I bounced over at 45 miles per hour were now smooth and level at 70 miles per hour. I could go so fast (95 mph!) in the dirt I was overshooting familiar corners. Dry riverbeds became desert freeways. The bike demanded a recalibration of all my senses and a new riding style. It didn’t like pussy-footing around. You had to slide way up on the gas tank and make every move a hard, aggressive move. Kick starting it was a pain but the endless wheelies and powerslides made it all worthwhile. I put 70,000 miles on the XL600. Sadly the engine reliability wasn’t equal to its overall brilliance. I had to rebuild the engine three times.

$10K, to start. Wow!

I look at the zillions of new motorcycle models and none of them fire my passion like that ’83 XL600R. There is one bike though, one bike that almost duplicates that long-ago blood-lust and oddly enough it’s another Honda. The new CRF450L. At $10,000 I wont be rushing down to the Honda dealer with cash in hand like 1983. I’m older and wiser now, and I may not be able to recalibrate my senses.

Dream Bike: 1969 Honda SL350

Highly desirable, as would I be if I owned one (or so I thought): The 1969 SL350 Honda.

The year was 1969 and things were happening. On the world stage, Vietnam was going full tilt with no end in sight; on the home stage, I had finished high school and was enjoying my summer working at the California Speed and Sport Shop (I’ve got to do a blog about that place someday). I was 18 years old, I had a Honda 90, Triumph 650s ruled the streets, and the pizza in New Jersey was the best in the world. Stated differently, life was good.

My cousin Marsha was seeing a cool guy named Don. Don was a little older and infinitely cooler than me and my friends, a perception he solidified one summer night when he arrived on a brand-new Honda SL350. Wow. Candy blue with white accents, downswept pipes and upswept mufflers, a high front fender, knobby tires, and a look that was just right. Honda offered the SL350, if I recall correctly, in candy apple red, candy blue, and candy gold, and the bike in any of those colors had a silver frame. It was perfect. Say what you want about Asian aesthetics; in my opinion, Honda nailed it. Make mine any color, but I would prefer blue (like Don’s) or the candy red. Nah, scratch that…as long as I’m dreaming, make mine candy red.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

The SL350 looked (and sounded) the way a motorcycle ought to look and sound. In my testosteroned and teenaged mind, I would have instantly become infinitely cooler and better looking on an SL350. Every young lady in New Jersey would want to go out with me if I had an SL350, or so I imagined.

Up to that point, my dream bike was a Triumph TT Special (it had similar tucked-in headers and lots more power), but damn, that SL350 looked right. I would have bought one, but by the time I had enough coin to get a bigger street bike Honda had introduced their CB750, and that got the nod.  But I’ve always wanted an SL350.

The SL350 was Honda’s answer to Yamaha’s DT series of dual-purpose bikes, but that wasn’t why I thought it was cool. Yeah, you can play spec-sheet expert and point out that the SL350 weighed more than the Triumph TT Special and had way less power, or that the DT Yamahoppers did better both on and off road, but I don’t care. And I know that the SL350 “only” had 325cc and it “only” had a top end just north of 80 mph.   My answer to that?  Please see Response No. 1: I don’t care.

The SL350 is one of the ones that got away. It hit all the right notes for me (your mileage may vary), and I still want one.

There’s more!  See our other Dream Bikes here!

Dream Bike: Yamaha RD350

Unlike most of my other dream bikes I’ve actually ridden an RD350. The slightly gaudy 1973 model I rode was mostly the previous generation Yamaha R5 except with reed valves, a disc brake in the front and one additional gear in the transmission giving a total of six. However minor the changes were, the result was spectacular.

The Yamaha RD350…one of my Dream Bikes!

The RD350 was a wheelie king and the bike would blow away any of the other 350cc bikes including the three-pot Kawasaki. Maybe the disc-valve Kawasaki 350 twin from the 1960’s would have outran it but we’ll never know as there were none around my town. It left the Honda CB350 for dead and would stay with a Honda CB750 up to around 70 mph. I know this because we checked.

Not just fast, the RD handled as good as the best bikes of the era. As children we set up a week-end flat track in the high school parking lot and the RD would drift the asphalt corners under power like it was at Ascot Park. That is, until it hooked up and spit you over the high side. Riding it gave you a feeling that anything was possible including dirt trails. It was an all-rounder long before today’s silly, overweight, overwrought, can-opener ADV bikes blundered onto the scene.

Top end on the RD350 was a bit over 100 miles per hour and it got there rapidly. It was slippery in the wet but that was down to the era’s bias-ply, low tech tires. If you rode it hard it drank gas at a startling rate.  Except for fouling a plug now and then or the outside commutator brush wearing down nothing much went wrong in normal use. I have no idea what happens if you race them. Probably nothing good.

The red, 1973 RD model was cool but my dream bike came one year later. In 1974 Yamaha dropped the thick tank badges along with the tacky striping and painted the bike a deep metallic purple. Tastefully subdued decals on the tank sides indicated just who the hell made the thing. It was a thing of beauty and I must own one someday, somehow.

Right side engine, 1974 model.
Left side engine, where the brushes are

Like everything our generation touches, the prices of Japanese motorcycles from 1970’s are getting screwed ever-upwards. Being one of the most desirable motorcycles of that era, RD350’s have gone up quite a bit. You can still find nice ones for $3000 with beaters down around $1500.

Here’s a 1973 RD350 for $1500

I’ve nearly bought one several times but either the distances involved were too great or I came to my senses and bought a thousand bags of concrete instead. As soon as I get a few projects out of the way I’m going to sell off some motorcycles and take another stab at RD350 ownership, in purple for the win.

See all of our Dream Bikes here…

Malls, Munro, Taj Mahals, and more…

An Indian in the cupboard? Not quite. Read on.

I guess I should start this piece by explaining I’m not even sure what the Clifton Club is. After spending several minutes on Google researching it, all I could find is that it’s either a wedding and Bar Mitzvah venue in Lakewood, Ohio, or a series of bling pieces from high-end watch maker Baume and Mercier. I’m going to go with Door No. 2 on this one. It’s the only explanation that makes sense in the context of what follows.

Let me back up a step. Yesterday I chauffeured the ladies to Fashion Island in Newport. It’s a very trendy shopping mall in a very trendy part of So Cal (think Neiman-Marcus, Nordstrom’s, French poodles, BMWs, and the like).  For me, a visit to any shopping mall is torture, but it keeps me in good graces with the rest of the clan and builds up goodwill points for the next collectible firearm purchase, so it all works out.

Anyway, while the girls were shopping I wandered into a high-end watch store (think Rolex and armed guards) and I noticed, of all things, a motorcycle. A new Indian, to be precise, in the middle of the store. I’ve never ridden an Indian (new or vintage), but I always thought they were beautiful motorcycles (again, both new and vintage).  I’m not a big cruiser guy, but if I was, I think I would buy an Indian. They are good-looking motorcycles, and my buddies Joe Gresh and Duane both hold them in high regard (and that’s a powerful endorsement).

While I was admiring the Indian, a sales guy approached me (my new good buddy Eduardo…Eduardo, I think, is a particularly elegant name).  Eduardo saw my confusion (a motorcycle in a jewelry store?), and he explained that Indian had a marketing partnership with Baume and Mercier, a high-end Swiss watchmaker.  It all centered on Burt Munro and his record-breaking land speed record activities.  Indian.  Baume and Mercier.  Burt Munro.   Ah, it all came together.

The Baume and Mercier Indian watch. $3900, and it could be yours. Motorcycle not included. It is a beautiful timepiece.  It’s part of their Clifton Club collection, and if you wear it, you could be a member, too.
Indian got it right.  It’s an OHV engine, but the valve covers are designed to emulate the flathead design of the original Indians.  It’s masterful, I think.
There’s a lot of room in those freight and setup fees.  Don’t ever pay what any dealer asks for in these two categories. Read 5000 Miles at 8000 RPM, available on Amazon.com, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.

Do these marketing partnerships work? I suppose they do. More than 20 years ago, Ford teamed with Harley to offer a special limited edition F-150 pickup with Harley decals.  As near as I could tell, the decals were the only thing special about that truck, and the only thing limiting the edition was how many they could sell. I had a lot of fun teasing a friend of mine who owned both a Harley Bad Boy (yep, they actually had a model with that name) and the limited edition truck. I drove a ginormous Tahoe and I rode a Suzuki TL1000 in those days.  I told my friend I was going to put Suzuki decals on the Chevy and call it a TL-Ho. Good times.

Anyway, the Baume and Mercier watch I saw yesterday was cool (at $3900, it should be), and the Indian was beautiful. I hope the deal works out for Baume and Mercier, and for Indian. I pondered the Harley and Ford partnership mentioned above; I’m guessing nothing came of that, as the two companies seemed to have parted ways.  Then I remembered that Bentley, the luxury British carmaker, has a partnership with Breitling (Breitling is another expensive Swiss watchmaker).

I wondered…what’s in it for the companies that strike up such partnerships, and what’s in it for their customers? I don’t think there’s any kind of pricing advantage or free gear package, so what would be the attraction?  Is it simply living a branded lifestyle (you know, for insecure rich folks who need something more in their lives)?   Or is it somehow making a statement about one’s wealth?   Look at me!  I drive a Bentley and wear a Breitling!

That got me to thinking…would a marketing partnership work for other brands, and in particular, would such a partnership work for less expensive motorcycles and watches?   You know, look at me!  I ride an RX3 and I wear a Timex!

What if you could sell a new motorcycle and give away a free watch with it? I’m thinking of China bikes, India bikes (not Indian Moto, but bikes actually made in India), and maybe Thai bikes.  It might work if you included a free watch with each new motorcycle, and it would cost essentially nothing. I visited the Canton Fair in Guangzhou last year and I’m on their email list now, so I get all kinds of offers from Chinese manufacturers.  You can buy new Chinese watches for $0.62 each (and if you’re thinking they are low quality, you need to think again and maybe research where what you’re currently wearing is actually manufactured).

The branding and theming opportunities might be fun.  KLRs are made in Thailand…suppose you got a free milk-crate-themed watch to match your KLR’s topcase?  The KTM 390 is made in India; perhaps you could include a Taj Mahal themed watch with each new 390 (isn’t that what the “TM” in KTM stands for, anyway?).  Think of all the marques with models, engines, or major components manufactured in Thailand, India, and China…Hawk, SWM, CSC, Royal Enfield, BMW, Harley-Davidson, Triumph, Honda, and more.  You can see the possibilities.

Yeah, this could work.

No More, No Motus

The shocking news is that they lasted 10 years. Motus Motorcycles announced they were shutting down and I mean right now. Which is a shame because I liked the looks of their sport tourer and it apparently had a great engine. Legendary moto-journalist Jack Lewis said he liked the bike and that’s good enough for me. The Motus sold for around 30,000 dollars. That undercut some other American-made motorcycles in the rarified cruiser category but was still a hefty chunk of change for a sport tourer.

The mighty Motus is no more.

I saw Motus at Daytona long time ago, before the production motorcycles were available. There were a couple of good-natured models standing around the bike. Closer to the ground and less aloof than the Ducati models, the girls wore short black skirts and belly-exposing, Motus logoed crop-top T-shirts. I joked around with them and they let me pose for for a photograph with one on each arm. The girls really didn’t know anything about the Motus but they were packing in the crowds. I thought it was damn good marketing.

Good natured and good looking, Joe Gresh is.

I never got to ride a Motus. I never asked the company for a loaner. They were getting plenty of coverage in the moto-press and I am not very ambitious. The V-four engine attracts a lot of attention because of its small size and torque. Loosely based on a Scat style engine, I predict a bright future selling the Motus engine as a stand-alone unit.

Old British sports car owners, guys tired of being run over in 4-cylinder Jeeps, perhaps racers in a spec-engine mini, sprint-car series are all potential customers for a reorganized Motus. Call the new company Motus Power Systems and sell bolt-in kits to repower various lightweight 4-wheelers.

Could taller, more aloof models have saved Motus? Hard to say. My advice to Motus is to forget about motorcycles. There are so many fantastic bikes available we don’t need another. The entire United States motorcycle industry would fit inside the tackle box of the recreational fishing industry. Motorcycles are such a tiny fraction, a statistical rounding error really, of the greater automotive economy that it’s not worth Motus’ trouble.

Hell, if you sold every motorcycle rider in America a Motus you’d still need to borrow money from me to get Uber fare home. The money simply isn’t there. So start work on the Jeep/Motus repower kit, boys. I’ll be first in line to mooch a test fitting in Brumby the YJ. I’ll even let you guys hire models to pose next to the old Jeep.

Dream Bike: 1974 Triumph T150V

A 1974 T150V Triumph, as they looked when brand new 44 years ago!

I think ol’ Gresh is on to something with his Dream Bike concept, or as I call these features, the Ones That Got Away.   We all have at least one…a bike we lusted after but didn’t buy.

Good buddy Tom on his Triumph Tiger on a ride through the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Well, as it turns out, my good buddy and riding compadre Tom had a dream bike, too, but he did something (a big something) about his dream.  He made it come true, and then some.   Tom wrote and asked if he could contribute to the ExNotes blog, and the answer, of course, was a resounding yes.   Read on, my friends…this is a great story.

Over to you, Tom!

Hello, Tom here. By way of a quick bio, I have been riding for 56 years. My first motorcycle in high school was a “motorcycle,” not a scooter, from Sears Roebuck. My current bikes are a well-used Triumph 1050 Tiger and a well-equipped Honda XR650L dual sport.

In 1975 I was riding a 1969 Honda CB 750 four. I rode it everywhere including numerous runs at the local Irwindale drag strip on Wednesday night. Straight line performance was the only thing I was interested in.

My riding partner bought a new Kawasaki Z900 and all of a sudden I was seeing more of his taillight than I was used to. It was time for more horsepower.

I had previously owned two Triumph twins, a T100 500cc and a T120 650. I always loved the Triumphs so I went looking for a new Triumph T150 750cc pushrod triple. My riding partner and I went to the two Triumph dealers in the area. We ended up at Ed Kretz Triumph in Monterey Park, California. It was well into 1975 and they only had 1974 models.

The boys at Kretz had no idea when the ‘75s would arrive. The magazines said the new 750 triples had 5 speed transmissions and disc brakes front and rear, plus electric starters. The ‘74 only had 4 speeds and the ugliest single iron disc front brake I ever saw. The electric starter was of no interest at the time but the 5 speed could have been the deal breaker. But deep in my gut, this bike had “something” that no stinking Honda had.

The next day, two of my buddies and I went back to the dealer to look again. They both were totally against the Triumph. They pointed out the huge, cast, oversized hand controls (they were about twice the size of those on the Honda or Kawi). The front brake reservoir (crudely marked with “Girling”) looked like the boys in metal shop sandcast it for a high school project. I listened to my friends and walked away from a bike I would always admire, Lucas electrics and all. For me, this was the one that got away.

I bought a new Honda CB 750 from Dick & Walt’s Honda-BMW on Whittier Blvd in Montebello, California for $1648, which was about $900 cheaper than the Triumph. Remember my trips to Irwindale drag strip with the old ’69 750 Honda? It ran about 14 seconds flat in the quarter. I had to put more than $500 into the 1975 CB 750 to equal those times. The red line on the tach was 8500 rpm. It took me about three or four trips to the strip to figure out it ran out of steam at 7000 rpm. It was a pig compared to my 1969. I kept it about a year.

Epilogue

On September 14, 2011 my good friend and riding buddy Joe and I drove up the 99 to Lodi, California. We dug out a 1974 Triumph Trident 750cc pushrod triple from behind a 1936 rear-engined Allis Chalmers tractor. They were in a white wood barn.

The real deal…a barn-find 1974 T150V 750cc Triumph. I didn’t let this one get away! This is the “before” photo.

Yes, that Triumph was a real barn find. It was in terrible shape but it did run. I happily paid $2500 for a rusted relic, and I smiled all the way home. I converted that bike into a Land Speed Racer and raced at the El Mirage dry lake for three seasons.

This is the “after” photo. I ran 133 mph on this motorcycle at El Mirage!

And, as I mentioned earlier, I still ride a Triumph today.

That’s an awesome story, Tom.   Thanks very much for sharing it with us!

So, how about the rest of you guys and gals?   Do you have a dream bike, one that you let get away?   Hey, tell us about it.    Send your story to info@ExhaustNotes.us, and we’ll publish it!

Wanna see the rest of our Dream Bikes?

Dream Bike: Harley XR1000

I liked that Dream Bike piece Gresh did over the weekend about his fantasy bike, the Kawasaki 350cc Avenger.  I like the concept: Articles on the ones that got away.

And as is always the case, if Gresh wrote it, I like it.

Can I say that on this blog?  You know, Gresh and I do most of the writing, so am I allowed to say that about his stuff?  Hey, I don’t care.

I’m guessing if you’re reading this, you have a dream bike.   You know, one you didn’t buy but wish you had.   We’d like to hear about it.   Do a short piece on it with a photo or two and we’ll publish it here.

In the meantime, and because I like “the one that got away” concept so much, I’m going to do a short bit on my dream bike. One of them, anyway. It’s the 1983 Harley XR1000. Yeah, I know, I’m a guy who made his bones writing about small bikes (the CSC RX3, in particular), and the XR1000 is anything but small. But I like it.

The 1983 Harley XR1000. Check out the massive Dellortos and the K&N air filters. All business. I like it.
A view from the other side. I’m not a guy who normally leans left or listens to folks who do, but the XR1000’s asymmetry and leftist tendencies are oddly appealing.

The magazines of the era all panned the XR1000, and every once in a while one of them does a retrospective (and they still don’t like it). You know what? I don’t give a rat’s rear end about some magazine weenie’s opinion. I like the look, the concept, and the sound of the XR1000, and one of my few regrets in life is that I didn’t buy one new in ’83.

Not that I didn’t have good reason back then. I had bought a Harley Electra-Glide Classic, new, in 1979. It was the worst vehicle of any type I’d ever owned, and I swore I’d never buy another Harley. That was the principal thing that kept me from pulling the trigger on a new XR1000 in ’83 (I sold the Electra-Glide in ‘82, and the reliability reputation injuries it left hadn’t healed yet). But time heals all wounds (I wish I had that Electra-Glide now), and if I could find a clean XR1000 I’d be on it in a New York minute.

The magazines said the XR1000 vibrated (they actually paid folks to point that out on a Harley?), you could burn your left leg on the exhaust (duh), and the twin Dellortos hit your knee on the right side of the bike (seriously?). Not content with stating the obvious, one of the magazines actually wrote the bike had a predilection for turning left. A bike based on a flat tracker? A predilection for turning left? And folks wonder why the motorcycle magazine business fell on hard times.

Everything the magazines hated about the XR1000 made me want one more. It was a raw, muscular, asymmetric, no passenger, no compromises, in-your-face motorcycle. I still want one.

We spend a lot of time dreaming about motorcycles.   See our other Dream Bikes here!

Dream Bike: Kawasaki 350cc A7 Avenger

The stuff dreams are made of…in this case, a Kawi 350cc Avenger!

Kawasaki’s A7 is high on my motorcycle lust-list. The styling of the Gen 2 models is as perfect as a motorcycle can be. Decals and graphics, a Kawasaki strong suit in the 1970’s, gave the bike a speedy, eager look that shouts, “Let the good times roll!” And roll they did, Big Daddy: long before the Yamaha RD series, Kawasaki was hazing the streets and smoking tires with its 350cc, twin-cylinder, disc-valve two-stroke.

I don’t believe the manufacturer-claimed 42 horsepower, but then I’ve never ridden one so maybe it does crank out that much. Large displacement (over 125cc) twin-cylinder, disc-valve motors have always been relatively rare in the motorcycle world. That’s probably due to the excessive crankcase width mandated by two carburetors sticking out past the ends of the crankshaft-mounted, induction timing discs. Crankcase width aside and freed from the symmetrical intake timing of a piston-port engine, a disc valver usually makes more and better power (I’ve been told).

The Avenger, along with its less-attractive, low-pipe sister was also a pioneer in electronic ignition. It was a great system when it worked, but 50-years-on may not be so hot. The addition of oil injection made the Avenger about as maintenance-free as a 1970’s bike could get. The package as a whole looks 50 years ahead of the British and American offerings from the same era.

Prices on A7’s haven’t reached silly RD350 heights yet. The bike in these photos that I stole from Smart Cycle Guide is listed at $3600, the high end of the range. Here’s the link: www.smartcycleguide/L49224558. If you spend a few minutes you can find clean, running examples for $1500 on the Internet.

For me, the only knock on the A7 is that it may be too well made. I’m at the stage in my life where I don’t need a reliable motorcycle. New bikes are darn near perfect and perfection is boring. I search for the ever-elusive soul ride: Motorcycles that drip. The best motorcycles are the ones that leave you stranded; they turn any ride into a grand adventure. Besides, quirky flaws and secret handshakes appeal to my need to be special.

The thing with dreams is that you don’t want to over-analyze them. I can’t say why I like the A7 so much. I’ve never seen one running. I guess it’s the optimism of the design. The A7 is from an era when anything was possible and the future was a burning arrow pointing straight into the sky. If I ever hit the lottery I’ll have one, along with a bunch of other motorcycles to be discussed later here on the ExNotes blog.

Check out our other Dream Bikes!