Not too long ago, I posted a blog about the Buddy Stubbs Motorcycle Museum in Phoenix, Arizona. Sue and I visited it for an upcoming Motorcycle Classics magazine Destinations piece. While I was there, I saw a book about Buddy Stubbs (Motorcyclist Extraordinaire: Buddy Stubbs), and I picked up a copy. I finished reading it last night and I thought I’d share my thoughts with you.
Written by Tyler Tayrien (who also wrote Arena, a book about Sam Arena’s motorcycle racing career), I’d give it a solid 8 out of 10 points. The subject matter is superb; the writing and editing are good but not great. I already wrote about Buddy Stubb’s history, his dealership, and a bit of his background in my recent blog about the Buddy Stubbs Museum, so I won’t go into that in too much detail here.
What’s great about Motorcyclist Extraordinaire: Buddy Stubbs is that the subject of this book (Mr. Stubbs) has had such an interesting life. It would be hard for a book covering this topic to be dull. What’s also great about the book is that Buddy Stubbs’ racing contemporaries are the guys I followed when I was a teenager and a young man: Riders like Dick Mann, Gary Nixon, Cal Rayborn, Roger Reiman, Bart Markel, Kenny Roberts, and others. These guys were the kings of flat track, motocross, and road racing back in the day, and reading about them from another rider’s perspective made the book even more interesting.
Motorcyclist Extraordinaire: Buddy Stubbs has a lot of photos, and maybe that’s one of its weak points, but I can’t blame the author for that. Most of the photos (maybe all of them) were from earlier printed photos shot with film, I’m guessing many were shot in black and white, and these were scanned for inclusion in the book. It’s hard to get a decent image using that approach, but when working with these kinds of archival prints, there’s really no other way to do it. The downside is that many of the photos are grainy and lack clarity. That’s not intended to be a criticism; it’s just an observation.
Motorcyclist Extraordinaire: Buddy Stubbs covers Buddy Stubbs’ life, his experiences in buying and building up the dealership, his marriages, his automobile and motorcycle racing, his cars, and the motorcycle museum. Mr. Stubbs is in his mid-80s today. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him while I was in the dealership, but I did get an autographed copy of his book. That’s cool.
My minor criticisms aside, I think that Motorcyclist Extraordinaire: Buddy Stubbs is an excellent read. My advice to you is to pick up a copy. I think you will enjoy it.
Back in the 1970s when I was in the Army, I was eligible for what the government called “Space A” flying. “Space A” was space availability, and what it meant is that if a US military aircraft had an open seat, I could grab it (and a free ride) to wherever that aircraft was going. Having never been to California (and a lot of other places back in those days), I copped a free C-141 seat out of McGuire AFB and flew to Travis Air Force Base in California. The plan was to fly out to the west coast and then travel by Greyhound bus back to New Jersey. You know, the “leave the driving to us” guys.
My first bus stop was Reno, Nevada, and while I was there I visited Harrah’s auto collection. It was the largest car collection in the world in the 1970s, with more than 1800 automobiles (or 1400, depending on which source you believe). Bill Harrah was a rich guy with a casino and an overwhelming interest in cars of all types.
Harrah passed away in 1978, and Holiday Inn bought his hotel and casino in 1980. The guys at Holiday Inn auctioned off the car collection, but when they first announced the sale of the auto collection, the City of Reno kicked up a stink. So, Holiday Inn donated 175 cars from the collection for a future auto museum. Those 175 cars became the nucleus for what is now the National Automobile Museum located in downtown Reno. Susie and I rode up there recently to explore the place and grab a few photos for an upcoming magazine article. We had a great visit. It was fun.
My principal interest was the collection’s motorcycles. When I first spoke to folks at the Museum, I was told they only had three motorcycle (a 1946 Harley, a 1941 Indian, and a (yawn) chopper), but I found there were quite a few more.
The National Auto Museum’s 1941 Indian, with a matching sidecar.The 1946 Harley Knucklehead.A chopper. You see one, you’ve seen them all.
Our motorcycle discoveries as we wandered about in the Museum included a GSXR race bike and a full-dress Cushman scooter. The Cushman reminded me of my days with CSC when we first built a resurrected version of the old Mustang motorcycle.
A Gixxer.A full-dress Cushman scooter. Cushmans are cool, Mustangs are cooler.
Another motorcycle exhibit included motorcycles that had been featured in different movies, including the Ghostbusters bike and others.
Movie bikes of all flavors.Bruce Willis’ ride, a hover turbine bike. I missed this movie when it was in the theatres.
We saw the BluesMobile near the movie bikes. The Blues Brothers has to be one of the best movies ever made. Whenever I see it on TV or on any of our streaming video channels, I’ll watch it. The music is incredible. Akroyd was incredible. Aretha, Ray Charles, and Cab Calloway were awesome. Belushi was incredible (he died way too young). The Blues Brothers doing Rawhide was incredible (I included a YouTube of this at the end of this blog). The Blues Brothers was a great movie; I think it is one of the best ever. Seeing the BluesMobile from that show was a treat.
The BluesMobile. It was a featured car in The Blues Brothers.
The National Auto Museum is arranged in four large galleries showcasing different automobile categories, with other collections in the hallways separating the galleries. The first gallery held cars from the earliest days of the automobile. The galleries were almost overwhelming; there was just so much to take in. Even though the Harrah collection downsized dramatically when Holiday Inn acquired the business, there are still a lot of things to see.
One of the Museum’s four halls, this one featuring very early automobiles.Sue chatting up one of the docents working on a beautiful Mercedes Benz from the 1930s.Another of the Museum’s halls featured custom cars.John Wayne’s 1953 Corvette.
One of the “in between the main galleries” exhibits was a collection of sports cars previously owned by Paul Newman. The collection was later purchased by Adam Carolla and is now displayed in the Museum.
The Paul Newman collection, owned by Adam Carolla.
Another gallery featured a collection of cars from the 1950s and 1960s. Several had my attention. One was a gorgeous white two-seat Lincoln Continental Mark II powered by a Chrysler Hemi engine. Another was a 1966 Plymouth with a 426 Hemi engine, a car I drooled over back the ’60s.
A custom 1956 Mark II.This Mark II had a Chrysler Hemi engine.A Hemi-powered ’66 Plymouth.The ’66 Plymouth’s 426 Hemi engine.
There were other cars tucked into hallway exhibits, including one I knew from my days as a very young teenager. It was Ed “Big Daddy” Roth’s Beatnik Bandit, a futuristic, supercharged, bubble-topped hot rod. One of its features was that the car was completely controlled by a centrally-mounted yoke (the yoke controlled the throttle, the brakes, and the steering). Revell released a 1/25-scale Beatnik Bandit model in 1963 (I built one of the model kits). The Beatnik Bandit is permanently etched in my memory, and seeing the actual car was a treat. I had never seen it before.
Ed Roth’s Beatnik Bandit. Note the passenger compartment yoke.A custom pickup truck powered by an aircraft radial engine.
There’s a garage to the left as you enter the Museum, and there were interesting cars in there for service (I asked if I could enter the garage; the answer was no).
The Elvis Eldo, with Harrah’s orange Jerrari parked ahead of it.
One of the cars in the garage to be service was Elvis Presley’s all-white Cadillac Eldorado. Another one that would make for an interesting display (and it probably is on display when not being serviced) was Bill Harrah’s “Jerrari.” In addition to being fabulously wealthy and the owner of Harrah’s casinos, Harrah was the Ferrari distributor for the western United States. He lived up in Tahoe, and coming down (or going up) the road from Reno to Tahoe can be an exciting experience when there’s snow or ice on the road (I know this from personal experience). Harrah had his guys put a V-12 Ferrari engine in a Jeep Wagoneer. You can just spot Harrah’s Jerrari in the photo (it’s the orange vehicle out ahead of the Elvis Eldo).
The National Automobile Museum is a solid 10 in my book. We traveled up US Highway 395 to Reno (a magnificent road with great scenery through the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains), and the Museum was well worth the trip. Like a lot of America’s cities, Reno has become a bit sketchy and it seems its streets are overrun with refugees from the Star Wars bar scene. That said, we enjoyed our visit. One of Reno’s best kept secrets is an absolutely fabulous breakfast restaurant (The Two Chicks). Their chile relleno omelet was delicious. Dos Chicas is another spot that, all by itself, is worth a ride up to Reno. It was that good.
This was an interesting blog to write (and it was interesting on many levels). As you know, I’m writing a series of blogs on motorcycles I’ve owned with the machines organized by cylinder count. The idea is to consider all of them from my ownership perspective, rack up a bunch of (hopefully) fun-to-read blogs, and then wrap up with my opinion on which engine configuration is the best. I’ve already done the first one on the singles I’ve owned.
A word on the photos: I was surprised I had photographs of every bike I’ve ever owned. In recent decades, after I had become a half-assed amateur photographer, the photo quality is generally good. In earlier years, I was not a very good photographer, nor was my equipment very good. Some of the photos are in black and white, and most of the earlier ones were taken with a dinky little Minolta C-110 camera. Hey, you go to war with the army you have.
Between that first ¿Quantos Pistones? post and this one, something self-updated on my computer and my laptop went from simply taking my orders to predicting what words I’m going to type next and then filling them in, which I found to be wildly annoying. I thought it was in the WordPress software, but it wasn’t. It was in my Edge browser. Google helped me; I found the offending “feature” in the Edge settings and switched it off. I think these software weenies are changing things just to give themselves something to do. I wish they would stop. The folks who keep doing this sort of thing are going to have a hard time explaining themselves when they’re standing in front of the pearly gates. I’ll be there, too, as a witness for the prosecution.
Rant over; let’s get back to the main attraction.
As was the case in the blog on singles, I am again discovering this: Just when I think I’ve listed all of the twins I’ve owned, I remember another one. That sure has been the case here. I suppose I had better hit the Publish button before I remember another one.
Alrighty then: With the above as a backdrop, here we go.
1965 Honda CB 160
Okay, I’m cheating a little. This wasn’t my bike at all. It was my Dad’s. But I rode it in the fields behind our house quite a bit and I sort of considered it to be mine, and that’s why it’s on this list.
The 1964 Honda CB 160, That’s me on the bike in New Jersey, during the winter months, when I was 14 years old.
The little 160 was nice. It was the first motorcycle I ever rode and I had a lot of fun on it. Honda was making big inroads in the United States in the mid-1960s and they changed nearly everything in the motorcycle world. It was a fun time for a 14-year-old kid.
The CB 160 only stayed with us for a couple of months. Dad had been bitten by the bug. He wanted something bigger.
1965 Honda Super Hawk
As was the case with the CB 160, the Super Hawk was Dad’s motorcycle. But the same modifier applied: I used to ride it in the fields behind our house in New Jersey, so I’m including it here.
Fast forward a bit, and it’s me again during the summer months on a 1965 Honda Super Hawk. We had a swimming pool, so I spent my summers in a bathing suit.
The Super Hawk, with its 305 cubic centimeters, seemed infinitely more powerful than the CB 160 (especially riding it in the fields behind our house). Dad had the bug, though. The Super Hawk would only last for a couple of months, too.
1966 Triumph Bonneville
Ah, this was a motorcycle. A Triumph Bonneville. I couldn’t believe it. It had been my dream machine for at least a couple of years, and now there was one in the garage. And you know what? Dad let me ride it in those same fields behind our house. I can’t imagine what he was thinking or why he let me do that. I never dropped it, though. God Almighty, it was powerful. And the sound….it was awesome.
Mom and Dad on the 1966 Triumph Bonneville. You can see their other Bonneville (a 1965 Pontiac) in the garage. You could say we liked Bonnevilles. No one in my family has ever been to the Bonneville Salt Flats. I probably should go there one of these days.
The Bonneville was an amazing motorcycle. Dad and I had a lot of good rides on it. I wish we had kept it. On that sound comment above: Nothing, and I mean nothing, has a a more soul-satisfying exhaust note than a Triumph.
1978 Triumph Bonneville
I was living in Fort Worth, Texas, I was single, and I was an engineer at General Dynamics on the F-16 program. When I passed by the Triumph dealer I realized I hadn’t ridden a Triumph Bonneville since I was 16 years old, so I thought I’d stop by. An hour later I signed on the dotted line, and I owned a Bonneville again.
My 1978 Triumph Bonneville, parked outside my apartment in Fort Worth, Texas. The colors have mostly drained from these two photos. The bike was a deep candy apple red.Another shot of my 1978 Triumph Bonneville.
It was a great motorcycle. There was an older guy who owned a Yamaha TT 500 at General Dynamics (his name was Sam), and we road all the farm roads in the areas around Fort Worth. We both had hay fever and Texas had terrible pollen, but the riding was great. My Bonneville would top out at exactly 109mph (the earlier T120 and then T140 designations notwithstanding), and that was enough. The bike was kick start only (which made it an anachronism in 1978), but I was okay with that, too. For awhile, anyway.
I sold the Bonneville. I’m can’t remember why; I did a lot of dumb things when I was young. Shortly after I sold the Bonneville, I realized I needed a motorcycle again. You know, to be a complete person. That led to my next acquisition. But to this day, I wish I had kept the Bonneville.
1979 Harley Electra-Glide Classic
I used to spend a lot of time at the Fort Worth Harley dealer drooling over their new bikes. The late ’70s were, in my opinion, the height of the Willie G styling years at Harley. It was also the absolute bottom for them from a quality perspectives, as I would soon find out when I finally bit the bullet and bought the bike I thought was the most beautiful motorcycle I’d ever seen: The 1979 Electra-Glide Classic.
Yours truly, with a full head of hair and a 1979 Electra-Glide Classic. I called it my optical illusion. It looked like a motorcycle.
The Electra-Glide was beautiful, but to call it a piece of crap would be insult to turds the world over. The bike couldn’t go a hundred miles without something breaking on it. It needed three top end jobs in the 12,000 miles I owned it (the first two were on the warranty, the last one was on me). I’d finally had it with that bike and what some folks like to call “The Motor Company.” Hell, the motor was the worst thing on that bike. And the brakes. And the clutch. And the starter. And the handling. And the….well, you get the idea. It was one of the last years Harley was owned by AMF, and when a Harley mechanic told me what that stood for, I finally got it. I smiled inwardly when I sold the bike, thinking to myself, “Adios, MF.”
On the way down to San Diego, with the Pacific Ocean in the background. I explored a lot of southern California on the Harley. It was the most unreliable motor vehicle of any type I ever owned.
After that awkward ownership experience, I swore I’d never buy another Harley. I didn’t keep that promise, though.
Even considering all the above, I wish I still had that ’79 Electra-Glide. It would be worth a small fortune today. It sure was a pretty motorcycle.
1976 Triumph TR6
Somewhere in the succession of events described above, I moved from Fort Worth to southern California. General Dynamics transferred me to the Pomona facility. I loved southern California and I hated GD/Pomona. Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. The company was okay, but my boss was a dickhead. So I did what I normally do in that situation: I quit and went to work for another defense contractor. While there, I worked with yet another defense company, and one of the guys there had a 1976 Triumph TR6 he offered to sell to me for $500. It was running, it was registered, and minutes later it was mine.
On Glendora Ridge Road on the 1972 Triumph Tiger. It was a great motorcycle.
The TR6 was a wonderful motorcycle. If there was a performance difference between it and a Bonneville, I didn’t have the asspitude to feel it. The single-carb TR6 actually felt stronger at low rpm than the Bonneville did. I loved that bike, too.
Another Glendora Ridge Road portrait. The Tiger had character, and I mean that in a good way.
The paint on the TR6 had oxidized pretty badly (the former owner kept it outside). I had this idea I would restore it (see above regarding my propensity to do dumb things when I was younger). I did a pretty good job turning the great-running TR6 into a basket case (again, see the preceding comments regarding my youthful decisions). The paint job I paid for on the fuel tank was a disaster, and then I lost interest in resurrecting the bike. I sold the basket of bits and pieces for what I had paid for the bike. I wish I still had that one.
1972 Triumph Daytona
The first motorcycle I ever went gaga over was a 1964 Triumph Tiger that a kid named Walt Skok rode to high school. In those days, the Tiger was a 500cc twin that looked a lot like a Bonneville. God, that thing was beautiful.
One of the neighbor kids on my 1972 Triumph Daytona, also known as the Baby Bonneville. This was another great motorcycle.
Triumph kept that 500cc twin in their line for years, ultimately adding a second carb and rechristening the bike as the Daytona. When the 650 line went to the oil-frame-configuration in the early 1970s, the Daytona (also known as the Baby Bonneville) did not; it kept the classic Triumph separate oil tank and peashooter mufflers.
I can’t remember who I bought the Daytona from (I bought it used), but I sure remember its looks. It was a deep candy metallic green with silver accents. It was bone stock and it was a wonderful ride. The handing was almost thought-directed…I could just think what I wanted the motorcycle to do and it would do it. One day, for no particular reason, I took it to the top of one of our streets that ran up into the mountains, turned it around, turned off the ignition, and started coasting downhill. I wanted to see how fast it would go with zero power (see my previous decision-making comments); the answer was exactly 70mph.
I never registered the Daytona over the three years I owned it; I just rode the snot out of it. I never got stopped or and I never had a citation for the expired plates. I can’t remember why I sold it, or who I sold it to. The Daytona was a wonderful motorcycle. I wish I still had it.
1992 Harley Heritage Softail
I didn’t keep my promise to never buy another Harley. A fried let me ride his ’89 Electra-Glide. It was a big, fat porker (the bike, not my friend), but Harley was getting a lot of press about their improved quality. I saw a blue Heritage Softail on the road one day, and I decided I need one. It was that simple.
I covered a lot of territory on my 1992 Harley Softail. This shot was in the mud flats near Guerrero Negro in Baja, a trip I made with good buddy Baja John.
I put a lot of miles on my ’92 Softail, and while it lasted, it was a great motorcycle. Good buddy Baja John and I rode our bikes to Cabo, we took the ferry across the Sea of Cortez, and we rode down to Guadalajara and then back up through mainland Mexico to Nogales (you can read about that adventure here).
The Harley died on me down in Mexico on another trip, and although I had regained a tiny bit of trust in Milwaukee, the dealers were still (in my opinion) basically incompetent. When my ’92 went belly up, the dealer wouldn’t touch it because it was more than 10 years old (I can’t make this stuff up, folks), so I took it to an unencumbered independent repair shop and had it rebuilt as a real motorcycle (you can read that story here).
What kind of killed the Harley dream was me forgetting to pick up milk one day when coming home from a ride on the Harley. My wife asked about the milk. I realized I had forgot it, so I went back out to run to the store. For whatever reason, I took my KLR, and it was as if I had been set free. The KLR was just so much better, I put an ad in the local Cycle Trader the next day and sold the Harley the day after that.
While I am on this subject of Harley twins, I will tell you that I always wanted a Sportster. One day the Harley dealer had to keep my bike overnight and he lent a Sportster to me. That changed my mind in a hurry. It was gutless. I know some of my readers ride Sportsters and others ride Big Twins. Mea culpa in advance. If you’d like to tell me how great your bikes are and how I have my head up my fourth point of contact, please leave a comment, or send in a draft blog (info@exhaustnotes.us) with pics and I’ll publish your rebuttal.
1982 Yamaha XS 650
This was a lucky find, or rather, it sort of found me. I was teaching a failure analysis class at McDonnell Douglas about thirty years ago, and the first evening when I connected my laptop to the projector, a photo of the Triumph Daytona (the one described above) briefly appeared in front of the class.
“Hey, I have one of those,” one of the older engineers in the class said. I asked if he was a Triumph fanboy (as I was). He told me that he didn’t have a Triumph; he had the Yamaha that was based on it. He offered to sell it to me in front of the entire class. I hadn’t even introduced myself yet.
“Let’s talk after class,” I said.
I turns out this guy had purchased the XS 650 new, rode it very little, and it had sat in his garage for several years. I bought it for $900. I think it was a 1982 model, but I can’t say that for sure. Being a Triumph rider, I always thought it would be cool to own one of the Japanese 650 twins. You know…better reliability, no oil leaks, smoother running engines, better fit and finish, and all that.
I found had a good shot (at least I think it is good) of my 1982 Yamaha XS 650 Heritage Special. To this day, I don’t know how Yamaha managed to make the bars so uncomfortable.
I didn’t keep the XS 650 long enough to assess its reliability. I did keep it and ride it long enough to find out that it had absolutely no personality, it didn’t have the bottom end torque that a Triumph did, it sounded more like George Jetson’s car than a real motorcycle (let’s see how many of you know who he was), its Phillips head screws reacted to a screw driver the same way butter reacted to a hot butterknife, and the “cruiser style” handlebars were the most uncomfortable I’d ever experienced. As you can guess, the XS 650 didn’t hang around long. I traded it in to lower the cash outlay on my TL1000S Suzuki.
1997 Suzuki TL1000S
Ducati was setting the world on fire with its L-twin performance bikes, and predictably, it was only a matter of time before the Japanese attempted to do the same. Two L-Twin Japanese motorcycles emerged in 1997: Suzuki’s TL1000S and Honda’s Super Hawk (not to be confused with their Super Hawk of the mid-1960s, as shown above in this Twins story). I opted for the Suzuki variant in red. I just liked the looks of it; I felt it was a prettier motorcycle than the Honda.
The Roadmaster. This thing ate miles and speed limits voraciously. I toured a lot of Baja on it. This photo was taken somewhere in northern Baja.
The Suzuki was the fastest and hardest accelerating motorcycle I ever owned. It would lift the front wheel when shifting from second to third at over 100 mph. I dropped it twice getting in over my head, but I never really damaged the bike or myself. I used the TL as a touring bike, and I covered large parts of Baja with it. It was a fabulous machine and I wish I still had it.
2020 Royal Enfield INT
My most recent twin is the Royal Enfield 650 INT. Enfield called it the Interceptor initially (which is a much better name), but they quickly changed it to the INT (my guess is because Honda threatened to sue them, as they already had a model called the Interceptor).
The Motorcycle Classics magazine centerfield showing the two Enfields Gresh and I used for touring Baja. It was a fun trip.
Gresh and I conned Enfield North America into loaning us two bikes (a 500cc Bullet and the new twin INT) for a comparo ride in Baja. We had a great trip, trading bikes off each day and blogging extensively about our impressions. I liked the INT so much I bought one shortly after we returned. It’s a great bike at a great price and it has all the performance I’ll ever need, both as a street bike and as a touring bike.
So there you go. I’ve owned a lot of twins. To me, a well-engineered twin makes a great street bike.
You know what? In searching for photos of my old twins, I found another single I’d forgotten all about. It was my Triumph Cub.
I never put the Cub on the street. I just rode it a bit in the fields behind my apartment building and then sold it. It was crude compared to other bikes of the era, but it was nice. It would be worth way more today than what I paid for it or what I got when I sold it.
Here’s something different: A visit to the New Jersey State Police Museum in West Trenton, New Jersey.
A statue of a New Jersey State Trooper on the Museum grounds.
I’d seen references to the NJSP Museum on Facebook and elsewhere, and being back in New Jersey a short while ago, Susie and I found ourselves casting about for things to do. Ordinarily, our visits to the Garden State include the same stops: Lunch at the Shrimp Box in Point Pleasant (awesome seafood), every once in a while a visit to Bahr’s in the Highlands (another spot for awesome food), maybe a trip to Asbury Park (think Bruce Springsteen and Danny Devito), a few of the Soprano’s filming locations, the Rutgers University campus, the Old Mill in Deans, New Hope (just across the Delaware River), and a few of our other standard stops. This time we wanted to explore a bit more, and I put the New Jersey State Police Museum on the list. I knew that it had a couple of vintage motorcycles, and I figured it would probably have a few firearms on display. Guns and motorcycles fit the ExhaustNotes theme.
The New Jersey State Police is a paramilitary, well-disciplined, and impressive organization. I’d call it a STRAC outfit (in Army slang, STRAC is an acronym derived from skilled, tough, and ready around the clock).One thing I’ve never seen is an out-of-shape NJ State Trooper.
A statue of Colonel H. Norman Schwarzkopf near the NJSP Museum entrance.
New Jersey State Troopers are the Marines and Green Berets of the police world. That didn’t happen accidentally: The guy who formed the NJ State Police a century ago was none other than Colonel H. Norman Schwarzkopf. Not the guy who led US troops during the first Persian Gulf War in 1991 (that H. Normal Schwarzkopf was his son), but the original. Colonel Schwarzkopf was a US Military Academy graduate, and when he formed the NJ State Police, his vision was a military organization with the same look as that instilled at West Point. I’d say he succeeded.
Trooper Ralph Dowgin gracing The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles.
I touched on the NJ State Police when I wrote The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. The cover photo shows Captain Ralph Dowgin on a 1934 Harley-Davidson. Captain Dowgin went on to command Troop D, the NJSP branch that patrolled the New Jersey Turnpike and the Garden State Parkway. We also wrote about Jerry Dowgin, Captain Dowgin’s son and a friend of mine who owned a 1966 Honda 305 Scrambler (a bike featured here and in a Motorcycle Classics magazine story).
Getting to the NJSP Museum was relatively easy, although the location was tucked away on the NJSP Headquarters grounds. We just plugged the name into Waze, and after meandering through a bunch of small streets in West Trenton, we were at a manned gate. The location is essentially a military compound. The nice young lady at the gate called ahead to confirm the Museum was open (it was), and then she raised the gate. We followed her instructions and the map she gave to us, and we were there. We were the only visitors, so we had the place to ourselves.
The NJ State Police guns story is an interesting one.
When the New Jersey State Police organization started in 1921, their first duty weapon was the Colt double-action revolver (a six shooter) chambered in .38 Special. This very handgun you see here was issued to Colonel Schwarzkopf.Four cylinders full of .38 Special ammo, for a total load of 30 rounds carried by each Trooper. Reloads had to have been painstakingly slow back in the day. I remember seeing these ammo carriers on State Troopers when I was a kid. With their Glock sidearms today, the gun itself and one additional magazine exceeds all the rounds seen above.Another .38 Special Colt revolver on display. Troopers have been assigned sequential badge numbers from the very beginning, with Trooper No. 1 being H. Norman Schwarzkopf.
Back in the day, the NJ State Police also issued the .38 Smith and Wesson Combat Masterpiece to their Troopers, which was a 6-shot revolver with adjustable sights. This one has a 6-inch barrel. I’ve owned a few of the Smith and Wesson revolvers; they are good guns.
The Smith and Wesson Combat Masterpiece. These are beautiful revolvers.Colt released a commemorative NJSP revolver, with high polish blue and the NJSP emblem. Commemorative guns, for the most part, don’t appreciate at the same rate the basic (i.e., non-commemorative) guns. I’ve owned a few commemorative guns, but not this model.More information on the Colt NJSP 75th Anniversary commemorative revolver. We previously visited the Colt Custom Shop; you can read about that here.
In those early days, the NJ State Police also used 1903A1 Springfield rifles. I have a 1903A1 in near perfect condition and I’ve written about shooting cast and jacketed bullets in it, and the rifle’s complex rear sight. They are nice rifles and they are collectible. Truth be told, though, I can shoot tighter groups with my 91/30 Mosin Nagant.
A NJSP 1903A1 Springfield. The 1903A1 has the 1903’s more complex right sight and the so-called “scant” stock. I was surprised to see this. You don’t encounter to many 1903A1 rifles.
Later in their history, the NJ State Police used Ruger .357 Magnum double-action, stainless steel revolvers.
Ruger revolvers used by the NJ State Police, in both 4-inch and 6-inch barreled versions.
During the 1980s, many police departments made the switch from revolvers to 9mm semi-automatic handguns. Not all choices worked well for the NJ State Police. One firearm, the H&K 9mm squeeze cocker, was particularly troublesome. The NJSP experienced numerous accidental discharges. Sometime after that, the NJSP went to SIG handguns. That didn’t work out, either. When the NJ State Police made the switch to SIGs, the handguns had reliability issues, and when SIG couldn’t fix the problems, the NJ State Police sued SIG. It seemed like the NJSP couldn’t catch a break in their quest to adopt a 9mm handgun. Ultimately, the NJSP went with Glock 9mm handguns. That worked out well.
A Glock up top, and several SIG handguns. The SIG at the bottom of this photo is chambered in .45 ACP.Another SIG handgun in the NJ State Police Museum.Good intentions, but bad results. It’s unfortunate. I believe that SIG makes the finest 9mm handgun in the world. But I don’t carry one for a living (like the New Jersey State Troopers do).The 9mm Glock currently carried by New Jersey State Troopers.
The firearms exhibits also displayed other long guns used by the New Jersey State Police.
A .45 ACP Thompson submachine gun the NJSP used decades ago, and an M16. A submachine gun can fire in the fully automatic mode (like a machine gun). The “submachine gun” designation typically means the gun uses a pistol cartridge.An exhibit displaying a sampling of confiscated weapons. New Jersey police agencies typically confiscate between 7,000 and 10,000 guns annually. All are delivered to the NJSP Ballistics Unit for destruction.
The New Jersey State Police also have a rich tradition using motorcycles, although they no longer use motorcycles for patrol duties. The NJSP has a few modern Harleys, but these are used for ceremonial functions only. In the early days, the NJSP used motorcycles year round, and in New Jersey, the winters can get cold, wet, snowy, and icy. Back in the day, the NJSP used tire chains when it snowed. That’s hard to imagine.
An early NJSP Motors group photo.Mittens used for cold weather riding. Those guys were tough. Unless they are electrically-heated, mittens like these don’t keep your hands warm for long.New Jersey State Trooper Justin Dintino, a motor officer who went on to become the 10th leader of the New Jersey State Troopers. Colonel Dintino graduated from the NJSP Academy two years after I was born.Trooper E. Paul Sjostrom with his Harley-Davidson police motorcycle in 1925. Back then, the NJSP had 40 Harleys, 40 horses, 20 cars, and a single truck to patrol the entire state of New Jersey.A more recent Harley police motorcycle. As mentioned above, the NJSP no longer uses motorcycles for patrol duties.A macro shot of the tank and engine on the NJSP Harley.Distinctive colors and a distinctive emblem.A 1948 Harley Panhead used by the NJ State Police. It had a hand shift and a foot clutch.The tombstone taillight Harleys used in 1948.The Harley siren used back in the 1940s and 1950s was activated by pivoting the entire siren such that it was friction driven by the rear tire. I used to have a similar siren on my Schwinn bicycle, which drove our neighbors nuts.Harleys rode with the NJSP from the very beginning. This is a 1921 NJSP Harley.A closer photo of the 1921 Harley’s V-Twin engine.
One of the NJSP Museum’s exhibits was a wanted poster for a particular person. That wanted poster is for Joanne Chesimard, who is a fugitive being sheltered by Cuba. Chesimard participated in the murder of New Jersey State Trooper Werner Foerster in May 1973. The murder occurred very near where my family lived. Another NJ State Trooper had pulled over a car driven by Clark Squire (Chesimard was also in the car). Foerster arrived in a backup patrol car. A gun battle ensued, Foerster was murdered, and Squire escaped into the woods just to the east of our home.
Squire remained at large, hiding in the woods, for several days. We thought he had escaped from the area, but police officers continued the search. Squire finally surrendered to a local police officer. We believed that if the NJ State Police had found him, Squire would not have been brought in alive (and that would have been okay with everyone I knew).
Squire, Chesimard, and a third person were convicted of murdering Foerster and sentenced to life in prison. Chesimard subsequently escaped and found her way to Cuba, where she lives in freedom to this day (sheltered by a Cuban government that refuses to extradite her to the United States). Incredibly, when Barack Obama wanted to recognize the Castro regime and lift sanctions on Cuba, returning Chesimard to serve out her sentence was not part of the deal. She remains on the FBI’s Most Wanted List to this day.
In yet another disappointment related to this Foerster murder, Squire was recently released on parole (50 years into what should have been a life sentence). I know. It’s not right.
To get back to the main topic of this blog, if you ever find yourself in New Jersey you might want to spend a few hours visiting the New Jersey State Police Museum in West Trenton. It’s free, it’s a great museum, and it’s an opportunity to learn a lot about one of the most elite police organizations in America. We enjoyed it. You will, too.
What I knew about motorcycle drag racing up until a few weeks ago you could fit on the head of a pin and have room left over for the Gettysburg Address. After a visit to Tobacco Road Harley-Davidson in Raleigh, North Carolina, I can’t say that anymore. I’m still no expert, but I learned a little more about Ray Price and the motorcycle drag racing game.
A Top Fuel engine. They sort of look like a Harley engine, but there’s very little in the way of shared parts. These engines displace 170 cubic inches and produce about 1500 hp. They launch at about 4400 rpm and are hitting about 5500 rpm at the traps.
I was in Raleigh for a consulting gig, and while I was there Susie and I stopped by the Tobacco Road Harley dealership to visit their motorcycle drag racing museum. Tobacco Road HD is one of the world’s largest Harley dealers, and Ray Price (the guy who started it all) was a world-renown Harley drag racer.
Looking over the Tobacco Road Harley-Davidson dealership. The floor was crammed with new bikes; like most dealers today, sales have been slow for the last several months. The Museum’s drag bike displays are directly across my vantage point at mezzanine-level. There are several Harley drag racing displays around the mezzanine’s periphery.
Tobacco Road Harley Davidson is home to the Legends of Harley Drag Racing Museum. For me, it was an eye opener, with six drag bikes and a mezzanine full of drag racing memorabilia. I met with Bruce Downs, one of the key guys who worked with Ray Price. Bruce is the Museum’s curator. He’s been with Tobacco Road Harley for more than 40 years.
A top fuel Harley. The disk brakes are supplemented by a parachute.The funny bike. This motorcycle power wheelied for the entire quarter-mile run.
In the drag racing game, funny cars are essentially AA Fuel dragsters designed to look sort of like regular cars. The same is true for funny bikes; if you don’t look too closely, they sort of look like a regular motorcycle. There’s one funny bike in the Museum; it’s the one with the Sportster gas tank. It’s the oldest of the Ray Price bikes on display.
A view of the Ray Price funny bike most competitors saw.
Top fuel and funny bikes are custom made, purpose-built machines from the ground up. Although the top fuel bikes’ engines look like they came from Harley-Davidson, they use few Harley parts. The engine and its components are mostly machined from billet (the funny bike has some Harley parts, but most of its parts are custom-machined, too). The engines use solid roller lifters (not hydraulic lifters like a street-going big twin Harley). There’s no oil circulating through the heads; the cylinder heads are lubricated with grease only. The engines use a special 50W Lucas oil that absorbs nitromethane, and the engine oil is changed after every pass. The engines have a 5-inch to 5 3/8-inch stroke. They use about two gallons of nitromethane on each run, and fuel is pumped to the engine by a cam-driven pump (bikes like these can’t rely on gravity feed to get the fuel to the carburetors). The engines are normally aspirated; there’s no supercharger. The engines produce something in the neighborhood of 1500 horsepower. (Note to self: Yikes!) The drag team sometimes rebuilds the engine after every pass; a decision is made after each run based on a compression test. The bikes are started with an external starter that has three car batteries wired in series.
Top fuel bikes don’t have a clutch lever (the left lever is the rear brake; the right lever is the front brake). The bikes have a custom-built two-speed transmission and what is essentially a centrifugal clutch. They launch at 4400 rpm and go through the traps at 5300 rpm. Wow. Think about that: There’s less than a thousand rpm increase in engine speed over the quarter mile. Shifting is accomplished pneumatically by pressing a button. Ray Price experimented with three-speed transmissions, but he decided the two-speed transmission was best. More gears weren’t necessary.
The M&H rear tires on the bikes are M&H car slicks; they are not designed as motorcycle-specific tires. The rear tire pressures can range from 4 psi up into the low teens. The guys who race drag bikes adjust tire pressure to get the hookup they want depending on track conditions and weather. The front tires are motorcycle-specific tires. Ray Price ran with tires made by Goodyear and M&H.
Monster chains and wheelie bars. The chains on a Harley drag bike are immense. They look like something you’d see on earth moving equipment.
Running the quarter mile on one of these machines must have been a very sporting proposition. I thought about that and I wondered what it would be like. I tried to see myself on it as the bike launched, accelerated, and then hit the traps. I imagined the steps I’d have to execute as I went through the traps. I asked Bruce what came first: Shutting off the fuel? Deploying the parachute? Hitting the brakes? Bruce told me that at the end of a run the drill is to roll off the throttle, deploy the parachute, apply the brakes, and shut the fuel off (all accomplished at something north of 200mph after six-seconds experiencing what an artillery round feels like during a cannon launch).
The funny bike and a top fuel bike. Ray Price is credited with inventing the motorcycle wheelie bar. All the bikes in the Museum have one. Parachutes on drag bikes became prevalent around 2020.
Ray Price’s best elapsed times were set on the white bike in the center of the Museum’s display area. It ran in the low 6.20s (once as low as 6.16), with speeds of 225 mph and sometimes 230 mph.
The Tobacco Road Museum’s funny bike, the one with the Sportster tank, is displayed with the front end off the ground. I asked about that and Bruce told me that when it ran the quarter, the front end was in the air for the length of the quarter mile run (it ran a power wheelie the entire distance). People would wait at the end of the track just to see it.
The funny bike and its quarter-mile-long wheelie had me thinking about steering. I asked Bruce about how Mr. Price did it. Ray steered the bikes with his body and by pushing on the footpegs (note that a top fuel bike weighs between 850 and 1000 pounds). I could see Bruce fondly remembering Ray explaining it all. “Ray said he had to be focused 1000 feet downrange, and that he was already correcting for direction the instant he launched,” Bruce said. It was a cool moment in what was already a very cool interview, seeing Bruce remembering Ray like that. My guess is there was a lot of respect and love there. (If my words convey to you that I enjoyed the Tobacco Road visit, I’ve done my job.)
Bruce went on to explain that Ray ran the bikes himself until he a bad crash at the end of a Las Vegas run. Ray landed hard on this shoulder, Bruce said, and he suffered a lot of nerve damage. After the Las Vegas accident, Ray couldn’t run the bikes himself. He hired riders. Bruce told me the crash wasn’t because Ray lost control; he was simply going too fast and the engine overpowered the brakes. Ray and the bike went through the first safety net together. The second safety net stopped the bike, but not Ray.
The Harley drag racing fraternity is small. There are about 20 Harley drag racers nationally and they all know each other. I asked Bruce if Harley had an official drag team, and he told me they do not. Several years, ago, you could buy a far less ferocious drag bike from any Harley dealer, complete with wheelie bar. That was a model based on the V-Rod engine called the Destroyer. It’s no longer available.
20+ years back, motorcycle top fuel quarter-mile times and speeds had already made it into the stratosphere. Elapsed times were just over 6 seconds with trap speeds exceeding 220 miles per hour. Today, motorcycle top fuel runs are typically done on a 1000-foot track instead of the earlier 1320-foot quarter mile (the times and trap speeds were just getting too wild). Times for the shorter distance runs are in the low 5-second range, and speeds are approximately 300 mph. The numbers are astounding.
A view from the left front of a top fuel Harley.
Tobacco Road Harley, the Legends of Harley Drag Racing Museum, and my visit with Bruce made for a quite a story and quite a visit. Ray Price was one hell of a man. I found a video about him on YouTube. I’ll think you’ll enjoy it.
If you ever find yourself in the Raleigh area (and you should, as Raleigh is a great town), Tobacco Road Harley is a “must-see” destination. And if you’re looking for a great dinner, Raleigh’s The Pit restaurant is the best barbeque I’ve ever had. Both times I’ve been there I had the brisket meat loaf and it was beyond superb (I’m told everything on the menu is great). In fact, I’d say a trip to Raleigh could be justified just to visit Tobacco Road Harley, see their Legends of Harley Drag Racing Museum, and have dinner at The Pit. Trust me on this; you can thank me later.
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.
Can you say over-restored?Fancy leather. I doubt anyone ever sat in this saddle.The port side of the Harley 45.
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.
Boy oh boy oh boy! Talk about an interesting barn find! We all have regrets filed under “I shoulda bought that when I had the chance,” and in my case, one of those items is the Harley XR1000. I did a Dream Bikes feature on it a ways back, and as soon as I did, Joe Gresh let me know that he had been planning to do the same (I beat him to it).
I always thought the Sportsters had a cool look, and to me, the XR1000 was cool raised to an exponent. It did what it was supposed to in my mind: It evoked images of Bart Markel drifting around a half mile dirt track (which I actually saw many times at East Windsor Speedway when I was a teenager), and it made me want to be that guy.
On a whim, I typed “XR1000 for sale” on Google, and this popped up. Wow, talk about a barn find!
The ad text says it all:
2,486 ORIGINAL MILE INCREDIBLY ORIGINAL BARN FIND!!! Untouched “barn find” condition very original XR1000 in absolutely amazing condition! Although I am using the term “barn find,” this bike was properly stored in an attached climate controlled garage after being completely serviced and prepared for long term storage, including cylinder fogging, fuel draining, oil change, battery removal, and a full check over and service including: head and valve spring check by the Harley-Davidson dealer race program lead technician (back in the day), fork seals, brake fluid, chain lube, etc. We have tested all non-running systems including front and rear brakes, turned over the engine, lights, starter operation, horn, tires holding air, suspension compliance, etc. and confirmed all to be in proper working order. If the new owner would like us to fill the fuel tank and get the bike running, we would be happy to do that as well, or we will leave it as it is in “barn find” condition. It is up to the buyer’s preference. The condition of all the paint, chrome, and metal is excellent with only dirt and dust covering, no corrosion. The only slight surface corrosion I see is limited to the exhaust heat shields only and could easily be remedied. The rest of any “rust colored” things you may see is simply dirt that I have confirmed in a couple small spots will clean off. Of course, I can’t say the bike will look like brand new with a simple wash after sitting for 20 years, but I am saying the chrome and trim IS NOT corroded. The bike does come complete with 2 keys (one ORIGINAL Harley key), books and manuals, and some records from the Harley Dealership when it was gone through and fully serviced and readied for storage in 2005. The bike also comes with the original longer black mufflers, while the optional accessory shorter less baffled mufflers are currently installed on the bike. We purchased the bike directly from the previous older collector owner as part of a seven Harley-Davidson collection and rolled it out of his garage into our enclosed trailer and brought it here for inspection. I have described everything to the best of my ability and provided lots of detailed photos and information for your consideration. Please feel free to contact Jason for any intelligent unanswered questions if you are interested in purchasing the bike. Without a doubt an incredibly rare opportunity to own a piece of Harley-Davidson history, and the only one like it for sale nationwide.
Wow! Somebody buy this before my “Want” overcomes my “Need.” Will it get away? Man, $27K sure is a lot of money. But how much is $27K these days of $4/gallon gasoline and runaway inflation, anyway?
Like I said: Wow! Will there ever be another opportunity like this?
Check out these photos of this incredible find:
A special thanks to Jason for allowing us to use these photos and the description above. You can reach Jason at The Auto Livery (telephone 513-738-1115).
Love them or hate them, there’s something about Harley-Davidson motorcycles that command attention, and during our recent visit to the Harley museum in Milwaukee, one of the exhibits that grabbed my attention was The Engine Wall. It had a magnificent display of Harley-Davidson engines including their big twins, their small twins, and other engines in the Harley family tree. I always found the evolution of the big twin engines mildly confusing, but this dramatic display cleared all that up. I grabbed a photo of each one and I thought I’d share them with you here on the blog.
F-Head (1911-1929)
The F-head engines were 61 cubic inches, and later, 74 cubic inches. These were Harley’s first v-twin engines, and they featured an inlet over exhaust valve configuration. What that means is that the intake valve was an overhead valve contained in the cylinder head (it moved down to let in the air-fuel mixture), and the exhaust valve was a side valve (or flathead valve) contained in the cylinder on one side (it moved up to allow the exhaust gases to escape). Inlet over exhaust internal combustion engine configurations (or F-heads) were fairly common in the early days of gasoline engines. If you draw the arrangement schematically, it sort of looks like an F (hence the name). The larger of the two Harley F-head models produced 11 horsepower.
The F-Head configuration.
V-Series Flathead (1930-1936)
The V-series flatheads were either 45 cubic inches or 74 cubic inches. They were sidevalve engines, which means the valves and their seats faced up and were located in the cylinders (not the cylinder heads), alongside piston (hence the sidevalve descriptor). This allowed the head to be basically flat (when viewed from the bottom), and that’s why these engines are called flatheads. It’s an old school design and it works well, but due to the twists and turns the intake and exhaust gases have to make and their poor heat dissipation, flatheads are limited in how much power they can produce. Harley would get around to fixing that in 1936 with the introduction of their overhead valve Knucklehead engine, but that would be down the road. Read on; we’ll get to that.
U-Series Flathead (1937-1948)
This was the second iteration of Harley’s sidevalve (or flathead) engines. There were two versions: The U and UL models (both had 74 cubic inches), and the UH and ULH (these had 80 cubic inches). The U series of engines were used for both motorcycles and Harley’s three-wheeled vehicles.
Knucklehead (1936-1947)
The Knucklehead was the first of Harley’s overhead valve engines, and the knucklehead name was derived from the valve covers’ appearance. Knuckleheads were made in a 61 cubic inch model and then in 1941, a 74 cubic inch configuration.
I’ve read that Knucklehead engines had serious oil leak issues caused by an overly complex rocker box cover (something Harley tried to correct with the next engine configuration, the Panhead). Knuckleheads had cast iron cylinder heads, which tended to make them run hot (cast iron does not dissipate heat very well). The Knucklehead motorcycles were the first Harleys that featured their distinctive Big Twin style, something that Harley has kept right up to present-day offerings.
Panhead (1948-1965)
The Panhead Harleys got their name from the valve covers’ appearance (they look like pans). This engine and the Evo engine (the engine that appeared two iterations later) are, in my opinion, the two best looking engines Harley ever made. In a major design shift for Harley, Panhead cylinder heads were made of aluminum, which improved heat dissipation and temperature control. The Panhead was intended to improve performance and address the oil leak issues associated with the Knucklehead. Did it work? I don’t know. I’ve never seen a Panhead Harley that did not leak. They sure are beautiful, though. The Panhead had a short production run, but it had a major impact on Harley styling.
The last year of the Panhead (1965) was the first year Harley had electric starting (that was when Harley introduced the Electra Glide name). My two ultimate dream bikes are the 1965 Harley Electra Glide and the Norton P-11 (which is discussed elsewhere on ExNotes). In my opinion, Panhead Harleys are exceptionally beautiful motorcycles.
Shovelhead (1966-1984)
1966 saw the introduction of another Harley engine, and yet another name based on the rocker box appearance.
I had a Shovelhead (a 1979 Electra Glide Classic). It was so bad I called it the Optical Illusion (because it looked like a motorcycle). My shovelhead Electra Glide was the worst motor vehicle of any type I ever owned (car, motorcycle, lawn mower, and Cox-.049-model airplane). It was constantly plagued by oil leaks and breakdown. It wouldn’t go a hundred miles without something breaking. After coming off a Triumph Bonneville, the Harley handled like a garbage truck. It would hang an exhaust valve every 4,000 miles, and as it was explained to me by the dealer, it was because when unleaded gasoline was introduced in the US, the valves would stick in the valve guides without the added lubricity provided by leaded gas. I don’t know if that was the reason or not, but in 12,000 miles, that bike needed three valve jobs (the first two were on the dealer with the bike’s 12,000-mile warranty; the third was on me because the bike had just over 12,000 miles. After paying for that last valve job, I sold my Electra Glide and I swore I’d never buy another Harley (but I did; see below). It was beautiful, though, and I wish I had kept it.
Evolution (1984-1999)
Harley got their act together on this one, and it was probably because they subcontracted the engineering to Porsche. Willie G drove a Porsche, and he knew they knew how to engineer engines. It was a good move. I had a ’92 Heritage Softail and it was a great motorcycle. My dealer? Not so much, but I guess it was all part of the Harley experience. I put a lot of fun miles on my ’92 including trips all over the US Southwest and Mexico, and I enjoyed riding it. The engine style was great, too.
In my opinion, the Evo engine was one of the two best-looking motors Harley ever made (the other was the Panhead; see above).
Twin Cam (1999-2017)
The thing most amazing to me about the Twin Cam engine was that Harley kept it as long as they did. It was basically a bust. Plagued by mechanical failures and overheating from the get-go, one had to be either ignorant or a masochist to buy a Harley with a Twin Cam motor. Cam failures, lubrication failures, and overheating were a fact of life if you owned one of these. The rear cylinder overheating issue was so bad that Harley incorporated a switch and an automated feature to shut down the rear cylinder if the engine got too hot. Amazingly and amusingly (at least to anyone with any mechanical smarts), Harley called activation of the rear cylinder shutdown feature their “parade mode,” with the implication that it was intended to accommodate riders who rode in, you know, parades. There were kits available to shield the riders’ legs from the intense heat the rear cylinder generated.
Twin Cam Rushmore (2014-2016)
This is a higher performance version of the Twin Cam engine that involved many changes, the most significant of which was liquid cooling for the cylinder heads on the Ultra Limited, CVO Limited, and Tri-Glide models (the models in which the radiators could be hidden; you can’t have a Big Twin Harley looking like a Gold Wing, I guess).
Milwaukee Eight (2017 to Present)
Harley joined much of the rest of the world in 2017 when they incorporated four valves (two intake, two exhaust) for each cylinder. Let’s see…two cylinders, four valves per cylinder…that makes eight, and Harley’s hometown is Milwaukee. Hey, the Milwaukee Eight! (At least the name makes more sense than the Rushmore mentioned above.) These engines had problems and Harley had recalls to address them. Wet sumping was a major issue, as was overheating. The Milwaukee Eight incorporated a plastic intake manifold, too, which also had issues. I like the name, though.
I thought the Harley Museum’s Engine Wall was very, very well done. Harley put a lot of thought and work into it, and as a mechanical engineer and former Harley owner, I enjoyed it. There’s the obvious: the actual engines on display. And then there’s the subtle: the slight tilt of that orange wall toward the visitors so that the engines were presented not an angle, but straight on as you tilt your head up to view the different engines. The colors are classic Harley: black, orange, and chrome. It’s one of the better displays I’ve seen of any type in any museum. The whole thing just works. Harley got The Engine Wall right; they did an awesome job.
As mentioned at the start of this blog, there were more engines on The Engine Wall. These included their smaller engines (for the Sportsters and the racebikes), their singles, and some interesting other twins. Keep an eye on ExNotes; we’ll show those, too.
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.
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.
None of the XA Harleys saw active duty in a war zone. This one looks ready, though, with a .45 ACP Thompson in a scabbard on the right and a .30-cal M1 Carbine in the scabbard on the left. Check out the tires!
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:
five or six times. The guy was and still is my hero.
