Category: Vintage Motorcycle

The Wayback Machine: Jerry and the Jersey Devil

By Joe Berk

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

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

Rest in peace, Jerry.

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

Kicking back in the Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth.  Check out the leaves changing colors in the background.
A 305cc Honda Scrambler, the Jersey Devil, and Lucille’s Country Diner.  Life is good in the Pines.
Jerry Dowgin at speed in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. He’s been riding the same motorcycle for five decades. Jerry paid $10 for his Honda Scrambler.  I offered to give him what he paid for it, which drew only a smile.

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

In the New Jersey Pine Barrens with former football star Jerry Dowgin and his awesome Honda Scrambler.  I only run with the cool kids.
Jerry’s father, Trooper Ralph Dowgin of the New Jersey State Police. This photo was taken in 1936.  The one above it was taken 4 days ago.
Trooper Dowgin’s original leather motorcycle helmet.  Jerry showed it to me.

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

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

The Scrambler fuel tank. Honda hit a home run with the Scrambler’s styling.
Everything on this motorcycle is well proportioned. The ergnomics fit me perfectly.
The cool kids removed the Scrambler’s bulbous two-into-one muffler and replaced it with Snuff-R-Nots. Jerry is one of the cool kids.

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

The Scrambler’s speedo. The switch on the left is for the headlight; the amber light is a neutral indicator. The speedometer is accurate; we rode through a highway sign that showed your speed and it matched the speedometer indication.
The Scrambler’s front fork damper.
The Scrambler’s tool storage compartment.
Jerry’s wife Karin made the toolkit pouch. Jerry’s toolkit includes the original Honda tools and a few extras.
A single overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder, and threaded locknut valve adjustment. Honda’s casting quality was superb for the time.

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

The Scrambler’s rear suspension has three preload adjustment positions.
Relatively sophisticated for the time on a mass-produced motorcycle: Twin shoe brakes.
The Scrambler’s rear brake was similarly equipped.
Gresh and I are both members!

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

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

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

Jerry on his Scrambler at the end of a great day on the road.
Jerry and his Scrambler were featured on the cover of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s magazine about 4 years ago.

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

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

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The Wayback Machine: Indian ExhaustNotes!

By Joe Berk

This is a blog we published about 6 years ago.  It’s one of my favorites, and I’m hoping you will enjoy it, too.

We were visiting the Planes of Fame last month when I spotted the US Army World War II motorcycle you see below…

At first, I thought it was a Harley WLA 45, but nope, a nice young fellow named Paul was working on the motorcycle and he told me it was an Indian.  Wow, you don’t see too many WWII US Army Indians.  I was a bit embarrassed (after all, I wrote a book about police and military motorcycles), but the beauty of this motorcycle soon made me forget that.   Check out these photos, folks…

When I returned home, I had to look up what I had written two decades ago about the Indian 741 in The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles…

INDIAN WORLD WAR II MOTORCYCLES

During the war, Indian produced about 40,000 motorcycles and essentially devoted its entire operation to military production. It produced few civilian motorcycles (the company did not even bother to print a catalog in 1942), although it maintained a small amount of its production capacity for police motorcycles. It sold its military motorcycles to the U.S. Army and to several other Allied nations, most notably England. Indian offered several models during World War II. These included the Model 741, the Chief, the Model 640B, the M1, and the Model 841.

The Model 741

The Model 741 was Indian’s main military motorcycle. It was the machine Indian had developed in response to the U.S. Army’s ill-advised initial requirement for a 500-cc military motorcycle. The Model 741’s engine actually displaced 30.5 cubic inches (or 500 cc), and for this reason it became known as the “30-50.”

The Model 741 was based on Indian’s Junior Scout. Its 500-cc, V-twin engine was the Junior Scout engine detuned for increased durability. It only produced about 15 horsepower. The Model 741 had a hand shift and a foot clutch like the Harley-Davidson WLA, but the Indian motorcycle put the shifter on the right side of the gas tank instead of on the left side as Harley-Davidson had done. The motorcycle’s throttle was in the left handgrip, in accordance with the army’s initial specification. As Harley-Davidson had done, Indian extended the front forks to give greater ground clearance. Indian also extended the rear frame for the same purpose. The Model 741 also used the much larger Indian Chief’s transmission for increased reliability. The Model 741 had a rifle scabbard on the right front fender and an ammunition container on the left front fender.

The Indian Model 741, like the Harley- Davidson WLA, was not a high-performance motorcycle. Both machines weighed over 500 pounds. Both machines had top speeds of approximately 65 mph. The army was more interested in durability than in top speed.

The U.S. Army used the Indian Model 741 during World War II, as did the armies of Great Britain, Canada, Poland, Australia, and Russia. Indian also sold Model 741s to the British Royal Air Force.

Here’s the best part of this story…The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles is still in print, it’s just $12.95, and all you need to do to order it is click on the link you see here.

Oh, and one more thing.  If you live for the sound of exotic ExhaustNotes, I saved the best for last…

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Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum

By Joe Berk

Time has a way of creeping up on you.  In looking over my list of Motorcycle Classics “Destinations” articles, I was surprised to see I’ve been pitching and publishing stories for the magazine for 20 years.  It all started when a nice young fellow named Landon Hall, MC‘s Associate Editor at the time, saw a few photos I had posted online and asked if I’d be interested in doing a piece for the magazine.  Hell, yeah, I would (and I did).  I wrote a lot of stories on a lot of fun destinations.  I’m not bragging here, folks.  I’m just getting old.

A new editorial staff recently came on board at Motorcycle Classics, and my new editor asked if I could focus more on motorcycle museums.  As a freelancer, I learned a long time ago that you don’t argue with people who buy ink by the barrel, so I set about finding moto museums.  This led me to discover Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum in Pacific Grove, California.  I’d never heard of the Jameson before.  Come to think of it, I’d never heard of Pacific Grove, either.   Both turned out to be pure slices of heaven, as did the ride there and our return home.

Neil Jameson, the man who created Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum.

The story behind the Jameson is a fascinating one, and I heard it firsthand from Staci Jameson Hayes.  Neil Jameson was the man who created the Museum (Staci is his daughter).  Neil is no longer with us, but while he graced our world, he was one hell of a man.  He grew up in Hollister, California, and I found myself wondering if his interest in motorcycles came about as a result of that town’s moto history.  Jameson started as a goat farmer, became a firefighter, and along the way, he became a world class  businessman, investor, and wheeler dealer (Staci told me he was a horse trader extraordinaire).  Neil’s time with us ended in 2021, and during his 82 years on this planet, he was a motorcycle enthusiast, an adventure rider, and a motorcycle collector.

Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum is at 305 Forest Avenue in Pacific Grove, California, directly across the street from the police station and city hall.  Neil Jameson bought the building to showcase his collection in 2010; it formerly housed the local newspaper.

The Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum collection is eclectic.  Many of the bikes were owned and ridden by Neil (including the ’72 R75 BMW that he rode to the Arctic Circle and back).  Some have been restored to original condition; others are in their as-ridden-by-Neil condition.  The restorations were performed by Emma Booton, a woman Staci describes as The Restoration Goddess.  I’ve been to a lot of museums; the restorations at the Jameson are stunning.

Peering into the Museum through the front door.
Another view of the collection through a wide-angle lens. I recently learned that the best photos of a motorcycle are shot at knee height; getting down and back up again to do that is not as easy as it used to be.
Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum has several BMWs. Neil Jameson rode the one in the center of this photo to the Arctic Circle.

As mentioned above, the Jameson collection is eclectic.  For the most part, the bikes are “everyman” motorcycles, the kind you or I might have owned and ridden.  Several of the machines really spoke to me, including a 1982 T140E Triumph Electro.   By the early 1980s, the original Triumph motorcycle company was in a death spiral.  The Electro, an electric start motorcycle, was an attempt by Triumph to counter Japan’s moto success.  It was too little and too late, but it was a valiant and magnificent effort.  The Jameson’s Electro is the first I have ever seen.

A Triumph Bonneville Electro, a gorgeous motorcycle.
The Electro’s colors are magnificent. Note the timing/cam cover casting, enlarged to accept an electric starter.

Japanese street bikes of the 1970s and 1980s are well represented, including several that showcase the engineering accomplishments and marketing experiments of the era.

The Jameson has stunning Kawasaki two-stroke triples, in both 500cc and 750cc flavors.
Let the good times roll: Fiercely fast with acceleration measured on the Richter scale, and handling that could only be described as scary.
Before venturing into big-bore four strokes, Suzuki tried a couple of interesting and unconventional concepts. One was their rotary-engined street bike.
Just in case you missed the point…
Kawasaki had air-cooled big bore two-stroke street bikes; Suzuki chose water cooling for their 750cc two-stroke triple. This bike was affectionately known as the Water Buffalo.
Trust me on this: The Suzuki water-cooled two-stroke triple is a mechanical engineering work of art.

Think CHiPs:  Back in the day, the California Highway Patrol and many local law enforcement agencies used the Kawasaki KZ1000P police motorcycle.  West of the Mississippi River, Kawasaki owned the police motorcycle market (Harley police motors dominated the police market east of the Mississippi).  Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum displays a Kawasaki KZ1000P, and the motorcycle didn’t have to travel very far to get into the collection.

The Kawasaki police bikes are beautiful. Their performance was considerably better than Harley’s, with better acceleration, better braking, higher top speed, and run-flat tires.
Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum’s police Kawasaki came from the Pacific Grove Police Department, which is directly across the street from the Museum.

There’s a Bonneville Salt Flats bike, too.  It’s a 1965 Honda CB-160 streamliner.  My father’s first motorcycle was a 1965 Honda CB-160.  I’m pretty sure this one is faster than my Dad’s bike.

A small-displacement Honda streamliner.
Another view of the Honda LSR bike.

As mentioned above, Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum has a great collection of British motorcycles.    BSAs, Bonnevilles, and Nortons were the hot ticket in the 1960s, and all three are well represented in the Museum.

A BSA Firebird Scrambler. BSA had this hot rod; Triumph had the Bonneville. The 1960s were a glorious time for British motorcycles.

My two favorite motorcycles of the many beautiful machines on display in the Jameson are the Triumph Electro described above, and an absolutely stunning Ariel Square Four.  Ariel based the Square Four’s engine design on two 500cc twins in series, and the result was a visually-arresting motorcycle dominated by its engine.  Finished in a deep maroon livery, the Museum’s Square Four is an amazing specimen.

An Ariel Square Four, a massive and impressive motorcycle.
A tighter shot of the Ariel Square Four engine. This is a beautiful machine.

Pacific Grove, California, is a nice little town bordered by the Pacific Ocean, the Del Monte Forest, and the City of Monterey.  We rode out to the lighthouse and watched huge waves crashing into the breakers for a bit.

Looking down Forest Avenue, standing in front of Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum. That’s the Pacific Ocean out there.
Land’s end on the Monterey peninsula.

We fell in love with Pacific Grove, the coastal community in which Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum is located.  Everything about the place and everyone we met made us feel like we belonged there, including Staci and her husband, Russ.  The town just feels comfortable and it’s a place we’d like to visit again.    We enjoyed a fantastic lunch at Toasties, which was surprisingly reasonably priced (especially considering the area).  I’m told that Pepper’s Mexicali Café’s burritos are world class.  Both restaurants are within a mile of the Museum (Pepper’s is only a block away).  Our ride into Pacific Grove took us past the Naval Postgraduate School and the Defense Language Institute; the ride back home took us along California State Route 68, California State Route 17, and the Chualar River Road through the Salinas Valley.  It was all magnificent.

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ExNotes Review: A Complete Unknown

By Joe Berk

I don’t go to the movies too much anymore, although the theatres have dramatically improved their seating and some even sell complete meals you can eat while watching the movie.  We have Netflix, Prime, and Max at home, once in a while I’ll watch something on regular TV besides Fox News, and we pretty much have all the home entertainment needs covered with our TV and the aforementioned subscriptions.  Susie wanted to see the new Bob Dylan show, though, and I thought it might be good to get out for a bit.

A fake Dylan filming a fake motorcycle scene.

As movies go, A Complete Unknown was not too bad.  The Joan Baez sound tracks were great, as was Zimmerman’s music (I’ll bet you didn’t know Bobby Zimmerman was beatnikized into Bob Dylan, did you?).

I have to comment on the motorcycle scenes, though…after all, this is a motorcycle website.

In the very first Dylan motorcycle scene, he’s riding an early Norton Atlas.  You don’t see too many of those with their black trapezoidal fuel tanks and huge chrome valanced fenders, so it had my attention.  In all the remaining motorcycle scenes, Dylan is on a mid-’60s Triumph Tiger.   He didn’t wear a helmet in any of those scenes, and the action was ostensibly set in New York City.  Seeing a helmetless Dylan slicing through Manhattan traffic made me uneasy, even though I knew it was all Hollywood tomfoolery.  The really goofy parts were the closeup riding scenes in which Dylan’s ample curls were unruffled by cruising speed winds, and the 500cc Triumph starting without Dylan using the Triumph’s sole wakeruppery mechanism (i.e., a kickstarter).  Nope, the moto scenes were as fake as a Joe Biden promise, and that made me put A Complete Unknown in the Complete Fake column.

Like I said above, the music was good.  Somewhere there’s a probably a Scriptwriting for Dummies guide that says a movie has to have conflict injected into the plot, so in this flick it was Dylan doing “his music” at the Newport Folk Festival instead of their desired folk music.  Dylan and Pete Seeger almost started a fist fight over that (I know, it’s silly, but I’m just reporting here, folks).  At the concert’s end Dylan sang one folk song, so all was forgiven.

I can’t leave out the best part:  Johnny Cash (played by a real complete unknown, Boyd Holbrook) was in the movie and he was superb.  If anyone ever does another Johnny Cash movie, casting anyone other than Holbrook in that role would be a crime against nature.

If you can ignore the motorcycle phoniness, A Complete Unknown is worth the price of admission.  The motorcycle inaccuracies notwithstanding, I enjoyed it and I think you will, too.

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One Up, Three Down

Those of you who subscribe to Motorcycle Classics magazine may have seen my article on good buddy Andrew’s Norton P11.  I was very proud of that piece and its photos, until I found out that I got a few things wrong.  The most significant faux pas was my description of the shift pattern, which I mistakenly assumed was the same as a Triumph’s.  All my ‘60s and ‘70s Triumphs were one down, a half click up for neutral, and all the rest up (just like on most of today’s motorcycles).  BSA was the same way.  When I rode good buddy Steve’s Norton Commando of the same era it was one down and three up.  That’s the natural order of things, right?

The shift lever on the right side of Andrew’s P11A. It’s one up and three down. They even stamped it for me at the factory, and I still got it wrong. Andrew owns British Motorcycle Gear.

Ah, not so fast.  Norton did it differently.  On a Norton, it’s one up and three down.  Just like it’s marked on the transmission.  Just like my photo above shows.

So why did I get it wrong in the MC article?  Chalk it up to old age and carelessness, I guess.  I sure am embarrassed about it.  I should stick to things that are harder to get wrong (maybe I should be a presidential election pollster for the New York Times).

Steve’s Norton Commando in the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s one down and three up, as God intended.

You might be wondering:  What about Steve’s Norton Commando, which had the conventional one down and three up shift pattern?  As it turns out, more than a few Norton owners reversed the shift pattern on their bikes to make them like the rest of the world, which can be accomplished by installing a mirror image cam plate in the Norton’s AMC gearbox.   That’s evidently what happened to Steve’s bike way before he owned it, and way before I rode it.

Guys who have the original Norton gearbox pattern write that it’s the more natural of the two shift patterns.   When you want to go faster, you push down on the shift lever.   It’s kind of like stepping on the gas, I guess.  Foot down, go faster.   Thinking about it, it makes sense.

You know, I didn’t think too much about the Norton’s controls layout when I wrote the P11 article (and obviously, what little thinking I did was not enough).  I wrote another MC story about a 1913 Thor several issues back, and if I would have made a mistake, I would have thought it would be in that article.  On that one, I had to study my photographs and think about what each lever, pedal, valve, and twist grip did (and there were a lot of each); there was no one to explain it all.  After I had done that, I actually found a guy who owned a 1914 Thor (how many of them can there be?) and he told me I had it right.  But on that Norton…I’ve ridden a Norton, I’ve owned a bunch of Triumphs and one BSA, and I just never thought I’d get it wrong. But I did.  Mea culpa.

Oh, two more things:

      1. Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah.  They’re both on the same day this year, which is very unusual.
      2. That photo at the top of this blog?  That’s the P11A, Andrew (on the left), and good buddy Harry (aka the Norton Whisperer).

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Too Pretty To Fight?

By Joe Berk

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

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.

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An XR1000 Barn Find!

By Joe Berk

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).

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Zed’s Not Dead: We Get It Right The Tenth Time

By Joe Gresh

I like to think of myself as handy with a wrench. I try to fix most things even if I have no clue and oftentimes succeed. This Kawasaki 900 though, this Zed has been giving me fits. It almost makes me question my do-it-yourself mantra. Almost…

After initially getting Zed running a few years ago I enjoyed 4000 relatively trouble-ree miles. Zed had a slight hitch in its giddy-up right off idle but otherwise it ran fine.  Then the bike started fouling spark plugs and missing. Occasionally gasoline would pour out the carb overflow tubes and a sharp rap with a screwdriver handle was needed to stop the flow.

So my first line of attack was the float needles because they were original and came out of corroded carbs. I went online and bought some cheap carb kits that included needles and seats.

Setting float height on carbs using plastic hose screwed into float bowl drain.

On a 1975 Z1 Kawasaki the carbs sit up high off the engine block so you can do a lot of tinkering without removing the carb bank. I changed all the needles and set the float height using the clear tube tool that screws into the carb bowl drain.

New fuel tees @ $26 each!

This didn’t really cure anything.  Plugs were still fouling. I started to suspect an ignition problem. After messing with the points and several test runs I was getting nowhere so I purchased a new, aftermarket ignition system. They’re cheap, like $90 or so.

Carbs removed from Zed. A scene I got accustomed to. After the 4th round trip I decided to look elsewhere.

The new system came complete with new coils and wires. This was nice as the old coils were butchered by the previous owner. I installed the new ignition system and the bike still ran terrible and fouled plugs.

I rechecked the aftermarket floats and upon examination I found the needle seats miss-punched with what looked like lettering for the needle size. This caused a wrinkle in the exact spot the needle needed to seat.

.030 tool for setting baseline carb slide height.

Next, I bought new Mikuni needles and seats. I put the Mikuni stuff in and re-set the float levels. The bike ran like crap and foiled the plugs. At least I knew the ignition system was ok.

I was at my limit of understanding, my attention went back to the carburetors. I pulled the carbs, dismantled them and cleaned everything.

Zeds carbs sat like this for 2 years. I was befuddled, vexed, stressed right the “F” out.

I bought another, more expensive carb kit and new Mikuni enrichener plungers. The carbs were in a million pieces on my bench and I lost interest. Other things were happening, concrete need pouring and the carbs gathered dust for two years.

A few months ago I decided to get Zed running for the Motorado vintage motorcycle show up in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Buckling down, I reassembled the carbs and using new rubber manifolds (the others had dry rotted in only a few years!) I slid the carbs back into Zed and the bike ran like crap, still fouling plugs.

I couldn’t get the bike running well enough to sync the carbs. A bad condenser was messing up two cylinders.

I took the carbs off the bike and went through them again making sure everything was spotless. And the bike ran like crap. Again, I took the carbs apart racking my brain over the flooding issue. And the bike ran like crap. I changed jets, I changed float heights, I swapped pilot air jets, I swapped emulsion tubes. The third time I took the carbs apart and triple checked everything the bike still ran terrible.

I was in the weeds bad-like and decided to think hard on the situation. I told myself that carbs aren’t all that complicated and that even if I didn’t get them perfect it should still run. And that the bike ran fine for 4000 miles with those carbs. That was when I decided to go back to the new ignition system.

One of the new points had a whitish coating. I thought maybe the bike sat so long the points corroded. Then inspiration hit me: the condensers! I checked the condensers with an ohm meter and found one of the two condensers bad.

Bad condenser from new kit.

I had started with one problem: fouling plugs and by using aftermarket needles I installed a worse set of needles. By removing the original ignition system I installed an entirely new problem with the bad condenser.

These two errors were compounded by my inability to believe that the new parts were bad out of the box so I kept rebuilding the carbs over and over.

The condensers on the old ignition system tested ok and I swapped them into the new plate. And the bike ran. Not perfectly because I had all the jets wrong in my attempts to make the bike run.

I walked the carbs back to their original settings. First the old slide needles and emulsion tubes went back in. Then the main jets, then the pilot jets until finally everything was back to where I started from two years ago.

Zed was running pretty good so I took a little 300 mile test loop. No fouled plugs. Stupid hurts and I was so damn stupid chasing gremlins that I was creating even as I was installing new gremlins.

Home built replica of the official Kawasaki carb sync tool.
The business end of the carb sync tool.

Next up is a good carb sync and since parts are so crappy now I will try an electronic ignition system just for fun because I haven’t screwed things up enough yet. Stay tuned.

New electronic ignition. Only $68 on Amazon. Cheaper than points! What could go wrong?

Want to follow the initial resurrection of Zed? It’s right here!

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World War II Harleys

By Joe Berk

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

The WLA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The WLC

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

The 61 EL

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

The XA

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

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:

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ExNotes Long Term Test: Oxilam LED Headlight Bulb

By Joe Gresh

As you’ll recall from the Oxilam headlight review we published on ExhaustNotes a while back, I loved the thing. It gave a much brighter view at night and the light source was positioned in the correct spot for the reflector on the ZRX1100 Lawsonsaki. Low beam was wide and had a sharp cutoff so as to not blind oncoming drivers, and high beam lit up the dark New Mexico roads nicely.

Unfortunately. the bulb burned out on my bike after only 3000 miles. Considering the original halogen bulb lasted 35,000 miles, 24 years, and was still going strong, I was disappointed.

Taking the bulb apart revealed a neatly constructed circuit board, a cooling fan, heat transferring grease to the large aluminum heat sink, and broken solder connections at the main board/plug connector junction.

The board connections are tiny and I may try to re-solder the connections (there are four of them broken: two on either side of the circuit board) but I don’t hold out much hope.

The Oxilam kit came with two bulbs, and I’ll pop the other one in to see if my failure was just a fluke. I do like the quantity of light produced and riding with a plain old halogen seems dark now.

My new, revised rating on the Oxilam LED headlights is: Don’t buy them just yet. Wait until the second Oxilam has proved itself for 24 years. I’ll be sure to report back here if I’m still alive.

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