Legends Motorcycle Museum in Springville, Utah, is not just a museum; it is a compound, consisting of three retro-industrial-themed buildings and numerous motorcycle-related shops and eateries. And if that’s not enough good news, it’s located in one of the best riding locales on the planet: Magnificent Utah. Surprisingly, I had never heard of Legends. I only found it during a Google search after my good buddy Mark at Motorcycle Classics magazine asked me to focus on motorcycle museums.
I arranged to be at the Legends Museum early so that I could photograph the motorcycles without other guests getting in the way (both for the ExNotes blog and for Motorcycle Classics magazine). We entered through the Museum’s shop, which contains work bays and advanced CNC equipment where the place makes its own parts. The owner, Rick Salisbury, is also an automobile enthusiast; we saw a stunning restomod 1957 Cadillac convertible (with a crate Chevy LS2 engine) being assembled. A large and initially terrifying black pit bull welcomed us with a deep growl; when I froze, my new friend Winston approached cautiously, put his big paws on my shoulders (he stood taller than me), and gave me a friendly lick. I realized that coffee (served in the Museum’s adjacent Sidecar Café) would not be necessary. Thanks to Winston, I was now fully adrenalized and wide awake.
The view upon entering the Museum was visually arresting, starting with the famous Von Dutch VW-powered motorcycle (as seen in many print publications and in an episode of the American Pickers TV show). It stood proudly on a weathered steel pedestal. The Von Dutch motorcycle was surrounded by numerous Panheads, Knuckleheads, Indians, and other old motorcycles, machines that were built when guys like Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, and Kennedy lived in the White House. None of the bikes were restored. I had entered barnfind Heaven. I’ve been in lots of museums that proudly display motorcycles that look better than the day they rolled off their assembly lines. Legends is different, and I’m here to tell you it is better.
The Legends Museum second floor is comprised entirely of pre-1920 motorcycles. A Journs Cyclone, one of only 12 known to exist, dominates the display; the Museum’s owner paid a whopping (and record) $1.3 million for it at Mecum’s last year. There were many more exotic motorcycles. Thor. Henderson. Flying Merkel. I’ll let the photos do the talking here, folks.
One of the best things about the Legends Motorcycle Museum is its north central Utah location. Utah is one of our most beautiful states, and it figures prominently in our collection of previous Motorcycle Classics Destinations pieces (which include Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon National Park, Cedar Breaks National Park, Utah Highways 12 and 24, Arches Canyon National Park, Golden Spike National Historic Park, and Flaming Gorge National Park). If you’re headed to Utah, Legends should be part of your itinerary. And if you’re not headed to Utah, you should start thinking about a visit. It’s spectacular.
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Don’t get excited; I don’t have that many friends. But lately two of them (Baja John and Uncle Joe Gresh) both bought Harleys. I guess I started thinking about it when I went to the gym yesterday morning. There was an early Harley V-Rod parked in front. It looked brand new. It’s too bad that bike didn’t make it with the beer bellies and tattoos bunch. Harley is on the skids now, struggling through a huge sales downturn and significant layoffs. I guess they don’t know what to do. I do (small bikes and even smaller prices; it ain’t rocket science, Milwaukee). Eh, what do I know?
The V-Rod had me thinking about Baja John. He bought a V-Rod last year. I haven’t seen it yet, so I called John and asked him to send a photo. It’s the one you see at the top of this blog. I need to get out there to Arizona and visit with John again. Maybe on the next pig hunt. Maybe sooner.
And then there’s Gresh and his Buell. I knew more about that motorcycle, as Sue and I hosted Gresh out here in La La Land when he came out to pick it up. It’s a beautiful motorcycle, and it’s been fun watching Joe resurrect it. He’s having fun. It’s too bad Buell didn’t work out for Harley, either. I thought those bikes might have been the answer. Joe’s adventures have had me thinking maybe I need to find an older Buell to play with. It would be fun. But there aren’t too many Harley dealers around here anymore; they’ve been dropping like left wing loonies (sorry for the redundancy) at a MAGA rally. Seriously. Harley dealers are falling fast. It’s a shame, really.
The upshot of the above, of course, is that if you are in the market for a Harley, this is probably a good time to buy. I’ve owned two Harleys; one was a turd and the other was awesome. They sure were beautiful, though. Even the ’79 Electra-Glide (the turd) that treated me worse than Kamala Harris at a Toastmasters meeting was drop dead gorgeous.
I think if I was going to buy another motorcycle, it would be a Moto Guzzi. The work I’ve been doing for Motorcycle Classics magazine with Cycle Garden in Indio cemented what I already felt: Guzzis are the world’s most beautiful motorcycles. I like the Ambassadors and El Dorados from the 1970s, and I also like the Griso. I’m keeping my eyes peeled. And there’s another plus on the Guzzis: They sure are easy to maintain.
How easy? Hey, buy a recent issue of Motorcycle Classics, turn to the “How To” section, and you’ll see. The upcoming issue has a feature on how to de-rust a gas tank, and it’s pretty interesting. I think you’ll like it.
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I have two motorcycles with upside down forks. Both of these motorcycles have leaking fork seals. Coincidence? I think not. I have no love for USD forks and one of the reasons I wanted a Buell Cyclone was the conventional forks those bikes came with.
I don’t care for upside down forks. They seem to leak more than conventional forks.
Alas, I ended up with a Thunderstorm, which is mostly the same as a Cyclone except for the forks. Mine were leaking, which is not unexpected for a 30-year-old motorcycle.
I try to lay out the parts in the order they are removed. Until I kick the cardboard and the bits scatter. This is the fork cap-retainer-plastic spacer-metal washer top of the tube parts.
New fork seals were kind of hard to find. I tried contacting the OEM manufacturer, White Power (that name didn’t age well), but I got no response. Through the wonder of the internet, I found a company in England that had the seals.
Always tape over ridges so the seal doesn’t get cut or damaged when sliding it into the tube.The seal installer in action. Sliding the fork tube presses in the fork bushing, a spacer and the seal in one motion.After pressing the two halves are removed. Next is the seal retaining clip (which is all that holds the forks together).
The seals were reasonably priced at $14 per set, but the shipping was expensive. I bought three sets since the shipping was the same. Now I have enough Buell S2 fork seals for the rest of my life. On a side note: a week after the seals were delivered FedEx sent me a $20 invoice for “fees.” I haven’t paid the fee yet; I’m not sure, it may be a scam. The fees may be re-named tariffs.
Without this relief cut the seal installer would smash the seal lip.Buell seal installer. PVC tube machined to fit seal lip then cut in half.
The Buell has a large front disc. To remove the wheel, you have to remove the brake caliper. To remove the brake caliper, you have to remove the brake pads and then retract all six of the caliper pistons back inside their respective bores.
The old Performance Machine brake caliper pistons were pretty crusty, and I didn’t want to push all that mess across the bore seals into the caliper. Removing the brake disc from the wheel allowed enough wiggle room to get things apart.
The WP forks were super tight in the triple clamps. I used a wedge to expand the fork tube bores and still it was a struggle to slide the forks out. Once out, disassembly was fairly straightforward (although oily) experience.
These triple clamps really grip the fork tubes. You almost don’t need pinch bolts.
You’ll need to make a seal installer to press the new seals into the forks. I made mine from PVC tubing in the hope of avoiding scratching the sliders. The new seals fit well, and the hardest part was compressing the fork spring while holding the damper rod up with a bent wire and using a third hand fitting the damper rod spring keepers. My Buell shop manual describes this process as a two-man job. And it really is.
It took a couple days to figure out how to one-man a two-man job. I ended up employing an oxy-acetylene welding cart as a prop to hold the fork. The T-handle on the cart was in a convenient location and height to loop the damper-rod holding wire over and I still had two hands free to compress the spring and slip in the keepers.
After the seals are in place the fork spring retainer goes on. Note the wire holding the damper rod and the welding cart holding the fork. This setup leaves both hands free to compress the fork spring and fit the retainers.More Buell specialty tools. Wire to hold damper rod, wedges to spread triple clamps.
The Buell manual called for 7-1/2 weight fork oil. I should have ordered fork oil online, but I didn’t, so I called around and the local Honda shop had some. It’s a 20-mile drive to the Honda shop. The Honda fork oil bottles are confusingly labeled. What looks like 7 weight ended up being 5 weight, but I wanted to get the front end put back together. So I poured a pint of 5 weight into each fork leg. Stay tuned for a follow up report if I can feel any difference between 5 and 7 weight fork oil.
While the forks were off, I re-greased the steering head bearings. They still had a little grease remaining but thinly applied. I walked out the old stuff and smooshed in fresh grease. That left just the front caliper to clean up.
Re -greased steering head bearings. I don’t like the design of the cup under the bottom bearing. It seems like it would hold water. I might bend a drain channel into the low side.
The caliper came apart easily, but the pistons did not. I used to have a big pair of reverse pliers (the jaws expand rather than close when the handles are squeezed). I would use these pliers to grab inside the hollow pistons and pull them out of the caliper. I would, that is, if I could find them. I spent a few hours looking for the pliers and finally gave up.
A snap ring Oliver was pressed into service and I managed to get all six pistons out. Performance Machine uses chromed steel pistons and the bit of piston that was exposed to the elements had corroded. Finding new pistons would be an impossible task and a new caliper would cost $600, so I polished the corroded pistons on the buffing wheel.
Except for the chromed pistons, the PM caliper is a nice looking unit. Note the piston diameter change to apply evenly distributed wear.Performance Machine caliper back together and waiting on brake pads
I’ve had good luck piston polishing. Yes, they re-corrode, but the section of piston covered with brake fluid doesn’t corrode. I look at it as an ongoing maintenance item rather than a bad part. You’ll have to wait for new brake pads to arrive to see if the caliper leaks in Buell Fever Part 7.
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.
Astute readers will remember our post on Shinya Kimura, an artist who works with metal and motorcycles to create motorcycle art. I was both pleased and surprised to see one of his creations at the Harley Museum during our recent Milwaukee content safari.
“Spike,” Mr. Kimura’s custom Knucklehead, was in a Harley museum hall that focused on custom motorcycles, and even before I saw his name, I knew whose work it was.
I believe “Spike” is the very same motorcycle featured in this video:
The Shinya Kimura shop, located in Azusa, California (not far from CSC Motorcycles) is one of the more interesting places I’ve ever visited. I think you would enjoy it, too, although it is not open to the public. I was there on business reasons, and I captured some great photos. If you have a chance, check out our earlier blog.
Susie and I were channel surfing on Netflix a few nights ago and a new documentary popped up: Arnold.
Arnold is a three part series (one hour each) documentary on the life and times of our former governor and my all-time favorite actor, Arnold Schwarzenegger. The series was very well done, it is told by Arnold himself (interspersed with comments by folks who figured prominently in his life, including James Cameron, Danny DeVito, and others), and in a word, it was great. The three segments cover the Governator’s early life and body building career, his movie career, and his stint as governor of California. The show doesn’t pull any punches, and the last segment includes the affair with his housekeeper and the son he had with her.
I’d heard of Arnold Schwarzenegger and sort of had a vague idea that he was a movie star/body builder before the movie Terminator was released. When I saw Terminator and Terminator II and I thought he was great in both. Then I saw Predator, and I liked him even more. I watched (or rented the VHS tape back in those days) of just about everything he’s ever done. When Arnold ran for governor of California, he had my vote both times. I’m a fan. I like the guy.
If you are a Netflix subscriber, queue up and watch Arnold. You’ll like it.
In 2010 the company I worked for gave me my pink slip due to budgetary cuts. I was feeling distraught and lost because I had been working there for 8 years. Fortunately, I had a great director who helped by transferring me from a management position into a project manager slot that would be fully remote.
Remote positions at the time were called working from home. It didn’t take long for me to ask myself a question: What if I didn’t have a home? This mostly was bar talk amongst friends and I didn’t expect the crazy scenarios we discussed to ever become a reality. Well…it seems planting those seeds in my mind was all it took for them to nurture, and then to grow into 13 years of almost nonstop travel.
The first two years were mostly spent learning to excel in my new position as a project manager along with clumsily discovering how to adjust my work/life balance in creative ways. This involved motorcycling throughout New England in between work responsibilities.
Something I learned early is that there are McDonald’s with wi-fi everywhere, and at the time it was one of the better places to stop to respond to emails or for a conference call (this was a life prior to riding a BMW, so I didn’t require Starbucks). I timed my rides to reach these locations 10 minutes prior to conference calls. This allowed me time to set up and prepare for them as needed.
The first day as a remote employee I decided to knock out a ride from Boston to Route 17 in northern Vermont. Route 17 is also known as the “Little Tail of the Dragon.” It was May and I was literally working off my Ducati Monster M1100 as I tore up Vermont. Since it took so long to reach Route 17 it made sense to ride it twice to ensure the long ride was worth it and regain the curve back in my tires. It may have been one of the best days I have ever had working and figured this newfound freedom would provide many opportunities to fill in the gaps that I had been missing by going into a regular office day to day.
Riding all the way to Vermont from Boston on your first day in a new position probably was a bit of overkill. I was missing calls and hadn’t noticed my phone was constantly ringing in my pocket (an easy oversight being so heavily focused on riding). I was in flight formation and setting the pace for a flock of mallards that happened to be flying down the White River, which ran parallel to Route 100. Unbeknownst to me the phone continued ringing as the Ducati’s Termignoni exhaust roared through the Green Mountains while I leaned into corners that followed the river.
Shortly after parting ways with the mallards and crossing back into New Hampshire, I saw some lights behind me. It was a New Hampshire State Trooper. Dammit! I am sure I was speeding, but the question always is how fast. It was fast. As I began talking to the State Trooper to try to minimize the damage, I could now hear my cell phone ringing. I picked it up as the Trooper ran my information. It was my new manager based in Virginia calling to introduce herself and ask if I had noticed that I had missed a call I needed to be on. I stated I was just out getting a coffee (which was 100% true; it’s just that the coffee was 200 miles away). This was probably one of my more challenging multitask scenarios (i.e., signing a speeding ticket while on an introductory call with my manager). To this day I feel I would have been able to get out of that ticket had I not been so distracted by work. Lesson 1 as a remote employee learned.
After that day I knew I should take my work a bit more seriously and slow my pace. I continued to ride, but always ensured I attended every call (which I did over the next 13 years). My work ethic has always been strong, and I didn’t want to compromise this position and what I could possibly do with it by losing my focus. Continuing to merge my work responsibilities with riding was something that I honed to an art form.
Once I was comfortable performing my work one or two days a week off the motorcycle, I thought I would step the adventure up a notch: California. I had relatives in Oakland and there was a Harley rental in San Francisco, a short transit ride away. It made sense to fly there for two weeks and work remotely in a new environment and time zone to see how I would perform.
The test run couldn’t have gone smoother. I was on Pacific Time when my team was on Eastern Time. This ensured that by 1:00 p.m. all my tasks and calls were completed. Having earlier workdays provided much more time to explore San Francisco and the Bay Area. A couple of vacation days in the mix allowed time to rent a Harley in San Francisco and take a 3-day trip to Tahoe and Yosemite. Even though I was on vacation those days I felt obliged to join work calls whenever possible just to stay on top of my projects, while obtaining bonus points from management for doing so on my time off. I felt this made up for my missed meeting when I had first started this position in New Hampshire.
The California trip had solidified my abilities to work from anywhere. On the return flight to Boston my thoughts focused on a farfetched mindset: What if I don’t have a home? It would take a few months of planning and a solid leap of faith. As with all leaps of faith you never know where or how it will end, but I felt sure I could make this dream a reality. What I didn’t realize is how far I would take this and the new experiences my decision would deliver. I turned my life into Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on steroids over the next 13 years.
You might wonder: Where did I get that fantastic cover photo? The photo shows Trooper Ralph Dowgin, a New Jersey State Trooper who went on to command Troop D (the Troop that patrols the New Jersey Turnpike, the most heavily-traveled road in the country). I actually met Trooper Dowgin when I was a boy (my Dad knew him). The photo came to me from my good buddy Mike B, who retired as the New Brunswick, New Jersey, Chief of Police. Like they say, it’s a small world.
The story of police and military motorcycles is an intriguing one, espeically as it applies to the US War Department, Indian, and Harley-Davidson. During World War II, the US government bought motorcycles from both Harley and Indian, but the positions taken by Harley and Indian were worlds apart. The Feds told both manufacturers they had to stop producing for the civilian market and focus exclusively on military motorcycles. Indian did what they were told. Harley told the government that they, not some government bureaucrat, would decide who to sell motorcycles to. Harley called the government’s bluff, and they got it right. The War Department continued to buy Harleys as Harley continued selling to the civilian market, and the results were predictable: When the war ended Harley still had a civilian customer base and Indian did not. Indian struggled for a few years trying to regain market share, but the damage was done and the handwriting was on the wall. Indian went under in the early 1950s.
If you buy a copy of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles, understand that it describes the market as it existed when the book was published in 2001. Things are a little bit different now. Future plans call for an update to include today’s military and police motorcycles, but that’s far in the future and the book will sell for a bunch more than $9.95. I’ll have a Kindle ebook version at some point in the future, too, but it’s not going to be immediate. For now, it’s print only, and it’s only $9.95. Spend the bucks, make a friend for life, and don’t forget: Click on those popup ads!
People collect for different reasons. Some are completists…they collect to own every variation of an item ever made. Others have a theme…something guides their collecting and they can’t rest until they have acquired items that show all aspects of that theme. Still others are brand loyalists…they want everything associated with a particular marque. Others collect to rekindle memories…items in their collections bring back better times. And people collect different things. All kinds of things.
As I surveyed the expansive and overwhelming contents of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, I wondered: What made Bill tick? What fueled his desire to collect? I asked the question and Bill answered it, but I’ll wait until the end of this blog to share the answer. Hold that thought and we’ll return to it.
When I knew we were going to Pennsylvania and my wife Susie Googled motorcycle museums…well, silly me. I thought we would find a motorcycle museum if I was lucky and it might make a worthy topic for a blog or two. Maybe an article in a motorcycle magazine. Susie gets the credit for finding Bill’s Old Bike Barn. I didn’t realize we had hit the Mother Lode. We had stumbled into a more advanced collection than we had ever seen.
No, wait: I need to restate that. It would be unfair to call what I found in Bill’s Old Bike Barn a collection. I realized when assembling this story that what Bill created is not a mere collection. It is, instead, a collection of collections. Bill’s Old Bike Barn might have started as a motorcycle collection, but it goes beyond that.
Way beyond.
Anybody can collect and display motorcycles. Well, not anybody, but you get the point. In the course of curating a collection, advanced collectors, the guys who go exponential and become collectors of collections, amass collections of all kinds of things. Then the question becomes: How do you display your collections? What’s the right format?
Bill had the answer to that, too.
Billville.
Hey, if your name is Bill, and you have a collection of collections, why not start your own town, and display each collection in different stores and businesses and government offices, all in a magical place called Billville. You see, if you have your own town, you will also have streets on which these shops are located. And you can park different cool motorcycles on the streets in front of the shops. The Billville concept solves several challenges simultaneously. The streets let you display the motorcycles and the shops. People see the shops and what’s in them and they want to add to the collection, so they bring in and contribute more things you can exhibit. The shops grow and the town of Billville thrives. Sense a pattern here?
Bill, at home on the streets of Billville.One of many streets in Billville. The streets in Billville are lined with something even better than gold: Vintage motorcycles and Bill’s collection of collections. Bill’s collections are hypnotic in their appeal.
Being a world-renown blogger and motojournalist, I had the grand tour of Billville, led by Bill himself. Bill led, I followed, and my jaw dropped with each turn and every stop in Billville. Billville. I get it. It’s brilliant.
The Billville camera shop. Nothing is for sale, much is on display, and the inventory exceeds 6,000 pieces.
We started in front of the Billville camera shop. I had my Nikon D810 along for the shots you see here. I’ve been a photography enthusiast all my life. I asked Bill if he was into photography, too, when he mentioned the camera shop. “Nah, I just had a few cameras on display. Folks see that and they come back a week later with a bag of old cameras. There’s more than 6,000 cameras in the collection now.”
There’s a very cool Norton parked in front of the Billville Camera Shop. The bike behind it is a Velocette. Per capita motorcycle ownership in Billville is off the charts. Billville is huge, the streets are long, the shops are amazing, and the collections are dreamlike. Pick a collectible item, and there’s a Billville shop housing a collection for it. Into Coca-Cola memorabilia?
An Aermacchi Harley and Harley’s attempt to penetrate the scooter market, the Topper, parked in front of the Billville Coca-Cola shop.
You can’t have a town without a police department, and police paraphernalia are collectible. Billville has its own PD, with a police stuff collection.
The Billville PD and its neighbor…a shop with walls constructed entirely of collectible beer cans.Every police officer who wanders through the Billville PD probably leaves a department patch.The Billville PD has, as you might imagine, its own contingent of motor officers.
Bill told a funny story about visiting firemen. After seeing the collections, they asked Bill if Billville had a fire department. When they asked the question, Billville did not. So the visiting fireman offered to donate their vintage fire engine if Bill would build the Billville Fire Department around it.
A vintage Mack fire engine. A local fire department donated it.
“Then I had to make a fire bike,” Bill said. After all, this is a motorcycle museum.
Bill and his personally-crafted fire bike. This is cool stuff.
Bicycles? You bet. Billville has an interesting collection. Check out the badging on the one shown in these photos.
Want to guess who made this bicycle?Check out the chainring. HD. Cool.Harley-Davidson. I had never seen one of these before visiting Bill’s Old Bike Barn.My Nikon was earning its keep during my visit to Bill’s Old Bike Barn. If you make the trip, don’t forget your camera.
Some people collect toys. Bill is one of them. What would a town be without a toy store?
Another place to display one of Bill’s collections. That’s a cool two-stroke Harley parked on the street in front of it.
Billville has a post office and a restaurant. Take a look at the ornamental wrought iron surrounding the restaurant. Bill told me he purchased huge quantities of wrought iron when he was buying up motorcycle dealer inventories in Europe.
The Billville post office is on the left; the restaurant is on the right.A vintage bike in front of the finest dining in Billville.
Are you into Avon collectables? Billville has you covered there, too.
A 1970s Harley two-stroke and a vintage CL Honda Scrambler. Bill’s collections are extensive and varied.
There are several spiral cases throughout Billville. I thought they were purely decorative. But there seemed to be more to see upstairs, so I climbed one. My reward was more collections. How about phones? Yep, those, too.
Some of the phones in the Bill’s Old Bike Barn phone collection……and more phones.
Bill told me again about people bringing things to him. Matchbox cars? Why not?
Matchbox cars line a wall. There’s something for everyone here. Dads, moms, and kids.
Into horse collectibles? You bet.
Horsepower. Lots of it.
As you might guess, there was an area for Elvisabilia (or should that be Presleyana?).
The King.
If you were wondering, Billville has a dentist’s office, too, complete with vintage dentistry equipment.
Vintage dental stuff. The photo ops in Bill’s Old Bike Barn were endless.
And, of course, Billville includes the motorcycles, motorcycle engines, and everything-associated-with-motorcycles collection. Bill’s collection doesn’t stick to only one marque. You’ll see Harley, Indian, Moto Guzzi, Triumph, Norton, Velocette, Honda, Yamaha, Zündapp, Peugeot, and many, many more motorcycles.
An airbrush painting on one of Bill’s trailers. Check out the vintage Harley and sidecar.Now, check out the actual vintage Harley and sidecar.A vintage Knucklehead in the main hall. Note the spiral staircases on the right. There’s more up there, folks. Lots more.Vintage Indians. Some are left unrestored; others are restored to better-than-new condition.
Bill’s collection is eclectic. The collections themselves are eclectic, and within the collection, the pieces Bill has exhibited vary widely. He’s not just a Harley guy or an Indian guy. He likes anything that’s interesting. You saw the prior blog about Bill’s favorite ride, a Zündapp. Other bikes pepper his collection, including one I always wanted…an early SL350 Honda twin. It’s the color I always wanted, too, and it’s in its 100% original, unrestored condition. I stared at the SL so hard I might have worn away some of its paint.
A stunning and unrestored SL350 Honda.Ah, the mileage on the SL350 Honda…the motorcycle is over half a century old, and it has but 4,000 miles on the clock. Wow.
So, back to that question I posed at the top of this blog: What makes a collector collect? Everyone has their reasons, and like I said at the beginning of this blog, I wanted to know Bill’s. I asked the question. Bill smiled, lowered his gaze, and answered softly. “I like to see peoples’ reactions when they see the collections,” he said. That being the case, I think Bill must have really enjoyed our visit. We sure did.
A sparkadillo. There’s a lot of folk art in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Our first blog on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
Any story about Bill’s Old Bike Barn has to feature Bill Morris, the man who created it all. The museum and its contents are amazing. The man is even more so.
Bill grew up right where I met him: Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, the site of Bill’s Old Bike Barn. Bill started working at age 11 on the farm, and he never stopped. Bill is 83 now, something I found hard to believe (he doesn’t look or act like it), and his energy level tops most young folks I know. Let’s start with a Reader’s Digest biosketch. Bill joined the US Army (Corps of Engineers) from 1957 to 1960, and then went to work for Chrysler building Plymouths and Dodges in Newark, Delaware. After two years with Chrysler it was back to Bloomsburg and a job with the local Harley-Davidson dealer.
Parts is parts. Keep what you like, sell the rest. That’s a gold-plated Knucklehead engine on the right. As in real gold. “Never could sell it,” Bill said. There was no regret in that observation.
Harley and Bloomsburg Harley were a good deal; Bill went to Harley-Davidson’s motorcycle technician school in 1966. Yep, he’s a factory-certified motorcycle tech. He worked for Bloomsburg Harley from 1966 to 1969.
Ah, 1969. Let’s see…Hollywood was going ga ga over The Wild Angels, Easy Riders, and other miscellaneous motorcycle movie mayhem. The chopper craze was sweeping through America and the rest of the developed world. Bill wanted a chopper, and a builder in Westminster, California advertised that if you had five old hogs to trade, they would build a California custom for you at no charge. Bill asked if he sent 18 old hogs, would they build him a California chopper and return some cash? The answer, of course, was yes, so Bill shipped 18 old Harleys to California and waited. And waited. And waited. He finally went to California to see what was happening and found a rundown chopper shop big on dreams but short on ability.
Bill hung around California for 60 days, bought a pickup truck, and took a partially crafted California chopper back to Pennsylvania. “I figured if those clowns could make custom motorcycles, I could, too,” Bill explained. And he did. The bike Bill hauled back to Bloomsburg needed wiring, wheels, and more, but that was simple stuff. Bill was, after all, a factory-trained motorcycle tech.
Indeed, a Silent Gray Fellow. It’s one of many Holy Grail bikes in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Bill’s Custom Cycles emerged, and Bill’s talent (as a custom motorcycle builder, a collector, and a businessman) took center stage. Bill purchased his first collectible motorcycle for $20, a 1928 single-cylinder Harley-Davidson, but he quickly realized the best way to acquire collectibles and saleable parts was to buy out other motorcycle businesses and that’s what he did. When Harley Davidson entered troubled times in the early 1970s, Bill purchased the assets of 28 Harley dealerships in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and in an international reach, the Netherlands, Belgium, and South Africa. Bill tells of a recurring theme: A dealer would ask $600,000 for their inventory, Bill would offer a quarter of that amount, the dealer would decline the offer, and then came the call a few months later asking if Bill’s $150,000 offer was still good. It was, of course. Bill knew his business.
Bill loves sidecars. At one point, he bought a European dealer’s entire stock of 60 sidecars and brought them back to Pennsylvania. He sold them all quickly.Wow. Just wow. Get used to that word. You’ll use it a lot at Bill’s Old Bike Barn.Would you pay $200 for a used Panhead back in the day? Bill did. I was going to offer him what he paid, but thought better of it.
Bill’s business model was to sell the parts and complete motorcycles from his constantly growing and profitable inventory. He sold via mail order and became one of the largest sources of Harley parts and Harleyana in the world. All the while, he kept the collectible motorcycles and parts that caught his interest, and he built custom bikes.
Bill has a way with the ladies. On this road trip, we hit Gettysburg, Hershey, the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, the Jersey shore, and more. But all the girls wanted to talk about was Bill.
While acquiring the inventories of motorcycle shops and dealers going under, Bill built a massive collection of Harley signs. That lead to a lawsuit with Harley as the plaintiff and Bill in their crosshairs…Harley didn’t want anyone displaying “authorized Harley-Davidson dealer” signs if they weren’t, you know, an authorized Harley dealer. Bill eventually settled the suit by opening a second building (the origin of Bill’s Old Bike Barn) where he could display the signs but not sell Harley products. “That made the lawyers happy,” Bill explained. It was only a short walk up the hill behind Bill’s Custom Cycles, but it satisfied Harley’s legal beagles.
Bill loves motorcycle signs, so much so that Harley sued him for displaying them a few decades ago. The lawsuit was a good thing: It was the catalyst for Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Around the same time, Bill became a Moto Guzzi dealer (one of the very first in the United States) and he still has a love for the Italian motorcycles. Moto Guzzi was just entering the United States and they approached Bill. He rented a gas station and just like that, voilà, Bill was a Moto Guzzi dealer (he held the franchise from 1970 to 1975). As Bill explains it, it was a match made in Heaven: He had no money and Moto Guzzi had almost no bikes. The bikes would come in via air one at a time to Teterboro, New Jersey (a two and a half hour road trip from Bloomsburg).
A beautiful Guzzi Ambassador. These things sound more like a Harley than a Harley did. They are beautiful motorcycles. I always wanted one.
Like many people, Bill loved the look and the sound of those early 1970s Guzzis (they sounded a lot like Harley-Davidsons, with a wonderful lopey potato potato exhaust note).
California chopper chic meets Mandello del Laurio.Paint themes that were all the rage back in the day. Think Dennis Hopper Does Italy.
As a custom bike builder Bill knew a blank palette when he saw one, and he rebuilt an early Guzzi police bike as a 1970s chopper. It’s on display in Bill’s Old Bike Barn. In fact, Bill has an entire room he calls Guzziland, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Guzziland will be the focus of a near-term future ExNotes blog.
Stay tuned, my friends. Bill’s Old Bike Barn is a fun story. I’m having a lot of fun writing it.
Miss our first installment on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
The V-Rod had me thinking about Baja John. He bought a V-Rod last year. I haven’t seen it yet, so I called John and asked him to send a photo. It’s the one you see at the top of this blog. I need to get out there to Arizona and visit with John again. Maybe on the next pig hunt. Maybe sooner.
The first two years were mostly spent learning to excel in my new position as a project manager along with clumsily discovering how to adjust my work/life balance in creative ways. This involved motorcycling throughout New England in between work responsibilities.
