This is a cool story. Good buddy Mike was visiting us here in Leftist Lunacy Land (i.e., the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia, where I hang my hat) and we thought we were running out of things to do. Sue hopped on the Internet and found the Lyon Air Museum near John Wayne Airport in Orange County. I’d never heard of the place, but it was awesome. As expected, the Museum had the obligatory collection of restored World War II aircraft, but (to my surprise) the place also housed a great collection of vintage motorcycles and more than a few interesting cars. Take a look at the motorcycles.
1945 Indian 340B as used by the US Army.1943 German NSU Kettenkrad HK 101 Tracked Motorcycle.1943 Japanese Rikuo Motorcycle and Sidecar.A 1931 Panther Motorcycle with sidecar.A German BMW.1943 BMW R75 with Sidecar.A 1921 Harley.An Indian V-twin.A Russian M-72.A 750cc German Zundapp, another motorcycle used by Germany in World War II.
The Museum was founded by Major General William Lyon, an entrepreneur and civic leader based in southern California. The William H. Lyon Company is one of the largest real estate developers in the world. General Lyon died a few years ago at age 97.
A view from the Museum’s balcony.
There are many interesting aircraft on display inside the Museum. One of the coolest exhibits was outside the display area, however, on the tarmac just outside. That’s the highly-polished B-25 that was General Lyon’s personal aircraft.
On the tarmac, just outside the display area.Fantastic nose art.
The Lyon Air Museum is located at 19300 Ike Jones Road in Santa Ana, California. You can learn more about the Lyon Air Museum here. Trust me on this: It’s worth the ride. You’ll have a good time.
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Sometimes we’ll do a blog just to get folks fired up, you know, like the mainstream media does. And if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that there’s no better format for lighting a fire than a listicle. Listicles get lots of hits, they’re fun to write, and they offend the easily offended. If the topic is controversial, all three reasons are amplified. With that as an introduction and in these times of human rights violations, a new cold war, and a town called Wuhan, what could be more controversial than a list of reasons why you should ride a Chinese motorcycle?
Reason 1: Cost
Hey, what can I say? Buy a Beemer or a Ducati or a KTM, and you’ll pay twice what those bikes should cost. Buy a Harley….well, I don’t need to finish the sentence. Triumphs and the Big 4 Japanese bikes cost about what I think they ought to, but a Chinese bike will be way lower than any of these. And when you buy a Chinese motorcycle, you probably won’t do so through a conventional motorcycle dealer, so you won’t get bent over a barrel on freight and setup fees.
Nearly $1600 on freight and setup on a $6600 motorcycle!
Chinese motorcycles simply cost less. And if you want to come back at me by claiming Chinese bikes have no resale value…well, read on, Grasshopper.
Reason 2: Resale Value
This one may surprise you. The argument you hear from online motorcycle wizards (when they’re not being online military strategists, political scientists, or infectious disease experts) is that Chinese motorcycles have no resale value. I’m sure glad the guys who bought the two Chinese motorcycles I bought new and rode for several years didn’t know that. When I advertised my RX3 and TT 250, one sold the same day for 60% of what it cost new; the other sold the next day for 70% of what it cost new. And that was after I’d owned those bikes for 5 years.
My TT 250 on Route 66. Freight and setup on the motorcycle in the photo above would have nearly paid for this bike!
I suppose I could have taken that money and bought a used Sportster, but I went another route: I bought an Indian motorcycle. Not Indian as in Scout or Chief, but Indian as in chicken masala or curry. I wasn’t getting into enough catfights riding a Chinese motorcycle, I guess.
Reason 3: Reliability
This is another advantage that will put those who know so much that just isn’t so in low earth orbit. I never had a breakdown on any of my Chinese bikes, and that includes big trips in the US, a ride around China (yep, China), a circumnavigation of the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and lots of Baja. I led tours in the Southwest and up and down Baja for CSC Motorcycles, with 8 to 15 bikes on each of those thousand-mile-plus trips, with only one bike ever needing to be trailered home.
You can tell me about your buddy who knows a guy whose cousin bought a Chinese bike and had problems with it, but I know you know not of what you speak. I’ve been there. I know different. I know a little bit about reliability engineering, too. The Chinese bikes I’ve been around are supremely reliable.
Reason 4: Performance
Will a Chinese bike smoke a Hayabusa? You know the answer to that. Or at least, you know the answer today. Look at what’s coming down the road from China and your answer may not ring true for much longer. China has at least a couple of liter bikes on the horizon. They won’t be slow.
What’s coming down the pike from Chongqing…
Within their displacement classes, the Chinese bikes perform as good as, or maybe even better than the small displacement bikes from Germany or Japan.
Deutschland? Nein! Das ist ein Mumbai maschinen!Japanese? Nope. This puppy will help you Thai one on.
Hell, those other bikes aren’t even made where you think they’re made. Ask me how I know. Want some Pad Thai with your KLR or Triumph Bonneville?
Reason 5: Self-Reliance
“But there’s no dealers!” or so goes the anti-China whine. (Actually, China has some good wines, but I digress.) With regard to the lugubrious (look it up) “there’s no dealer” wails, I have two responses.
I used to be able to say that I’ve seen the same number of BMW, Harley, KTM, and other big name dealers in Baja as I saw for Chinese manufacturers (that number was zero). But I can’t say that anymore. Italika (a Mexican company, the Romanesque name notwithstanding) now imports Zongshens to Mexico, so you’ll actually have better dealer coverage in Mexico with a Chinese bike than you would with a BMW, a Harley, a Triumph, a Ducati, or any other other macho man motorcycle. It’s even more pronounced if your travels take you to South America; Chinese bikes are all over down there.
So that’s one response; the other is: You say “there are no dealers” like it’s a bad thing. Maybe my life experiences are unique, but I don’t think so. Whenever I’ve had work done by dealers, most of the time it was so poorly executed I had to do it over myself. I’d rather save the time and cut the cost associated with letting some kid learn motorcycle maintenance on my bike (while the dealer charges me $125 per hour as Junior learns). Nope, not having dealers is a good thing.
It’s from India and it runs as well as a Chinese motorcycle, which is to say, it’s good. I do all the routine maintenance on the Enfield myself.
I know this approach is not for everybody. Some guys like working on their bikes, some guys like Starbucks, some guys like clutches that rattle, and some guys like tattoos and chrome. Whatever floats your boat.
Reason 6: Fuel Economy
Both my Chinese 250s sipped fuel like The New York Times ingesting truth serum. My carbureted TT 250 got about 60 miles per gallon; my fuel injected RX3 always did better than 70 miles per gallon.
Fuel economy as good as a car!
My last Harley was a 40-miles-per-gallon bike when new, and when I put an S&S stroker motor in it, it joined the 33-miles-per-gallon club and I received a personal thank you note from the Emir. Yamaha’s old V-Max got 27 mpg. Yeah, I know, there’s a huge difference in displacement between a Harley and a China bike. But if you don’t like spending $5 bucks a gallon for Biden gas, a Chinese motorcycle can lessen the pain.
Reason 7: Style
You know, all those years I rode an RX3, the keyboard commandos criticized the bike for copying BMW’s styling.
Gobi Gresh, on a Chinese motorcycle, riding in the Gobi desert. 6000 miles in the ancient kingdom with nine other riders on China bikes, and nobody missed a beat.
Hell, I can’t see much of a difference in any of the ADV bikes’ styling for the last 15 or 20 years. They all look like the illegitmate offspring of a wasp mating with an armored personnel carrier. It’s the ADV style. I think it looks good. And unlike the Teutonic Tower bikes (you know, the Special K and GoSlow machines), I could get my leg over the RX3’s saddle.
Reason 8: Individuality
At one of the Love Rides (do they still even do those anymore?) Jay Leno was the grand marshall, and when he got up on stage, he asked if anybody had seen his buddy. “You know, the gray-haired guy with the black Harley T-shirt and pot belly…” It got a good laugh, but a lot of rugged individualist podiatrists, dentists, lawyers, and other pseudo-bad-asses were looking around nervously. You know what I mean. The folks at the River Runs could be made by a cookie cutter. Their moms all dress them the same. BMW riders? Stop in at any Starbuck’s and check out the Power Rangers inside. It’s the same deal.
One of the Hollister events, where all the individualists converge. They’re all trying to be Marlon Brando.
Ride a Chinese motorcycle, though, and you’ll stand apart. Trust me on this…you won’t bump into too many people riding a Zongshen or a Loncin at the Rock Store. Other riders may make snarky comments about your bike in ignorance, without knowing where many of the parts on their bikes are made (that’s because their manufacturers try to keep it a secret, as explained below).
Reason 9: You May Already Be On A Chinese Motorcycle…
…but you just don’t know it. Some bikes that you think are made in Japan are actually completely manufactured in China. Others have significant Chinese content. I’m not just talking bits and pieces…I’m referring to castings, electronics, and in some cases, the complete engine (it’s no accident you sometimes hear Chinese factory technicians humming the Horst Wessel song). You ubermensch riders on a first-name basis with your barristas know who you are, but did you know you’re already riding a China bike? I know…we live in a free country. If you feel comfortable spending $5 for a cup of coffee when you should be buying 技术支持隆鑫 decals (it means Powered by Loncin) for your $1800 panniers, more power to you.
So there you have it. I could make excuses and blame this entire blog on Gresh (the topic was his idea), but that’s not me. And for all you guys who look at the Chinese motorcycles I’ve owned and tell me “You Coulda Bought A Used Sportster” (sung to the tune of I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandy), well, all I can say is “heh heh heh.”
Got a response? Hey, leave it here…don’t be a wuss and leave it on Facebook. We want to hear from you!
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I’ve typed a lot of words and rearranged them in a zillion different ways but I’ve never coined a phrase. Those days are over now and you heard it here first: The Sportster LC. It’s all mine and don’t forget who came up with it because I may never do another.
Harley’s quantum leap forward takes the Sportster from 1950s technology all the way into the 1990s and beyond. The new Sportster features fuel injection, liquid cooling, a claimed 120 horsepower and a passing resemblance to Sportsters of old. That’s all good stuff, man.
I’ve always liked Sportsters. Until the V-Rod came along they were the most advanced American-built Harleys you could buy and with the addition of electronic ignition they were the most reliable Harleys to boot. I owned a Sportster and loved how it looked parked, which it did a lot because the old 1968 XLH shook itself to pieces every 200 miles. Nevertheless it was an easy motorcycle to fix and my old Sporty never left me stranded.
The Sportster LC is a completely new model that has been the worst kept secret since the Pan American, which uses the same engine. With a bore of 4.13 inches and a shortish stroke of only 2.85 inches the new two-cylinder Sportster displaces 76.4 cubic inches in total, or ½ a bushel. We never converted to metric in the USA. Each head contains two cams pushing on four valves. With a 12:1 compression ratio you’ll be running high-test unless you’re under 50 years old in which case you’ll be stuck using premium. Harley’s combustion chambers have forced owners to buy high-test for years so nothing has changed except the power output. None of these design features is new thinking: it’s a well-trod path to modern performance numbers.
Harley claims 120 horsepower; that’s probably measured at the wrist pin so I expect 105-108-ish at the wheel, plenty for street riding. The Sportster LC puts out a claimed 94 ft-lbs of torque so taking off from a stoplight should be drama free. A claimed wet weight of 502 pounds is positively sprightly and undercuts the base model Pan American by 32 pounds. 32 pounds is a lot of weight. I’ve ridden 500-pound motorcycles in the dirt and it’s the absolute limit I would consider safe. The LC should be fun on graded county roads.
Styling on the LC is squashed and compact, almost like the bike fell into a car crusher but was retrieved before becoming a cube. There are no air gaps and the big, fat tires on both ends give the LC an overstuffed living room couch look. I’m not sold on the looks but it’s passable even if it seems to copy the Indian Scout. There are only so many ways to configure a crushed V-twin so the plagiarism is probably unintended. I like the upswept pipes, they give the LC a flat-track racer vibe and that’s a good vibe to have.
Things get a little nasty on the left side of the LC. Without the big upswept exhaust covering the mess all the complexity of a modern motorcycle is exposed. Let’s face it: The thing looks like a commercial air conditioning system from the left side. Still, I wouldn’t let the LC’s looks stop me from buying one assuming I would ever spend $15,000 on a damn motorcycle.
The looks won’t stop me from buying one but the seat-to-foot peg layout might. I can’t stand forward controls. I get that with the ultra low seat there would be no way to fold your legs tight enough for a more normal foot peg placement. Maybe Harley will come out with a Sportster LC Sport with more suspension, a higher seat and controls situated in such a way that you can ride the bike.
The LC comes with Bluetooth connectivity, cornering rider safety enhancements, ABS, traction control, selectable riding modes and cruise control. All stuff I hate except for cruise control. You may like dick-dogging with that electronic chaff but I’d rather ride a motorcycle than play digital commander. Hopefully pulling a few fuses and a warning light or two will disarm all that junk.
With only one disc stopping 120 horsepower and 650 pounds of bike and lightweight rider I sense the front brake may not be up to the modern standards of the engine and electronics package. I hope I’m wrong. Big fat tires usually make for a ponderous ride, but again, I hope I’m wrong. I seem to be doing a lot of hoping I’m wrong with this Harley Davidson.
What’s it like to ride? How would I know? I never get invited to Harley press junkets so you’ll have to get to one of H-D’s test ride events to find that out. My impression of the bike is that it’s a big improvement over the old Sportster but without the old Sporty’s provenance the LC has a long way to go before it reaches the beloved status the 1957 and up models achieved.
I guess what I liked about the old model was the tactile feel of sitting atop explosions propelling you down the highway. You never forgot you were riding a motorcycle. The Sportster didn’t become a legend by accident. Years of competition, countless race victories, heroic rides, and a fairly solid bottom end crank assembly and gearbox has made the Sportster a motorcycle everyone wants to buy used. I still want a XR1200R Sportster bad and have since I first saw one. Only time will tell if the new Sportster LC will be able to burrow into my heart the same bad-like way.
Hear me out. Like you I’ve read all the reviews on Harley’s new Pan America Adventure-Glide and they have been uniformly positive. Surprising is the word most frequently used by the tattered remnants of the moto-press when describing the Pan America. And it is surprising.
I’m not likely to ever test ride a Pan America. I offer Harley-Davidson nothing but suffering and heartache. Why would Harley loan me a bike in a category I pretty much despise? I can’t stand big Adventure bikes. I don’t like them one little bit. I think they are dangerous off road. Anyone who sends me one to test ride is a fool and Harley-Davidson’s marketing department is not populated by fools. Luckily I don’t need to ride one because Kevin Duke, the hardest working man in motorcycle journalism, says the Pan America is a good bike and that’s all you really need to know.
The no compromise hook in this story is the most impressive part of the new Pan America. It’s the first Harley (since the late 1960s) that competes head to head with the best the world has to offer and does it at a competitive price. In all areas the new bike is acceptable, meets expectations and is even, dare I say, good.
Most all the high-end, heavy, dangerously inadequate offroad Adventure bikes clock in at around 20,000 US dollars retail and they all weigh nearly the same ground-crushing 600 pounds. It must be a class requirement. Check out the manufacturer-provided spec sheets on a GS BMW, Ducati Multi Service, and KTM Breakdown. All of the numbers are within spitting distance of each other.
And that’s the amazing part. Harley-frigging-Davidson has made a competent motorcycle for the same price as everyone else. There’s no brand penalty. Harley-Davidson has made a motorcycle that the owner isn’t required to look through leather-fringed, nostalgia-tinted lenses to justify. No more having to tell non-Harley riders that they don’t get it when their questions turn pointed. Like all cults, the Harley cult requires actively looking the other way when hard facts and performance figures per dollar are bandied about.
With the Pan America there’s no need to believe in the Harley mystique. There’s no need to defend anemic performance by waving an American flag. The Pan America stands on its own merits as a motorcycle, nothing more. Is it as good as the other big Adventure bikes? I can’t say but the fact that it’s spoken of in the same breath and held up in comparison to the world’s best Adventure bikes is a stunning turnaround for a company that seemed hopelessly stuck in neutral by its mad marketing genius.
As much as I hate big Adventure bikes, I love the new Harley-Davidson Pan America.
I hope it’s a harbinger of change. I hope it succeeds beyond Harley’s wildest dreams and ushers in a new era of 150-horsepower Sportsters that handle, stop and are as fast as any other guy’s bikes. The late 1960s was the last time Sportsters were hot. That’s a long, long time to rest on your laurels. Let’s hope the Pan American gives stodgy old Harley-Davidson new life and a desire to be measured against the very best. Listen, if there’s any way you can afford to go out and buy one, go out and buy one. Tell Harley I sent you. Maybe they’ll even let me take one for a ride.
Berk, on right, telling Gresh to go back to Starbucks and fetch a Pumpkin Spice Latte for him.
Listicles, Gresh calls them…articles based around the (fill in the number) best things to do, worst things to do, motorcycles, movies, and more. One of Gresh’s friends told him that lists get more hits than any other kind of Internet article. I was a bit skeptical when I first heard that, but Google Analytics doesn’t lie: When we do a listicle, our hits go up big time. And comments, too. We like comments. And a lot of this blogging game is about the hits and comments. Gresh’s The 5 Stupidest Ideas in Motorcycling, my recent The Big Ride: 5 Factors Affecting Daily Mileage, and other ExNote listicles…they’ve all done extremely well.
This listicle thing has me thinking in terms of the five best whatever when I’m spitballing new blog ideas, and the list du jour is on motorcycle books. It’s a topic near and dear to my heart and one we’ve touched on lightly before, although the emphasis in the past has usually been on a single book. I think I’ve read just about every motorcycle book ever published, and I particularly like the travel stories. That said, I think this introduction is long enough. Let’s get to it.
Riding the Edge
Riding the Edge, in my opinion, is the greatest motorcycle adventure story ever told, made all the more significant by two facts. The first is that Dave Barr, the author, did the ride after losing both legs to a land mine in Africa; the second is that Dave did the ride on a beat up old ’72 Harley Super Glide that had 100,000 miles on the odometer before he started.
I know Dave Barr and I’ve ridden with him. I can tell you that he is one hell of a man, and Riding the Edge is one hell of a story. The ride took four years, mostly because Dave pretty much financed the trip himself. He’d ride a country or two, run out of money, get a job and save for a bit, and then continue. I read Riding the Edge nearly two decades ago, and it’s the book that lit my fire for international motorcycle riding. None of the rides I’ve done (even though I’ve ridden through a few of the countries Barr did) begins to approach Dave Barr’s accomplishments. The guy is my hero.
Riding the Edge is written in an easy, conversational style. I’ve probably read my copy a half-dozen times. In fact, as I type this, I’m thinking I need to put it on my nightstand and read some of my favorite parts again. If you go for any of the books on this list, Riding the Edge is the one you have to read.
The Longest Ride
Emilio Scotto. Remember that name, and remember The Longest Ride. This is a guy who had never left his native Argentina, thought it might be cool to see the world on a motorcycle, bought a Gold Wing (which he named the Black Princess), and then…well, you can guess the rest. He rode around the world on a motorcycle.
Emilio took 10 years for his trip around the world, and he covered 500,000 miles in the process. He’s another guy who is good with a camera. I thoroughly enjoyed The Longest Ride. I think you will, too.
Two Wheels Through Terror
Glen Heggstad…that’s another name you want to remember. Mix one martial arts expert, a Kawasaki KLR 650, a kidnaping (his own), a trip through South America, and a natural propensity for writing well and you’ll have Two Wheels Through Terror. I love the book for several reasons, including the fact that Mr. Heggstad used a KLR 650 (one of the world’s great adventure touring motorcycles), the way he tells the story of his kidnaping in Colombia (a country I rode in), and his wonderful writing.
I’ve met Glen a couple of times. The first time was at a local BMW dealership when he spoke of his travels; the second time was at his booth at the Long Beach International Motorcycle Show. Glen is a hell of a man, a hell of a writer, and a hell of a fighter (all of which emerge in Two Wheels Through Terror). He is a guy who just won’t quit when the going gets tough. I admire the man greatly.
Jupiter’s Travels
Ah, Ted Simon, one of the granddaddies of adventure motorcycle riding. I’d heard about his book, Jupiter’s Travels, for years before I finally bought a copy and read it, and then I felt like a fool for not having read it sooner.
Jupiter’s Travels was one of the first books about riding a motorcycle around the world, and what made it all the more interesting for me was that Simon didn’t do it as a publicity stunt. No big sponsors, no support vehicles, no nothing, a lot like the other great journeys on this list. It was what the guy wanted to do, so he quit his job and did it. Simon’s bike was a 500cc air-cooled Triumph, and I liked that, too. I’m a big fan of the old British vertical twins (the Triumph was a state-of-the-motorcycle-art when Ted Simon did his ride). Trust me on this, folks: Jupiter’s Travels is a motoliterature classic, and it’s one you need to read.
10 Years on 2 Wheels
Helge Pedersen is another name you want to know. He is a phenomenal world traveler, writer, and photographer, and 10 Years on 2 Wheels is a phenomenal read.
What sets 10 Years on 2 Wheels apart is the photography, and you get a sense of that just by seeing the cover (this is one of those rare books that you can, indeed, judge by its cover). 10 Years on 2 Wheels is what inspired me to get serious about capturing great photographs during my travels, and Helge’s photos are fabulous (they’re art, actually). This is a physically large book, and that makes the images even more of a treat.
Next Up: The Five Worst Motorcycle Books
Look for a blog in the near future on the five worst motorcycle books I’ve ever read. That one will be tough, because I pretty much like any book about motorcycles, but I’m guessing it will elicit a lot of comments.
So that’s it: Our list of the five best motorcycle books. What do you think? Leave your comments and suggestions here. We want to hear them!
Do you dream about the motorcycles you used to own?
Yeah, me, too. I don’t have photos of all my bikes that have gone down the road, but I have a few and I’d like to share them with you.
My first motorcycle was a Honda Super 90. I bought it from Sherm Cooper, a famous Triumph racer who owned Cooper’s Cycle Ranch in New Jersey. My Super 90 was cool…it was white and it had an upswept pipe and knobby tires. Mr. Cooper used it for getting around on his farm (the Cycle Ranch actually started out there). I was only 14 and I wasn’t supposed to be on the street yet, but I was known to sneak out on occasion. I liked that Honda Super 90 motor, and evidently so do a lot of other people (it’s still being manufactured by several different companies in Asia).
Yours truly at about age 14 on the Honda Super 90. What’s that stuff on top of my head?
The next bike was a Honda SL-90. Same 90cc Honda motor, but it had a tubular steel frame and it was purpose-built for both road and off-road duty. I never actually had a photo of that bike, but it was a favorite. Candy apple red and silver (Honda figured out by then that people wanted more than just their basic four colors of white, red, black, or blue), it was a great-looking machine. I rode it for about a year and sold it, and then I took a big step up.
That big step up was a Honda 750 Four. I’ve waxed eloquent about that bike here on the blog already, so I won’t bore you with the details about how the Honda 750 basically killed the British motorcycle industry and defined new standards for motorcycle performance. The 750 was fun, too. Fast, good looking, candy apple red (Honda used that color a lot), and exotic. I paid $1559 for it in 1971 at Cooper’s. Today, one in mint condition would approach ten times that amount. I wish I still had it.
My first big street bike…a 1971 Honda 750 Four. It was awesome. It’s a miracle I never crashed it. I rode it all the way up to Canada and back in the early ’70s. Check out the jacket, the riding pants, and my other safety gear.
There were a lot of bikes that followed. There were two Honda 500 Fours, a 50cc Honda Cub (the price was right, so I bought it and sold it within a couple of days) an 85cc two-stroke BSA (with a throttle that occasionally stuck open), a 1982 Suzuki 1000cc Katana (an awesome ride, but uncomfortable), a 1979 Harley Electra-Glide Classic (the most unreliable machine I’ve ever owned), a 1978 Triumph Bonneville (I bought that one new when I lived in Fort Worth), a 1971 Triumph Tiger, a 1970 Triumph Daytona, a 1992 Harley Softail (much more reliable than the first Harley, and one I rode all over the US Southwest and Mexico), a 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200 (the yellow locomotive), a 1997 TL1000S Suzuki (a sports bike I used as a touring machine), a 2006 Triumph Tiger, a 1982 Honda CBX (a great bike, but one I sold when Honda stopped stocking parts for it), a 2007 Triumph Speed Triple (awesome, fast, but buzzy), a 2006 KLR 650 Kawasaki, and a 2010 CSC 150. Here are photos of some of those bikes:
My high school buddy Johnnie with a Honda 500 four I later bought from him. That sissy bar was the first thing to go. It was a fun bike.A Honda 50cc Cub, the most frequently produced motorcycle on the planet. In China and elsewhere, this bike is still being manufactured. I bought this one in the 1960s, mostly because I knew I could sell it and make a few bucks quickly.My ’79 Electra-Glide Classic. I called this one my optical illusion, because it looked like a motorcycle. I couldn’t go a hundred miles on that motorcycle without something breaking. And people badmouth Chinese motorcycles.Me with my 1982 Suzuki Katana. In its day, that was a super-exotic bike. Uncomfortable, but very fast, and way ahead of its time. I bought it new and paid over MSRP because they were so hard to get. I was a lot skinnier in those days.My ’92 Softail Classic Harley. This motorcycle was superbly reliable right up until the moment the oil pump quit at 53,000 miles. At about the time I shot this photo on a trip through Mexico, I started thinking that maybe a Big Twin was not the best answer to the adventure touring question. And I know, my motorcycle packing skills in those days were not yet optimized. That’s a Mexican infantry officer behind the bike.My buddy Louis V and me with our bikes somewhere in Arizona sometime in the mid-’90s. I’m not sure why Louis had his shirt off…we sure didn’t ride that way. Louis had an ’81 Gold Wing and I had an ’82 CBX Six. That old CBX was a fun bike…it sounded like a Ferrari!My ’97 Suzuki TL1000S on the road somewhere in Baja. Wow, that bike was fast. Here’s a story about my good buddy Paul and me featuring this motorcycle.The 1200 Daytona. I won it on an Ebay auction. It was an incredible motorcycle and you can read more about it here.I’d always wanted a KLR 650, and when I pulled the trigger in 2006 I was glad I did. Smaller bikes make more sense. They’re more fun to ride, too. It seemed to me that this was the perfect bike for Baja. That’s me and Baja John out at El Marmol.The ’06 Triumph Tiger. Fun, but a little cramped and very heavy. It was styled like a dual sport, but trust me on this, you don’t want to get into the soft stuff with this motorcycle.Potentially the most beautiful motorcycle I’ve ever owned, this 2007 Speed Triple was a fast machine. The joke in motorcycle circles is that it should be named the Speed Cripple. That’s what it did to me.My CSC 150. Don’t laugh. I had a lot of fun on this little Mustang replica. My friends and I rode these to Cabo San Lucas and back.
That brings up to today. My rides today are a CSC TT250, an RX3, and a Royal Enfield Interceptor 650. I like riding them all.
Do you have photos of your old bikes? Here’s an invitation: Send photos of your earlier motorcycles to us (info@exhaustnotes.us) with any info you can provide and we’ll your story here on the blog. We’d love to see your motorcycles.
Want to see some of our Dream Bikes? Give a click here!
A 2019 Heritage Softail. It’s magnificent, and magnificently expensive.
I’m celebrating the start of 2019 the right way, with a trip to the rifle range to test a few new loads for accuracy, but during a break in my reloading session yesterday (at the tail end of 2018), I let chaos theory take over. That’s the theory that says you often get unpredictable outcomes from random, seemingly unconnected events.
The unconnected event was the light bulb over our bathroom shower blowing out a couple of days ago. The Boss (SWMBO, or she who must be obeyed) gave me directions to get it taken care of, and that meant a short ride to the lighting store. You’re probably wondering about now if I somehow got electrocuted or if I slipped on the ladder taking the bulb out. Nope, neither one of those things happened. But….
You see, the lighting store is just across the street from our local Harley dealer. You know, the T-shirt guys who also sell motorcycles. I had to stop in to see the new Harleys. I mean, I was right there. No, I didn’t need a new T-shirt. But I was curious. It would be 2019 in a few hours, and I needed to see the latest and the greatest from Milwaukee and Mumbai.
I’ve owned a couple of Harleys in my life. The first was a 1979 Electra-Glide Classic, a two-tone-tan-and-cream-colored full dresser that was beautiful. I called it my optical illusion. It looked like a real motorcycle. The thing was gorgeous, but it couldn’t go a hundred miles without something breaking, and when I finally sold it (also in 1979, after its third top end overhaul), I swore I would never buy another Harley.
Promises are made to be broken, and that led to a 1992 Heritage Softail, which was a great motorcycle. I did some real traveling on that one, as you’ll need from reading Moto Baja. The Softail made it to 53,000 miles before the engine froze up, and that was after I owned it for just over 10 years. I’m real certain about that “just over 10 years” time frame, because when the engine locked up, the Harley dealer wouldn’t touch it. That was because it was “over 10 years” old, and that’s the cutoff for Harley working on a motorcycle. But that was okay…because I put a 96-inch S&S motor in the thing, and that really woke the bike up. Top end went from just under 100 mph to well over 120 mph (the speedo only went to 120, and burying the needle was no problemo with the new motor). The fuel economy went from the low 40-mpg range to about 30 mpg with that new motor, but hey, who’s counting?
But then chaos theory took over again. I was supposed to bring home a carton of milk one day when I was out on my Harley, I forgot, and SWMBO sent me back out to fetch said carton. For whatever reason, I took my KLR 650 on that run, so I had a chance to ride the 96-inch Harley back-to-back with the KLR. You can guess where this story is going. The KLR was faster, it handled better, and best of all, the entire KLR motorcycle had cost less (brand new) out the door than just the S&S had cost for the Harley. Cycle Trader came to the rescue, and two days later, I was happily Harleyless. Chaos Theory. Powerful stuff.
So, back to the main attraction here: My visit to the Harley dealer yesterday, and the 2019 version of the Heritage Softail. Here’s the ticket, folks, not including sales tax…
Wowee! Note that this model has the optional 114-cubic-inch motor, for those times when 107 cubic inches just won’t do.
$22,787! Yikes! I asked the sales guy, after telling him I was only interested in looking and I was not a buyer, about the engine size. It seems the standard motor is a 107 cubic inch V-twin, and this one had Harley’s optional 114-cubic inch motor. I guess there’s no substitute for cubic inches. My two earlier Harleys had 80 cubic inches. My current motorcycle has 250 cubic centimeters, which is hair over 15 cubic inches, and that has taken me all over the US, up and down Baja a half-dozen times, across China, around the Andes in Colombia, and well, you get the idea. But you never know. There might be a time when another 100 cubic inches would come in handy.
Anyway, take a look at the dealer setup fee on that sticker above. Yikes again! And how about that CARB fee? Folks, I’ve been in the business, and I’ve spent a lot of time seeing bikes through the CARB process at their test facilities in El Monte, California. I know the folks who run the place. There is no such thing as a CARB fee. At least that the CARB people know about.
Moving on, I noticed the Harley Street model. Gresh told me he’d never seen one, and I thought I’d snap a photo of it for him. It’s not a bad looking bike. Nah, scratch that: It’s a great looking bike…
The Harley Street. 500cc. It looked and felt good to me. Maybe I can talk these guys into a test ride.
I like the look and feel of the Street. I don’t know how it rides. The price of the bike is reasonable, too, other than the aforementioned CARB and dealer setup fees…
This is more like it for a guy like me. But there’s no way I’m paying a fictitious CARB fee or a thousand bucks for setup. The freight cost is close to reality, I think, and I’m okay with that.
My guess is Harley is eager to deal on these little bikes. They should just give me one. I’d like to ride the Mumbai Monster. I’d ride it all over and publicize the hell out of it. It would give me license to start wearing Harley T-shirts again, too.
I joked with the sales guy about the prices, and he told me to take a look at the CVO (as in “Custom Vehicle Operations”) number on the bike behind me. Wowzers!
Yowzers,wowzers, and more! $45K! Hey, maybe they’d throw in a free T-shirt.
$45,522! Good Lord!
But, the bike was beautiful…
A CVO Harley. It was magnificent, and magnificently priced.The CVO Harley has a 117 cubic inch engine. You know, for those times when 114 cubic inches just won’t do.
So there you have it. A burnt-out light bulb led to a Harley dealer visit and the photos you see above. No, I didn’t buy anything. Not even a T-shirt. But I had fun looking. It was a good way to wrap up 2018.
Here’s a video that popped up on my YouTube this morning…
I have mixed emotions on the topic…I’ve been to Sturgis a couple of times (once, on a Chinese motorcycle), I’ve been in Chinese factories, I’ve managed manufacturing facilities where I had to contend with labor costs, and I’ve owned a couple of Harley-Davidsons. I guess if the answers were easy there wouldn’t be any discussion.
I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings but us oldsters are through. Our time has passed. No one cares if we like electric motorcycles or have range anxiety or just don’t like the silence. They don’t care. Bemoan the new kids all you want but we are dead-generation walking and the future always bats last.
Harley-Davidson, having had their finger on the pulse of the American motorcyclist for more than 100 years, can feel that pulse weakening. They get that Easy Rider means a mobility chair to anyone under age 50. With the Livewire H-D is busting out of the leather-fringed, concho-ed cage they so carefully crafted for themselves and it’s about time.
Electric motorcycles just make more sense than electric cars: City-centric, short range, narrow and easy to park. E-bikes comfortably fit into the existing technology envelope as it stands today. While always appreciated there’s no need for advancements in battery technology. E-motorcycles work right now, man.
Generation X, Y, and Z are down with plugging in electronics equipment wherever they go. They grew up watching battery level indicators like we grew up watching fuel gauges. They don’t have the same history or values that we have and they’d be a pretty sorry generation if they couldn’t come up with their own idea of fun.
As usual on Wild Conjecture we have no factual information on the Livewire so the first thing I noticed is that the thing actually looks good. The heavily-finned battery compartment is kind of huge so maybe range will be decent (100-miles would do it for me). Large diameter dual discs means this may be the hardest stopping H-D yet. More than likely the rear disc will be assisted by regenerative braking because it’s fairly easy to do and adds a few miles to the range.
The rear suspension resembles Yamaha’s Monoshock system from 40 years ago except with a much shorter shock absorber. The frame appears to be cast aluminum, a construction method that eliminates costly, complicated robot welding machines and messy human interaction. Forks appear standard and I don’t see any way for the front wheel to charge the battery under braking.
One of the problems I see with electric motorcycles is that they try to be like internal combustion motorcycles. They measure their range against gasoline mileage. They pit their performance against machines that have had 100 years of refinement. For the most part they stack up so-so. E-bikes should embrace a less costly approach; give up a few miles of range and a few miles per hour for a faster charge time. Maybe cheaper, quick-change batteries so commuters could keep one at home, one at the office and one in the motorcycle thereby eliminating the wait time for charging.
The Livewire is an even bigger leap of faith for H-D than their ADV bike (which breaks no new ground) and I’m not sure it will sell out of a traditional motorcycle dealership. Maybe sell them from kiosks at Red Bull events? The Livewire should appeal to a younger audience but it’ll have to be less expensive and carry less emotional baggage than Harley’s oil burners to do it.
Things get a little nasty on the left side of the LC. Without the big upswept exhaust covering the mess all the complexity of a modern motorcycle is exposed. Let’s face it: The thing looks like a commercial air conditioning system from the left side. Still, I wouldn’t let the LC’s looks stop me from buying one assuming I would ever spend $15,000 on a damn motorcycle.
, in my opinion, is the greatest motorcycle adventure story ever told, made all the more significant by two facts. The first is that Dave Barr, the author, did the ride 
What sets 
I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings but us oldsters are through. Our time has passed. No one cares if we like electric motorcycles or have range anxiety or just don’t like the silence. They don’t care. Bemoan the new kids all you want but we are dead-generation walking and the future always bats last.