Tail Gunner here! I’ve been running the Screamin’ Eagle exhaust system for a while on my old Softail. They perform well, but lack the sound and midrange of other more comparable mufflers such as Cycle Shack or Paughco. I didn’t really want to sink another $300 to $400 in another set of pipes, so I opted for a set of Big City Thunder SE2 replacement baffles for way less than half the money of a new exhaust system.



I ordered them straight off their web site and they arrived in a few days. Before installation I decided to take a couple of measurements and see what the design looked like. The baffles tapper in the middle to approx. 2 inches with a reversion ring (back pressure) installed towards the end of the baffle unit.



Exhaust designs vary from each manufacturer, and there are hundreds of designs, but I think ultimately they all have to do the same thing, quiet the bike enough not to annoy the neighbors and perform! I compared the two baffles side by side, as you can see the SE baffles are crimped and force the exhaust flow around the crimp and through a set of holes.



The Big City Thunders are a straight through shot, tapering in the middle with just enough back pressure supplied by the reversion ring.



Installation was a snap! Remove the old baffles by removing the two 7/16 lock nuts and bolts holding them in.



You may need to coax the old baffles out, I used a seal puller and rubber mallet, a small tap and they were loose. It’s a no brainer from here, just slip the new baffle in and secure using the new lock nuts and bolts supplied.




Now for the test ride! I decided the River Run was perfect, so off I went, about 400 miles one way for me. There’s a huge difference in sound, and my mid range and top end improved dramatically. The biggest thing I noticed was car drivers heads turning as I pulled up on them, they definitely knew I was there!





–Tail Gunner out, till next time.

Many of our brothers have not returned. Our brothers, who have given their lives to defend our freedom, deserve a memorial. They deserve to be remembered and honored through our actions and our appreciation for their sacrifice.

Many of our brothers when they return, have the desire for freedom and independence that nothing satisfies, like flying down the highway of a steed of steel. Like many that came before him, when Chief Warrant Officer Justin Bernache returned from his Iraq deployment in August 2009, he needed a bike and started looking for one that fit him. A used 2008 Street Bob caught Justin’s eye. As he looked at it and talked to the sales person, he learned the story behind the bike.

In August 2009, the Street Bob was purchased by Amy Allen of Carthage, NY for her Husband Staff Sergeant Nekl Allen or “Nek” as he was referred to by his brothers in arms. He was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment in 3rd Brigade of the 10th Mountain Division as an 11B. His wife, Amy, purchased the bike as a “coming home” present as it was his dream bike. Late one afternoon, as Nek was on patrol in Wardak Province, his vehicle was struck by an RCIED and small arms fire.

Nek is survived by his wife, Amy, and his their three children. He was a graduate of Churchville-Chili High School class of 1999, where he was a wrestler, played football and joined the US Army in May 2002. This was Nek’s third overseas deployment. He was previously deployed twice to Iraq. Nek had received more than 30 awards and decorations including the Army Commendation Medal, Army Achievement Medal, Army Good Conduct Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Iraqi Campaign Medal, Combat Infantryman Badge, and Air Assault Badge.

After a short test ride, Justin was sold and decided right then and there to dedicate the bike to Nek. Justin had a specific design in mind and Amy approved. Caskinette Ford in Carthage, NY, the dealership, threw in 500 dollars for paint because Justin ordered a new rear fender. After a couple of days, one of Nek’s friends contacted Justin and offered to do the special paint job. Justin installed the new parts and by the spring 2010, the bike looked completely different from when it was first purchased.

Justin said, “Wherever I go, people also notice the bike and compliment me on how it looks. I just wish people would look past all that and realize why this bike looks the way it does. I never intended to put it into shows to win money, prizes or fame. I saw an opportunity to show the bike so people can appreciate what Nek gave to the morals and ideals of this country.”

I was introduced to Justin and his memorial bike through Jim at the Colorado Springs Super Show. Justin was awarded the judges choice award at the 2013 event. Per Jim, “I told Justin that there were a lot of high-end bikes at the show but he was welcome to come and show his bike. The judges were struck by the thought and story behind the bike.”

Take a moment of silence and remember our fallen brothers and offer a kind word of appreciation to the ones who made it home.

Until next time… David Campbell

The Klock Werks NavBag is a multifunctional windshield bag made for Street Glides, Electra Glides and Trike models. The innovative bag features a slick magnetic closure and a special compartment that securely displays your GPS, cell phone, MP3 player or other device behind a protective screen. The screen is capable of transmitting the electrostatic energy necessary to operate most touch-screen devices. It also has a soft felt bag that will not scratch the windshield. It also contains dual accessory cable ports and room for other personal items.

Tammy has done her fair share of maintenance and repairs so installing the Klock Werks Nav Bag on her trike was not going to be a problem. She has learned much over the years. Even if the job looked easy, read the instructions and in this case it prompted a phone call to me asking if she could come by and use my inch-pounds torque wrench.

Using a number 27 Torex bit, the screws holding the windshield in place were removed. Note: The windscreen was completely removed for photo purposes. According to the Klock Werks instructions only the one center Torx need to be removed and the two end fasteners loosened.

Install the NavBag between the inner fairing and the windshield. Tammy installed the center screw first. NOTE: It Is Very Important To Not Over Tighten These Screws. If you do, the brass insert molded into the fiberglass inner fairing will spin, and you will not be able to tighten properly.

Using a ¼ inch drive inch pounds torque wrench Tammy tightened the center screw to 20 inch lbs. and then the two outside ones. Following the same sequence she increased the torque to the required 25 inch lbs.

At this time she does not have a GPS but her cell phone. Glasses and whatever have found a new home and she loves it. As soon as she scores a GPS, we will bring you a report and a product review.

–Rogue

Editor’s Note: We shared this feature, minus the girl, with IronWorks Magazine. The issue featuring this very street-able Sportster custom is on the newsstands right now, that is, March of 2013. So if you need a print version of this feature, there you have it.

When brother Jim stumbled into the Spitfire Motorcycles machine shop and asked to talk to a longtime friend, Paul Cavallo, the master immediately recognized the anguish in his friend’s eyes. Jim faced the muzzle of a double-barreled divorce. Paul immediately knew a cure. In fact, Dave Rash, the boss of D&D Exhaust, calls motorcycles “Two-wheeled valiums.”

Paul put an arm around Jim’s less than 5-foot shoulders and steered him toward a stack of Sportster parts. “How about a café rigid Sportster?”

Jim’s eyes transformed from teared-up clouds to fiery bright blue. Like a drug immediately interacting with depressed brain cells, the mention of a custom motorcycle built by Paul, his dad, and the Spitfire crew, opened new and brightly polished brass mental doorways, and shifted his thinking from marriage blues to brilliant images of open roads and freedom.

Paul stepped back and sized up Jim’s stout 5’4” frame. He lit a cigarette and pulled on his graying goatee. “You need a gasser, boulevard cruiser.”

Suddenly Jim responded, his eyes glistening with the notions of the late night downtown freeways and neon. “Something tight, compact, low to the ground and narrow for lane-splitting at midnight on a Hollywood freeway.”

The notion, the concept, the inspiration, and the resources were cemented, and Paul suddenly had an excuse to build another custom motorcycle. Paul was born to build cool custom components. His father, a master machinist, tutored him, and Paul studied and was fascinated with mechanical art. Together, Paul and his dad have worked side by side for over 23 years. At one time, they both owned large successful companies, but our economy put and end to that. They downsized, worked closer together once more, and formed American Manufacturing and Spitfire Motorcycles.

With their CNC equipment and staff, they are capable of manufacturing almost anything, so they reached outside the motorcycle market for business. But Paul’s love and desire is to design and build cool shit for the chopper market, and build world-class customs to display his wares. A couple of years ago, he built a line of sleek custom girders, forward controls, grips, pegs, air cleaners, and just recently, springers. His team is capable of building any one-off configuration of frame, from stretched rigids to bobbed Sportsters and long-distance FXRs.

This particular project contained a limited budget, since his childhood friend, a cell-tower installation operator, faced forced divorce-induced financial restrictions. “It was a sleeper build with no frills and chrome,” Paul said, “but everything was rebuilt and top of the line from a performance and handling standpoint.” His first mission was to build the lowboy only 36 inches tall at the top of the bars. As with most of his engines, Paul hauled it to Bill Chambers, who rebuilt it from the bottom up, balanced it, modified the rods, and ported and flowed the classic Ironheads.

The frame, a basic Spitfire Sporty bobber, was hand-built on a Spitfire frame table. “Jim wanted an inverted Buell front end,” Paul said and cringed. He prefers his handmade girders or new springers, but he acquiesced. He used low-profile sun-spoked wheels for a café look, but with a 19-inch front and a 15-inch configuration in the rear to keep it low. Paul even raised the axle adjusters in the rear to drop the frame.

The inverted front end was rebuilt, anodized, and then Paul worked with Race Tech for spring rates and damping valves. The aftermarket 5-inch flip tail fender was pie-cut eight times on each side to modify the radius of the fender to match the Bridgestone sport bike tire. He used Harley hubs and stainless spokes with the wheels. The pipes are Spitfire production jobs.

Each time Jim returned to the shop, the gleam in his eyes returned, and Paul recognized the need for Jim to feel open air against his cheeks on a mountain pass far from home. Paul put the pedal to the metal for Jim’s Sporty bobber build. He machined special mid controls for sport bike handling. Paul ripped the tunnel out of a Sportster tank and dropped it 2 inches down over the frame. “I wanted to crush it over the motor,” Paul said.

The headlight was a high tech, albeit inexpensive Hella spotlight Auto Zone find. It’s super bright, and fit with the style of the bike. Paul built a key switch, coil, and breaker system unit attached to the seat post, and the oil bag. The completed components were delivered to Casey at Head Case for wild paint. Paul could feel the need in Jim’s eyes.

“We finished this puppy,” Paul said, “and Jim showed up dressed to ride. He straddled it, and fired it to life. His eyes sparkled like fireworks as he pulled out of the shop, and we haven’t seen him since.”

Regular Stuff

Owner: Jim Euper

Bike Name: Bullet

City/State: Upland, Ca

Builder: Spitfire Motorcycles

City/state: Rancho Cucamonga, Ca

Company Info:
Address: Rancho Cucamonga, Ca
Phone: 855 778 3473

Web site: www.spitfiremotorcycles.com
E-mail: paul@spitfiremotorcycles.com

Fabrication: Spitfire

Engine

Year: 1976

Make: Harley Davidson

Model: XLH

Displacement: 60.84 ci

Builder or Rebuilder: Spitfire/BCR

Cases: stock

Case finish: natural

Barrels: Stock

Bore: 3.26″ x 3.8″

Pistons: Drag specialties

Barrel finish: Black powder coat

Lower end: Balanced & Trued by BCR

Stroke:stock

Rods: stock

Heads: BCR

Head finish: black powder coat

Valves and springs: stock

Pushrods: stock

Cams: stock

Lifters: stock

Carburetion: S&S Super E

Air cleaner: Spitfire

Exhaust: Spitfire

Transmission

Year: 1976

Make: Harley Davidson

Gear configuration:

Primary: Stock

Final drive: Chain

Frame

Year: 2012

Builder: Spitfire

Style or Model: bobber

Stretch: +2

Rake: 30

Modifications:

Front End

Make: Showa

Sheet metal

Tanks: Modified Sportster

Fenders: V Twin flip tail trailer

Oil tank: Spitfire

Wheels

Front

Make: Ride Wright

Size: 19″ 40 spoke

Brake calipers: Buell

Brake rotor(s): Buell

Tire: Bridgestone Battle Wing

Rear

Make: Ride Wright

Size: 15″ 40 spoke

Brake calipers: TPI

Brake rotor: HD

Pulley: 48 tooth sprocket

Tire: Bridgestone Battle Wing

Controls

Foot controls: Spitfire

Finish: Black

Master cylinder: Spitfire

Brake lines: G&J Aircraft

Handlebar controls: Buell

Finish: Black

Clutch Cable: Barnet

Brake Lines G&J Aircraft

Shifting: Stock

Kickstand: Arlen Ness

Electrical

Ignition: Points

Ignition switch: Pollak

Coils: Compufire

Regulator: Cycle Electric, Inc.

Charging: Cycle Electric, Inc.

Starter: Stock

Headlight: Hella

Taillight: Drag Speialties

Battery: Drag Specialties

What’s Left

Seat: Yes

Mirror(s): Not yet

Gas caps: Drag, Aviator

Handlebars: Flanders

Grips: Spitfire

Pegs: Spitfire

Throttle: Drag, off road

Throttle cables: Motion Pro

Fasteners: AIR Fasteners

Specialty items: Forks setup & valved by Race Tech

Bikernet has reviewed several motorcycle touring books from Whitehorse Press and thoroughly enjoyed each one. Motorcycle Journeys Through North America, a guide for choosing and planning unforgettable motorcycle journeys is a great investment for planning out your next motorcycle trip.

The guide is laid out by geographic area from Alaska to Texas to Florida to Newfoundland and everything in between. The guide is not all encompassing. Where to eat and where to get gas is left up to you (as those businesses come and go over night) and those details can be found on the net or on your phone.

The guide is practical and user friendly with tips for each route. The maps are detailed enough to give you the rider a good idea of the loops and routes that Dale has mapped out. The GPS crowd can use this to program their routes while us more seat of the pants riders might just tuck the book in a saddlebag and hit the road. I highly recommend this book.

Title: Motorcycle Journeys Through North America
ISBN: 978-1-884313-93-6
Author: Dale Coyner
Binding: Trade Paperback, perfect bound
Format: 6 x 9 inches
Pages: 400
Art: approx. 500 color maps and illustrations
Price: 29.95

Starting in 1908, brothers Joe, Walter and John Michaelson opened a manufacturing operation in Minneapolis and manufactured Minneapolis motorcycles. The brothers later added the Michaelson motorcycle.

The brothers originally used a proprietary Aurora single engine. By 1911, though, the company was making its own motor and had engineered significant technological innovations. The company was the first in America to offer a countershaft-style two-speed transmission.

They also produced an early single-shock rear suspension years before any other company adopted the concept. Unlike most American motorcycles of the time, the Minneapolis displaced its valves and exhaust pipes on the left side of the engine.

The Minneapolis Motorcycle Company was one of many that were producing motorcycles in the Twin Cities of Minnesota at the time. Just across the river in St. Paul, Thiem, Wagner and Cyclone were also manufacturing motorcycles.

By the later part of the decade, the inexpensive production of automobiles began to compete directly with motorcycles. Very few of the early motorcycle manufacturing companies could compete with those automobiles, and ended up closing their doors.

This 1914 Minneapolis was actually the final year of production for the Michaelson brothers’ company. It is on loan to the museum for E.J. Cole of Pearland, Texas.

She called. Her voice was like the petal of a rose on a violin string, so soft and tender. It always touched my heart. I was just 120 miles away in the San Diego Naval shipyard aboard the USS Saint Paul, a heavy cruiser.

We recently returned from a seven-month tour off the coast of Vietnam, as the first fleet flagship, my first active duty station. I met her on a blind date with my brother the last time I was home in Long Beach. I was just 19, wet behind the ears still and riding my second motorcycle, a brand new 1969 XLCH, kick-only magneto-fired 900 cc hot rod with a 2.2 gallon Sporty tank.

Laurie was pure goodness and light. I was the stark opposite. I was about to roll down a long dark foreboding road of treachery and romance. From the first time I met her, a deep chemical attraction formed and I was lost in lust. I met her at her most sensual ebb. She was an overweight teenager, who trimmed as she hit her late teens and her breasts blossomed like giant succulent flowers framed in neon.

It makes my fingers tingle just to think of her touch even 40 years later. She was all heart and soul. There wasn’t an evil cell in her body, and she practiced her efforts to be pure through her religion as a born-again Christian. It was the only subject of discussion where we differed, and I challenged her beliefs. I didn’t get it, and she cried for fear I could never be admitted to heaven along side her. She had a strict belief. If I didn’t carry a membership card to her church, I was headed straight to hell, no matter how Christian my lifestyle or mantra. If I couldn’t get admitted into heaven, I might as well build a respectable resume in hell.

But I didn’t slip just yet. Sure, I smoked some weed in the control house in the back of the first 8-inch gun turret with a handful of other hippies, while listening to Inagodavida on a 78 album while the needle jumped when another turret fired at the Tonkin Gulf coast. I wasn’t all-bad just yet, and being madly in love with my curvaceous girl in Long Beach kept me sorta out of harm’s way.

When she called, if I could escape 15 minutes early, scramble across the base, out the gate, and across the highway, where they allowed us to park motorcycles (motorcycles weren’t allowed on the base), I’d make a run to Long Beach, just to be at her side and near those fleshy footballs for just a four-hour stint, until I was forced to straddle the XLCH, kick her to life and roll back to Dago at midnight for duty the next morning.

This particular night, I left her warmth and tenderness like a melting stick of butter. I didn’t have time to suit up with additional motorcycle attire. The base rules called for being in uniform upon entering the gates. That meant I had to leave the base, find a stash for civilian clothes, change, and return to suit up before entering the base again, or wear my gabardine blues and ride.

She called; I escaped a half-hour early and cut a dusty trail for Long Beach, up the 5 freeway, like a bat outta hell on a warm lingering summer afternoon, wearing only light blues and a light tan jacket. I flew north on the 405, slipped up beside her and cupped one of the monstrous orbs like I was holding a golden challis from King Tut’s tomb. It was as if I was a drug addict cupping two handfuls for pure cocaine. I was in heaven. There’s that religious thing again.

There was nothing in the world like being next to her, kissing, touching and making love. I found pure nirvana on earth, but then it’s over and cold reality must surface once more.

Tingling with the afterglow of pure sensual delight, I pushed my coffee brown metallic XLCH into the street so as not to disturb her neighbors. I was still a warm soft melting patty of butter, fresh from a smoldering stack of hotcakes. I was sexually spent, and glowing with the warmth of her silky soft flesh all over me, and then chilly reality returned as I kicked the XLCH, over and over.

I didn’t understand Tillotsen carbs, and the handy aspect of accelerator pumps. I’ll bet I flooded it every time twisted the throttle, and kicked it, under the shadow of a massive pepper tree in the coastal pale moonlight. By the time she started, I pulled off every stick of warm clothing and the Navy mandatory bell helmet.

A neighbor tapped on their picture window glass to catch my noisy attention. I pushed the Ironhead a few doors down and started the process again. Finally, the motorcycle was warm enough to overcome the overabundance of fuel in combustion chambers and it fired to life. I quickly dressed, straddled the beast before anymore porch lights snapped on at 1:00 in the morning. I quickly dressed and peeled for the freeway.

In 1969, there was very little traffic on the 405 south of Los Angeles, all the way to San Diego, even in rush hour. But late at night, it was a desolate ribbon of asphalt and concrete for 120 miles. It was cold for a fall California night as my hardened Firestone tires slipped on the moist on-ramp. Tire compounds were nothing like they are today, and didn’t contain water deflecting tread patterns. Slip and go down was a regular occurrence in sand, oil, wet, or damp, gravel, or a pile of dried leaves on a corner.

As I straightened I came face to face with the first evidence of a fog bank as the overhead freeway lamps were surrounded with a soft pillowy mist. As I picked up speed and passed less frequent over-passes. As I cleared Long Beach and rolled into Orange County, the moist mist thickened like an army of ghosts escaping the ocean depths and heading north for the hills.

I could distinguish shapes in the caravan of wispy apparitions. My belief in supernatural didn’t extent to phantom armies, so the thickening mist didn’t intimidate me as it became denser. I remembered coming to an intersection in my first car, a 1946 Nash. It was full of high schoolers in February on a date night and we rumbled to a stop in the left-hand turn land at the corner of 2nd street and Pacific Coast Highway on a soup-thick foggy February night. I could see the signal light directly above me, but nothing else.

I thought of that night as the liquid water droplets intensified until I was soaked and consumed by the low-lying coastal cloud. The shield on the Bell helmet made matters worse and I tore it free from its snaps and stuffed it into my jacket so at least I could see the broken white line 15 feet in front of my front tire. The ghost train took over the freeway and consumed it. I could see nothing except the glow of a light overhead and the white line directly in front of my wheel. I kept rolling, cognizant of the fact that a following truck or motorist would probably run over me before they would have a split second to react, but I kept going. Duty called and the warmth of her love wrapped me in a cloak of spiritual protection. Nothing could touch me, as long as her heart was beating for me.

I wasn’t thinking of her during those long moments on the wide-open freeway. I focused every mental cell on refining my vision in the dense fog. I couldn’t see shit and the cloud of moisture soaked me to the bone. Still, I couldn’t think about the cold or how wet I was becoming. It was all about vision and the lack of it disturbing me. Suddenly I was startled by an additional light, the glow of the headlights on a passing vehicle, then the faded aura of taillights. I quickly had a mission to place the dim red orbs just within reach of my eyes, not too close, but not out of sight. I moderated my speed to hold that position.

 A pot of rum, or better yet to be nestled in her arms once more, my chest against those heavenly mounds, and those lips, and that loving smile beaming all the warm in the world into my soul…Good god! What the hell was I doing on a freeway, freezing my ass off in the middle of the night?

Then something even more treacherous engulfed me. I started to fall asleep. I never encountered this daunting phenomenon before in my life, even at the wheel, but my tugging concentration on the soft glow of two red taillights took its toll on my ability to stay alert in the center of a dense fog bank. I could feel my concentration slipping, the strain in my arms and grip give way as the ghost of slumber engulfed me. I was fading and less than halfway down the coast toward the Naval shipyard in Dago.

I blinked, tried to shift my gaze, shifted my ass against the chilly seat and licked the moisture accumulating in my mustache. As soon as my focus on the bouncing red dots in the distance resurfaced I started to fade again. I slapped myself with my wet clutch gloved hand and my focus brightened for a minute before the evil blanket of fatigue warmed my soul. I no longer felt the bitter wet cold. I was falling asleep at 75 mph on a wet freeway, swallowed up in pea soup.

I didn’t know how fast I was going, whether my left hand had retarded the magneto spark, or if a following careening vehicle bore down on me like a ghost ship in the night. I didn’t care. I was rapidly losing consciousness. My eyelids were as heavy as the steel portholes on the ship. I faltered under the strain to keep them open. I was beginning to give into satin slumber, and then the driver in front of me hit his brakes.

I don’t even know if he actually applied his brakes or not. Maybe it was a mental apparition. Maybe my Long Beach angel said a prayer and made a life saving connection with the spirit of the wheel. That flash of red ignited every disconnected nerve cell infused body. I sat bolt upright and instinctively reached for my front brake, the rear brake, and my eyes bolted wide open. The mental checklist flew into general quarters, red alerts, and the mission impossible mode.

Suddenly I was as wide-awake as a newborn. Every fiber in my limbs came alive. If I slammed on the brakes, I could slip and smack the pavement in a split second, in a dense pea soup fog. Not a pleasant thought. If I slammed into the back of this illusive vehicle represented by just two glowing crimson spheres in the din—well, that couldn’t happen. And if I attempted a quick maneuver around my guiding lights in a soupy night, I would head off into never-never land as blind as minnow trying to swim through an oil spill. At almost 3:00 in the morning in the center of this dense fog bank I was compelled to handle every maneuver delicately, and as graceful as the bow over a violin, plucking precisely for the perfect notes, or die trying.

I compressed my front, drum brake lever tactfully and stared down those fuzzy taillights. We’re they in brake mode anymore or not? The red glows seemed to keep their distance. Maybe the driver was falling asleep and caught himself. Still on full alert, I stared into the murky air born cloud of moisture looking for a sign of anything, hoping for a comforting clue in the sinister night.

Then I grabbed the throttle and flicked it just enough to pass the sonuvabitch, soup-thick fog or not. Ten miles running south in the dense fog and the freeway elevated just enough to break the dreary moist spell and vision returned, to be replaced by a wet cold as if the air-conditioner was turned on max.

A light offshore breeze cut through my wet garments and worked its chilling magic. All the moisture collected from riding through the thick cloud turned to an icy chill. Suddenly I could see signs for Oceanside. I survived passing through the Marine Base at Camp Pendleton. I dipped into another valley next to a sea level lagoon at Solana Beach, and the fog hit me again, as if I rode through a can of chilled gray paint.

By now, I was pissed. I held the throttle at 60 mph and stared at the blinking white line just a few feet in front of my front tire. As I rolled south just 20 miles out of San Diego the freeway elevated out of the fog, the temperature dropped and my moisture laden clothing became a swamp cooler on high. I kicked up the speed as my vision cleared and hunkered down for the final portion of the run.

I wasn’t dressed for the cold. Everything I wore was porous and wet, and I didn’t realize how the cold permeated my body. My leather gloves were soaked and my fingers ached as I rolled into Dago and looked for a place to dry out and warm up. For servicemen, there was one safe have outside most any base, locker clubs. Guys needed a place to stash their uniforms and lock up civilian clothes. Usually, these dumps housed shower rooms and were set up like school locker rooms. I found one a couple of blocks from the base, climbed off the XLCH and scrambled inside.

The locker club had a single tall natural gas heater nailed to the wall. I pulled a wooden bench close and sat as close to the warm steel louvered grates and began to shiver like an out-of-balance wheel. I was chilled to the bone. It didn’t matter how I turned, adjusted my frame, or leaned against the wall adjacent to the heater. I was tired and cold. I suppose I dried out some, but I was growing hungry and impatient. I decided to look for some grub before heading to the base.

 As I stepped outside, a sliver of sun crested the mountains to the east. The icy spell was finally broken and I could return to the living. If only I could escape base early, and jam back north to her silky side once more.

Not too long ago, my good friend Timbo approached me with a proposition, restore his 1964 Harley FL, I agreed. Problem was, it’s in a box, literally! So after a brief discussion on exactly what we wanted to do, how much it would cost and the possible value at the end of the rainbow, I started the Hard Ride back from Hell with the old ’64. I picked up the bike, basically a roller and all the boxes of parts that came with it. As you probably expected, this will be a frame up restoration as close to factory specs as I can get it.

There will be some minor changes, which I’ll talk about as we go along. First thing was to lay it all out and take inventory to see what was missing. After some research, I found replacing parts for the ’64 surprisingly easy thanks to J&P Cycle, Biker’s Choice, and the internet. I ordered the Vintage catalog J&P Cycle puts out and started researching parts I needed to replace.

I also found a local polishing company and chrome hardware supplier (needmorechrome.com) to make life easier. Tear down was a snap. Make sure you bag or box all your parts as you go and label what they are, and in some instances what order they go in. It’s not a bad idea to take lots of photographs for future reference. Sometimes a parts manual comes in handy.

After tear down, I started the fun stuff, going through each and every part, each nut and bolt and cleaning them. Some parts and hardware will not be salvageable, so you’ll have to replace them with either new, or good condition used. I found that there is a tons of vendors on line for just about everything you need. Buying new parts from the catalog is not always the best answer, especially if you’re on a budget like I am.

So shop around, do some research, you may be able to save as much as 50% sometimes. You will also need repair manuals and a few restoration guides like the one my friend Bandit sent me for reference from Wolfgang publishing, thanks Bandit. It has been very useful so far. This is the first of many articles on this restoration project. As the months progress, I’ll try and give you a detail look at what’s involved with a full-blown restoration.

Tail Gunner out for now, see ya next month!

Editor’s Note: Over the years we hear bitching about guys using trailers to attend events, but often there’s no other way to haul a family and all your gear to Sturgis or Daytona. Hell, as long at a brother or sister can make it and have a good time, I don’t care how they get there. Here’s a new twist to the Trailer Mantra.

Is it possible to ride less in order to enjoy riding more? How many great riding areas are out of reach of some bikers today? Is there a solution? Kendon Industries president offers expert opinion for motorcyclists on how to reach new riding areas and ride more.

The age-old debate between riding a motorcycle to an event or hauling a bike to a riding destination continues to rage. On one hand there is the hardcore motorcyclist who does not want to hear the word “trailer” and who is willing to ride anywhere and everywhere, no matter what the distance may be. On the other hand, trailers offer avid riders a helpful alternative.

Ultimately, both types of riders end up at the same places whether they use motorcycle trailers or not. So, what really is the difference between riding and hauling bikes to a destination? Can motorcycle trailers truly enhance the rider’s experience? Kendon Industries, Inc. president and professional rider, Frank Esposito, offers expert tips on how to enhance the riding experience and presents an alternate solution to this age-old debate.

“It used to be that most people only bought a trailer to take their bike in for repairs, to shows, or any distance during inclement weather,” says Kendon President Frank Esposito. “My perception is that a trailer can add a new dimension to the motorcycling experience as it increases the opportunity for adventure.” Consider the fact that the average rider rarely gets beyond a 150-200 mile radius of their home. In addition, physical limitations can play a big role in a motorcyclist’s ability to travel longer distances. “It comes down to a simple matter of quality vs. quantity,” suggests Esposito. “Using a trailer for motorcycles is a sensible way to get out of the comfort circle and change riding habits from a typical ride to a weekend adventure while opening up new riding opportunities.”

Sure, the loner, or two-up family can pack some gear and head out on the road, but what about the larger family, the event booth gear, the camping gear for a larger family, the jet skies, the massive barbecue?

“Why wear out the body and the bike riding the freeways to get to the destination to find to the good riding,” asks Esposito. Using a car and trailer to get you and the family to any destination fresh, relaxed and ready to jump on the bike for riding the truly good roads. Besides the family will not be without transportation, while you hit the road. In addition to the increased comfort level while towing motorcycles, the economy factor plays a huge role with wear and tear on motorcycles. Tires, engine components and fluids all get worn out on the super-slab highways. With a motorcycle trailer, that worry is practically eliminated as the bike arrives at the destination prepped and ready to ride.

Having a freshly prepped bike and a rested body adds to the overall enjoyment of motorcycle riding. “Having rested and happy companions does not hurt either,” adds Esposito. Motorcycle trailers definitely help enthusiasts enjoy more of their passion by allowing for comfortable, convenient and fun times in distant riding destinations. “A trailer really allows you to look at what is beyond that 150-200 mile comfort circle,” insists Esposito.

So is this mantra of trailering real or just hypothetical? Check out the growing numbers of trailers at events such as Bike Week in Daytona or the Sturgis Rally. Motorcycling has always been about independence, freedom and individual choice. “A Kendon trailer is an optional piece of riding equipment designed to give riders even greater independence, freedom and choices.”

“The market has been asking for a better solution for loading and unloading motorcycles, especially when it comes to the heavyweight touring bikes approaching 900 lbs., “ said Kendon’s President Frank Esposito. “With easier loading, the Dual SRL can handle two heavyweight motorcycles with its 2,000 lb. load capacity.”

Dual Ride-Up SRL Motorcycle Trailers incorporate Kendon’s proven SRL technology that was first introduced in Kendon’s Single Ride-Up SRL trailers. SRL, or “Suspension Reactive Loading,” eliminates the apex created by a traditional ramp angle and the bed of the trailer when loading and unloading.

The patented independent torsion suspension on Kendon motorcycle trailers works with the loading ramp to eliminate the apex and creates a smooth parallel surface with a much lower angle for loading and unloading. SRL (“Suspension Reactive Loading”) technology compresses and lowers the bed of the trailer while loading a motorcycle and raises it back up to towing height after the bike is fully loaded onto the trailer.

The Dual Ride-Up SRL Stand-Up Motorcycle Trailer features and benefits include:

•Easy Ride-On Loading design (Always use a spotter when loading and unloading)
•Newly designed rear section offers a lower ramp angle for easier loading
•New One-piece lock down trailer loading ramp featuring fold-out footboards
•Steel mesh ramp surface improves traction and increases loading stability
•Full 2,000 lb. load capacity
•The lightweight trailer can easily be stood up for vertical storage
•Made in USA

NOTE: Kendon is also offering a retrofit upgrade kit to convert the standard dual rail motorcycle trailers to the Dual Ride-Up SRL technology. There are tens of thousands of Kendon Dual Trailers in use today. Now all of these owners can easily upgrade their standard dual to the Ride-Up SRL technology.

The Dual Ride-Up SRL Stand-Up trailer for motorcycles offers an elegantly engineered solution to load and transport light to heavyweight motorcycles. Kendon’s Dual Ride-Up SRL trailers are “The Simple, Lightweight, Stand-Up, Ride-Up Solution.”

The Dual Ride-Up SRL Stand-Up motorcycle trailer is available now from Kendon dealers nationwide. Kendon trailers are distributed by Tucker Rocky/Biker’s Choice in the USA and available from Kendon Direct. More information about Kendon’s folding trailer line can be found at KendonUSA.com.

Plus:

Kendon Industries Also Released Single Ride-Up SRL Motorcycle Trailers

Kendon Industries, Inc., the originator of Stand-UpTM motorcycle trailers and innovative motorcycle lifts, expands its trailer offerings with a new ride-up single rail motorcycle trailer. Billed as an easy loading solution for everything from lightweight sport bikes to heavyweight touring bikes, the new “Single Ride-Up SRL” trailer combines ride-up convenience with a lightweight, user friendly design.

The Single Ride-Up motorcycle trailer incorporates Kendon’s new SRL technology. SRL, or “Suspension Reactive Loading,” eliminates the apex created by a traditional ramp angle and the bed of the trailer when loading and unloading. The independent torsion suspension on the Kendon trailer works with the loading ramp to eliminate the apex and creates a smooth parallel surface with a much lower angle for loading and unloading. The suspension compresses and lowers the bed of the trailer while loading a motorcycle and raises it back up to towing height after the bike is fully loaded onto the trailer.

•Easy Ride-Up Loading design
•Newly designed rear section offers a lower ramp angle for easier loading
•Lightweight lock down 3-piece loading ramp featuring integrated footboards
•Expanded metal ramp surface improves traction and increases loading stability
•Full 1,000 lb. load capacity
•Lightweight trailer can easily be stood up for vertical storage
•Made in USA

Kendon is also offering a retrofit kit to upgrade its older single rail motorcycle trailers to the Single Ride-Up SRL technology. The Single Ride-Up SRL trailer for motorcycles offers an elegantly engineered solution to load and transport light to heavyweight motorcycles. Kendon’s Single Ride-Up SRL trailer is “The Simple, Lightweight, Stand-UpTM, Ride-Up Solution.” The Single Ride-Up SRL trailer is available now from Kendon dealers nationwide and is distributed by Tucker Rocky/Biker’s Choice and Custom Chrome in the USA. More information about Kendon’s Stand-UpTM trailer or motorcycle lift line can be found at KendonUSA.com. 

Fully custom-built, the Spirit of Munro is an all-metal tribute to the racers and mechanics throughout history who have collectively built the legacy of record-breaking racing performance and strength that is Indian Motorcycle. The streamliner was named in honor of Burt Munro’s, “Munro Special,” the historic 1920 Indian Scout that broke the under-1000cc land-speed record in 1967 at the Bonneville Salt Flats as famously portrayed in the motion picture “The World’s Fastest Indian.” “The Munro family is very happy to see such a wonderful tribute to our Father,” says Burt’s Son, John Munro. “We see how Dad’s passion inspires motorcycle riders to this day, as the Spirit of Munro will surely do for years to come.”

“We are a brand that will always strive to push the envelope in everything we do, so when the idea of building a streamliner to both showcase the new engine and pay homage to the racers, mechanics and engineers of the past landed on my desk, it was an easy decision,” says Vice President of Polaris Motorcycles, Steve Menneto. “We are proud to showcase America’s passion for Indian Motorcycle in such a unique and historic way.”

The streamliner was designed from the ground up to house the new Thunder Stroke 111 engine and showcases its awe-inspiring power and performance. The Spirit of Munro is not simply a display; it was built to run. A custom exhaust and intake system is mated with a chain drive conversion to allow for the tall gearing necessary for top speed runs. The all-aluminum bodywork was hand-formed using traditional tools and techniques. Wrapped around the modern Thunder Stroke 111 engine is a custom chassis capable of handling top speeds.

“Part of the process of building a new motorcycle is building many pre-production and production test engines,” said Gary Gray, Product Director for Indian Motorcycle. “The Indian Motorcycle engineering team is fully conscious that every day we are working with history and over the course of design and development many parts and complete engines are built, tested, disassembled and measured. We thought it a fitting tribute to place one of our pre-production engines in a one-of-a-kind vehicle to pay homage to the racers who have helped build the legend of the Indian Motorcycle brand over its 112-year history.”

Tapped to construct the Spirit of Munro was Jeb Scolman of Jeb’s Metal and Speed in Long Beach, California. Jeb’s extensive credentials building land speed racers, along with his hand-formed bodywork on a Stutz Blackhawk replica revealed him as the perfect builder for this tribute machine.

“When the guys from Indian Motorcycle called to ask if I would be willing to play a part in this historic endeavor, I could not say ‘yes’ fast enough,” said Jeb Scolman. “We built the Spirit of Munro in just three months of straight long work days. It was a brutal schedule, but to be a part of re-launching this brand and giving Indian Motorcycle fans a historic new piece of Americana makes it all worth the effort.”

The bodywork was sculpted to reflect seminal machines from history, as well as creating a unique package for rider and mechanicals. Using aircraft inspired and traditional custom techniques, the Spirit of Munro is a striking tribute to the past, and an irrepressible inspiration for the future of America’s first motorcycle company. Adorning the tail of the machine is the logo of another iconic American brand, Jack Daniel’s Whiskey who is helping sponsor the motorcycle through their “Bottles and Throttles Don’t Mix” responsibility campaign.

 

For more information please visit www.indianmotorcycle.com, follow us on Twitter at www.twitter.com/indianmotocycle, and Like Us at www.facebook.com/indianmotorcycle.