THE FUTURE OF HARLEY-DAVIDSON—The Freedom Machine must live on into the Future.

We are reaching out to readers for their suggestions for the future success of
Harley-Davidson. We will collect notes and suggestions from brothers and sisters until we build a solid list of suggestions. Then we can share them with the factory.

Let’s try to stay positive, no complaints about the factory or their newest models.



If you want to chime in, drop me a line to
1.One of my first notions included the factory mantra. This is a current consideration for the many companies and our country. The company needs to adapt a slogan or refurbish their old slogan of Freedom Machine.

If they adopt an open dialog about climate change and global warming they might discover that the notion of the Freedom Machine is needed now more that ever.

What if the settled scientist are all wrong? What if science is never settled? What if we’re in a cooling trend and CO2 is falling in the atmosphere and we need fossil fuels and more CO2 for the life on Earth to survive. Suddenly the notion of flying down the highway on your air-cooled V-Twin becomes paramount. We need our Freedom Machines!



2.The one thing that always energizes the Harley-Davidson brand is a new cool movie or TV series. Of course, I have some suggestions. –Bandit



3.Keep the Sportster, but carefully make design changes to make it easy to modify and work on. Develop a large line of custom products to allow guys to learn and be able to easily modify Sportsters. Foster competitions.–Bandit



4.Open the factory to the aftermarket. Allow and foster lines of products such as for the Sportster. Study how other manufacturers have developed relationships with the aftermarket and how you can support one another. Both will profit.–Bandit



5.Work with Racers from flat track guys to Bonneville teams. Learn and support teams. Relish in the publicity and excitement. The factory needs an open relationship with customers and the industry. –Bandit



6.And along with the Sportster effort could be a program to support the builder. Bring back the reman program. Start to manufacture a line of products, which allows guys to repair and rebuild. They might even bring back a vintage Harley, like ford did. Build a Panhead again.—Bandit



7.Improve dealer/factory relationships. Make it a success partnership. Harley-Davidson represents so much more to the employees than just a job. Harley-Davidson represents so much more to the rider that just a product. The lifestyle represents so much more to American than just another corporate name.

There’s the lucky 7. What could be better.–Bandit


From Readers:

RE: Future of Harley Davidson – It’s no big secret, Harley can put good people up against a bad design, and the bad design will win every time. Nothing more discouraging that looking at a $45,000 motorcycle, with a compensator design that won’t make it 15,000 miles without crapping out. (Stop laughing over there Rogue – I see you laughing over there Rogue!!!) My last screaming vulture compensator grenade wiped out my entire primary system too – E.S.P. was out about $4,000 – Yes Rogue – my next one compensator will be a Baker.

That being said – Rogue – I’ll be glad to read one of your step by step instructions on how to shoehorn in an M8, in place of my Twin Cam when time comes…..asking for a friend.

–Doug
Buchanan, MI





1)Move the decimal point on your CAD for a Sportster or Big Twin engine and make one that is under 650cc. Then do the same to the chassis. And whammo you have a real Harley with the sound and an entry level bike at an affordable price. All the techs will know how to work on it too.



2)Focus on weight reduction. This will solve 2 things. Easier to ride and a faster bike. We really don’t need a swingarm that weighs 75lbs.

3)Focus on bicycles/electric and standard that are affordable so kids start learning the “brand”.



4) Demo fleet and rider training at factories. Make a deal with the HR dept. Let’s us come to you and we’ll donate to a charity of your choice etc. If the people that are interested are too afraid/intimidated to come to the store have the store go to them. This solves: a) Even if people aren’t interested in pursuing this hobby, they become more aware and may pay attention to us on the road and b) Gets those that are on the fence a push in the right direction.


Here’s Some Supporting evidence:

I just ran across Patrick Moore’s latest paper on: The Positive Impact of Human CO2 Emissions on the Survival of Life on Earth

Patrick Moore recently wrote a book called, Fake Invisible Catastrophes and Threats of Doom. I bought two immediately. He sent me this video link of a lecture: https://www.thegwpf.com/video-of-patrick-moores-gwpf-lecture-should-we-celebrate-co2/




Executive Summary

•This study looks at the positive environmental effects of carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions, a topic which has been well established in the scientific literature but which is far too often ignored in the current discussions about climate change policy.

•All life is carbon based and the primary source of this carbon is the CO2in the global atmosphere.

•As recently as 18,000 years ago, at the height of the most recent major glaciation, CO2dipped to its lowest level in recorded history at 180 ppm, low enough to stunt plant growth. This is only 30 ppm above a level that would result in the death of plants due to CO2starvation.

•It is calculated that if the decline in CO2levels were to continue at the same rate as it has over the past 140 million years, life on Earth would begin to die as soon as two million years from now and would slowly perish almost entirely as carbon continued to be lost to the deep ocean sediments.

•The combustion of fossil fuels for energy to power human civilization has reversed the downward trend in CO2and promises to bring it back to levels that are likely to foster a considerable increase in the growth rate and biomass of plants, including food crops and trees.

•Human emissions of CO2have restored a balance to the global carbon cycle, thereby ensuring the long-term continuation of life on Earth.

•This extremely positive aspect of human CO2emissions must be weighed against the unproven hypothesis that human CO2emissionswill cause a catastrophic warming of the climate in coming years.

•The one-sided political treatment of CO2as a pollutant that should be radically reduced must be corrected in light of the indisputable scientific evidence that it is essential to life on Earth.

Something to think about…

It gets hot there in the South West this time of year and a cooling vest can be a godsend in triple digit heat. There are a lot of options for us motorcyclists, and evaporative cooling vests are common. You pull them out when needed, soak them in water and become a human swamp cooler. Ice-chilled cooling vests require ice packs or cooling packs that can freeze at a moderate temperature of 58° Fahrenheit. There are even thermoelectric cooling vests utilizing water pushed through tubes with motors and batteries.

We are excited to try out the big guns of cooling vests next installment with the Harley-Davidson Ice-Chilled version of this vest which includes four wearable ice packs and the Polar Products Cool Phase and Hybrid Design vests.

Harley-Davidson Cooling Vest– $60.00 2 to 3 hours
•Lining absorbs and holds water that slowly evaporates to provide a cooling effect for 2-3 hours depending on riding conditions. Vest is fully hydrated when soaked 1-2 minutes.
•Can be rehydrated up to 100 times.
•Fit & Mobility: Contrasting stretch mesh side panels provide a close fit. Elastic back waist.
•Design Details: Rubber LOGO patch.
•Materials: 100% nylon with embedded HyperKewl™ lining.

Alpinestars Coolant Vest $158.00– cooling effect claimed to last 3 days.
•Vest features an innovative cooling system which evenly releases moisture during rides, thus significantly regulating the vascular system and limiting the effects of heat exhaustion. Extremely
•Very light cooling vest, designed to limit the effects of the heat and to cool the upper part of the body whilst riding. Fill it with 500 ml of tap water, squeeze to spread it around and it will immediately start to cool, significantly reducing body temperature (at least 15°C less). The cooling effect can last for up to 3 days.
•Strategically placed air apertures that ensure optimum ventilation, breathability and airflow.
•Triple layer fabric with an inner coating which absorbs the humidity and allows it to remain dry.
•Anatomical design with stretch panels on the sides.

What do Choppers mean to you? I should know. I’ve worked with the greatest builders on the planet. I’ve built a few myself and I started in the industry because of Choppers.

Hell, I worked with the god father of the Chopper, Arlen Ness on several projects. So, what did they mean to me, when I first started to turn a wrench and built my first rat bike chopper? I was maybe 20, recently back from Vietnam, escaped the harsh family and wondered what the hell I was going to do next.

The Chopper represented mostly Freedom to me, middleclass freedom. The freedom to build something with my hands that would propel me into an alternate universe away from prying eyes and constant rules. I didn’t have money, but I could still strip a motorcycle down with simple tools and make it cool. All I needed was a set of extended tubes, a new set of handlebars and a welder.

I didn’t want to hangout with anyone. I just wanted to build and ride. It’s interesting, because I’m now looking at all the builders I knew and how they lived. Some of them built for attention and power, some for artistic expression and a few for money.  I looked at outlaws I’ve known and how they died or went to prison. Many builders, like Arlen and recently like the very talented Andrew Ursich are family guys who found something in the art of a chopper that moved them.

Some guys started as painters like Jon Kosmoski and David Perewitz and were lured into the underground of the Chopper rider.

Some guys worked only to make enough cash to pay for chrome and whiskey. We worked menial jobs during the day and flew into the night looking to get high and find love. We were lowlifes living off beer and steel. We didn’t want to be known. We didn’t want to hang with rich folks or be cool.

We just wanted to be left alone and find a wild open city freeway in the middle of the night to her apartment. When straights came around we faded into the background and disappeared on our Choppers. They were intimidated by us anyway.

That’s the way it happened during most of the ‘70s. Only a few companies made parts, but more were coming on line. Some of them started because brothers of the wind couldn’t find jobs for bikers, so fuck it, they opened a bike shop or started to make pipes like Kenny Samson.

Ron Paugh had a dad who knew how to punch out parts and coerced him into making tin primaries for his buddies. Hell, two bikers rode to California on choppers to find themselves broke and sleeping on the beach in Venice. They ultimately started D&D distributors and Easyriders magazine with Lou Kimzey.

For a while during the hippy generation, we rode from party-pad to party-pad hanging out, smoking weed and listening to music. I remember riding to a guy’s house and he had a large bowl on his coffee table filled high with hand-rolled multi-colored joints. I don’t know what he snorted the night before but it sure made him industrious.

I smoked a joint while he picked just the right tunes from Leon Russell to play to find his groove. I just wanted to ride back to my garage and make shit. My wife Laurie said I hated to sleep. I just wanted to learn and rebuild stuff.

My grandson now has like five bikes. Only two of them run. One is a mudflap girl FXR I built for my son, who then sold it to Frank Jr. The other is an FXRP originally rebuilt by Bob Tronolone. Frankie loves to ride, hates to drive and is rapidly becoming a master tattoo artist.

He basically Tattoos and rides. He’s been clean and sober for over 5 years and gets all he needs out of life with his needles and splitting lanes.

So, I knew brothers who gave it all up when they got married and started to raise kids. I know guys who turned their extended fork obsession to joining a club. I know guys who told the old lady to fuck off and rode off into the sunset.

I once compared chopper riders with sailors and other adventurers like mountain climbers, but they are different. Sailors don’t fight the man. They don’t build something absolutely new and innovative and risk their lives at 90 mph on a crowded freeway. Sure, there are risks in other endeavors, but the Chopper rider has an attitude.

He knows his time could be up at the next intersection. He doesn’t have a suicide-clutch moment to fuck around with disrespectful bosses, or harping ol’ ladies. He wants to ride and be loved for who he is. If you don’t get it, get out of the way. If I need to explain, sorry, I don’t have time.

I guess that’s why we scoffed at rules, helmet laws and rider etiquette enforced by the AMA. We pounded tables in front of judges and congressmen. We told cops to fuck off.

Chopper riders are a breed of outlaw, wanderer, artist, craftsman and warrior. Some are boot tough and rattlesnake mean. Some don’t ever mix with society. Most make their own path and wonder how they got there, but they know how to stay on the path. They built the choppers that got them there.

–Bandit

 A classic Chopper show I try not to miss when in Daytona for Bike Week. Willie puts it together at his Tropical Tattoo, and it looks like lots of other people felt the same way about the Bike Week show.

 

 

One of the highlights of the show is when the MC Roadside Marty takes the microphone and wisecracks during the awards ceremony.

 

When not viewing the bikes most people go out to the back lot where there is a band playing while you enjoy a cool beverage of your choice and something to eat.

There are some good tattoo shots and a occasional one like the exhaust pipe checking out a chick’s butt.

 Thanks Willie and all those who help make this event one to look forward to every year!

Author’s Note: Late Spring and then early Fall I sent Gavin Newsom, the
governor of California, letters, the second one much much more caustic than the first, regarding his incompetence. I know talent and I know competence. Newsom has none of either.

Both letters are about his “dealing” with the “pandemic.”
Both contained my full name, my full address, my full
email, and sent by the US Postal Service. So that they
would exist in their files forever. This, if nothing else, tells
them you PROBABLY are not a threat.

I do not recommend writing to your representatives
critiquing them. Unless you are me. For one thing…they
don’t really give a fuck what you think, unless it’s praise.
Because you see bureaucrats are deities. They cannot err.

So, telling them they are erring does absolutely no good. I never wasted my time writing to bureaucrats until Trump announced his candidacy My letters to Trump are a whole nuther department from this here.

Critiquing a bureaucrat, especially when angry, unless you are me, is fraught with peril, both real and imaginary. I do not recommend it. PLUS, it’s basically a waste of time.

Below are two letters, one relative calm but very
exasperated, to Gavin “the rictus” Newsom and the
second one pretty much at the limit of insult without being
menacing.

Newsom is now even himself admitting that the recall
effort on him will likely be successful. I could NOT be
happier.

Letter 1

Good job weakening everyone’s immune system via your
genius “stay safe” policies.

Dear Gavin Newsom;

You may have noticed though I don’t suppose you have, that your randomly-decided solution to the annual cold and flu season – isolation, manic disinfecting of surfaces, the forbiddance of crowds, mandatory wearing of bacteria incubators on the faces of everyone including children who are just developing their
immune systems – is creating – unless you’re all lying –
more and more “cases.”

An idiot would see that you are making things worse with
your whimsical, preposterous, untried, untested remedy
for flu contagion. And what’s your solution to the ever increasing evidence that your solution is making things
worse?….to double-down on the ruinous solution.

“Here’s my plan!….hurl everyone into bankruptcy, poverty, and homelessness……and then have them die alone without visitors due to weakened immune systems created by my brilliant medical prowess…..all while at the same time creating a new entire generation of the young with no immunity to anything.”_____

Sincerely,
J.J. Solari
“Medical Genius From Another Dimension.”

letter 2

Dear Gavin Newsom (since you won’t be Governor much longer)

“Doing the exact same thing over and over and expecting
a different result each time is a sign of insanity.”___Albert
Einstein

It’s a good thing you’re not up against a human enemy. Or even an animal one. Or an insect one. It’s a good thing you’re fighting a virus. Because if you were fighting anything bigger….like, say, an
invading army of foreign warriors or even ants in the
bathroom…..you wouldn’t have been conquered just once, but over and over again. Like, once every three weeks.

You did accomplish one thing. You slowed the spread.
Thus justifying your continued strategy for victory: doing
the wrong thing over and over and over. At this rate you
will have slowed the spread for maybe another thousand
years. Giving you an opportunity to be wrong millions of
times.

You gotta be excited by that.

You’ll notice, – though probably you haven’t – you’ll notice
that the current pandemic is affecting fewer people than
your war against it is. In other words, you are doing more
damage to the populace than the flu is. It’s almost as
though you don’t know who the enemy is. You’re fighting
the flu….but you’re destroying people – people who don’t
have the flu. In other words – – – you’re doing more
damage to people than the flu is. In other words – – – in an alleged “effort” to make things better – – – you’re making things worse…..and calling it “keeping everyone safe.”

In other words – you’re destroying everyone…….by keeping them safe. You’re slowing the spread….in order to make the spread last forever. You’re killing people who don’t have the flu….in order to save them from the flu.

You are “slowing the spread” – – – in order to strengthen the virus – – – so it can kill more people….in order to keep the flu from killing more people. You are destroying people – – – to keep them safe. You are destroying people – to help them.

This is called “nuts” by the uneducated and “sociopathic”
by the mean-spirited. Keep in mind that “nuts” and
“sociopathic” are not synonyms for ” being mistaken” or
“making an honest error.”

There is a variety of deranged murderer who kills
prostitutes in order to 1: send them to heaven so they will
sin no more or 2: send them to hell where their sins have
destined them to go anyway. Both varieties of murderer
insist their victims were the real killers. Because they
refused to obey.

The courts usually let them live because they are deemed insane. Maybe that’s what you are
counting on. Maybe that’s why you curtailed the death
penalty: so that if your tenure ever comes to trial down the road you’ll get treatment OR the way things now work in your State, thanks to you, you’ll get released.

Apparently I am the only one on earth who has noticed
this total effing utter disconnect between what you say you are trying to accomplish….and what you are actually
accomplishing. In other words, I am apparently the only
one who knows that as an actual commander….if you were a commander of troops they would all be dead before the end of Round One.

Fortunately for the flu …..the only thing you actually
command is obedience from non-combatants on your own team: 40 million people. Because the flu is ignoring you.

We are obeying you. But the flu is ignoring you. Big
shocker there, uh? Maybe you should try your luck at
commanding the tide to stop.

And – again fortunately – the people you are destroying
with greater effectiveness than the flu – are apparently all idiots. Because, hey, they did ask for this: they voted for you. If they had wanted effectiveness they would have voted for Yoda.

And who knows but maybe that is the psychological
justification for your leadership strategy: “If they voted for
me….. they’re just too stupid to let live.” When you look at it that way…..it all makes sense.

–J.J. Solari

The latest additive is ethanol, which — without getting into the political and environmental debates about its efficacy — is fine for use in fuel-injected vehicles that are run regularly and designed to use up to 10% ethanol (85% in flex-fuel vehicles).

On the other hand, ethanol-oxygenated fuel is not so great for any vehicles that sit between uses, and/or carbureted engines, like the one in your dirt bike or older motorcycle. Ethanol is alcohol, and alcohol is corrosive to certain parts in older fuel systems.

Alcohol is also “hygroscopic” and likes water, so when water gets into the fuel during a fill-up or from condensation, it can mix with the ethanol, creating a chemical combo that causes rust, corrosion, acids, and sticky varnish that wreak havoc in fuel systems, especially carburetors. Ethanol can even cause rubber parts and fuel lines to dry out, harden and deteriorate prematurely.

Alternatives are few — unless you’re lucky enough to have a fuel supplier or gas station near you that sells ethanol-free gasoline (see pure-gas.com or buyrealgas.com), or you’re OK paying $15-$18 per gallon for ethanol-free gas in cans from a dealer (see vpracingfuels.com), most of us are stuck buying gasoline oxygenated with 10% ethanol.

Again, your modern fuel-injected vehicle that you store in a dry place and run at least twice a month is unlikely to suffer any ill effects, but what should someone do with their older carbureted bike (or boat, lawnmower, string trimmer, generator, etc.)?

The simplest, best advice I can offer is…don’t let them sit. The shelf life of un-stabilized gasoline containing ethanol is about one month. Running your vehicles every week — or two maximum — until fully warm is the best way to prevent fuel delivery problems. When you can’t run them, here’s what I do to minimize (not eliminate!) problems with my small collection of bikes, and my generator, string trimmer, and lawnmower, even spare fuel in cans.

VP Racing Only a handful of states mandate the sale of 10% ethanol gasoline, and none we’re aware of specifically prohibit the use of non-ethanol fuel, like many of the blends you can buy from VP Racing and some gas stations.
Half Full, Half Empty

On carbureted bikes with steel gas tanks, half the fuel system should be drained, and the other half kept full. Carburetors and their tiny air passages and jets can become plugged with aged fuel that deteriorates into sticky varnish over time. Since carb internals are made of non-ferrous aluminum, brass, plastic and rubber that won’t rust, if it’s practical to drain them (shut off the gas manually first or look for a vacuum-operated-type petcock that is off whenever the bike is), this is your best bet for trouble-free operation when refilled.

O-rings and seals have been known to dry out and leak when carbs are left dry for a very long time, but this is less likely than plugged jets or worse if they’re left wet.

Some carburetors have a drain bolt in the bottom of their float bowls, others have a drain screw. Don’t overtighten either one, and only drain carburetors (into something please, not just onto the bike and floor) when the bike is off and cold.

Don’t run the bike until it dies to suck the rest out — this can draw dirt and debris from the bottom of the float bowl into the carburetor. I once bought a Honda multi that had been stored in a basement for 15 years with the carbs drained and stabilized fuel kept in the tank, and it was rust-free and fired right up without carb service. If you’re careful, there’s no reason you can’t return newer, clean drained fuel to the tank.

Steel tanks on carbureted or fuel-injected bikes can rust inside, so it’s best to leave them at least ¾ full of fuel to which you have added stabilizer (more on this later). Some newer models have plastic-shrouded aluminum or plastic tanks, in which case it’s up to you, but make sure you stabilize it if you leave fuel in the tank. In really humid environments I would still keep an aluminum tank full.

Fuel injection systems seem much less susceptible to the ravages of stale fuel, and once full of stabilized fuel are almost carefree. In fact, some manufacturers warn against running their EFI bikes entirely out of fuel.

If you can’t drain carbs, after adding a stabilizer to the fuel in the tank run the bike long enough to ensure stabilized fuel has filled them, then shut off the bike and petcock. I carry a small bottle of stabilizer with me when I take out one of my less frequently ridden bikes, and add it at the gas station before riding home.

Err on the side of adding more stabilizer; you can’t overdose (within reason) with the products mentioned below. Stabilized fuel in the carbs does not guarantee that they won’t suffer from plugged passages or jets, however, and you should still run bikes kept this way at least every three weeks.

More often is simple insurance that you won’t need an expensive service — compare the cost of non-ethanol race gas and/or stabilizer to that of a carburetor rebuild and the former start to make economic sense. Just make sure you run the engine until it’s fully warm (to burn off water and contaminants in the oil and exhaust). While you’re at it, pump the fork and shocks and work the brakes, clutch and shifter to keep seals flexible and lubricated.

fuel stabilizer Fuel treatments and stabilizers are not a panacea for ethanol, but they can help in conjunction with regular engine running.

A Stable Relationship

A good ally in the fight against bad gas and fuel delivery issues is a fuel stabilizer. They’re not foolproof, but three we’ve found to provide consistent results with motorcycles are Star Tron Enzyme Fuel Treatment, Spectro FC Premium Fuel Conditioner & Stabilizer, and Bel Ray All-in-One Fuel Treatment.

There are others, but we lean toward these simply because they include motorcycles in their literature and FAQs, and that gives us a warm, fuzzy feeling. All make lots of claims about their effectiveness that we have no way of proving or disproving, so just buy some and use it, or spend hours online researching them before you just buy some and use it. All of them offer smaller bottles and/or containers with measuring devices built-in to make carrying and using it while out on the bike easier.

The instructions for each will tell you how much to use, how long the fuel is usable when treated, etc. There are some consistent rules of thumb. You generally only need to stabilize fuel if you won’t use it all up within two months (but carbureted bikes should still be run every couple of weeks as described above).

Adding a little new gas or stabilizer to old gas won’t renew it, nor will adding more stabilizer to old stabilized gas extend its usable life.

Overdosing is not an issue (unless you drink it, duh), and in my experience, none of them will cure a plugged-up carb no matter how much you add to the fuel. Your best bet is to avoid plugging it in the first place.

Evel Knievel had a stock answer for reporters when they asked him: Well … why? “There’s three mysteries to life,” he said, with practiced conviction. “Where we came from, why we do what we do, and where we’re going to go. You don’t know the answer to any of those three, and neither do I.” Standing next to the Snake River Canyon in Idaho in 1974, as crew members prepped his water-powered rocket cycle to fly the chasm in what would be his ballsiest cheat of death yet, he added: “I’m going to jump it to get to the other side, and I don’t want to drive across that damn bridge.”

A half a century later, we know some of the answers to the three mysteries of Knievel, including where he came from and where he went. We may never really know why, but he probably gave us his best clue in Idaho: “I don’t want to drive across that damn bridge.” Like everyone else would, like mere mortals would. Wherever Evel Knievel would go in life, he planned to fly.

Since Snake River, many of Knievel’s motorcycle jumping records have been toppled with ease. Lighter bikes, miles of suspension travel, and broad dirt ramps have produced YouTube spectacles that are both thrilling and safer. But no one has done it with the showmanship or command of hyperbole that captivated 1970s Malaise-Era America. Knievel in the white star-spangled suit never quite showed all of his cards—but then again, he never really had any, refusing to use a speedometer, a tachometer, or any pre-jump calculations. It was all gut. He ripped shots of Wild Turkey hidden in his diamond cane and then set sail, arcing through the air like a comic book superhero while straddling America’s number one escape vehicle.

His star turns on color TV as well as the 1971 film, Evel Knievel, produced so many iterations of half-truths and exaggerations about his life that it’s hard to separate fact from fiction, and that’s just fine. The film catalyzed the daredevil emperor’s conquest and spun him into a national phenomenon with intense command over the social spotlight. Such command, in fact, that even 50 years after the film’s release, we still remember him.

The Lord almighty gifted Robert Craig Knievel to the world on October 17, 1938, in Butte, Montana. Once called “The Richest Hill on Earth” for its position atop veins of copper, silver, and gold, Butte in the 1940s and ’50s was a jagged place. Shafts bored the landscape into Swiss cheese. Big machines, big money, big egos. The youngster with the German last name, pronounced Kin-evil, was a handful, his natural recklessness stoked by the rough-and-tumble mining town.

At 18, he wound up in jail—it wasn’t the first time, nor the last—after evading the police but ultimately crashing his getaway motorcycle. There he shared cell walls with a William Knofel, and prison guards labeled the convicts “Awful” Knofel and “Evil” Knievel. The name stuck, but Knievel changed the “i” to an “e” because, despite his misconduct, he didn’t want to be considered evil. He eventually slipped the bars and joined the Army, but his service didn’t last long, and the dropout returned to Butte, where he landed a job at the copper mine. He was promoted to surface duty, but soon he was fired for pulling a wheelie with the bulldozer and knocking over Butte’s main power line.

He was an adrenaline junkie before the term existed. To feed his habit, he dabbled in skiing, rodeo riding, and motorcycle racing. At 19, Knievel formed his own semi-pro hockey team, the Butte Bombers, then somehow persuaded the Czechoslovakian national team to play an exhibition—in Butte, no less. The Czechs destroyed the Bombers, 22 to 3, while Knievel passed a plate around, urging spectators to defray the Czechs’ travel expenses. After the final buzzer, everyone was shocked to find the money gone, along with Knievel.

During those formative years, he also burglarized businesses from Montana to Oregon. In a 1971 interview with The New Yorker, he confessed his sins. “When I was stealing, I’d go into a store and ask if they had fire-and-theft, pretend I was selling insurance,” he said. “If the man in the store said he already had insurance and if his attitude was bad—if he told me to get the hell out—then I’d go back that night and rob him. I never carried a gun, never hurt anybody except the insurance companies, and they’re bastardly thieves anyway.” (Knievel spent a few years of his life as a legitimate insurance salesman.)

Soon enough, the law closed in. “I had a terrible breakdown when I was about 25. The police chased me across four states—I was in a Pontiac Bonneville, going 120 miles an hour, and after that, I just couldn’t stand the pressure.” So, he gave up the life of crime.

Why we do what we do? It was 1966, and after some brief stints selling insurance and Honda motorcycles, Knievel stepped into the sideshow stunt world of county fairs and other regional events. His father had taken him to see the Joie Chitwood Thrill Show, an automotive circus featuring cars jumping, cars on two wheels, and cars on fire.

In Washington, Knievel decided to start his own stunt brigade on motorcycles. He partnered with a Norton distributor, dressed in bumblebee-colored leathers, and briefly reinstated the “i” in his stage name. “Evil Knievel and His Motorcycle Daredevils!” Their first show took place during the 1966 National Date Festival in Indio, California, somewhere between the dog parades and a performance by the Southern Pacific Railroad Band.

Knievel’s self-promoted events, plus a brief spot on ABC’s Wide World of Sports, spooled interest so quickly that barely a year after the Date Festival, he found him-self in Las Vegas at the top of a ramp at Caesars Palace, ready to rip 141 feet over the fountain of the newly opened resort.

He had already ditched the Daredevils, reinstated the “e,” adopted the patriotic leathers that would become his brand, and learned that jumping bikes paid decent money if it was paired with enough show-biz spectacle. Even so, he had to con his way to the top of that ramp by barraging Caesars Palace founder Jay Sarno with a series of phone calls. In each call, Knievel impersonated a lawyer, a broadcast company, or anyone else who might plausibly feign interest in his proposed jump. His blitz earned face time with Sarno, and the two agreed to a jump date.

After a suitable buildup that included Knievel wheeling his Triumph Bonneville T120 back and forth before the huge crowd, he gunned the throttle and barreled toward the launch ramp. But the daredevil felt the power suddenly sag as he hit the ramp. It was too late to back out; rider and bike sailed high over the pluming fountain, Knievel standing on the pegs, almost seeming to try to pull the bike up against the gravity that was closing in. Instead, he clipped the landing ramp short with the rear tire, the front tire slammed down, and—wham!—he somersaulted over the front of the bike and onto the pavement, a bouncing, skidding, tumbling, instantly comatose mannequin of shattered bones.

Knievel had the entire jump filmed by actor John Derek and Derek’s then-wife, actress Linda Evans. Evans’ gruesome reel, shot from beyond the landing ramp as Knievel spilled, garnered global playback. “Nobody wants to see me die,” Knievel used to say, “but they don’t want to miss it if I do.” For a man who spoke in headlines and hyperbole, this was an unexaggerated truth. It was only in 1967, when he smashed at Caesars, that people began paying attention to the huckster from Butte.

Knievel vaulted over his motorcycle’s handlebars on to late-night talk shows, and the well-spoken, cowboy-handsome fabulist captivated Technicolor audiences with ease. It was on The Dick Cavett Show where Knievel, seated in a New York soundstage, jazz cat Dizzy Gillespie to his right, joked, “I think the thing that upset me most at Caesars Palace was I bounced into the Dunes parking lot and they never paid me for making an appearance.”

All the right people took notice of the burgeoning star, including actor George Hamilton. The debonair dreamboat, known for mushy roles in By Love Possessed and Light in the Piazza, was working on a story about a rodeo rider turned motorcycle stuntman. The story, however, pivoted when the actor learned of Knievel and saw him as a more compelling real-life protagonist.

Hamilton commissioned a script from John Milius, a young screenwriter from Missouri who in that same decade went on to write epics such as Jeremiah Johnson and Apocalypse Now. Milius doubled-down on Knievel’s bravado and further embellished the tales from Butte. (See Knievel busting through sorority house doors and riding up the staircase to kidnap his future wife.)

For the film’s climax, Knievel was to fling his ethyl-chugging XR-750 Harley-Davidson 129 feet over 18 Dodge Colts and one Dodge van lined up inside California’s Ontario Motor Speedway. At this point in his career, he wasn’t yet the main attraction—many of the 80,000 fans packing the grandstands of the newly built $25 million racing palace east of Los Angeles had come for a NASCAR race. No matter. His high-flying act and subsequent movie starring Hamilton as Knievel would launch the real stuntman from opener to main attraction.

The Ontario jump was a smooth spectacle. Only years later, in the biography by Leigh Montville titled Evel, did we learn of the calamity that day. According to an interview with Hamilton, who spent time in the stuntman’s trailer prior to the jump, Knievel was drunk off Wild Turkey and his hand was broken from a practice accident the day before. Worried, Hamilton asked him, “How will you jump with a broken hand?” Knievel replied: “I’ll tape it to the handlebars. It’s logic, George. If your hand is broken, you tape it on.”

We also learn that the weather conditions were better than usual. California’s Santa Ana winds, known to blow over 18-wheelers on the highway adjacent to the speedway, were calm. It was those forceful gusts that blew stunt cyclist Debbie Lawler off course while she attempted a similar jump at Ontario in 1974.

Hindsight is 20/20, though, and in a split second, Knievel’s 300-pound Harley floated down to the landing ramp. Knievel rode away, A.J. Foyt won the race, and America rejoiced. Hamilton’s movie, Evel Knievel, premiered later that June, 50 years ago this summer. Perhaps the film was too goofy, or playboy Hamilton wasn’t rugged enough. It put up decent box-office numbers, but critics were lukewarm. “The life of Evel Knievel contains the same seeds of self-doom as Dostoevsky characters,” said Roger Ebert. “That’s what I miss in the current George Hamilton movie version.” Two stars.

Notwithstanding the lack of cinematic clout, Hamilton’s 1971 Knievel biopic was responsible for one life-altering effect. Knievel was no longer a stuntman, he was a silver-screen superhero, and as Montville, Knievel’s biographer, put it, “the made-up story, added to his own story, pushed his exploits further into the main stage spotlight that he always craved.”

Producers even spliced home-video footage into the movie. By the time the audience left the theaters, they couldn’t parse out truth from Hollywood. The movie, projected 40 feet tall across every drive-in screen nationwide, cast Knievel as an American icon, and now everyone knew his name. What the world didn’t know was that he was just getting started.

A year later, miles from Hollywood, in a nondescript factory on the corner of Jamaica Avenue and 184th Place, in Queens, New York, assembly lines were producing miniature versions of the stuntman. Despite the drab digs, the Ideal Toy Company, famous for its Shirley Temple dolls, was already valued at over $71 million. Looking for more, it brokered a deal to produce an Evel Knievel action figure (Knievel receiving 10 percent of the cut). The doll sold well, but it was the Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle—a 1973 release that put a plastic Evel on a small windup motorcycle that raced off—that was a midair somersaulting license to print money.

It was the industry’s top-selling toy in back-to-back Christmases (indeed, you can buy a rereleased version today on Amazon). The daredevil had reached an unthinkable level of stardom, and like the Greek gods of yore whose images were enshrined in marble statuary, Knievel was immortalized in red, white, and blue plastic. Television and movie stars had their own lunchboxes—only superheroes, G.I. Joe, and Knievel had their own action figures.

All told, Knievel netted an estimated $10 million from his toy deal. By 1973, the merchandising fly-wheel was spinning faster than ever: board games, playing cards, bicycles, pinball machines. He was flush with cash and spent as such. He bought yachts, leased planes, and commissioned coachbuilt Cadillacs and a $91,000 semitruck to haul his bikes around.

He arrived at events in police-escorted cavalcades. (See Knievel in a pre-jump parade, in Texas, with Dallas Cowboys quarterback Don Meredith riding shotgun in the stuntman’s Ferrari 365 GTS/4 Daytona. Goodbye, modesty—not that there ever was any). Gone, too, were the Nortons, Triumphs, and American Eagles. Knievel exclusively rode Harley-Davidsons, and the firm’s iconic red, white, and blue “1” logo was painted and stitched everywhere. His outfit swelled to match his swagger—rings, chains, furs, massive collars and French cuffs. The cape grew longer, the “EK” belt buckle larger, and his cane became a diamond-encrusted gold scepter; it was metamorphosis into a superfly sovereign.

And his subjects roared. Despite the lavish effects, Knievel preserved his plain-spoken, working-man image. He talked about morals and being “true to your word,” and he wore Old Glory on his back. The public bought in, might have even elected him president in a different era.

But this was the era of the 55-mph sign, of new rules and regulations and oil crises and inflation and Watergate. The fences were going up everywhere, yet this stuntman rode from the shadows of the stadium tunnels into the spotlight on his chrome-tipped Harley and launched over everything like Captain America, a red, white, and blue middle finger to the establishment. He flew—the corrupt elites, the nannies, and the naysayers, they took the damn bridge.

Knievel was also literally fighting regulations. Since the late 1960s, he had been haggling with the U.S. government over a plan to jump the Grand Canyon on a motorcycle. Negotiations dragged on for years. As the Hollywood trade rag Variety put it, the two sides had “not yet decided who collects should the flight not prove horizontal.” They never agreed, and the talks subsided. Instead, Knievel—now a millionaire—purchased his own gorge, leasing 300 acres of the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls, Idaho, for $35,000. Again, screw the system.

As Knievel sorted the jump location, a team of builders, led by engineers Doug Malewicki and Robert Truax, developed a missile-shaped steam-powered two-wheeler prototype called the Skycycle X-1. Steam power was chosen for its simplicity. Behind the cockpit, 77 gallons of water would be heated to 740 degrees, and the resulting steam buildup would be released via a rear-mounted nozzle, propelling the craft to an anticipated 350 mph. This 13-foot-long water rocket would take off from an almost-vertical 108-foot-long metal launching track and carve a steep parabola over the 600-foot-deep canyon. Knievel would deploy a parachute from the cockpit to land on the other side. Or, at least, that was the plan.

By spring 1974, a fall date had been set for the Snake River Canyon spectacle. A pilotless X-1 was launched into the canyon to test the ramp, and Truax was hard at work on the X-2, the rocket that would carry Knievel across the great divide. To the dismay of those investing in the launch, Knievel was flying his Harley more than ever. He completed four massive jumps in various corners of the U.S., despite the fact an injury could delay, or outright cancel, the rapidly approaching pay-per-view event at Twin Falls. Also, America had found other daredevils—or “phonies,” as Knievel labeled them. Rival stunt cyclists came roaring out of the gates with Knievel in their crosshairs. Maybe Knievel felt the need to defend his crown. Regardless, he couldn’t shy away from the spotlight, an intense beam that was burning hotter with each appearance.

As the Skycycle X-2 neared completion, Idaho law required it to be registered as an aircraft. Knievel’s pre-jump speeches developed a bombast and started to sound more and more like screenwriter Milius’s handiwork.

Prior to a jump at Portland’s Memorial Coliseum, Knievel addressed the crowd: “It’s my canyon. They cannot take that away from me. And the only way they’re going to stop me from jumping is with an anti-aircraft gun. They’re going to have to shoot me out of the air!” The militant, over-the-top Hollywood lines had crept into the real Knievel vernacular. He had become his own caricature.

By the time Knievel was hoisted into the vertically positioned rocket on September 8, 1974, the scene on that cliff’s edge resembled a debauched Woodstock. A semicircle of humanity, miles wide, drawn out from the 50-foot-high dirt launchpad, was densely packed with dehydrated fanatics, fed-up reporters, hippies, biker gangs, and anyone else who could pay $25 for admission to the party. Sideshow acts included a blindfolded motorcycle-riding psychic, a woman suspended by her hair from a helicopter, and a high-wire act near the canyon’s edge by Karl Wallenda of the Famous Flying Wallendas.

Since the pre-jump theatrics and the jump, itself were largely put on for customers watching in theaters on closed-circuit, the atmosphere at the launch site was unstable. It was “a circumstance that further agitated the spectators who pressed together in the sunbaked horse pasture drinking beer impatiently,” as a reporter for The Spokesman-Review of Washington noted. “By noon a noticeable number of young men, dirt-streaked and perspiring, staggered over the dusty ground, wearing the same surly look they had arrived with in Idaho.”

Amenities were lacking and tension was thick. One newspaper reported that “bored and restless” campers stole 4000 cases of beer from concession trailers while others set fire to portable toilets. Over 30,000 pushed and shoved their way toward the canyon’s mouth in anticipation of Knievel’s launch.

At 3:36 p.m., with an explosion of white steam, Knievel was thrown back into the seat of the Skycycle X-2 as it cleared the launch track. In a split second, missile and man were soaring high above the canyon. The only snag was quite literal; upon takeoff, the parachute prematurely evacuated the fuselage. Knievel was a passenger in a rocket-powered kite. As the X-2 crested its parabola, a 15-mph wind pushed the vessel back toward the launch ramp.

The crowd gasped as Knievel and rocket dropped like Wile E. Coyote in slow motion. After bouncing twice on the rocks and landing in a foot of water on the canyon floor, he was able to get out. In a mixture of relief and exhaustion, he provided few words to reporters: “I sat in it and gave it my best. I don’t know what to tell you.” Knievel may have not cleared the canyon, but he did clear an estimated $20 million from the escapade, and despite the failure, he was riding an all-time publicity high.

Just a year after Snake River, Knievel took his North American dominance across the pond in what would be labeled by many as the beginning of the end. By the time Knievel was prepped to vault 13 London buses in front of the 80,000 people packing Wembley Stadium, he seemed dejected, forlorn, tired. ABC broadcaster and close friend Frank Gifford spoke to him before the jump. “He was a little wacko,” the late broadcaster recalled in Montville’s biography. “I kind of admired him.” According to Gifford, Knievel confessed to his TV friend that he couldn’t make it over the London buses.

Gifford urged him to cancel the event. Knievel refused to back down. “Well, I may not be as good as I always was, but I’m as good once as I ever was,” he told a worried Gifford on ABC’s Wide World of Sports prior to suiting up, like a cowboy who had already seen his best days. Knievel landed short and splattered onto Wembley’s paved floor. Gifford thought he had witnessed his friend’s death and rushed over to the motionless pile of bloody flesh and torn leather. To Gifford’s surprise, Knievel was trying to speak. Prepared to hear the stuntman’s dying words, Gifford bent down to Knievel’s battered face.

“Frank …” said Knievel.
“Yes, Evel,” replied Gifford.
“Get that broad out of my room.”

Despite a broken back, Knievel refused the stretcher and instead asked to be propped up and carried to the top of the landing ramp, where he addressed the stunned audience. “I’ve got to tell you that you are the last people in the world to see me jump because I’ll never jump again. I’m finished.” Knievel was finally retiring.

His retirement only lasted the plane ride home. Perhaps he didn’t want to end his career on a crash. Perhaps he had obligations to Harley-Davidson. Or perhaps, in those silent hours above the Atlantic, worry crept in about what he might do, might become, after jumping was no longer an option. One reporter wrote, “Of course, someone waved a few million under his nose to bring him back to the real world.” Regardless of his motives, the minute he touched down at JFK, he announced he would jump later that fall.

In the four years since the movie debuted, since he was shot into the celebrity stratosphere, Knievel had been caught in a whirlwind of victories, defeats, alcohol, prostitutes, chronic jet lag, incessant media coverage, and hospital beds. Those four years had aged the man tremendously. Grays were starting to poke out of his slicked-back sandy quaff, and the 36-year-old limped like a reanimated corpse.

He would attempt a record jump at Kings Island, an amusement park in southeast Ohio. Up and over 14 Greyhound buses, one more than the jump that nearly killed him in England.

In what was the most-watched episode of ABC’s Wide World of Sports, Knievel soared over the Greyhound buses at Kings Island on October 25, 1975. Nielsen said that just over half of all U.S. homes tuned in to watch Knievel clear 163 feet (a personal best and a record that stood for 24 years). Not even the famed 1976 title fight between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier could dethrone King Knievel’s ratings from that day. The force of the landing snapped the frame of Knievel’s XR-750 in half, but he was able to ride back to the landing ramp for his interview, where he told old pal Frank, “I have jumped far enough.”

Knievel’s jumping career didn’t end like the 1971 biopic, clearing the ramp and riding off into the sunset as the camera pans skyward. Reality was less graceful. If Kings Island was the apex, the daredevil still had to land. And he landed hard.

In 1977, Knievel was still riding the fame wave and produced the film Viva Knievel!, where the untrained actor played himself battling a Mexican drug cartel. It tanked.

The same year, CBS also aired Evel Knievel’s Death Defiers. Critics were ruthless. A reporter from a small Kansas newspaper, The Manhattan Mercury, matched many sentiments when he wrote: “In a desperate and irresponsible bid for ratings, CBS is permitting the ego-ridden exhibitionist Evel Knievel to appear and wrangle top billing by gunning his motorcycle over a huge salt-water pool of man-eating sharks.” He crashed in practice, fracturing his left arm and collarbone, and never jumped the sharks.

As if 1977 couldn’t get any worse, Knievel found himself on the wrong side of a judge’s gavel in November. In an act of what Superior Court Judge Edward Rafeedie called “frontier justice,” Knievel infamously beat his former press agent, Sheldon Saltman, with a baseball bat after reading Saltman’s tell-all book, Evel Knievel on Tour. The book provided a look behind the showman’s curtain and—according to Knievel—portrayed him as a villain. Knievel was ordered to spend six months at the Wayside Honor Rancho correctional facility near Los Angeles.

Explaining why checks he sent in 1977 to fund an Indy 500 team had bounced, Knievel wrote from prison: “I have not lost the race. I’m in the pits now getting fuel and changing tires, but the boost is going up and when I come back, they better get their ass out of the way.” He never did come back in the way he promised, performing small jumps here and there in the twilight of his career, eventually surrendering the Knievel spotlight to his daredevil motorcycle-riding son, Robbie.

Knievel succumbed to pulmonary disease on November 30, 2007. This was not the fantastic ending he, or even Milius’s screenplay, envisioned. The stuntman who once seemed immortal was buried in Butte at the Mountain View Cemetery, his grave marked by a tombstone he commissioned for his Snake River jump. The engraving read: “A mile-long leap of the Snake River Canyon from this point on September 8, 1974 employing a unique ‘Sky Cycle.’” While we don’t know where he went in his journey to the great beyond, it’s safe to assume he didn’t drive across the damn bridge.

A couple of brothers recently asked about the Buell Motorcycle Company and Erik’s new venture with electric bikes. They were concerned about the two directions and splitting the name. We dug into these efforts to find out what the hell was happening.

Buell History

In 1983, Buell Motorcycles was founded

In 1984, the first Buell Motorcycle was built. With the help of Erik, Buell created the RW750, a full-fledged grand prix motorcycle for racing only in the AMA Formula 1 race class. However, the class was eliminated, and only 2 were ever produced.

From 1985 through 1992, along with running a race parts business and doing consulting engineering for companies such as Schwinn and Yamaha, Erik built a range of street sport motorcycles using Harley-Davidson® engines. The success of this led to Harley-Davidson® purchasing in 1993 a minority interest of Buell® Motorcycle Company.

In 1987 Rockville, MD became the World’s first Buell dealership.

In 1998, after 20,000+ motorcycles had been manufactured since the start of Buell, Erik Buell sold Harley-Davidson 49% of Buell motorcycles.

In 2007, the 1125R was manufactured with a new V-Twin motor with liquid cooling, DOHC, and fuel injection.

In 2014, the EBR 1190SX (Naked Bike) was revealed. The SX also features the East Troy V-Twin Motor, as does the RS & RX.

In 2016, EBR Motorcycles was formed to continue the legacy of Erik Buell.
buell 1190hcr edit .jpg

The 2017 model Black Lightning is created and released under limited production.

In 2002, the XBR9 Firebolt was manufactured. It was the first bike with aluminum beam fuel in frame chassis, and perimeter brake rotor. The XB chassis and motor derivatives grew to a substantial business of nearly 90,000 units.

In 2009, Buell won their first championship at AMA Daytona Sportbike class with rider Danny Eslick.

Beginning in 2010, Erik Buell Racing was formed, first supplying race parts for Buell® motorcycles, then in 2011 into production with the 1190RS, a factory super premium street/race-bike.

2021 Buell is back in production with an exciting array of motorcycles in development.

2020 Buell develops their first dirt bike in collaboration with the Cipala race team and wins the AMA Hillclimb National Championship.

–from 2021 Buell Motorcycles U.S.A.

Buell Motorcycles is an American motorcycle manufacturer based in Grand Rapids, MI and was founded in 1983 by ex-Harley-Davidson engineer Erik Buell.[1] Harley-Davidson acquired 49% of Buell in 1993, and Buell became a wholly owned subsidiary of Harley-Davidson by 2003.[2] On November 17, 2006, Buell announced that it had produced and shipped its 100,000th motorcycle.[3]

On October 15, 2009, Harley-Davidson announced the discontinuation of the Buell product line as part of its strategy to focus on the Harley-Davidson brand. The last Buell motorcycle produced through Harley-Davidson was on October 30, 2009, bringing the number manufactured to 136,923.

In November 2009, Erik Buell announced the launch of Erik Buell Racing, an independent company run by Erik Buell which initially produced race-only versions of the 1125R model, then subsequently offered an updated 1190RS model for the street or the track, and produced further improved 1190RX and 1190SX models which are intended for street or track use.

In February 2021, Buell Motorcycles announced they are back in production under the new ownership of Erik Buell Racing (EBR). Buell announced they will use the superbike platforms developed from 2011 to 2020 to build out their model line up to approximately 10 models in 2024. The models will include variations for touring, dirt, adventure, and cruisers.

–Wikipedia

Erik Buell Racing (EBR) is an American motorcycle sport company which produces street and racing motorcycles, based in East Troy, Wisconsin, USA. The business entered receivership in April 2015. After two previous attempts, the business remnants were sold in January 2016 to Liquid Asset Partners (LAP), an American organization specializing in the purchase and liquidation of failed businesses.

Liquid Asset Partners kept the company intact and motorcycle production resumed on March 1, 2016, the first new model rolling out on March 17, 2016.

–Wikipedia

Then we heard from our Blog Editor:

Bikernet Blog has published three articles on Erik Buell e-bikes with two of them published in March / July 2019 and one published just a few weeks ago in Feb 2021.

There is no question of any clash for the brand name Buell – since Erik Buell is not using it and has distanced himself from the renewed company bearing his name. He is using the name Fuell for his electric endeavor.

Here are the basic summary from the three Bikernet Blog Posts:

Erik Buell is riding back to motorcycle business with Frederic Vasseur of Formula E and F1 fame and entrepreneur, Francois Terny. Buell is all set to launch an electric motorcycle brand called Fuell.

https://blog.bikernet.com/erik-buell-launches-electric-motorcycle-brand/

Fuell company with Erik Buell launched crowd-funding on indiegogo platform which has raised almost One Million Dollars from people who want to buy the first product of Fuell called Fluid which is an electric bicycle. The electric drive unit and assorted controllers and screen appear to be off-the-shelf units from a company called Bofeili, and versions of the hardware sans the battery can be bought online from sites like Alibaba of China for a few hundred dollars.

If it’s using predominantly average, off-the-shelf components, where does that money go? Design mostly. It looks a lot like a hard-tail mountain bike with extra beefy frame tubes. Nothing immediately calls out that it’s been electrified until you get up close, and we think that’s cool.

https://blog.bikernet.com/erik-buell-is-trading-motorcycles-for-e-bikes-with-the-fuell-fluid/

The revival of the Buell Motorcycles is fueled by the company holding control over it, Liquid Asset Partners (LAP). They hint at no fewer than ten models over the next three years. Those are said to range from dirt to touring bikes, and from dual-sport to cruisers. There’s possibly even an electric two-wheeler in the cards.

Erik Buell is not involved in this revival of course and made that perfectly clear in an email sent over to Road Racing World.

FUELL is a company making electric urban mobility solution for cities” where Erik Buell is a key, critical member. He says he has nothing to do with LAP’s announcement and is no longer involved with neither EBR nor Buell Motorcycles.

https://blog.bikernet.com/erik-buell-says-hes-not-involved-in-the-buell-motorcycles-revival/

Hope all this helps. Will get you more info as I find it. The Fuell Company Website is at https://www.fuell.us/ And the Buell Motorcycles Website is at https://www.buellmotorcycle.com/

–Wayfarer
Editor
Bikernet Blog

Earlier this year we heard that Harley was going to cancel the Sportster line. We also started a suggestion box for the factory’s success. Of course, one of our first and most supported recommendations included retaining the Sportster line.

I went so far as to recommend the Sportster line become the builder’s line and make the models user and hands- on friendly. They could work with the aftermarket on custom and performance product lines and teach owners how to work on, service and customize their Sportsters.

The history of the Sportster line is crazy and the longest model line in the history of Harley-Davidson. The Harley-Davidson Sportster is a line of motorcycles produced continuously since 1957 by Harley-Davidson. Sportster models are designated in Harley-Davidson’s product code by beginning with “XL”.

In 1952, the predecessors to the Sportster, the Model K Sport and Sport Solo motorcycles, were introduced. These models K, KK, KH, and KHK of 1952 to 1956 had a sidevalve (‘flat head’) engine, whereas the later XL Sportster models use an overhead valve engine. The first Sportster in 1957 had many of the same details of the KH including the frame, fenders, large gas tank and front suspension.

During the ‘50s and ‘60s the only entry level Harley became the Sportster. You could buy a dresser or a Sportster. At the time, no one wanted a dresser except old straights. We all started on Sportsters. It wasn’t until ’71 that the factory started to build big twins that weren’t dressers, with the Super Glide.

Following are some thoughts from some of the bros and an inspirational batch of shots from Sam Burns of iconic Sportsters. Feel free to share your thoughts with us supporting the Sportster Model Line. Send them to KBall945@gmail.com.

From Sam Burns:

I was thinking about the possible demise of the venerable Sportster from the Harley lineup. Considering what Triumph, Ducati, Moto Guzzi, BMW, Ford, GM, Chrysler, and others have been doing with all the retro scene it amazes me that a modern but true to the mark Sportster isn’t in the making.

Sixty-five years and the K lineage preceding that. I’m a Texan born and bred, but while up North, it seemed Sportsters were everywhere. The Factory could build something for us old boys to relive when the Sportster ruled the street and writers were calling it our first true superbike.

It has been a great street bike, drag racer, hillclimber, road racer, and touring bike. Affordable and easily customized, it still is a base for many custom bikes.

Maybe I’m just getting old and going through the memory bin, but I still see the Sportster as a viable platform.

—Sam Burns

From Micah McCloskey

The Sportster has been around since the 1952 K Model. It outperforms the other models in handling, braking, shifting, and racing.

The lightweight design also makes it a great entry level motorcycle for a novice to develop riding skills with. They have been very popular with around town riders, woman, and young riders without a fat wallet.

Indian Scouts won all the races in the ‘40s and ‘50s until the Sportster hit the scene. It took awhile but Sportsters started to win flat track races for Harley-Davidson. When drag racing started to shake neighborhood asphalt ¼ mile tracks the bikes to beat were Sportsters. All the greats built fuel powered Sportster drag bikes.

–Micah McCloskey

More from Sam Burns

Regarding retro: Dodge kinda kicked it off with the hemi (sweet). Ford came out with the retro-styled Mustang and the streets were full of everything pony car (Camaro, Challenger, Charger). BMW with their new R18 and Ducati with their scramblers. Triumph (the Sportster’s old nemesis) and Guzzi with the 750s new replacement.

The good news is that the old is what’s cool with the Sportster style. The 650 Bonneville has grown to 900 and 1200 with a host of new technology but it is unmistakably a Bonnie.

–Sam Burns

I stepped into the mix:

It’s interesting to note Indian’s recent progress. After the launch of the Chief Classic in 2014 they immediately created the Scout to compete with the Sportster. And this year they redesigned their Chief line to look more like a Sportster and be the cruiser of the Indian line. Retro and classic, the Sportster contains all the winning elements.

–Bandit

From the Stealth:

After hearing that the Sportster line-up would cease to exist after 2021, I was confused and a bit sad. In my opinion this is a huge mistake. How many of us got into Harleys with a Sportster? More than I can count.

My first Harley was a 1979 Sportster. It was called a Hugger back then first 16-inch rear wheel from the factory on a Sportster. It was scarlet red. I had a lot of good times on this bike. For me Sportsters have always been bad ass and I can hear a lot of you sating right now it is a girl’s bike, to that I say bullshit! If this were the case why are all Harley race programs based off the Sportster?

Look at Arlen Ness’s early bikes, a lot of them were based off the Sportster engine! I would get off work at 11:30 pm back in those days and I could not wait to get to the parking lot to go for a midnight ride. Nothing was cooler than when I let off the throttle and I would look back at the flames dancing out of the drag pipes.

Great times on a great bike! That Sportster attracted a lot of attention from the ladies also! Hey Elvis had a Sportster that says something! To this day the Sportster tank is the cleanest sexiest gas tank ever made!

When I was a kid in the 10th grade I would go to the local dealer after school and sit on a Sportster, I would look at the shiny surface of the tank and see myself looking back at me, telling myself SOMEDAY! I never thought of a Super glide or an Electra Gide I had the Sportster bug!

Sportsters carry a lot of memories for a lot of riders It was always your key to the Biker lifestyle. The Sportster still has one of the best exhaust notes around with those nine cams. Harley needs to re-think the idea of doing away with the Sportster–not everyone wants a touring bike. The Sportster has been with us for years, and it has earned the right to remain in the Harley-Davidson line-up!

In my business, I hear the Sportster tank is not big enough, no luggage space etc. Hey, a Sportster is a thoroughbred not a work horse! LONG LIVE THE SPORSTER!

Until next time, RIDE

Sam is back:

This is my brother Ricko. We started riding together over 50 years ago. Here he is with his brand new 1972 XLCH 1000. With a little help from his friends, he acquired a custom rear fender, struts, seat, and front wheel.

He had a great guy, Bill Drake, who set up the rear fender, paint, and general assembly including the SU carburetor. Bill gave so freely of his time, talent, and knowledge. We lost Bill two years ago and he is missed. Among so many other things, Little John introduced us to the SU. We lost John in 1990.
This bike was quick and Ricko could ride like nobody’s business.

My brother Rick says he spoke with the senior salesman at the local Harley dealer and was told that the Sportster line would remain but a couple of Sportster models that weren’t selling very well, would be dropped.

–Sam Burns

From the Gearhead:

I had a few friends who owned them. They haul ass with few modifications depending on the year. Fairly easy to work on with basic tools. Make a pretty good red light to red light hot rod. It gave the competition hell on the flat track and speedway. I had a friend that had a rigid chop in florescent pink with thunder header and could pull wheel stands with his 230-pound frame. It was a long chop too.

–Gearhead

Harley-Davidson’s Golden Age of Racing

D. William Denish, Photography by D. William Denish February 24, 2009

Here’s the author’s street Sportster in early ’68 with a 74ci engine, Dytch big-bore cylinders, 12:1 compression pistons, S&S; 4-5/8 inch stroke flywheels, bored Linkert DC carb, Sifton cams, magneto ignition, and kick-start.

In the summer of 1964, I got a hankering to get a Harley. Maybe my rekindled interest in cycles was because my friend Marty, who previously owned the Whizzer Sportsman, had bought a Panhead and was boring and stroking it out to 98 cubic inches.

As it turned out, I ended up buying a ’64 Harley. Officially, it was called an XLCH Sportster. The CH stood for Competition Hot. Unofficially, it was the Corvette of the motorcycle world-rugged, super-fast, and bulging with torque. All 55 cubic inches delivered 55 horsepower at 6,300 rpm-good for a 14.75 E.T. and 92 mph in the quarter mile.

Nevertheless, since I hopped up scooters as a kid, it was only natural to soup up the Sporty. As such, I contacted an old high school friend, Mark, who was working as a mechanic at the same Harley dealer my friends and I often visited years ago on Friday nights. Mark and his buddies quickly pointed me in the right direction for Harley performance: Tom Sifton, Doc Dytch, Jerry Branch, C.R. Axtell, Tom Rudd, and S&S, just to name a few.

So, during the winter of ’64, out came the stock motor parts and in went 4-9/16-inch KH stroker flywheels, Doc Dytch two-ring stroker pistons, Sifton “minus-plus” cams, big XLR valves, bored-out Linkert DC carb and velocity stack, gutted mufflers, and close C-ratio transmission gears.

The reworked 65-cubic inch motor pushed quarter mile performance to 12.10 E.T. at 110 mph. However, kick-starting the 65-incher was dreadful because it kicked back with such ferocity. When starting, I had to not only precisely position the pistons on the compression stroke, but also depress the ignition kill button until halfway through the kick to minimize kickback. Once the engine kicked back so hard that it sprained my ankle. For over a month, I had to beg my friends to start my bike so I could ride with them. I didn’t think it was very funny, but they sure did.

The winter of ’67 saw the addition of Dytch 3-3/16-inch big bore cylinders, Sifton “minus-minus” cams, stronger 4-5/8-inch stroke forged S&S flywheels and beefed-up crankcases. With 74ci, performance increased to 11.40 E.T. at 117 mph. During the winter of 1968, I replaced the bored-out Linkert with the new big-bore S&S; carb, one of the first 100 made by S&S.; The longer duration “minus-minus” cams made kick-starting the engine easier.

Eventually, I bumped engine displacement to 86 cubic inches by way of 3-7/16-inch Trock cylinders, along with a beefy Trock transmission door, more radical Sifton cams, Baisley modified heads, and a 2-inch SU carb. Performance increased to 11.10 E.T. at 121 mph with narrow street tires and no wheelie bar. At this point, the engine had more power than the short wheelbase frame and 120 rear tire could handle.

At about the same time, Harley legend and top drag racer Leo Payne was tearing up the racetracks on his 75ci street Sportster, dubbed “Turnip Eater,” and 74ci lay-down Top Fueler. Leo was an excellent engine builder and master at modifying and tuning gas and fuel carburetors.

Once he began modifying his Sportsters, Leo quickly earned the reputation of having two of the fastest Harleys in the Midwest, turning 11.08s at 125 mph on Turnip Eater and mid-9s at 150 mph on his fueler.

Turnip Eater started life as a ’57 Sportster, and Leo purportedly coined the bike for eating up British imports on the dragstrip. Payne became known for his lightning-quick reaction times, won numerous titles, and set countless records in various sanctioned drag races during the ’60s. In ’69, Payne’s trap speed of 201 mph on Turnip Eater made him the first rider in history to ride a non-streamliner faster than 200 mph.

Although I spoke to Leo a few times, I was formally introduced to him only once. It was in ’71 or ’72 at Jerry Branch’s head porting company in Long Beach, California. Jerry had a place on the second floor of the Wixom Brothers Fairing building. One Saturday I stopped by and Jerry introduced me to Leo. At the time, Leo and Mel Disharoon were busy fussing around on the Long Beach hills, playing with an aircraft altimeter that Leo used for tuning his fuel bike.

The summers of ’68 and ’69 were hotbeds of exciting Harley drag racing activity east of the Mississippi, particularly Atco Raceway in New Jersey where records were made and broken. One of the more exciting races took place at Atco on October 26, 1969, a race I happened to attend.

Many of the top fuel riders were there. The “Top Eight” Top Fuel qualifying positions were as follows: Larry Welsh on Sonny Routts’ new twin-engine Triumph was qualified first at 9.12 E.T; Jim De Salvo at 9.23 on his Harley; Larry Welsh at 9.28 on his Sportster; Guy Leaming at 9.30 on his Harley; Leo Payne 9.30 on his Sportster; defending 1968 champion Bob Barker at 9.37 on his Sportster; Walter Yee on his Harley at 9.40; and Gary Ackermans at 9.42 on his Harley.

Since Larry Welsh was riding two bikes, Routts’ Triumph and his own Sportster, after qualifying, he turned over the riding duties of his Sportster to Cook Nielson. When the smoke cleared at the end of the day, Guy Leaming took home all the marbles with a hole-shot 9.61 over Bob Barker’s faster but losing 9.51.

For me, the ’60s were the golden age of Harley performance and racing. High-dollar, button-start crate engines and rear-wheel dynos were nonexistent, and kick-start was the name of the game.

Performance kits were in their infancy, requiring lots of trial-and-error engine building and testing. And most performance gurus built their own engines. The bikes may not have gone as fast as they do today, or had as much bling, but the times were simpler, the hype was subdued, and the air was filled with a long-lost innocence.

–from the Hot Bike archives

From Bob T.

Never owned one.

–Bob T.

Conclusion:

I could pull in thousands of Sportster Reports. Hell, I didn’t touch some of the major custom builders like Dave Perewitz and Cory Ness who grew up around his Dad customizing Sportsters. The Sportster is one of the best-looking motorcycles ever built.

I remember when the motorcycle press hammered Harley about building tractors against Triumphs, BSAs and Royal Enfields. Then Sportsters kicked their asses. The Sportster gas tank style is iconic in all of motorcycledom. No manufacturer has bested the style or shape of the Sportster Gas Tank.

Unlike so many motorcycles in history, the Sportster was the perfect purebred, style wise, performance, handling and size. Hell, that’s why manufacturers all over the world are still trying to capture that balance of art and function.

Hang on for future reports about the New Future of Harley-Davidson and the New Sportster Line. We reached out to Harley, but they told us they were restricted from discussing new models at this juncture.

–Bandit

Editor’s Note: All information in this article has come from trusted sources who wish to remain anonymous who have spoken to people who have read reports regarding
speculations deemed to be actual and factual speculations regarding reported likelihoods that are considered well within the parameters of probability as determined by science with a plus or minus accuracy that is deemed acceptable over and above the charts and models traditionally used in the determination of determinants under conditions of anonymity.

–J.J. Solari

Grave and concerning concernings regarding people who
were found to be sound asleep in restaurants and hotel
lobbies and on busses and trains and on porch swings
and in hammocks and at picnic tables and in chairs
around swimming pools and in some cases at roulette
wheels and slot machines and card games inside casinos
are being voiced and uttered…. in that all of these people
have been found to have had a copy of Hunter Biden’s
autobiography, “Beautiful Things” either still in one hand or the other or at least on or near their persons, many of
these people having been unable to be reawakened
without medically-administered stimulants.

“I have never slept so well,” was a common utterance
upon being reawakened.

“This was like a tranquility of slumber unexceeded even in the womb,” was the response of one person returned from unconsciousness.

“It was like a calm oblivion,” said another.

“It was like a soothing pablum of storytelling devoid of any intellectual accretion over a lifetime,” a reanimated woman said: “It soothed and embalmed the mind and the spirit, in fact it was like being in a spiritual limbo where there was neither good nor bad, nor right nor wrong, only the quiet iteration of simplicities and the overarching message of love.”

“It was like being read-to by mommy at bedtime: it had that level of calmness and reassurance” said another, after being roughly shaken back to consciousness.
“It was like entering a beautiful mind that neither reflected, nor judged, nor learned, nor evolved; it was like going back into the womb where there was only warmth and safety and a peaceful darkness of calm and sleep,” said another.

“It was like BEING a narcotic,” one man said. “this COULD put the sleeping industry out of business,” he added upon some reflection. “Beds, sleeping aids, recordings of the sea or quiet rainfall……these could all disappear from human use as aids to slumber.” He then with a wide-eyed smile picked up the Biden book near him and stared at it. “This is a godsend during the jury-selection process when that letter comes in the mail that you have to show up for the legal shitshow that is The American Jury Privilege/Duty Or Else.”

One man upon being administered pure oxygen which
slowly reopened his eyes gazed at his revivers in a kind of trance and pleasantness of expression and kept
whispering “….the emptiness…..the emptiness….I never
wanted to leave it.”

Another awakened reader said he felt like he was in “an
apocalypse of rainbows.” He went on to paean “There are levels and dimensions of maudlin vistas of childlike prose that have been opened to me like never before. Walking slowly along the long lines of car hoods at a successful car lot and reading the prices placed on cardboard in large letters, one after another as you walk beneath the flapping and small triangular banners snapping in the breezes USED to be the bellwether of focused insignificance capable of human experience without one falling into unconsciousness. However, that experience is like the frenzied bombing of Guernica compared to THIS. I am QUITE impressed.”

Another roused dreamer said, “It’s like the drawings and
sayings and expressions and decorations usually
encountered when entering a kindergarten classroom….all transformed into letters onto pages. Quite pleasant, if you ask me. Especially the falling asleep aspect, which I was notorious for in school. I would recommend this to anyone who wants to relive their childhood. Especially the most meaningless aspects of it. Which in my case would be the first grade. On up.”

“You could read this while drowning in the North Atlantic
under waves a hundred feet high and suddenly you would
be relaxed,” said another man after being jostled awake.
“It’s a vocabulary version of morphine. I have the strange
urge to buy ten more copies. He’ll never have to write
another book: I’ll just keep on buying this one.”

Most interesting to the many people who volunteered to
slowly awaken the scattered populations of people
slumbering in inappropriate places and under
inappropriate conditions was the number of people who
actually were sound asleep while still upright on their feet.

“I was listening to the audio version while walking around
the block,” one man said, finding himself on his feet and
yet being gently and repeatedly nudged by an “awakener”
as they are coming to be called. The people awakened
from a standing position are without exception mildly
rattled by the experience. “Who knew being asleep while
standing was even possible” was a common first observation.

Researchers who have studied the phenomenon have agreed that the book has the power to
solidify a person into absolute concrete-like inaction.
Coupled with this are the reported observations by the
stricken that they have a vague recollection of basking in a kind of sublime euphoria of dormancy devoid of ambition, goals, accomplishments, focus, interests, values, opinions, conclusions, curiosity, action, reaction, understanding, awareness, notions, ideas, or a sense of urgency even regarding breathing. “It was kind of like going out of existence but being very comfortable with the idea” was an oft-heard evaluation of the experience.

It was observed by Awakeners that even flies that had randomly landed onto a book had to be systematically slid off the object to remove them. Whence they then reactivated themselves and flew off to resume normal life.

One man said, “It was like what someone once said about listening to a Led Zeppelin song that I forget the name of that he described as ‘sinking through mayonnaise.'”

This reviewer may or may not have actually read the book.

Like many others I remember being awakened by a
stranger in a public place with the book close at hand. He
had an armband on that read “Volunteer Awakener” and
he informed me that I had been asleep. I noticed I was at
the mall food court, an uneaten hamburger and an
undrunk soda at the table and the Biden book also there,
unopened. The cover had a picture of a little boy holding
onto the descended hand of an adult’s arm. Seeing it, I
began to doze off. The Awakener quickly removed the
book from my sight and I was immediately once again
awake.

“We wear special glasses that, like sound-nulling
headphones, neutralize the photons coming from the
photo into 1’s and zeroes. We return the book to the owner upon demand but so far no one has asked to have that happen.”

I asked, a bit alarmed, “What of the people listening to an
audiobook of it while driving??”

He said he personally has not delved into that aspect of
the phenomenon and admitted he was very reluctant to
ever do so. He looked upset at the prospect.
And there you have it! The choice is yours!!

Enjoy!
J.J. Solari