Woke up early this past Saturday and boogied out on the Sportster to the fairgrounds in Gratz, PA, just over the mountain. I was trying to take pictures of (no 59) Kletus’ van, but everyone kept getting in the way.

The Rush Cycles crew from Jersey was out running their Ironheads. If you’ve ever been to Strange Days, they’ve pieced together the giveaway bike each year. That’s Marty’s ’64 XLR—A rare factory race bike that came with a hot motor and lighter frame.

Also, Keith discussed the ins-n-outs of making cutoff long-johns for Summer.

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Colin bought this 1987 Harley Davidson XLH1100 in Philadelphia last year and rode it back to Montana.

Harley is going around America doing test rides on their new electric motorcycles but it’s by special lottery to get selected to ride. Justin’s friend hooked it up so we could bypass that and ride them. There’s only 22 total in all of America. Pretty cool. We got to test out 4 of them. Each one is worth $200k. Not kidding !!! Don’t drop it…

Supposedly Harley isn’t sure if they’re actually going to make these and sell them for real… They’re testing the waters right now.

We got to rip around on them today for a little mini test ride.

First impressions:

• they’re faster than I thought.
• they sound like a jet fighter turbine engine. See vid at bottom.
• when you release the throttle they decelerate super fast. Don’t even need the front brake. I didn’t like this. There was no coasting at all. Throttle was on or off.
• they’re smaller than a sportster.
• no gears. Single gear. Automatic.
• no clutch. Twist throttle and go.
• 50 mile range. Then it needs to be re-charged.
• I thought it looked really good. Seat is great. Put drop bars on it and it’d be a great cafe styled bike.
• 100% torque almost instantly. Like I said… It was actually pretty fast.

Overall thoughts:

I actually liked riding it about 100 times more than I thought I would. Remember the movie ‘back to the future’… And the hover board made a cool noise when Marty Mcfly rode it? Well… This is that same thing. I felt awesome riding it. I felt like I was in a hypothetical ‘back to the future 4’ and I was Marty ripping…

Every year towards late August a handful of rare souls converge together to wreak havoc on the streets of Brooklyn, like some horrid natural phenomenon emerging from the sea to consume an entire city. The sheer anticipation of the solid one-night rumble attached to your motorcycle, surrounded by the sharpest cavalcade of your most trusted friends, is almost enough to say fuck it and sit at Perry’s Place in Kensington for the remainder of the night. Sense kicks in before another shot is poured and we round up the men, fire up the oil and head north in search of any blood that gets in our way.

Once on the interstate super highway, any driver to do us wrong finds a deluge of vulgar acts in their headlights, essentially making the highway a safer place for the next guy on two wheels, who may find himself in the path of the same now enlightened driver. This display of road justice may include performing sexual acts with your motorcycle tank while slowing the ignorant driver to a crawl.

After battling through heavy traffic on the BQE, we arrived at our destination at the Works Engineering shop. Now this is no back-alley, ram-shackled hut, rather, a highly-fortified, monstrous structure where we can hide from the creatures that appear after a 3:45am last call at the Matchless bar. Somewhere I had stopped taking pictures as I became too diluted with whiskey and beer, but I managed to snap off a few photos in the shop as our friend and host, Ray, entertained with new stories.

No one expects the morning to feel good. The only thing you can do is play catch-up with the weird sauce for the few hours missed while your brain rested. We rolled our bikes out from the catacombs of Works and parked them against the curb, while onlookers of the new york vintage motorcycle show took pictures and rallied down north 14th street. It is a much better show when you emerge from the inside looking out, smelling of road grease, stale booze and a wretched back ache from the floor/roof you made a bed that night—It’s the only way to prepare for this motorcycle show and looks more authentic than some wide-eyed gawker. Eventually we set out for food down Bedford Ave., looking as if some brutes were set loose from their cage. Shirtless Mike made sure to carry our strange vibes to the fullest exposing would be brunch eaters to a full chest of hair.

Somewhere around 1:30, I scouted out Manhattan in search of some threads and found no traffic to be had from Brooklyn to the tunnel (our exit strategy for later that day). I made my way back to the show and met the rest of our group.

After “looking hard” for the rest of the show, we decided to pack our remaining energy into the trip home over the Williamsburg Bridge, across Canal St., through the Holland tunnel, over the detoured Pulaski Skyway, down route one and into PA for a toll-less venture back to our philth down south.

It was pretty epic.

Normally I can’t really get interested in Harley’s.

Anyway… The Harley museum was sick and I loved a lot of the stock looking ones from the 50-80’s.

The sportster xr 750 and 1000 stand out to me. They’re badass. One of the reasons I like them so much is because they’re small. 1000cc in the same physical dimensions as my cb450. Now that’s cool.

When I look at all those old Harley’s I’m def into them. Harley did some cool stuff a long time ago.

I’m cruising on Interstate 80, descending through the jagged, brown peaks of Nevada, when I first set eyes on northern Utah. In an instant the landscape changes from the familiar desert to barren white flats as I cross the border. It’s fucking wild! Then came the sign for Bonneville International Speedway — I slammed on my brakes and dipped off the highway.

I passed the row of tents set up on the side of the road before the main gate — I was now completely surrounded by white under a clear blue sky. I pulled up to the gate and realized I couldn’t pay the $20 fee, so I told the guys my story and they let me in for free. I followed the cones into the distance until I reached beginning of the track. There was a two-lane line formed of hotrods and motorcycles and one-by-one I got to watch these guys launch down the line.

“The Bonneville Salt Flats — a vast expanse of hard salt crusting a slightly curved 30,000-acre patch of earth in the state of Utah — is one of the most bizarre places on the planet, alien to the eye, nose, and skin. Life is unsustainable on this barren wasteland — unless you’re talking about life as it is known to the speed-freak nation. As it turns out, that cruel, saline environment, some five feet thick at the core and stretching nearly forty-seven square miles along Interstate 80 near Utah’s border with Nevada, is God-given perfection for long, mashed-pedal, automotive speed-record runs. A need at the very core of our being, we would say.”

“As Indianapolis is to the open-wheel racing driver, as Pomona is to a Top Fueler, the Bonneville Salt Flats is mecca to speed demons who’ve been bringing their cars and cojones here to test since 1914, when “Terrible” Teddy Tetzlaff broke the world speed record of 142mph in the famed Blitzen Benz. Only it wasn’t official. That honor went to Sir Malcolm Campbell and his monster Bluebird in 1935, when he set the first documented Bonneville record of 301.1 mph.” -Jean Jennings

Cruising the pits I did a double take on one of the bikes being worked. The Brother Speed MC had built one sick cycle over the past decade and I got the chance to hang with these guys as they prepped it to do a 250+mph run. They called it the Bonneville Bullet.

I couldn’t stay long. I was trying to cross Utah and most of Wyoming that day and the temperature would go down into the high 40s later that night. I’m going back there for Speedweek in August next year. It’s a solid 4 days of riding from Philly. Who’s coming?

Sean’s brother (I feel shitty – totally forgot the dude’s name) had this sweet swingarm shovel that I just fell in love with. So many awesome people – Mike from 47 Industries (cracked his frame and welded it in the diner parking lot! took best roadside repair!), Jd with his longfork shovel that took best of show, Michael of The World is Flat who is taking by far some of the best cycle photos, Chris who rode down from Vancouver only to have his engine blow up as he rolled into Jersey … too many people to mention.

I ended up taking the award for “rolling deathtrap” for having the bike that looks like it should fall apart but does every last mile of the run. I’m honored. GR6 isn’t close enough. Thanks for getting me so stoked on bikes.

all packed.

friday’s camp

73′ swingarm shovel

Norton Commando – won the best British bike award

Saturday’s camp.

Home!

my bike finally went platinum – about time.

Make sure you guys try to do the Brooklyn Invitational this Saturday and support these dudes and see some awesome bikes.

check out that exhaust.

pics and story here

I sold the Husqvarna SM610 to a guy in Connecticut who drove to Philly literally five minutes after he saw my listing, and then hopped in the car with my wingman Devyn and shot out to Royersford to pick up the new Sportster. The bike is clean as hell, 2k+ miles, and pulls like a train. I can dig it. Hopefully it’ll be around for a while. the parts list is in progress as I type…

I have to admit (and just about everyone knows), I have never been a fan of Harley Davidson.  I always felt that they charged too much, offered too little, and their engineering was contemporarily behind industry standards set in the ‘70s; no one will ever accuse Harley of making a motorcyclist’s machine.  With this said, I wanted to build a proper café racer – a standout café racer that’s reasonably a runner – and I wanted it to be American.  That pretty much leaves one option.  So I set aside the bias, did some research, and traded the Honda 919 for a Sportster 883.

I’ve had the bike for a few weeks now, have put 1,500 miles on her, and I have to say (and I feel like an idiot doing it) that I love this bike more every time I get on it.  The way it delivers power (albeit limited power) is different than anything else I’ve ridden.  When you hit the throttle, the bike just feels like an animal.  It’s raw, it’s dirty, it’s unrefined, it’s heavy, it vibrates, it’s underpowered, the geometry is all wrong, it handles like a three-legged horse, but it is hands down the most fun bike I’ve driven, and I’m really growing into it.

Enough rambling, here’s the plan (or some of it)…

The XL 883 as bought…

A rough sketch of the plan. I’m going to keep the stock tank as the Harley “Peanut” tank is pretty iconic, and it gives the Sportster a really thin profile. I picked up another stock tank off of eBay, and will be using it as a base for a seat cap.

Bill Becker shot this for me. We were thinking about rearset and handlebar position. I ordered some Biltwell Clubmans, but am probably going to fabricate some rearsets.

This is a Vance & Hines Competition Series exhaust. I’m thinking this with black header wrap. I’m not 100% on it yet. I would really be into a nice “pea-shooter” 2:1 style, but I can’t find one. Supertrapp makes something similar, but I’m kind of not into the adjustable exhaust thing.

This is a Roland Sands Street Tracker/Café Sportster. I’m just putting it up here as a reference. I think it’s definitely a badass ride, but it’s not a classic café, and that’s what I’m into.

Another Sportster café example. I’m into this one a little more. I like that its a little rougher around the edges. Also, if I could find that exhaust, it’d be perfect. I’ve scoured the web and can’t find anything on it. This image was taken off of an eBay listing for this bike a few years ago. It’s been passed around all the XL Café forums, but the guy whose bike it is/was hasn’t posted anything about it. I fucking LOVE that exhaust though…

I’m dying to get this thing started, and a lot of parts are already on the way.  I want to be a little slower and more deliberate on this build though, I just want to get it right the first time.  More to follow…