Buells are the Harley-Davidson street fighter. They are inexpensive,sharp-handling machines that give the American rider something toshout about, something to fuck with and something to race.

This bike won’t compete with the 200 mph Japanese sportbikes, but it will handle like one, and brake like one. So we gothold of one and evaluated it for the Sturgis 2001 run. Since I come from a custom bike or chopper background, I wasn’t sure the Cyclone would do the job for me. If you ask a guy who rides a custom bike what style of bike he enjoysand why, the answer might be strange. I want something distinctiveand bad. I want it fast and cool. I need it to handle, but be achopper. Perhaps an oxymoron of conditions, yet there’s a mixture offactors that go into any ride and machine. Last year I rode astretched rigid with a 14-over front end. What a machine. For a rigid,it rode like a dream. For a 14-over front end, it handled well and Ipassed everyone I dared to pass, generally because I had the groundclearance to shove it close to the pavement and the raked tripletrees allowed me to turn the front end where I needed to go.

Each year the trek to the Badlands takes on a differentdemeanor, and this will be no different. After a week, I discovered a serious sense of enjoyment about straddling the M-2 Cyclone. It’s light, fast, a nimble handler that stops on a dime. I needed to learn to ride it like a race bike with my toes on the soft rubber pegs to enhance turning radius and ground clearance. There is also a notion that in the sportbike position, you’re forcing too much weight on your wrists. I discovered quickly that if I put my ass down,the weight on my wrists was not a problem. The force is substantial, however, when braking with a passenger on board. Ultimately, after riding two Buells, I decided that this motorcycle deserved a shot at aSturgis trek. It had class, felt sporty, even nasty, and I could makeit rumble. So I stood back and thought, “Can I make it even cooler?”It didn’t take long to discover that I could strip it down evenfurther than stock. I picked the Cyclone over the model with hard bags because of its bare bones feel. The crew here at Bikernet.com developed a five-pronged approach. One, we wanted toenhance the Harley-Davidson marriage with Buell and downplay thelittle-known name Buell for the time being. We also wanted to enhance the Sportstermotor and bring out the looks of the Harley-Davidson power plant, andchop it in a Buell way without altering the geometry of theframe, the front end length or lowering it, which is a tradition withour custom bikes. There’s more. We wanted the bike to sound more likea Harley and we wanted to enhance the performance without disturbingthe long-range reliability.

Our team included myself, Professor NuttBoy, consulting fromPaul Davis of Charlotte, Gene Tomasen Jr. from the Harley-Davidson fleet center, and a number of Bikernet readers who knew about and were testing Buells. This is the first of several techs on the modifications and the experiences we have with the M-2. We collected and ordered parts, then ran to the fleet center to get thejob done. The initial plan was to unleash the natural performance ofthe bike without breaking down the engine. We started by removing thecarburetor.

 

We replaced the needle in the slide with an ’88 Sportsterneedle, and drilled out the carb body above the idle adjustplug.

 

That allowed us to knock out the plug and back outthe idle adjuster 2.5 turns.

 

Stock carburetors are adjusted from thefactory to a very lean condition. Usually they are so lean that warmup takes a long time and you get an occasional cough through thecarb.

Others have recommended drilling directly through theplug, but Gene warned that if you slip, you will drillinto the adjuster screw and possibly damage it. Gene also recommendedhead work ultimately coupled with a 44 mm CV carb, manifold androller rockers in the future. I had a Screamin’ Eagle air box for a BigTwin, which I modified for the carb with an open K&N filter. We alsodropped the float bowel and replaced the 42 pilot jet with a 48. Becareful not to strip the screws holding the float bowel in place.Treat them with respect or they’ll cause you nightmares.

We set the carburetor aside and began to remove the timingcover to replace the cams. It’s important to take a scribe to thetiming plate so that you can duplicate the timing once you havereplaced the cams. Then pull the plate and the rotor cup, which isscrewed into the No. 2 cam. Before you go any further, remove the rockerboxes and the rocker arms to unload the tension on the non-adjustablepushrods. Now you can remove the cam cover, but don’t forget todrain the oil first.

At this point we decided to add a racy feature to theappearance of the bike by shaving the cam cover plate. First removethe oil line. Unplug the timing plate wire, dismantle the connectorand pull it through the plate.

 

Gene used a Sawzall and a grinder toremove the aluminum underneath the bolt holes.

 

You will note that there is a series of seemingly endless webbing in this area which is for noisereduction.

 

Notice that in the lower left hand corner, there is a dowelpin. Gene chose to leave it in place as a wiring guide and carve thecover around it.

 

The pushrods are color coded: pink or red forexhaust and brown for intake. The cams are numbered like you readfrom left to right, or back to front, 1 to 4. Make sure you pull theplugs for ease in turning the motor over. Install No. 4 first with redline assembly lube; No. 3 has two index marks. Slip No. 1 in next andNo. 2 last. It has three index marks to line up the cam with the pistonposition and the other cams with an index mark that aligns with aslot on the pinion gear.

 

This is where we noticed that the pitch onthe Screamin’ Eagle race cams was different than the new pinionshaft gears. An emergency run to Bartels H-D was in order for partNo. 24055-91, or No. 24061-91. The factory changed to a new pitch in ’99.When replacing the cam cover, keep in mind that there are fourdifferent length Allens holding it in place. Make sure you have theright length in the right hole. The torque setting for the cam coverAllens is 17 foot pounds. After the cover went back on, it was timeto reinstall the rotor cap and the timing plate.

 

These modifications will help it run better. Buells usually run hot from the factory because of hotter cams and ThunderstromHeads. At this point we re-ran the wiring to the regulator behindthe oil pump for a cleaner appearance. We only had to extend onewire, to the oil pressure switch. Gene Jr. handled it with solder andshrink tubing. Removal of the gastanks is a breeze and access to the heads and top end is easy. But ifyou need to remove the engine, the fact that it is an integral partof the frame and suspension creates unruly problems. The entirechassis must be supported.

At this point we replaced the pushrods from the top of theengine and replaced the stock rockerbox covers with chrome units.Don’t use anything on the self-sealing gaskets except a dab of greasehere and there to hold them in place.

 

With the engine assembled, we replaced the stock exhaustwith a Buell race header kit and module. While Gene Jr. was out oftown, I spoke to the Buell tech of the demo fleet, Alan Varsi, who hasworked at Bartels Harley-Davidson for more than 11 years. The Buell racemodule retards the timing 5 degrees and eliminates the rev limiter.The stainless steel header is 11 inches longer than stock, which makeseach exhaust runner equal in length. The muffler is an aluminumcanister type that is high flow with low resistance for additionalperformance at the high end.

 

That’s it. Laughlin is right around the corner, along with our firstlong ride on the Harley-Davidson Street Fighter. We’re lookingforward to every desolate mile. We’ll report upon ourreturn. A new paint job is in the wings, along with some cosmetic modsto brighten the look of this bad-ass bike.

I had a bad feeling about this mod. First, I don’t like to pack anyone, any time. If you want a ride on my Panhead, carry a hand-towel and a bungie cord. I avoid giving a girl a ride home from the bar, even a babe with gigantic hooters. I would preferred to follow her home. I’m not the kind of rider to take a woman on a long run. I would rather have a variety of women in various towns and cities. Okay, I’m a bastard.

Okay, so the pressure’s on. Sin Wu want’s to ride once in a while, and I want to get laid daily. Gotta give up something. I kept the stock Road King classic seat for additional passenger comfort. It’s covered with dust, in the corner, but that quick change aspect is covered. I ordered the custom billet tab for the rear of the stock seat, and had it powder coated black, so both seats were ride-ready. When you purchase a new saddle, it doesn’t always come with the rear tab. The base is plastic and screwing fasteners in and out will wear out the threads.

Here’s a handful of the fasteners and bag bracket spacers.

I ordered the front and rear detachable docking hardware kits, but be careful. I leaned toward the new lower backrest/sissybar for styling, which wasn’t in stock, but the pad was. I bought it, then the backrest was back-ordered so we bought the taller sissybar for immediate gratification, but when we got home the pad didn’t fit and we were forced to buy the tall pad. Watch out for this dilemma when ordering. Make sure to check all the installation instructions to make sure you have the correct puzzle pieces. There are several back rest options so watch that aspect when ordering.

Here’s the massive chromed Classic H-D axle dress hardware.

This is simple installation. Slip on the plastic wedge and the cap grips over it. Push them into place–done deal.

We also ordered some classic hex bolt covers and stainless Allen caps to begin an engine detailing process. We purchased chrome caps to detail the front brake calipers and classic chromed front axle covers. We didn’t use the plastic chrome caps ultimately but brush painted the raised edge of the calipers black. I’ll tell you why in a bit.

This was supposed to be one of the easiest mods we undertook, but we learned quickly, that wasn’t the case.

This is the front docking port in place, but not tightened.

When we black powdered a ton of components previously, we assembled the bike securely with Loctite and care. That was our undoing. The Phillips-head beside the shock needed to be replaced with the front docking hardware. Take one bolt out and replace it–no problem, right? The Phillips screws wouldn’t budge and we proceeded to strip the heads. First, I wished I had an impact driver.

I had loaned mine years ago. It was never returned. Watch out for that.

I discovered an aerosol spray by Chemsearch called Yield in the auto parts store that loosens rusted bolts instantly. It worked like a charm, with a little patience the bolts came lose. An American Rider reader complained that this product isn’t available in retail stores. That’s true. My longshoreman connection hooked me up. You may need to find a factory worker or mechanic who has a connection.

After reading the Low Detachable Backrest kit info that came with the taller kit, the Backrest Docking Hardware kit directions, the Front Docking Point kit instructions and the 100th Anniversary FLHT and FLHR Backrest Pad kit directions, I guzzled my first Corona.

I couldn’t handle the pressure.

I opened the next Corona. The operation would have been simple if the directions were. I read them over and over. There were too many variations between years and configurations to sort through. The Front Docking port directions confused me with illustrations involving rear bag support spacers designed to bounce out the saddlebags and clear the release button on the backrest.

Why would the front docking port directions come with spacers for only the rear saddlebag mounts? I was lost.

This was a matter of trial and error.

If you’ve built choppers as long as I have, there’s always a way to make anything work, so ignoring the confusion, we spanked our asses in gear. I ignored the spacers, installed the front docking rubber that was designed specifically for the King with a notch for the shock.

There’s a bracket that runs from the front docking station to the rear, but first the rear docking port bracket needed to be installed. On some models equipped with air shocks the shock filler bracket must be removed. The directions said I didn’t need to remove it on the 2003, bullshit. It was directly in the path of the docking bracket, so off it came.

This shot shows the bracket in place, with the shock air port moved. Note the single empty hole in the bottom of the bracket. That’s where the rear bag mount bolts into place. The trick of the night.

Three lousy bolts had to be removed, the rear bag bracket 1/4-20 fastener and the two 5/16s fender support bolts. First the 1/4-20 spun the thin, tin clamp that holds the nut in place. Then the 5/16, once removed, could hardly be replaced. Nothing aligned properly. My lovely assistant had to squat and lift the tip of the fender, and in one case we were forced to remove the lower bag rail to align the top bolts.

This still doesn’t totally jive. Actually washers had to be fed behind the top Backrest mounting bracket also.

“Can I let go of the fender, now?” Sin Wu asked grunting. The top docking port bolts are packaged in two sizes, 1 inch and 3/4 inch. The directions warn that if the rear inch-bolt comes too close to the fender, replace it with the 3/4. We replaced both and used the 1-inch jobs in the front holes on both sides.

Without the rear fender rack detachable bracket, another option, two washers were thrust under the rear docking port bracket to make up for the thickness of the rack bracket.

Part of the confusion was the numerous detachable elements available for various models. There’s also the two-up detachable rack front docking kit that surfaced from time to time.

That’s all there was to it. We bolted all the elements in place and tested the back rest and bags. Sure enough the King Classic bag lid smacked into the backrest latch when opening. We ultimately spaced the rear back bracket out only about an 1/8 of an inch and we were good to go.

We tried it with the spacers, without, then with smaller spacers that worked perfectly.

Sin fed me chips and salsa and dabbed my sweating forehead with a bandanna, while I slipped the saddlebag bracket, 1/4-20 nut, into place using a long magnet. It worked on the right side. On the left we unbolted the entire fender support, replace the nut, adjusted the thin, tin tabs, and bolted the sucker all back together, only to have the nut fall out again. In this case we squeezed a slim square 1/4-20 nut behind the docking bracket and bolted the back bag bracket on with a spacer. It worked like a charm.

“Can we ride?” Sin cooed. I told her to gear up. We were just about ready to roll.

I used electrical contact cleaner to loosen the tin insignia plate, but discovered that wasn’t the intended plan. Leave it be, goddamnit.

Here’s the totally clean caliper. Big mistake.

I ground the lip unevenly, but it then fit into the recessed slot on the caliper.

After grinding, all was well. Sorta.

The air in the garage eased as I warmed to her company. For an easy half-hour we played with the details of the bike by installing nut caps and front axle caps which I snugged down against a coating of silicon to prevent vibration.

Some silicone on the axle nut will prevent vibration that may loosen the cap.

I discovered that the front chrome caliper caps stuck directly against the existing tin insignia. I took one off and cleaned the area thoroughly with electrical cleaner then the self-sticking surface didn’t reach the base.

Here’s the 100th Anniversary backrest that will not fit on the short back rest bracket. We sent the short unit to Custom Powder Coating, in Dallas, for a coating of black.

Note that there are various pads and various fasteners and spacers for different applications. Don’t try using common sense.

I ended up with 1/2 pint can of Rust-oleum paint and a small brush for touch-up details. I sent Sin Wu in the house to prepare for the ride. That meant striping out of her threads and waiting for me in bed. It’s the code. We must workout before we ride.

–Bandit

Editor’s note: I’m sniveling through this, but I’m sure with some experience this would have been a breeze. I suppose that’s what dealerships are for.

You’ve been there. You handed the Makita cordless drill toyou’re drunken buddy, and he drilled a hole in your big screentelevision. You tried to wrap the extension cord around his neck andfinish him off. We came close to blows in the garage a couple ofmonths back. I spent days carefully welding chunks of Samson exhaustpipes together to form a one-of-a-kind exhaust system.

All the welds were performed with gas and hanger rod. Thepipes weren’t perfect, but they fit the bill. They were actuallyintended to be prototypes, to be duplicated by a paid professional.After the first pass was completed the pipes fit like a glove,although they were artistically rough around the edges. Nuttboy cameby on his Wednesday afternoon escape, and I handed him a highspeedgrinder and instructed him to round off the welds. I worked onanother project and paid no attention while sparks flew. When he wasfinished he tapped me on the shoulder and said humbly, “Not sure thisis what you had in mind.”

He had ground right through the pipes and left gapingholes alongside most of the welds. In addition, I discovered to myteeth-grinding dismay, that there were still large sections of thepipe ground so thin, that as soon as the torch tip came within 6inches of the surface the pipe melted away. I spent another whole dayfilling the gaps. Who knows what will happen when the struggling bikefires to life. We’ll have the only exhaust system on earth withbaffles throughout.

That’s not all. The grief continued. I hand made a mufflerusing a portion of a Samson baffle. We purchased a chromed, truckfender tip from San Pedro Muffler and went to work, but after hoursof screwing with the shiny metal we almost shitcanned the unit. Thefender tip was made out of a strange metal, almost pot metal, thatdidn’t seem to take to the gas welding and wouldn’t respond tobrazing. For every hole I filled, another crack lurked. I welded,then smoothed on a bench grinder only to find cracks and holes tofill again. The shorty muffler probably weighs 50 pounds due to thevast layers of welding rod. As it stands, this is a pure prototypeexhaust system. We should use it for testing then shitcan the rankpiece of shit and start over.

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Frustrated, but pleased with the overall look we were readyfor final metal work. This bike is being built by inexperiencedhands, not professionals, in our backyard garage. Sure, I’ve builtsome bikes, but I wouldn’t consider myself a metal fabricator. I cameup with the initial design and we roughed out elements, but we neededa master metal worker to finish what we started. There are preciousfew, true metal craftsman, who I know. One is Billy Westbrook,another is Jesse James and recently, in the news, we displayed metalwork by Roger at Goldammer (Goldammer Cycle Works Ltd.,www.goldammercycle.com ,1-250-764-8002). High quality workmanship.

They’re out there but not on every corner. I stumbledonto another super-slag artist under my nose. James and LarryFamighetti are Hamsters and own a corrugated steel metal shop inHarbor City, California, called Fam-Art. You’d be tweaked to rumbledown Narbonne Street and stumble across this rusting corner buildingthat’s got to be the oldest swaying dump on the block. Theyspecialize in structural steel (you could never tell it from theircreaking tin shed) for homes and buildings. Large chunks of steel,massive shredders, presses and welders are scattered around the funkylocation that’s reminiscent of the first shack Harleys were built in.

Nuttboy and I darkened their doors a couple of times toask them to flame-cut a couple of chunks of steel for our fenderbrackets. The more I hung around the more quiet-James began to showme steel components he had fashioned for some of the local riders. Herebuilt and reformed Harley taillights to eliminate all the edges andgrooves, then welded them to fenders so that ultimately there were noseams. The more I gawked at the sculptured parts, that demonstratedhis ability, the more I knew we had discovered a man capable of BillyWestbrook fabrication qualities. We hauled the entire FXR to Jamesthe next week.

James relocated the straps in such a way to narrow the shockplacement keeping that shrunken look in mind.

This is a close-up of the right fender strap. It’s beencorrected, reformed and readied for final welds.

We cut and fitted the tank and made the mounts, butJames filled the underside, rear section for a perfect fit.

We jacked up the front of the tank and mounted it, butJames filled it and formed the front of the tank to match the customridge along the top. He even made paint work suggestions that I foundinteresting. “If you paint a ridge like this with a light color,”James said, “The ridge will disappear.”

We decided to paint the bike a light House of Kolors pearland create a dark teardrop panel on the top of the tank. He alsocreated and welded fork stops to the neck.

As we rolled out of the shop that day James still hadfinal welds to complete. He straightened out our seat pan, but neededto figure out a mounting arrangement. Finally we needed the CyrilHuze front fender brackets checked and welded into place.

We should have the Shrunken FXR back in our clutches inthe next couple of weeks. We need to finish our rear brake andshifting mechanisms with Giggie from Compu-Fire, fire it up for atest ride and tear it down for paint.

Oh, I need to untie Nuttboy. I need that extension cord.

The Shrunken FXR returned recently from Fam Art, in HarborCity, California (310-326-2141). They welded, shaved, mounted theseat, manufactured fork stops and saved our poor- construction asses.James Famighetti mounted our Cyril Huze front fender, welded andformed the tabs and informed us that the Avon Venom was too large forthe narrow glide front end. It was our turn to work on it.

Note that James mounted the seat pan so that the edges wouldnot touch the frame paint in the future.

Like any self-respecting bikers we hate to have a bike, oreven components out of our mistrusting mitts. We had another dilemmathat needed handling. The bike still didn’t have a kick stand, and weused two 2 by 4’s, to hold it upright, when not perched on the lift.There’s a trick to this maneuver. If I backed the Pro Street FXR outof the garage and wasn’t hauling the wood planks, I was screwed. Ifalone, I could stand there for hours waiting for someone to strollpast carrying two 2 by 4s–unlikely. After a couple of unsteadyoccurrences, the bike didn’t move without the wood chips on the seat.You can imaging the major pain in the ass this caused.

We ordered a weld-on, Sportster style, kick stand fromCCI, and it arrived complete, with all chromed hardware and thebracket to be welded on the frame. There was one problem indetermining the position. The front Avon was a 100/100 18-inch, andwe planned to replace it with a 90/90. We needed to have the finishedPerformance Machine wheel in place.

The Avon Road Runner tire arrived, and we had it installed at thelocal Yamaha dealer. James pointed out to us that our front tirespacing wasn’t perfect so I sliced a spacer to give us about a1/4-inch spacer on the right side of the wheel and about a 3/4 inchspacer on the left. The tire, almost centered, now had clearance, andthe wheel floated effortlessly under the modified Cyril Huze frontfender.

Now we were cleared to install the Hot Match weld-on kickstand.This is a tricky assembly process. First, you need to be absolutelysure you don’t plan to change the front wheel, to a 21, or extend thefront forks. If you do, the kickstand will need to be bent ormodified to fit. It’s not the end of the world, but it will destroythe chrome.

The other trick is determining the right position. Here’swhat my feeble brain told me, since the directions with the Hot Matchdidn’t cover positioning, except to recommend that you take yourtime–no shit. First I stood my Road King straight up and lifted theside stand until it was locked in place. Then I measured from thepoint that would touch the pavement to the ground. It varied fromaround 2.5 inches to 3 inches. I noted that the Hot Match lever wasnearly 3 inches shorter from the point of contact to the center ofthe pivot point. I took that into consideration. I also noted that Ihad lowered my King with shorter shocks, then added a larger Avontyre (a 150). Ground clearance was also a consideration.

Then we picked a placement area on the frame. Our designcalled for little or no forward controls. I kept the tab under theBDL belt drive system and hidden as much as possible, without beingso far back as to create a balance problem. If the weight is forwardof the kickstand, sometimes it can topple the bike. One otherconsideration. When the stand pops up you need to be able to reach itwith a toe, and it better not ride on the belt, or you’re toast. Makesure to check all that, before you burn any rod.

I sprayed the frame rail and the components with asilicone splatter preventative. It obstructs slag from sticking tocomponents. It also made the frame a slipper bitch. I tried settingthe stand end on a socket nearly 3 inches off the deck. Then Iconsidered the differing lengths of the stands and shifted to 2.5inches. Sin Wu was called, from the bedroom, to hold the stand firmlyin place. I marked it, with a grease pencil, then ground the edges ofthe bracket to be welded to the frame. Extra grinding took place toform a snug, metal to metal fit. In order to make all this work weneeded to partially assemble the kickstand without the ball andspring.

The easy-to-read directions called for disassembly, but we left ittogether and used it to hold the bracket in place for tacking. Beforetacking I backed the bike out of the clamp, holding it upright,positioned the bracket in the white grease pencil marks and leanedthe bike carefully until the stand rested on the flat surface. Itlooked cool, so we re-clamped the bike securely, held the stand inplace, protected the belt from hot slag and tacked the sucker withour Millermatic welder. Then we took the stand arm off the bracketand welded it some more. That would hold it securely until we torethe bike down for paint.

The Hot Match unit from Custom Chrome is a well madeprecision unit delivered show chromed. The instructions includedrecommendations to apply anti-seize to the spring and ball. Theyendorse using Red Loctite on the pivot pin threads. We didn’t becausethe bike would be torn down for paint in the near future. The armneeds to be placed firmly over the bracket and pushed into placebefore the pin will ease into the hole from the bottom. It doesn’thurt to have a spare set of hands and someone holding the bike.There’s also a pivot pin set screw to prevent losing that preciouspivot pin and kick stand arm, on a desert highway, in the middle ofArizona.

That’s it, except to mention that when we head to thepaint shop, we need to tape off the chrome bracket, so the painterwill paint over the welds but not the chrome tab.

As you can see this bike is damn close to the spray booth.I need to coerce Giggie, from Compu-fire, to ride his FXR out to theBikernet Headquarters with our mid-controls. Once the Joker Machinehandlebar controls are bolted to the modified bars, we’re ready for atrial run, then off to paint. Stay tuned.

–Bandit

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–Bandit

Back to Part 4…

The Harley shop in Green River didn’t have it, nor did any of the other bike shops in the valley, but there was a shop in Aspen. It wasn’t in the phone book and couldn’t be reached by directory assistance. I called the Harley shop back and was given the number for Aspen Custom Motorcycles. I dialed and there was only an answering machine. Tired and dejected, we rambled back toward town. During one of our last installation attempts, we broke off the stud that held the rear tab in place. Now we needed an auto parts store for a large hose clamp and some rubber insulation to prevent the clamp from tearing through the durable powder coating finish. We pulled up in front of a Napa auto parts store and parked beside a blue and silver pickup with Krylon letters across the back window, “Aspen Custom Motorcycles.” Inside, a thin man with dark hair and youthful features leaned over the counter wearing a black Aspen Custom Motorcycles T-shirt. I introduced myself and he asked us to follow him. Two blocks away, this guy had his shop set up in a single storage unit stall (970) 544-9419. His undercover shop was complete with three stage creme sealer and we bought his only kit, thanked him and hauled ass for the Swank Hotel. In front of our room was an outdoor corridor leading to the bar and outdoor pool. I picked up several towels, borrowed a large bucket and we went to work. The first stage was a mixture of water and a strong detergent that was supposed to soak in the tank for four hours. We didn’t have the time and let it set for an hour. In the meantime, the guys in Randy’s room where having trouble with the plumbing. After I flushed the toxic mixture into a bucket, I poured it down the toilet in Randy’s room. I knew I should have stopped, but I was beyond the point of no return. I returned to the bike for stage two – flushing the tank with a strong solvent. Again the remnants of the explosive liquid were drained into the toilet. Meanwhile, hotel maintenance men and managers descended on Randy’s room, where a couple of riders had set up their joint rolling station. Plungers, tools and snakes were moved from room to room. Four rooms were effected and they were going to have to snake down from the roof. Randy shook his head. “Won’t work,” he said and poured the final stage of thick milky fluid into the tank. This process included sloshing the creamy liquid around the tank for 10 minutes, letting it set for 20, then sloshing again before draining. Randy sloshed and coated the lining of the tank for what seemed to be hours, making sure every crevice received its fair share. By this time evening was upon us. The tank was supposed to dry for 24 hours. I didn’t have time and Randy suggested that we use a hair dryer to speed up the drying process. The instructions specifically warned against the use of hair dryers because the final process was extremely flammable. Randy continued draining the thickening substance back into the bottle it came from, as we pondered the question. At one point, we tried putting the tank in front of the air conditioner to augment the flow, but there had to be a better way. Finally someone hit up the maintenance crew for a shop vac. As the sun sank, we started sucking the fumes from the tank outside our room.   At one point, two girls showed up, one 22 and the other 27. They wanted to smoke a joint and party some, but the fumes held them at bay. Both were wearing shorts and tank tops and carrying shopping bags. One included a couple pairs of spiked heels that they quickly unwrapped and promised to sport for us. One had on a top buttoned up the front over no bra, and her tits were pressed so hard against the mint green fabric that the heavenly mounds creased the material. When she leaned over to slip on the shoes, we gasped in unison. Whatever it is that makes a woman’s body magic to a man, is a wonderful thing unless abused by either party. If a woman minds that a man gawks at the flesh exposed by too little clothing, she should cover herself. These girls didn’t mind. In fact, they enjoyed it and wanted more. We could have given in to them except we had a mission and a deadline. After the girls asked some probing questions and we didn’t respond appropriately, they rolled themselves a doobie and departed. There was another problem with nubile girls finding their evil ways into our lives. We were staying with 100 of our closest, most gossipy friends in the same goddamn hotel. Speaking of gossip, I hadn’t heard from Zebra for two days. He was supposed to hook up with a pack of riders in Tennessee, and perhaps they roasted him instead of a pig. I didn’t know his whereabouts, but I kept calling his cell phone hoping to hear the number had been permanently disconnected. At 6 a.m. Friday, the phone rang. Larry the mobile mud slide maker was leaving his room to meet me in the parking lot to lend me gas. I was hoping to sleep in, but noooo. I wrestled my ass out of bed and out to the bike with the tank. After setting it on the bike, it was difficult to tell that it had been through hell the previous day. I mounted it, hooked up the lines and went back to bed. I told Larry never to call me at 6 a.m. again and to keep his gas. I wanted to let it air for a couple more hours. At 9 a.m. we put gas in it for the first time from Howard’s truck, just a quart. We loaded up and hit the first station. We were Denver bound. Some of the guys were heading into the pass above, but rumor was that the straight shot was down to Green River, over to the 70 Freeway and into Denver. It was 30 miles out of the way, but we chose the straightest shot. The freeway is only two lanes wide but it meanders along railroad tracks and rivers toward Vail. We stopped for gas in Eagle and were passed by 30 Hamsters blasting onto the freeway. How they beat us I will never know, but I sent my navigator his walking papers the next day. We caught the furry beasts outside Vail. Traffic began to bunch up and we kept riding faster, splitting lanes and running the gauntlet between the very fast cars and extremely slow trucks. Treachery was all around us as we crested a pass and could see the dots of a pack of bikes in the distance. The tank was holding and the bike hadn’t burped, coughed or sputtered. It could handle anything I dished out. I turned the throttle and it responded. About 25 miles outside Denver we blew past the guys in yellow and another couple miles down the road it began to rain, then hail. We ducked off the freeway, pulled on our slickers and found a log cabin watering hole.

The next morning, Myron and I got our asses in gear and loaded our scoots. Karl and Cheri were returning to Phoenix the long way through the mountains and Flag before getting home. We said our goodbyes and headed out. It was odd, or maybe not, that Myron and I were travelin’ without maps this year. We remembered the time we rode into Colorado by mistake and Mark the Warrior was mapped to the max. This was going to be an odd trip without a map. Sorta like sailing to Hawaii without a compass. We were flying by the seat of our pants. I babied the Blue Flame onto I-40 and tested it with my left glove. Not an ounce of vibration. It felt as if it was welded to the frame. I took it easy for another 40 miles then rolled it on. I had an entire fuckin’ tool box in the compartment of my handy-dandy bedroll. Hell, if it broke, I’d fix it. We rode to Gallup, N.M., some 98 miles to the east, pulled in and gassed up. A big Indian behind the counter told us, “Just stay on this street til you get to the Mexican restaurant — best food in town. Hang a right there and you’re on 666 heading north to Shiprock. Should take you about 2 hours.” “How about peach pie?” I asked. He just shrugged. An older gentleman dressed in Indian attire and turquoise jewelry looked at us through squinted eyes surrounded by leather-tough skin. “Two hundred miles,” he said. We looked at him, then at the younger man who ignored the bent over old dude with the knowing eyes. Something wasn’t right. We copped out and Myron bought a map. We rode the lumpy street for five miles until we came across the turn for 666 and the restaurant. Inside, we opened the map. He had purchased a perfectly good map of Utah. We weren’t going there, so I folded it and set it beside my napkin while I ate huevos rancheros, then asked the waitress how far Cortez, Colo., was. I’m not sure she knew what state she was in, but she delivered some mean salsa. After eating, we strolled out to the bikes and the waiter followed us. “You forget this, senors,” he said, handing me the map. I waited for him to return to the restaurant then shit-canned the map. We don’t need no stinkin’ maps. Myron’s wheel was clicking and it felt strange in the turns, so we had pulled it apart in Holbrook and found nothing. It sounded even worse as we pulled onto Highway 666 heading north, unaware of how far Cortez or Shiprock were. We just kept riding. The straight stretch from Gallop north was dry and hot, just under 100 degrees as we plowed into a junk yard of a town called Shiprock, named after one of the massive outcroppings in the desert. The roads were torn up like they were when we came through in ’97. We tried to find peach pie, but struck out, so we stopped at a McDonald’s for a shake. We were befriended by a small young Indian man wearing a camouflage hat and pants, a Vietnam ribbon and a tightly pressed denim shirt. He sat across from us, bent over in our direction and started the conversation like he had access to a couple of slices of black market peach pie. He glanced around the plastic franchise nervous like. His voice was slow and low and he peered at me like I was a passenger in De Niro’s “Taxi” movie. His eyes were deep and haunting. He whispered about the Harley he wanted to own more than anything, a Sportster he was planning to leave his wife and kids to get. I got it. If anyone heard him tell that story and it got back to his wife, he was toast. We pulled our chairs closer to the young man and listened intently as he explained his dream. I gave him a Bikernet sticker while wishing I had a Sportster in my bedroll. I would have gladly given it to the man. You could see the intensity in his eyes, the longing and the desperation. Apart from 15 liquor stores and the big Mac, the town had little to offer. On the outskirts there was a track of desolate homes indicative of the area. Each structure was about the size of a single, shoe-box mobile home. They were all painted brick red with white gravel roofs. A winding gravel path wound between them and small tufts of cactus. That was it. No garages, decks, driveways or carports. Each one was worn down by the sun and the wind that kept them engulfed in a cloud of dust. We noted the depressing atmosphere that loomed like acid rain over dying crops and got the fuck outta there. It was only 31 miles to Cortez. We rolled in before 3 p.m. and pulled up to the Best Western inhabited by the Hamsters. In fact, so many of the furry beasts were riding out that they had taken over two motels. My first impression as we pulled into the parking lot packed with dressers was a question. Where were all the custom bikes? The Hamsters have a reputation for being rich and riding nothing but $50,000 customs. From the looks of the parking lot, and the lines of black dressers, I had run into a HOG chapter on its way to the rally. My version of the dubious Hamster mantra has always been a club for custom builders and custom bike enthusiasts. As far as I’m concerned, that’s still the case, although as the guys get older, most can afford something comfortable for the long haul. Arlen Ness still rides a full custom all the way to the Bad Lands. And as far as being wealthy, most of these guys weren’t born that way. They worked for it, building a business that finally became successful. So now they have some money and deserve it. They also employ many riders, like Phil and Karen Day of Daytec. You couldn’t meet more down-to-Earth people. Arlen began his working life as a postman while building bikes in his garage. It’s only idiots like myself who decide to drop everything, go through a divorce and write books for a living who are on the brink of poverty. At least I can say I’m not a yuppie. The tank was still in place, Myron’s wheel continued to be round and roll as we pulled in just before a thunderstorm. Adjacent to the motel was a run down but functioning gym. Although the equipment was rickety and loose we hammered our bodies until we couldn’t walk and beat feet out of there. Every year on the way to Sturgis, Thomas throws a major party for his wife, Cheryl. Tom and Cheryl ride from the Bay area to Sturgis annually on one of Arlen’s luxury liners. He pushes that black beast with red and orange flames, with his wife on the back throughout the entire trip, keeping up with us hot rods. Quiet and unassuming, they plow down the freeway each year dressed in all black, riding hell bent to reach the Bad Lands. Each year at one stop, Thomas makes arrangements to feed and pour for all the Hamsters to celebrate Cheryl’s birth and their relationship. I don’t need to eat or drink that night. It’s enough to watch Cheryl’s face glow as he introduces her once more to the rabid clan. She glows with appreciation and love for her man. The “wind ’em up” call came at 7 a.m. the next day and a handful of riders jammed to breakfast, scarfed their eggs and omelets, asked for peach pie without success and rushed back to the motel to be with the gang as they rode out. We had 320 miles to go through Durango, over the pass into Silverton, up to Delta and into the mountains leading to Aspen. About 30 of us rode out together. There’s nothing more boring than riding in a pack. You can’t look around, check out the girls or look for peach pie. You can’t stop to pick your teeth, scratch your ass or look at the valley below. You can’t fuck around and do wheelies or someone will vote you out of the club. Well, we learned this the first year and then gradually worked our way to the front of the pack and disappeared over the horizon ahead. If a club wants to look impressive, they should meet five miles from their destination and ride together into town. Riding in a pack is fuckin’ dangerous but damn, it looks impressive. It’s the slow guy in the middle of the pack who falls asleep and wipes out the rest. Since I was still testing the handling of the blue chopper, I held back as we entered the mountainous curves leading out of Durango along the narrow gauge railroad into the steep mountains ahead. The tank held fast as we rolled through the sweeping bends and I warmed up to the morning sun. Soon I was trying to drag something as I careened around one curve after another, reminiscing about the touring chopper four years ago and how I had to shift my weight to keep the bike as upright as possible until I could get to a welder at a gas station in Silverton.   As I cruised into the old mining town, I pulled into that same gas station and two of the guys who helped weld the swingarm into place were still there. One showed me his Knucklehead chop at the house behind the station. Some of the guys who hadn’t eaten breakfast were chowing down — another reason packs are a pain. So I grabbed my work gloves, saddled up and headed out of town with one Hamster wannabe behind me on his dresser. Little did I know that this would become a day to remember. We blew out of town and into the hills beyond. The trip at that point was perhaps the most picturesque, with rivers running through the pines below as we rolled through Montrose, then Delta and off at 133 toward Carbondale. We were making good time until we came to a small canyon outside of Carbondale, where the road was torn down to the dirt, grated and driven on enough to become washboard. The rigid handled it well, but I didn’t like the jarring impact on the tank. It seemed to scream as I bounced from one pothole to the next ridge and gully for three long miles. When we finally pulled onto the smooth pavement, I knew I was in trouble. I had a new series of vibrations screaming at me. Another 30 miles and we stopped for gas in Carbondale. We had covered 122 miles. Although I was richening the mixture due to the altitude, I put a mere 2.216 gallons in the chopper for 55 mpg. Aspen wasn’t far off. All we needed was fuel and 23 miles and we would be staring at a Jacuzzi, a pool and drinks. I looked at my cellular phone entrepreneur partner, Milo, and at my tank. Both the front and the rear tabs were broken and basically the tin tank with 25 pounds of gasoline stored inside was being held on with a piece of 3M tape a 1/2-inch wide. Milo shook his head, but I had to jinx the situation. “No problem,” I said, “I had to pry off the tape the last time. It’ll hold.” Yeah, right. Half way up the hill toward Aspen, I went over a slight bump in the road and the tank landed in my lap. Milo was in front and I lost him. I held onto the tank and pulled over. Setting it back in place, I stared at the wonderful paint work by Harold Pontarelli and pondered my situation. I wasn’t thinking immediate fixes. I was thinking about tomorrow and finding a welder, about the outcome of this run, and finally about Agent Zebra and the east coast contingent that was barreling up from the southeast. I had to make it, to fix the fucking tank and keep rolling. I was riding the first rigid chopper to Sturgis in, well, there were perhaps infinite rigids converging on the Bad Lands, so what was my point, anyway. Finally, I awoke from my nightmare, dug out a bungee cord from my bedroll, ran it over the tank, behind the gas cap and down to the front legs of the frame. It seemed to be stable so I rode on into town holding the tank with one hand. We were staying at a swank hotel in the center of trendy Aspen, but all the glitter and class only told me there wasn’t a welding shop in town. I had a mission. I unloaded my shit, checked into my room and picked up the phone. Myron came in about the same time, went to the room and tried to turn on the television. It didn’t work. That was a precursor to the events that lay ahead. I made call after call until I found a welder in Basalt, some 30 miles away. While I was calling all over the valley, Myron attempted to order something to eat, but the swank lodge didn’t start room service until 6 p.m. The welder I was looking for couldn’t be squeamish about welding gas tanks and I made sure to mention that pitfall immediately while calling around. With the welder lined up and a plan in place, I went to the bar to get a drink to calm my nerves. The bar didn’t open for another hour, but Myron and I glared at the barkeep until he found a couple glasses and filled them with Jack. We opted for an early dinner in town, so we attempted to clean up for the event. In the head, I stepped on a piece of glass and bled all over the slate floor. Then I attempted to iron a shirt, but the iron didn’t work. Myron, Milo and I went to dinner with Randy Aron of Cycle Visions in San Diego. I offered to pay for dinner, since Randy was going to run my ass around Aspen to find a welder, but my credit card was turned down. Plus the restaurant didn’t have any peach pie. Hell, the shitty tabs on the tank were my fault, not Randy’s. I was beginning to feel jinxed. El Swank Aspen hotel seemed OK. What else could go wrong? I discovered later that Wachovia bank was trying to track me down. Seems some biker had accosted my card and was riding to Sturgis on my dime, ‘cept that crazed thief was me. Randy, a young, stylish sorta rider is one of those Hamsters everyone complains about. He doesn’t look like the average biker. He drives a new truck and builds world class custom motorcycles. He’s talented and good looking but how did he get there? He started a plumbing business 20 years ago and worked his ass off. He took the risks, learned the trade, found customers, dealt with employees and finally became successful. Let’s shoot the mutha fucker. While the rest of the crew slept in their little sawdust Hamster Beds, I crept out at 6 a.m. and loaded the long chop next to Randy’s hand- formed dresser in his truck. We paid close attention to my sketchy directions and rolled out of the mountain pass down to Basalt where we took a right on Frying Pan Road and found a small industrial building. I pulled up to 3-D Iron and Mike Horn, a skinny, wrinkled man, greeted us with the bad news.   Peering up at me through thick glasses, he said, “If it’s a gas tank, we won’t weld it.” Reaching for the tank that we had taken off the frame, wrapped in towel and duct taped for security, I noticed that liquid had filled the corner of the truck bed. On second glance, I became rudely aware that the petcock had come open and it was gas that soaked my clothes and my bedroll. I rolled my eyes and asked if we could pay for the equipment and weld it ourselves. “Nope, can’t do it. Insurance liability, you know,” he said. “But I will make a strap for the tank.” While I stared at the old welder in astonishment and tried to explain that I spoke to someone who had given me the green light, I knew it was futile. I could see a guy in the back of the shop bent over a bare metal trailer frame. He would only glance in my direction from time to time. Perhaps it was the guilty culprit who said to bring the tank down. Randy stood beside the truck and greeted several guys from the sheet metal shop next door.   Most of the middle-aged workers were going to Sturgis and they readily struck up a conversation. The shop was neat and most of the guys had salt-and-pepper hair pulled into pony tails. Randy tapped me on the shoulder. “These guys will let me use their mig welder,” he said, referring to the team at T&E Marshall Enterprises Inc., makers of custom sheet metal and heating systems. We finally had a formula for success. The old guy from the crappie shop made the strap and drilled the holes while we emptied the tank and readied it for welding. Randy flushed the tin container with water, then held the tank mouth against the exhaust pipe of his truck until the carbon monoxide dissipated any gasoline fumes. The tank smelled clean and he fired his lighter above the mouth. Nothing. In a matter of five minutes, it was ready to weld safely. Randy tested the welder on a piece of scrap. The mig would do the job, but he wasn’t as comfortable as if he had his tig. The mig would have to do. Welding dissimilar metals together is a trick I was once very adept at. The 16-gauge material of the Sportster tank had to be mated to the 1/4-inch thickness of the strap and Randy went to work. Sparks flew, metal crackled and paint sizzled as he welded the tab in several places.   Since I had brazed the original tabs in place, the braze melted and flowed into the welds, causing them to sputter. We let the tank cool and filled it with water. It leaked, my worst nightmare. Even worse than breaking tabs or having a loose tank was the threat of a leak. Randy tried again, but the leaks were coming from under the tab where it was impossible to reach with the welder. In an attempt to fix the existing leaks, Randy blew a hole in the tank. He worked on the hole, then I suggested that we braze over the welds to seal them. It wasn’t a bad idea, but a torch and braze was going to generate much more heat to a wider area and Randy was considering the damage to the paint. So far, Harold’s creativity was unscathed. Finally, Randy and I began an hour job that could have taken 15 minutes. Because of the bondo smoke and the steam from the wet rag Randy held close to the area I was attempting to braze, the torch kept blowing out. It took forever to coat some of the welds with brass. We checked the tank again with water. It seemed to have sealed. We packed up and headed north. Checking tank leaks with water is like filtering your gas with screen door mesh. It’s an indicator, but not a good one. I felt that the only way to guard against gas seeping through the welds was to seal the tank. We had some discussion about saving the tank and welding on it in the future with sealant inside, but finally settled on trying to find some Custom Chrome Tank Creme, a three-stage process. We went to a small diner for lunch and I got back on the phone.

We decided to take a run at an electrical article, since about 90 percent of problems and breakdowns come from the electrical component. Besides, it’s riding season and we all need to check our electrical connections before we ride off into the sunset. This is especially true of bikes stored in moist or seaside climates. Besides, I’m riding the King to Laughlin and need to check it out. It’s been awhile. Here’s the lastest upgrade to the king: King Meets Zippers and D&D

This article will cover some basic electrical checks, since being forced to charge your battery indicates deficiencies in your charging, or wiring system–or you left the goddamn lights on.

This rambling will also cover all the aspects of the latest battery charger from Biker’s Choice, the Xtreme 12-Volt battery maintenance charger. If you find it necessary to charge your battery, take it out of the bike and place in on a wood or fabric surface, not steel or concrete (draws battery charge). Make sure the terminals are clean. A loose or corroded terminal will prevent the battery from accepting a charge. No shit, just that will leave you along side the road.

Corrosion, or bad grounds cause most electrical problems, especially in dense humidity climates. Check your grounds annually; clean the connectors and the ground surface.

Batteries are nasty dangerous bastards. Make sure to protect yourself around them. Don’t mess with a battery near flame, extreme heat or next to your custom painted Ferrari. If the bastard explodes, you could lose your eyesight and that $5,000 paint job. And that acid crap is super nasty. Don’t get it on anything. There is a cure. Mix some baking soda and water and have it standing by to clean anything with battery acid splashed on it. This is no jive. If you get battery acid on anything, it’s toast. Believe me. I have a number of holy shirts from acid meetings.

Wear eye protection and don’t fuckin’ smoke around batteries. Fortunately, for incased batteries, we don’t have to mess with acid as much anymore, but I’m still building choppers and using bullshit little batteries with acid requirements. Whatta mess. Make sure the area used for charging is clean and well ventilated. Okay, enough for the safety procedures. The Xtreme Charger comes with complete safety warnings.

Here’s the leads that allow you to connect the battery to the Xtreme charger quick.

For years I liked Battery Tenders, because they monitored the charging process and dropped the charge level automatically, when the battery was completely charges. If the charge level dropped, the automatically kick into gear again. This Xtreme charge handles those tasks and more to keep your battery strong and charged. Below is the full description of the Xtreme capabilities. The kits also come with a lead set you can bolt directly to the battery for easy access at anytime. Check this out, then we’ll give you some testing, trouble shooting electrical tips:

The Xtreme Charge is ideally suited for AGM and Maintenance-Free Batteries. The combination of PulseTech’s patented pulse technology and proprietary charging algorithm allows it to charge these high-performance batteries more fully while maintaining a safe charge profile for traditional batteries.

The Xtreme Charge Battery Maintenance charger comes in variety of colors, which may suite a particular need. If your looking for the best battery maintenance charger for use on any 12v battery rated from under 10Ah to over 150Ah, pick your color, and get one today.Includes fuse-protected quick-disconnect battery clamps and lugs, Important Safety Instructions and Quick-Start Guide. The Xtreme Charge is fuse-protected, spark-proof, and is UL and CE certified.

Comes with a Five-Year Warranty

Xtreme Charge Maintenance and Charging

The Xtreme Charge is a microprocessor controlled maintenance and bulk charger for any type of 12-V lead-acid battery. It features PulseTech’s intelligent circuitry, which imposes only the correct amount of charge rate as determined by the continual evaluation of the battery’s condition. By using only the appropriate amount of charge rate, the battery is maintained safely at its proper operating voltage indefinitely. Conversely, if the charger is connected to a discharged battery, its bulk charge capability (2.5A actual/5A effective) will re-charge the battery rapidly and safely so it can be put back into service quickly. Charge rates may be as minimal as 0.2A during typical float up to the full 2.5A for more deeply discharged batteries. This variable float charge ensures optimal charge rate is applied to the battery at all times.

PulseTech’s unique and patented PULSE technology increases the duty and life cycles of your battery by minimizing the size of the lead sulfate crystals. This allows a battery to accept as much charge as possible. PULSE technology helps ensure that your new batteries will stay in like-new condition while improving older batteries dramatically. Duty cycles are typically extended from three to five times for all types of lead-acid batteries!

PulseTech’s ReNew-It Pulse Technology

Twelve years ago, PulseTech applied its technology to a full line of innovative and unique products designed to make batteries stronger so they will work harder and last longer than ever before.

To get an idea of exactly how important PulseTech’s technology is to the performance of all your powersport toys, consider this: The main cause of vehicle failure is battery failure. The main cause of battery failure is sulfation buildup on the battery plates. And ReNew-IT Pulse Technology prevents sulfation buildup.

When it comes to a dead battery, chances are it is still good. You just can’t reach the energy due to sulfate buildup. That means you have to buy another battery even though the one you have may still be useable. Xtreme Charge helps prevent this problem.

These charts were taken from an H-D manual.

How Renew-IT Pulse Technology Makes Batteries Stronger

PulseTech’s Xtreme Charge connects directly to the battery. The Xtreme Charge emits a pulsating DC current that removes the sulfate deposits from the plates and returns them to the battery acid as active electrolyte.

Here is how it works:

1. Lead-Acid batteries work by releasing energy through an interaction that occurs between the positive and negative lead plates and the lead sulfates in the electrolyte.

2, Sulfation buildup occurs as lead sulfates form on the battery plates during the normal charge/discharge cycles. During this process, some of the sulfates enlarge to the point where they won’t accept energy so they stay on the plate. Over time these sulfates can build up until efficiency is reduced and finally the battery dies.

3. ReNew-IT Pulse Technology works to prevent sulfation buildup by removing the sulfate deposits from the plates through a unique Ion Transfer process.

4. The lead sulfates then return to the battery acid as active electrolyte. When connected on a regular basis, our battery maintenance systems will also keep the sulfates from building up again.

Get True Battery Power

PulseTech’s technology works with all types of lead-acid batteries including sealed, gel cell & AGM. By keeping the plates “clean”, batteries charge faster and deeper so they work harder and last longer than you ever thought possible. They also have greater charge acceptance so your battery will recharge faster and release all of its stored energy. With more available energy so your vehicles last longer between recharges and your electronic accessories work better.
You get the true power of your batteries.

Some of our patented products also prevent the normal loss of battery power on stored vehicles and equipment no matter how long they sit unused—even months at a time.

They even help protect the environment. Since batteries last longer, it reduces the danger of contamination caused by lead and sulfuric acid dumped from prematurely discarded batteries.

Xtreme Charge 5 Stages of Charging

1. Initialization: Xtreme Charge’s unique test feature evaluates the battery thoroughly during initial connection to determine the appropriate charge rate based on its size and condition. It tests the battery continually for as long as it its connected to the charger to maintain the optimal bulk or float charge rate. This test step incorporates a “Bad Battery” indication if it determines the battery is faulty and can not be charged.

2. Saturation: A proprietary computer-integrated technology measures both the voltage and current to determine the appropriate amount of charge the battery is able to accept at any given time. As the pulse and saturation charges improve the battery’s condition, the charge rate is increased safely to an optimal level. This proprietary algorithm protects the battery from the risk of damage due to overcharging.

3. Storage(Float)

4. Pulse(De-Sulfation)

Here’s a shot looking for that 14 volts.

Testing Tips

I reached into a couple of Harley manuals and to Pablo, our Bikernet Harley factory trained technician for additional info. If you suspect a problem with your charging, you’re experiencing sparking when you hit the starter, or the battery needs to be charges, here’s some tips.

First, check all your grounds and battery posts for connection and cleanliness. Then take a voltmeter and run it across the batter whiled the bike is idling. It should indicate 12 volts (see chart). Now run the throttle up to about 2,500-3,000 rpms. The indication should jump above 14.1 volts, indicating that the charging system is working.

Sand those terminals and cable lugs for the best connection.

Before you toss the regulator and replace it, you need to check the connections with the alternator. Make sure you haven’t lost a ground or run over a speed bump and ripped through a wire running along the bottom of your frame, which is against the code of the west. Don’t run wires under frame rails. Keep them up and out of harms way.

To check the alternator, here are a couple of tips. Pablo suggests that you take an old regulator plug, with the wires and create a testing lead. If you check the resistance to ground on each lead, they should be open. “But if you take the derby off your primary and run into that burnt electrical smell,” Pablo said, “the alternator is toast.” There’s also an AC test. Start the bike and run it up to 3000 rpms. Attach your alligator clips to your alternator leads and it should read over 40 volts or 16-20 volts per 1000 rpms.

“With the newer models, we have seen some issues with the bikes having batteries going dead after a couple of days,” Pablo said. “A milliamp draw test and total current draw test is the first things you check in the H-D flow charts. Corrosion on the system relay on some models can cause this.”

Charging the battery with the Xtreme system on a wood block far away from the welders.

“The service manual, including the electrical diagnostic manual are a must on the new models. You basically have to be a Circuit Head to work on these things nowadays. The H-D Digital Tech we use at the dealership also helps with the serious hard to find electrical gremlins.”

“Fuck, I’m just a old Seabee resistant to change. Man invented technology to frustrate himself you know. Just look at what we have done to a motorcycle over the years. Seriously though, one can, with a cheap DVM (Digital Volt Meter) do allot of trouble shooting on the H-D charging system. Like checking the stator for AC volts output. A grounded stator, continuity checks, etc.”

One more addition from Pablo: DC Voltage output at the battery with the bike running is also a quick check. The system should be putting out over 14 volts but not more than 15 volts at 3000 RPM. Usually, you will see like 14.1 to 14.4 volts or so, that is if the regulator is good and shunting excess voltage to ground.

So, with the Xtreme Charger and a volt meter, you can check your battery, the charging system, the alternator and check for bad grounds and busted wires. That’s all you’re gonna get from the Bikernet tech staff today. Let’s go to the Cantina for a beer.

Pablo, and his first chopper, back in the day.

 

 

Master builder and mechanic, Deacon, from Pro-Street in Oahu.

Bob Kay. from American Iron Horse. was a bro and shipped the retro Shovelhead. from Strokers in Dallas. to LifeStyle Cycles in Orange County, California along with a new batch of Dallas Choppers. It arrived the day before a handful of weary travelers stumbled into Los Angeles. on their way home, from Sturgis, Glen and Kerry Priddle were headed back to Australia after spending almost a month, with a dozen Aussies, roaming the mid west.

 

Deacon’s son Chase and the 1928 Shovelhead.

Deacon, his son Chase, and the son’s girl Amanda rode several thousand miles averaging 95 mph wherever they rode. Deacon and Chase are both master mechanics. The ol’ man’s shop, Pro-Street, is located on Oahu, (808) 236-0405 and he’s negotiating with Billy Lane of Choppers Inc. to build engines for Billy’s Discovery Channel Bikes. His son is working in Oregon, but as soon as he returns, he’s packin’ his shit and heading back to the islands.

 

JIMS machine rebuilt and detailed the engine. It was sharp and runs like a top.

 

Charging and checking battery connections.

 

Deacon checking the solenoid.

Deacon rolled into the Bikernet Headquarters just as the Shovel arrived and we attempted to fire the beast to life. I moved the seat forward, detailed the front end and charged the battery. But, even with a fresh battery, she wouldn’t engage. Deacon suspected the aftermarket solenoid. Seems the spacers and gaskets are too thick, just enough to prevent the solenoid from grabbing the shaft. I trimmed the gasket with an Exacto blade and Deacon ground the face of the spacer. Installed, it worked like a champ. We took it for a ride.

 

Los Angeles Harbor and our first roadtest.

 

First Deacon checked the connections and voltage at the solenoid. He also shorted across the leads with an Allen wrench to see if the circuit was operating properly.

 

The solenoid replaced after the gasket around the base was trimmed and the spacer, behind the unit, shaved. Worked perfectly.

 

Checkin’ the gears.

It was impossible to jam the suicide shifter into nuetral once the bike was running, even while rolling. Deacon and chase adjusted the clutch, and recommended a Rivera, old school, clutch pack to eliminate chatter and afford the rider smoother shifts. The clutch wobbled and was too tight to find neutral. They loosened the springs until only a thread showed past the adjustment nuts and the spring retainer ran true.

 

Can you see the cracks?

 

The Millermatic 175 hard at work.

 

Deacon built a bead then ground it smooth as a baby’s ass.

 

The tip installed, solid as a rock.

I developed padded fork stops and while running we noticed that the clean, handmade, Stroker’s pipe tip was rattling with only one bolt holding it. Upon removal we discovered that the area around the installation nut had already cracked and Deacon grabbed the Millermatic. He welded the cracks and nut for more strength. Then we discovered that the tip shelf was too small, so the pipe end had a tendency to vibrate. Deacon went back to the welder and built a bead around the outside, of the shelf, then ground it to fit. A much cleaner/tighter fit, and the pipe didn’t require an additional fastener.

 

Anybody know how old this cast bronze emblem is?

While in Hawaii at the first Choppers Only Show in Wakiki, I gave Deacon, the promoter, a handmade belt buckle for being a gracious host. He returned the favor with an old license plate doodad from the Antique Motorcycle Club. It was destined for the Shovelhead.

 

While testing the shifting, clutch and tranny, the gears seemed to bang harshly. We checked the oil level, which seemed precariously low. It wasn’t bad, but we drained the oil and replaced it with fresh Custom Chrome tranny lube.

 

The 1928 Shovel was ready to rock and so were we. Deacon and Glen broke out harmonicas and kicked off the blues. They sampled the Irish whiskey, Tullamore Dew, Sin Wu barbecued and the party rolled on.

 

Deacon and Glen bringing down the Bikernet Garage.

 

One mo’ shot of Tullamore Dew.

Helluva night, sharp bike and times to always remember. The next day Deacon air-freighted his 2003 FLH to Oahu and grabbed a flight. His son and Amanda boarded their basket case Softail and rode north. Glen and Kerry hid out in Los Angeles and waited for their flight back to Australia, and we dusted off the headquarters and pretended to go back to work.

Stay tuned for the next adventure of the 1928 Shovelhead.

–Bandit

 

 

ROAD KING REPORT–Initially I had some questions regarding Road Kings. I wanted to know some about the frame geometry. I perfer a little trail over low speed, parking lot handling. I like to run fast and stable. Next I’m old school. I perfer a bike with minimun extras so I lean toward a carb model over the fuel injection, EFI models.

I immediatly spoke to an expert, Paul from Charlotte, H-D:First as you always say “What year is the damn thing”??????? If it’s a newer model why get rid of the EFI?? The new stuff works good. Harley has new sofware to tune the thing, just out from the dealer show. This will put a big hurt in the Powercomander II and any other after market add on stuff!!!! It’s in the new P&A book for ’03 in the Screamin Chicken (Eagle) section. I like the new Dephi stuff. Also BC Gerolamy has a new dual throat induction throttle body for the Delphi system that is kick ass!!

To take off the system, man it’s lot’s off work. The ECM has all this start up shit it goes thru. checking all the system’s and sensors. Again I have never done this. So to be honest I just don’t know for sure on this one. I can run it by Old Bob tomorrow and see what his thoughts are on both the frame/trees and removing the EFI.

On the frame, my first thought is no. Are you familiar with what they did to the trees? They are not like the old FL stuff at all. The stem is in front of the fork tubes. This makes it a self centering front end. One of the tests they have to do at Talledega on the track is to smack the handle bars hard at 80 MPH++ and see if the damn thing will straighten itself out!!!!

I’ve never thought about doing this so who knows maybe it could be done. Christ you come up some stuff man. Was Jack Daniels involved in all this brain storming??

A week later…

’03 is good year for the Road Queen. The EFI is much better than years past.My question to you is why do you want to loose the EFI?? What are your plans?? Pipes, Big Bore, Stroker kit?? We just did a 103 Stroker kit with cams, heads and a V&H 2-into-one pipe, megaphone, on a ’03 Road Queen for a salesman. He should have used a Thunder Header but most of these clowns want the magazine yuppy chrome look. Shine and billet are in I guess, drives me nut’s!!!!!

You can remove the fuel pump and that shit from the tank. You can put a regular fuel valve in the tank in place of the EFI fuel line. There are two bung’s on the left side of the tank, one is plugged. I did make an adapter for a fuel valve for a Softail EFI bike once. The guy bought these tanks at a swap meet and didn’t know they were for fuel injection.

I think maybe you might just need to change the ECM from EFI to a Carb. ECM. Disconnect the senor’s, eng. temp, crank pos., induction module stuff. Do the tank, install a carb and you might be just be down the road. That way you could leave all the stock wiring and shit in place if you ever wanted to go back to EFI.

On the trees I guess when they went to that style the early top tree was just turned around for that newer style configuration. Don’t know about the setup now. If you did a rotation of the top tree putting the fork tubes forward the bars would be in a different forward location. That would screw up all that headlight cover shit. You might be able to put a complete early FL front end on. Hey maybe even the adjustable sidecar trees. Remember them? The front fork’s are non-air assist now.

I’ll keep plugging away on this “Amazing Raked Road Queen” project for you. I can check out some front end’s and take a better look. Also will try to call tech services at H-D and see what won’t say!!!

–Later, PSD

 

 

The competition has changed, expanded. Can home-built choppers fly to Sturgis? Can Jesse James build a chop and actually ride it, with all his tools, mechanics, equipment, lathes, milling machines, and money? Can Billy Lane from Choppers Inc. build a bike by hand while wanton women dance seductively around him daily in him Maimi based studio. Can two crazed fools from Bikernet build two chops in a small San Pedro garage with limited tools and no cash and make it to the Badlands? Another builder has entered the competition, Japanese Jay from the local motorcycle shop, Station 34 in San Pedro. He’s building a rat Shovelhead, I think.     While we’re damned low on time and still trying to recover property from West Coast Choppers, we’ve decided to get together two running choppers and ride them proudly to Sturgis. We’ve called in all our heavy clients, folks like RevTech, Weerd Bros., and Custom Chrome, Baker, Paughco frames, Headwinds, Harley-Davidson, and put them abreast of our situation and we’re receiving outstanding support as always.  Our new goal for the Chop-off 2000, is to race to Sturgis, with back tire fires and heads full of fresh Jack on our custom, hand-built machines.   Bandit and I are going back to our roots, building our own scoots, with our own hands, the way we like ’em, fast and simple, no bullshit, no backing out.  These will be independence choppers, American-style, no bullshit politics, attitude, downtime, and loss of parts.  We just want to ride.  As for the vote to see which chopper the world of bikers like best?  I’ll still kick Bandit’s sorry ass from here to Lead and back, I’ll have his woman, his whiskey, and he’ll have a view of my back tire all the way.  May the best badass win. See you in Sturgis.  Saddle up and ride.  My Bandit-smashing nightmare is well under way and I’ve employed the assistance of the talented, albeit nuts, Chinaman and the master of horsepower, Wrench.  At the moment, I’m way ahead of Bandit. Nothing new there. Billy Lane is hard at it. Jay’s engine is in the frame, and Jesse James, well, he’s in Europe being interviewed by the Pope.  In just a few days we’re already working with a rolling chassis. The new horse is sitting on some good-looking chromed Thunderstar wheels from our bros at Harley-Davidson, 21 inches up front and 16 in the back. We chose Performance Machine brakes to stop the monster, once I get to Sturgis.  Until then, they’ll get little if any use, since it’s a race. We have the Paughco frame resurrected from the Bandit II, plus a Paughco oil bag. We were going to use the rear axle and oil bag from Bandit’s other chopper, but West Coast Choppers seemed to have somehow misplaced them. The tank will be a Russ Tom Harley-Davidson/Seattle custom stretch. This is where I’ll keep the fuel that Bandit will breathe the fumes from as we streak north.  For a front end, I’m going to use a Harley-Davidson narrow glide, which we’re planning to widen with new triple tits. Joel at Headwinds is the man behind the lighthouse-powerful headlamp system, to light my way.  I know I can ride from L.A. to Sturgis straight through, because I’ve done it before, but I expect a great deal of whining and crying from the very soft-assed Bandit. The engine will be a beautiful new RevTech 88-inch CAD designed, fire-breathing whip-lashing, get-the-hell-out-of-my-way twin.  The whole crew at Bikernet is pumped to test out one of these killer-tech twins as it’s the first RevTech we’ve gotten to try and we’ve got high hopes for her.  The engine came complete with a RevTech carb, increased cooling fin surfaces, no head gasket, never-fail O-rings, high-performance, computer-controlled ignition, and it fits the custom frame with no modifications needed—we hope.  Just bolt and scream, which is how we like it.  And by the way, if you’re wishing you could get one of these fine RevTech monsters in a 100-inch, you can.  To transfer all this power to the flypaper-sticky Avon in the back, we’ll be employing a Baker 6-speed tranny. I’ve not yet had the pleasure of running a Baker 6, but Bandit assures me they are as smooth and stout as a bottle of 20-year-old Jack. Can’t wait to marry it to the RevTech and watch them have some of the honeymoon torque sex. And Avon Tires, of course, will be providing the glue to keep me on the road all the way into South Dakota. If you’ve never owned a set of Avons, you’re missing out.  That’s it for the rundown this week. We’re smoking toward August.