Harley-Davidson Sportster
HARLEY-DAVIDSON SPORTSTER
Cycle worrld Road Test
How To Person Warned Be The Sort Of Your Mother You About...
A Personal Test by Henry Manney.
OHardly! O Ableson! What memories are brought forth by that name! My earliest motorcycling days were spent astride a flathead of uncertain vintage which, as I recall, neither asked for nor received any maintenance whatsoever. Much much earlier in sepia tones the image floats back of Bob Robinson (a beau of my sister’s) standing insouciantly beside his big Twin, white shirtsleeves rolled up and elbows akimbo, smiling out at all his admirers. Handsome devil but shortly a messy one as he collected one of those concrete bridge abutments they have in South Carolina. Mother was right. Then the long drag across Texas on yet another flathead when I was transferred from Alamogordo AFB to someplace in New Jersey. Then following Speedy Williams on his JD down a sandy Florida back road. And better yet, put-putting gently through the scented Southern night with Deaf Cleo, resplendent in frilly puffed-sleeve blouse and suspender skirt, wedged tightly behind me. Flying objects the size of B-29’s came zooming up out of the headlight’s fitful glow, stars glittered innocent of police helicopters, and the bluesey wail of a Seaboard Air Line freight could be heard over the 74’s ragbag rattle. Every now and then it helped to give the throttle a sudden tweak to keep dark-eyed Cleo’s soft arms tight around your middle but she never wanted to go home, no sir.
Harleys meant fun, didn’t they? But I never told my mother.
Harleys, and of course Indians, in those ancient days evoked affection and awe close to those of a religion. We were very much a persecuted minority and underwent many sidelong glances from oldish ladies of both sexes as well as from the Town Clown. Freedom was Anathema to them and we represented Anarchy at the very least, mostly because we were enjoying ourselves.
All this and more came instantly back on the occasion of the arrival of the Harley-Davidson Sportster pictured here, came back in the first person because the regular staff had a problem.
Years had passed since a Sportster, indeed any proper Harley of any type, had been deemed worthy of a test. Let’s do it. they chorused, and immediately the order was placed, the objective types in the ranks said. Do what? Subject this singular conveyance to the standard slipstick contest? Report on a Sportster in terms of miles per and times to and creature comfort and vibration and we’ll get a moot road test. We already know the outcome of treating a Harley as if it were a motorcycle.
Arose then cries of Let Henry Manney do the test! Henry owns an ISDT Triumph and a vintage Yamaha and nearly-new Bultaco, so no group of irate readers can complain and anyway, not even we understand Henry’s reports. Wanna ride a Harley-Davidson, the latest with all mod cons? they asked and of course I did, having known the Sportster’s ancestors, as noted.
It was quite noticeable on riding a Harley again for the first time since the late Forties that Harley people wave at you when passing and other riders don’t. This may mean that most of the riders today are not really motorcyclists, it may mean that riders these days only wave at their own makes, or it may mean that they are afraid to wave for fear of falling off. Certainly at gas stations the crews of other sorts of bike maintain a studied indifference. 1 think this attitude goes back to cave-man days when the appearance of a bigger and spikier dinosaur made all the other dinosaurs pretend they had dropped a lizard and look busily elsewhere. The Sportster is certainly an intimidating sight, as befits any bright red motorcycle with the engine bigger than the frame. Come to that it’s a bit of a dinosaur, which may explain everything. The Editors warned there was no point in flogging a dead horse; new Harleys are generally bought by old Harley freaks and there are certainly more refined devices around. Nevertheless it is worth pointing out that there may be many riders, now that motorcycling has achieved social acceptance, who are ready to abandon their marshmallow multis and return to a man’s motorcycle. The Sportster is certainly that.
In my big-twin days the “61 Overhead” was really the hot shot of hot shots, enjoying the same sort of cachet that a roadequipped OW 31 would have now. The current powerplant however shares nothing except general configuration.
Contrary to popular opinion, there have been changes in Harley’s big Twins since they first put one in about 1909.
The Sportster engine—it says “1000” on the air cleaner cover although it is beyond me why they don’t say “61” instead— began in 1952 as a flathead alloy racing engine of 45 cu. in., then became the “K” model with swing arm rear suspension and all, was bunged out to 55 cu. in., grew overhead valves and was opened up again to 60 cu. in., all of which makes the
HARLEY-DAVIDSON SPORTSTER
$3231
Sportster engine a K engine like Lincoln’s Doctor’s umbrella is original: just like it was except for three new handles and two new coverings.
The Sportster drew a lot of attention around the office as it is one of those devices which looks bigger than it really is, largely due to everything else on the bike being smaller than the motor. The Hawg got ridden by everyone, even though there was a certain amount of trepidation from the unholy racket issuing from down below and constant speculation on where the centre of gravity might be. This cavalier usage was made possible by the fitting of an electric starter, something I have no use for on a motorcycle as we all know what motorcycle ele :trics are like, don’t we? There isn’t any kick starter and trying to bump-and-run this monster with a flat battery is too much to contemplate. Having leapt like a mountain goat on the kick lever more frosty mornings than I would care to remember, 1 can state that it is nice to push the button and have the Harley rumble into life but the kickstarter does give a little light exercise, encourages the rider to keep the bike in proper tune, and ensures that it is less easily stolen. At any rate you can opt for normalcy and probably save about 15 lb. doing so.
Harley-Davidsons, at least the big Twins, are certainly individual by today’s standards, the Sportsters particularly so. The cowhorn handlebars, peanut tank (a little over two gallons) and odd seat strike one as a bit unusual but these represent the most popular options of previous years now fitted as stock. So much for practicality as the little tank gives one a range of 100 miles plus or minus and besides lets the legs come in contact with the friendly oil tank and air cleaner. All right for a run down to Pearl’s Rib Palace but not so hot for touring. At any rate a concession to modernity is made with liberal frosting on the handlebars in the shape of front hydraulic disc brake mit reservoir, fat plain grips, legions of buttons for trafficators, horn, high and low beam, starter etc. while in the middle live idiot lamps for gen and o.p. plus a tach to 8 thou (no redline marked, but is about 6200) and a 150 mph speedo afflicted with needle swing. The ignition key lives down on the left side, enjoying an off position and two identical ons, just above a strange jiggly chrome sporran that turned out to be the horn. Finish is generally excellent, featuring oodles of chrome and buffed aluminum, but has a few jarring notes such as w ires in odd places unhampered by protective looms.
As we are blessed with California’s climate getting the Harley under way is no problem; sometimes you don’t need bother with the choke but it is wise to let things warm up for a minute, not because the engine is fussy but because there is about eight feet of oil passage between the rockerboxes and oil pump. The great racing sage Dennis Jenkinson once said that one should be a little afraid to stand near proper racing machinery when it fires up; the Sportster is like this as everything is shaking about and you are sort of calculating escape routes when the clutch goes home. Said clutch by the way is a wet one with a cable thick enough to moor a freighter. The lever was stiff'enough in actuation to lead us to pour chain lube down the housing but still stayed stiff, also displaying a tendency to use up its adjustment on the engine case rather rapidly. Atkinson also said that it slipped at the drags a bit but never did in general use. Anyway bottom gear goes in without too much of a clunk, the clutch is let out (very easy with gradual engagement) and you are underway, making a lunge at the nearest solid object. I suppose it is one of those things that one gets used to but the Harley understeers. in automobile parlance, at very low speeds and you had better be pointed where you want to go from rest, although there doesn’t seem to be any difficulty in slow speed maneuvering coming up to stoplights and the like. Once straight and with the teeth unclenched, the rider straightaway finds himself with the lovely combination of highish gears, bags of torque, and a decent rev range. None of your brrrrrpp to six thou and doing 10 mph; the twin goes chugga chugga and it is time to turn out into the street, an operation requiring extreme delicacy as the bike has all the steering lock of a Tiger tank. However, one leans heavily on the handlebars and around she does, whereupon it goes chugga chugga CHUGGA CHUGGA again and you think Christ! a motorcycle! Just like the first day you got on one.
Town work is not all that difficult as the engine is flexible, idles well with its Keihin (no more Tillotson) and everybody is very polite as (1) Harleys make big dents (2) you might be a cop off-duty. It is just as well to leave room between yourself and the car ahead, though, as the rear brake is barely adequate and the front brake handle is so far out that it is difficult to get fingers on it. No adjustment. Furthermore, as on a couple of bikes we have, neutral is elusive to say the least and nobody likes to sit at a light with the clutch pulled in. Mostly you can get it rolling from below, i.e. from first, but after a good run you tend to sit there poking back and forth like a drunk finding the keyhole. One of this year's mods has been in the internal gearchange mechanism so perhaps we had a rush model. There is. in any case, no question of the clutch's dragging or inability to get sweet changes in normal useage and you don’t get those heartrending thuds one used to hear out of BMWs, for example.
Harleys have traditionally been road bikes, designed from antiquity to carry themselves long distances in a relaxed and stately manner. Regardless of the Indianinspired poem “Harley-Davidson, made of tin . . . ride ’em out and push ’em in”, all of my Harleys have been supremely reliable and there is no reason to suppose that today's is much different. This reliability ethic was a necessity in early days, as evinced by contemporary reports, and I suppose is the reason why the Sportster doesn't even have a toolbox, let alone tools. Certainly there is an element of confidence in the lolloping gait, 60 mph at 3100. of the big Twin even if some of the mechanical clatter coming from below would give one to think on any other bike. The rear shocks top out easily and lack rebound damping (although the rear end doesn't hop on braking) while the front telescopies are super-stiff and hardly move at all. The ride, therefore, is unpleasantly stiff on anything but a dead-smooth road and seemingly is designed for the Circus Fat Lady. I took my daughter for a ride on the pillion in the interests of research; we didn’t click up the preload as the shocks showed no intention of bottoming but two-up gave rise to a peculiar low-amplitude hobbyhorse motion that was a bit unsettling. As every motorcycle mag says about their motocrossers, you can replace or modify these bits but why have to? The seat is sort of a Naugahyde railing and all right for 100 miles or so but the traditional Harley sprung solo saddle made up for a lot of suspension deficiencies, including a solid back end.
In our wanderings we took the Sportster up in the mountains to find out wottle she do. A fairly long straight showed that most of the big-twin vibration at part throttle disappears when the power is really used, the steering is steady as a church at 90 mph. said 90 comes up awfully fast with nice gobbling noises, the suspension doesn't deflect the bike on bumps at that speed, and the mirrors are bloody useless for copspotting as they vibrate too much. An interesting sidelight of “naked” motorcycles is that their windstream patterns on the rider are so different; I remember trying a Guzzi V Twin that always had a gale blowing in my face and on my exISDT Triumph it is a job to hang on at 60. The Harley for some obscure reason doesn’t produce much wind blast and it wasn’t even necessary to prop myself> against the Z in the seat. At any rate, when we got into the twisty bits the Harley was easy to ride, although nobody would mistake me with Mike Hailwood. The tires really weren’t scrubbed yet so I wasn't about to duplicate the feat of someone in the office who grounded the giant blooie tube on a corner; the other side would involve either engine cases or folding peg (the kickstand is tucked well in) at a considerably greater angle of lean. Cornering was a straightforward process in that one just thundered into the bend and leaned on the handlebars; there wasn’t any temperament in changing line, applying more or less lean, applying more or less throttle, shutting off entirely, changing gears or even applying the brakes as the Sportster just went on around in a smooth or segmented line as desired. To be sure, it wasn't like flicking about a 350 Velocette; there is a deliberate effort like prising open a giant oyster but then the Harley doesn’t hop sideways three feet at a surface change either. Real scratching on this mountain road full of campers was in any case inhibited as the brakes weren’t anything to write home about. The rear one squealed (probably full of Gunk) and the front one required the Jolly Green Giant to achieve much retardation; none of us got even close to locking it which is just as well, really. A softer puck, perhaps.
SPORTSTER
SUSPENSION DYNO TEST
FRONT FORKS
Description: Showa fork, HD 315 oil Fork travel, in.: 7.0 Engagement, in.: 6.0 Spring rate, lb./in.: 47 Compression damping force, lb.: 12 Rebound damping force, lb.: 47 Static seal friction, lb.: 20 Remarks: Curious is the fact that the “All American Freedom Machine” has Japanese forks. That comment aside, they don’t work as well as they should due to a non-progressive 47 lb. spring. Without a lower initial spring rate, there is simply too much force required to move the wheel up and down. This is especially true onconcrete surface streets or freeways with a lot of seams. Compounding this problem is 20 lb. of static seal friction. It should be half that. Compression and rebound damping are fine so the cure is fork seals from Yamaha (teflon coated) and progressive springs, perhaps from S&W. In standard form, you might as well not have suspension.
REAR SHOCKS
Description: Gabriel shock, gas/oil mix, non-rebuildable Shock travel, in.: 2.2 Wheel travel, in.: 3.0 Spring rate, lb./in.: 100 Compression damping force, lb.: 22 Rebound damping force, lb.: 116 Remarks: Like the front forks, the rear suspension on the Harley does not work very well. Compression damping is a little high, resulting in a rough ride. The spring rate is about right. Rebound damping is ok on paper, but in practice the bike tops out continually. The only logical cure is to increase the rebound damping which is impossible on the original shock since it is not rebuildable. The cure then would be a Koni shock with adjustable rebound damping. After the Koni units are in place, owners can experiment (increase rebound damping progressively) until topping disappears. Tests performed at Number One Products
Due regard for normal road test format compels the recognition of some mechanical changes for the model year; the dry sump oiling system has become semi-wet, which modification is still being worked on. witness an oil leak early in the loan period, and there is reputed to have been considerable revision of the shift internals although to an early Harley owner shifting by foot is a shocking bit of experimentation.
You’d think there’d have been some sort of exemption for the Bicentennial Year but no. walk to the end of the giant chrome exhaust stack and peer inside and there’s a sad little hole, all that’s allowed with noise laws the way they are.
Even so, the spirit of what decibels escape is as before, Harley-Davidson and nothing else, and all former Hawg Riders who rode this one around the block reported the pleasant feeling of being back on A Real Motorcycle.
Harley-Davidsons are a very different sort of machine, a link with the past if you like with their no-nonsense torque, flyw heels the size of those on a Norwegian fishing boat, individual appearance and long-legged gait.
Links with the past are nothing to sneeze at. 1 found the Sportster to be an endearing bike that grew on one by its very ease of progress and lack of temperament; big pieces and low' stresses are why on a drive across the States, you see Harleys rolling everywhere. The Sportster is a vintage motorcycle for those afraid of metal fatigue.
