spacerIssue 128 : April - May 2003

StreetBiker Features

MAG News
Helmet Cases
Yamaha YZF-R6
Honda CBR600RR
Screamin' Eagle
Cycling Zealot

Whippet man mounts Screamin' Eagle

Harley-Davidson Screamin EagleNorthern sports bike jockey Mick Tonks meets Milwaukee iron and finds it more like muscular whippet than blue poodin.

The Harley Experience

If there were seven wonders of the modern industrial world what would they include ? Concorde, an Apollo spacecraft, the internet ? To the afficionados of Americana there would have to be one that stood out front for its sheer anachronistic, inexplicable to some, sense of iconic symbolism.

The fact that Harley-Davidson has bucked all trends and carved such a niche in a market dominated by objective criteria is indeed a commercial miracle and a monument to marketing - but is it more than that ?

Would Harley-Davidson have been as successful if they had relied upon marketing alone and were still turning out Shovelheads with their oil leaks and teeth jarring vibration? No. The Evo engine rescued the marque because it turned a great visual concept into a bike that riders could live with. From the time it appeared it signalled a new era in which trans continental journeys could be undertaken with confidence and without a back up van with full workshop, oil tanker and trailer. The twin cam took that experience a stage further and Screamin' Eagle put the icing on the cake.

Screamin' Eagle is the range of in house 'aftermarket' goodies that Harley market to meet the challenge from the independent aftermarket if that makes sense. Well as much as the term custom cruiser makes sense and we all have an understanding of that even if it is a contradiction in terms. The legendary Harley-Davidson is the bike most non-bikers aspire to and definitely the most famous motor-sickle of all time. When you buy your first Harley you become a lifelong member of a very special motorcycling brotherhood, for a Hog ain't just for Christmas, its for life. Once that nostalgic piece of good-ol Americana has penetrated your bloodstream your addiction will have become an incurable love affair that the barriers of time will fail to erode, or so I am led to believe? But being a Yorkshire lad I had to find out for myself. What it is that commits thousands, millions even, of bikers all around the world to choose Harley Davidson?

Baur Millett in Manchester kindly loaned me a brand new, very shiny Screamin Eagle Road King to me help discover. A stunning looking bike, this Screamin Eagle Road King came straight from the factory's custom shop with the 1550cc twin-cam 95 engine and a shed loads of goodies. The lads at Milletts bolted on some Screamin Eagle pipes, and a few more chrome bits, just for the hell of it. The end result is a fantastic looking machine with its "Purple Radical Paint with Silver Flames," so much chrome you need shades, and its part Fish. It's part what? Yep, it's got a custom leather and natural Stingray seat, how cool is that, unbelievable!


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Off we jolly well go then. Alarm off, kill switch off, ignition on, press starter and the 1550cc big v-twin roars into life. Those Eagle pipes are just blood curdling and I'm still in the car park. Out on the road the big Harley thunders along effortlessly and feels like a very capable machine, obeying my every command with a sturdy dependability that is very Harley. The bike handles better than I would have imagined for a behemoth in the 700 pound class and when called for, the grunt from 1550cc of motor catapults you down the road with a vigour so at odds with the machine's initial sumo quality as to be surreal.

The exhaust note is simply sublime especially under the bridges and through the tunnels. It's the kind of noise that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and I found myself rolling on and off the throttle for the pure joy of listening to it - kind of like taunting a lion to hear it roar with the bonus that it never gets pissed off.

Riding in and around Manchester is not exactly my idea of biking heaven, but it does have big shops in the city centre - yeah ? A Harley riding mate once told me how the greatest danger he faced when out riding was not from high speed crashes on country bends but from rear ending traffic while checking out his reflection in plate glass windows. You think you'd never do it ? oh yeah, You get one of these brutes then look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do it.

Harley-Davidson Screamin EagleThis a bike built for big open roads but the fact is you don't actually need them to enjoy the Harley experience. People used to say - 'oh Harleys yeah their OK for those American Freeways but you can't use them over here' - cobblers!

For some reason I don't feel like I have to do 100mph everywhere I'm quite happy bumbling along at 50ish just looking and feeling good. I've read this kind of comment before and thought, 'yeah yeah, that old chestnut. It's cos you have to do 50mph unless you want to retrace your journey collecting the nuts bolts and loose fillings you'd meant to get remedied. No more, that's history. The limiting factor on this bike, at least without the screen, is windage, not that engine.

So why is it enjoyable to ride this bike at 50mph when a sports bike at the same speed would be tedium to the power of ten ? Hard thing to define - Mostly it's in the power delivery. Riding a multi cylinder bike is like riding a centipede. When you open the throttle a hundred tiny legs scuttle along busily and in a moment you are going like a bat out of hell but you don't hear Meatloaf's soundtrack in your ears, something just ain't right. The Harley-Davidson ain't no centipede, it's a war horse or a bear, a great slavering hairy chested, hair everywhere Grizzly with paws the size of serving plates. As you open that throttle the massive limbs reach out full stretch and the huge leather pads hit earth with a thud. Dust flies as the long claws grip the turf and the bunched muscles pull you forward in great gulps like there's a magnet up front and a rhino's hoof up your arse. That's Harley power delivery. The spine jarring vibes have gone but the power still comes in shovel-sized bites keeping you in touch with the huge heart of the earthquake engine beneath you. Centipedes eat your heart out and chew your legs off, da bear's coming to get yer! When you open the throttle on a Harley you don't need Steinman's soundtrack. As any one has ridden this machine knows, It'll take the words right our of your mouth.

Riding a Harley Davidson truly is a great experience, an experience that should be savoured, not gulped down like cheap plonk. Taking your time is therapeutic. We all rush about like Lemmings at work so why waste our leisure time with the same haste? Just pulling up alongside someone at the lights is a different experience on a Harley. Harleys may be less rare than they used to be but the mystique has survived the duplication. It's a mystique that swirls around you like dry ice; we've seen it before and we try not to be impressed because we're not impressed by big, we're not impressed by shiny, we're not impressed by expensive. Look it's a bloody tractor that some twat's polished OK. fair enough; so why are you staring at it ?

Afficionados will tell you that no two Harleys are alike and it's true. That's not because the bike's aren't well finished and really need a little extra but because they lend themselves to interpretation the way no other bike does. Remember when you got your first Barbie Doll ? (Ok that's enough: Ed)

It's true that sports bike riders are turning to Harleys because they are fed up watching for speed cameras and the plod. Some of them have just had enough of trying to keep up with quicker riders, having scared themselves one too many times, and fearing the consequences they make the change to a Harley. Some people simply can't stand any more points on their license. One guy went into his local dealer enquiring about a new Harley because he'd been to Universal Studios in America and seen the 3D Terminator movie with Arnold Schwarznegger. Another guy bought one in Red to match his Ferrari. Some owners have bought a Harley for another reason - because it's a Harley. You can buy other V twins, you can even buy American alternatives with higher power but in the final cut they just ain't Harleys.

So why are we afraid of having one? Why do so many people feel the need to ladle derision on the poseurs' pride ?

The fact is that as more and more people are buying them the curiosity grows and riders of 'proper' motorbikes are increasingly to be found peering at the pictures and staring through show room windows when their mates aren't looking.

The agricultural appeal has survived the mechanical refinement. While other models hide their working parts behind acres of painted plastic Harley-Davidson make exhibits of them. You need an air cleaner so let's have a shiny air cleaner why be ashamed of it? Ditto the push rod tubes, control levers, primary cover, headlamp, wheels, exhaust system tappet blocks. Everyone marvels at old steam engines with their giant shafts and polished smoke stacks, their brass name plates and huge lamps. It's the same appeal, it's more than Victorian, it's prehistoric but it's modern at the same time.

These bikes are built to look good but they are built to travel too. The HOG organisation was conceived in part to give owners destinations to head for and those destinations are frequently exotic Southern European towns where the sun shines and where people want to go and Harley-Davidson have made sure you can get there. Just as important you can get there without a stiff neck, aching wrists and a passenger demanding a flight home .


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Plenty of women are riding Harleys these days but those who don't ride and would never consider going 500 miles on a sports bike pillion will try a Harley. Harleys offer a sense of security, a sense of prestige, a sense of comfort and when you pull up outside a hotel you don't even consider the possibility of the old No Bikers insult. On a Harley you aren't just tolerated, you're a special guest. Everyone knows you've also got a Jag or a Merc back home even if you haven't. You're out on your harley cos you want to be and because it's cool.

The bike might look like a handful but when you're not trying to get your knee down and beat your best time along the Cat and Fiddle, it isn't, that stuff is behind you.

Sit at the lights with a bunch of normal cars and you're still going to be first away and watching their reflections shrinking in your mirrors if you give it a handful.

For really long runs screens are a real bonus because though the riding position is armchair good, the upright posture does turn you into a square rigger's mainsail above 60mph without it. The other good thing about the screen is that it's detachable in seconds so when you arrive in St Tropez and want to go profiling down the waterfront, hey presto bare bike! That backrest is a real help, snuggling up against the small of your bike rather cosily and adding to the sense of security this machine induces.

If I was trying to find a point of criticism, and you have to try, it's be that the front brake still struggles a bit to stop the bike without help from the back whereas with many modern bikes you tend to forget the back one. Then again I got the bike fresh from the crate so the pads hadn't bedded in. (Ed: bet the panniers were full of compressed black pudding)

The footboards are comfortable and unlike the experience with the old Shovels, your feet don't migrate off the sides of them with the vibes; those rubber engine mounts do earn their keep. The clutch action too is smooth, heavier than plenty of modern bikes or a Wing's finger-light hydraulic unit, but nothing to bitch about unless your a big girl's blouse who normally collects dolls for fun.

A bike this long and heavy is not going to handle like a Gazelle but everything is predictable and steady without being dull, the growl from the pipes has something to do with that and the massive ego trip of course. I've maybe gone on about it a bit here but I couldn't quite get over the sense of instant celebrity status the bike lent me; I haven't seen heads turn so much since I saw the Omen. Would the curious dreamers with their questions get on my nerves after a while? Dunno but I only had it for a day.

So what about keeping it clean? Well I'm just speculating but I reckon it's a nightmare but if you're going to worrying about things like that you're probably looking at the wrong bike.

Is the best part of twenty two grand a little on the high side ? Hmm well, nah, sometimes you just gotta treat yourself, and it beats the hell out of Barbie dolls.

Mick Tonks


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