H.D BASHING

[junkyardroad]

[Lotsokids]

WHAT IN THE WORLD???

I found this on Ebay: http://cgi.ebay.com/Harley-Davidson-Russian-Comunist-Hammer-Sickle-Hat-/290503679682?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item43a35e5ec2

[carsick]

Motor sickles. This is for when you're tired of flying the Confederate flag like everybody else, and want to be different. Except for having the Harley, that is.

[richardphillips6208]

Please don't take this the wrong way guys, I'm not bashing America or Americans but what I can't understand is how a nation that has set standards for half a century and developed some of the most technically brilliant machines; such as the space shuttle etc, can get such a bad reputation overseas for what I'm afraid can only be described as woeful engineering and terrible handling. Chrysler and Harley Davidson should be the best made, best handling machines on earth, but they are actually the worst. I could understand Aussie cars and engineering being "agricultural" as we only dig up our country and sell it overseas, then buy back products. But America has the know how and resources to build truly fantastic bikes and cars. Why is it that HD is the only manufacturer? Little Japan has Four big producers in Honda, Kawasaki, Suzuki and of course the best of the lot, Yamaha.
Just wondering what went wrong. Shame really.

[richardphillips6208]

Oh hey I just worked this out! 
We can all have the best of both worlds...for free!
That's right, we can all have both a reliable, powerful, good handling, great looking bike....and a Harley Davidson, all in the same bike.
Reading through these posts and reading all the reviews I have determined that the same characteristics of a Harley can indeed be had in at least early model Fj1100 and 1200's.
All we need to do is to temporarily disconnect the mufflers (one allen key and one 14mm spanner and 5 mins) and then rip off the number two spark plug lead and pull on the choke. Oh and remove the seat too.
If you are lucky the bike will actually keep running, albeit not well, on the three remaining cylinders.
Then you can have a bike which is:
A) Really Loud and thumpy
B)Really slow and unresponsive
C) likely to stop running very quickly
D) really uncomfortable to ride

All that and when you have finally had enough, just put the HT lead, Pipes and seat back on and you get a real bike again.
Brilliant hey!

[billwest]

Harley Davidson Computers

[Travis398]

ahhh I noticed you haven't read the whole thread bill.

[billwest]

Aaahhh, yep, you're right.  Oh well.

[richardphillips6208]

He paid $20,000 + in 2002 for a Harley?
I paid $2000 for my second hand 1988 FJ and it's still going strong.
http://www1.epinions.com/review/2002_Harley_Davidson_FLSTF_FLSTFI_Fat_Boy/content_188337524356

[carsick]

He paid $20,000 + in 2002 for a Harley?
I paid $2000 for my second hand 1988 FJ and it's still going strong.
http://www1.epinions.com/review/2002_Harley_Davidson_FLSTF_FLSTFI_Fat_Boy/content_188337524356

From the link- "I've seen who builds these bikes at the factory, and let me tell you, they don't look very educated." Apparently smart enough to get this wannabe to give them $20K. And now he wants a Beemer...

[Ned]

Haven't checked in for a while but it's so jolly refreshing to see this sort of thread still going on with all the wit and tolerance usually displayed by  the fine members of this group! 

Some of you may remember this from the old Yahoo group.....

The bloody electricity went off soon after I arrived at work today
so with little else to do and while my laptop battery lived I
decided to start writing my memoirs beginning with yesterday
afternoon's FJ ride...

As the sun hung low in the sky behind me casting long shadows along
the road ahead, I kept my trusty FJ at just on the speed limit, a
paltry 50 kilometres and hour. The traffic was light for a Sunday
afternoon. A respecatble distance behind me, a maroon Holden sedan
kept pace. Unusual I thought to myself. Normally, Holden drivers
like to be out in front, emulating their hero, Aussie beater, Greg
Murphy. I scanned carefully in my mirror. Nothing was passing the
big sedan with its single occupant and discrete red and blue lights
behind the grill. Just as I suspected, a plain clothes patrol car.
As I took another quick glance back, I noticed a single headlight in
the distance flicking back and forth from lane to lane between the
cars. It quickly caught up with us and the cacophony of a short
piped Highly Dangerousone slammed through my helmet. I could clearly
see the chrome plated scaffold tubes used to connect a huge
aluminium tractor wheel to its insignificant headlight. It raced
ahead in the right hand lane just managing to pull up at the lights.
I rolled to a stop beside it in the left lane as the maroon sedan
swapped lanes and pulled up behind it. The Highly Dangerous-one
Fatbum in all its chrome plated bling bling glory danced
frenetically next to me.

"Must do my biker's duty," I told myself and warn this unsuspecting
rider. I flipped up my visor and called across, " You know that's a
cop behind you don't you?" I said nodding back over my shoulder. The
biker continued to blip his throttle going from the typical uneven
potato, potato, potato to a raucous thunder. In time to its own beat
the bike jiggled and shook fiercely. The biker gave my trusty steed
a scornful look and sneered, "Huh?" he muttered. I gave him the once
over. "Typical HD wanker," I thought. Big black bad-boy boots with
chrome buckles and pretend spurs. Tight shiny leather jeans. An HD
tee-shirt with open leather vest complete with studs. A WWII german
helmet in matt black adorned the two-days-away-from-the-office
stubble face, eyes hidden by menacing black wrap arounds. "Weird get-
up for a 15 degrees bike ride," I thought. His flabby bare arms
waggling in time to the bike's beat were an interesting shade of
purple and heavily goose-bumped. A crisp new looking HD tattoo on
his upper arm called out, "I'm a weekend wanker." Obviously a
temporary sticker. My eye was drawn to the gargoyle perched on the
back leaning against the shiny chrome sissy bar. High-heeled black
boots, black fishnets and a leather mini-skirt. A tight red leather
jacket and shiny black pudding basin helmet with matching black wrap-
arounds. She too was sneering at me.

"Oh well, try again," I mumbed to myself. I called across again but
was drowned out by yet more throttle jerking. This time I
yelled, "If you stop revving that heap of shit you might be able to
hear!" The result was obviously heard as he gave the bike another
big long rev and yelled,"F..k you dick-head!" at me then frowned and
looked straight ahead. The gargoyle's mouth puckered like a dog's
bottom. I revved my bike in encouragement. "At least I tried," I
thought as the lights went green and I slipped my clutch and flicked
the throttle open. Instant 50 Kmh, so I eased off. As I crossed the
far side of the intersection my vision was suddenly blurred by a
tremendous shock wave as the Fatbum caught up and roared past, the
gargoyle waving me a one fingered salute. The maroon sedan followed
quietly behind, its tuned V6 making little more than a burble. I
watched as the HD continued full throttle. I'd heard it hit 3rd,
then 4th. "At least 100Kmh by now," I thought. The lights in the
rear window of the sedan began to blink red and blue. Then the siren
wailed. Still the HD roared on oblivious as it approached the next
lights, now turning amber, then red. Unbelievably the HD went
through, the maroon sedan gaining on it.

I pulled up at the lights and watched as they disappeared around a
slight bend in the road. "Can't say I didn't try to tell him," I
muttered inside my helmet. The green phase was a long time coming
and I thought I would miss the outcome but there at the end of the
long straight stretch almost a kilometre away I could see the lights
of the patrol car stopped at an angle on the side of the road, the
weekend bad-boy standing beside his bike. As a drew near I could see
this was going to be a good outcome so I slowed and gave a cheery
wave as I passed them. The uniformed officer just getting out of his
car gave me a cheery wave back. I heard the Bad-boy yell and the
shriek of his gargoyle, "You f..king a..hole! F..k you!" "No!" my
uncouth friend I called back quietly, "It is you who is f..ked."

As I rode on, I thought again and offered a prayer to the God of
bikers. "Thank you for giving me a bike that doesn't have fuzzy
vibrating mirrors. Thank you for allowing me to see the truth about
the car behind me but above all thank you for some great afternoon
entertainment. And yes God, I am sorry I encouraged him to break the
law but I did try to warn him."

I gunned the FJ and chased my shadow east towards home and added the
costs of the afternoon. Half a tank of gas, $16. A coffee, $3. For
the Bad-boy biker, instant disqualification, confiscation of his
bike and a hefty $800 fine at least, without taking into account the
running of a red light and failing to stop for an officer of the
law. But best of all, to quote the Mastercard ads, the look on his
face.......Priceless!


Ned (an excerpt from his "Memoirs of a Sunday Drive - June11, 2006")

I remember it as though it were only yesterday!

[Kopfjaeger]

nice one ned.

[simi_ed]

Ned, thanks for thebit of priceless prose.  I too remember that post, as if I were there myself.  I have shared that with many a friend, and it is always enjoyed. 
Good work & good writing!

[1tinindian]

Very pleasing tale Ned!
Cheers!

Leon

[Mark Olson]

A great tale Ned.

Always a reminder that people are the same all over the world.

I have the privilege of living on a street filled with H.D. riders who constantly are riding up and down the street.

It is very entertaining to watch them stall their bikes at the stop sign. however the noise is annoying , with the backfires and oil slick that is forming at the stop.

My wife will actually point her finger at them and laugh and this has caused one or two to fall over in the intersection.