My 1976 Bi-Centennial FLH

 

By STIX DOUGLAS

Could this motorcycle be the equivalent of a Harley Davidson Edsel? I seriously doubt it, and I would be one to know.
The year 1976 was a very special for a lot of people and for a lot of very different reasons. Besides being the year that I graduated the nation was busy with marketing products for its 200 year celebrations, it could also be a year before most of you were ever born and thus the reason for this to be explained and the need to clear up some misconceptions of motorcycle history. 

There were many items marketed that were considered patriotic products as well as a certain amount of collectables, throughout the year. It was also during the period when AMF owned Harley Davidson, and it wanted to get involved in marketing its own rare collectable with the Bi-Centennial. 

Many refer to the time that AMF ran things as the “Dark Ages” of Harley Davidson. It’s a shame that it also seems the majority also believes that nothing good ever came out of its ownership. It’s hard to understand why, although it still remains a highly disputed and controversial topic as well as a very difficult and touchy subject to deal with especially from the motor company. AMF motorcycles were shun and thought of as the least valued for one reason because of the company’s business strategy at that time. 

AMF was interested in quantity and in doing so the quality of its product suffered substancually and done ill reputable damage to its brand in the process. Often when you would see a Harley Davidson motorcycle on the side of the road, it would be a fair assumption it was broke down. Design and in most cases modifications of private ingenuity contributed to the subliminal connection that Harley Davidson motorcycles were inferior. 

During the AMF years, records weren’t completed or kept up with as they had been with the family owned company. This was another of Harley Davidson’s “Official” positions. 
Things got easier for Harley once the AMF period was over, by avoiding the inevitable confrontation and side step any further arguments, allowed them to get on with the business at hand which was its recovery.
What makes the Bi Centennial stand out from any other Harleys were two items not found on other bikes at the time. First was its “Special paint” that was used. Up until this time no other Harley had been considered or adorned with any different or unusual paint. By adding a large grain Metal Flake into the clear coat it gave the base a slightly diverse look especially in the sun. 
The importance and significance of any 1976's AMF Harleys was the true symbolism that this was the first time that an Eagle was incorporated into and with the Harley Bar & Shield and , where it has remained ever since. It was also the first and only time the year of the motorcycle was decorated with a emblem showing its year. Also making it noteworthy.


Then there were the highly controversial Decals. Many claim that it was the artist PETTER MAX who designed the decals that adorn the Bi Centennial gas tanks. Because of AMF's inability to pursue copyrights the decision was made to not have them reissued or duplicated. 
The importance of this fact alone makes a difference. During many motorcycle restorations it is common for them to be repainted and for decals and emblems to be copyrighted and available. But this is the one critical stipulation and exception for the Bi Centennial. Otherwise the Bi Centennial would lose its original status and no longer be a true Bi-Centennial. Instead it would just be a repainted shovelhead.

So technically it is impossible to repaint a true Bicentennial. Would this make the bike more valued over another that had been painted? Perhaps but it also divides the traditionalist from the pretenders.

While at motorcycle bike shows many goof and quickly walk away from an AMF Shovelhead. A few from the old school take a look and talk or make a comment. Some even share their own experience on how this bike reminds them of times gone by or one of theirs.


I suppose it could be said that I bought the Bi Centennial as an impulse purchase. It reminded me of my very first Harley which was also a 1976. Since then I have bought and still own two other 1976 models, a 1976 XL Sportster and of course this FLH Bi-Centennial.



Having owned a '76 prior I figured I had a general idea as to what to expect. Instead I got another lesson in life. I had no idea of what I was in for. The first clue should have raised a red flag when the previous owner claimed he was only selling it because he was pressed for Cash. He easily departed from it at what I considered a reasonable price. But he would have had to of already known that the oil pump was out of it, and made no indication and said nothing to me about it.


As with any and all older bikes there is usually a horror story or two that comes along with it. This bike would be no exception, especially one this old. As luck would have it disasters have a way of happening. Even if you escape one there is usually another waiting in the wings that has a way of tracking you down and finding you. 


As fate would have it while having it parked in the basement while I was repairing the damages to the oil pump another set of unexpected change of events took place. The basement flooded, leaving 14 inches of water in it. The devastation was just too much and the repairs on the Bi Centennial would have to be shelved for a later time.


Several years passed, and a few people looking to buy a Harleys asked about the bike. They showed some interest in it, but with it apart and non running it seemed to them as a dreadfully insignificant disappointment.

I refused to allow it to go quietly and become a scraped collection of parts. There had to be something done with it. It was just plain wrong for a bike of this caliper to be hidden and ridiculed I made the decision to do what had to be done. It took a lot of effort to get the bike up and out from the dark and dreary dungeon, where it had remained at for nearly seven years. It had to be towed into the daylight..

A lot or consideration was given to the restoration of this project before it was taken to Butch Clayton. A well respected Harley Mechanic. Having his experience, and expertise, insured me that the Bi-Centennial was in the best and most capable hands. I felt it was important to restore the Bi Centennial to as near original and genuine as humanly possible. We both agreed that if it were worth refurbishing it would have to done right. The motor would have to be completely torn down and thoroughly gone through. In doing so we found out the cam gears did not match, which explained what had caused overheating problems prior to my purchasing of it. 


All the aftermarket parts were removed and disposed of. Anything not Genuine Harley Davidson or an original OEM part would be closely examined. The integrity of this project had to be of the highest priority.

Once the aftermarket parts were scrapped and removed the real work was just starting. Finding original OEM parts to replace them was no easy task. Especially since they were no longer stocked or could be found any longer at your local Harley Davidson Dealerships. Plus they hadn’t been in more than two decades.

Many of these items had been discontinued decades ago. The accuracy and verifiable of each part could not be questioned. This had to be an absolute authentic and as close to original as each piece was painstakingly given the old school treatment. This chunk of coal would have to be a diamond on its own merit.
In 1976 Harleys didn’t come with chrome. In fact the only chrome that was ever added usually was done while the engine was being rebuilt during the off season
Traditionally many who valued their machines would show their pride when it came time for repairs or upgrades. Depending on finances because not everyone could afford the repair and to chrome their bikes at the same time. Points covers, rocker boxes, primary covers even transmission ends along with anything else made out of aluminum were either chromed or massive amounts of time and energy were spent on cleaning polishing, and buffing each piece into a mirror like luster. Hours of elbow grease surprisingly made a real noticeable distinction. 


1976 was also the last year for the FLH to use the factory “Pogo Stick” seating. As well as the last year for the “Buddy Seat”. The following year Harley started using frame mounted seats and many would change theirs over to a more comfortable and lower mounted aftermarket seats, which by then were becoming the norm.

For instance the Rear Fender were “hedged” Making it possible along with a optional Center stand, which this bike had, that allowed the rear wheel to be taken off without a jack and or without lifting it over the rear
During its restoration there were a few items that remained on the motorcycle even though they do not belong. Someone who owned it previously had drilled holes through the rear turn signal bracket, and had added chrome Bullets to decorate it. This was all the rage “back in the day” of course since chrome parts were almost unheard of..
In keeping with its Original and or Stock status, every detail with this bike was kept to its correct time period as is humanly possible.
With the lack of a suitable OEM rear turn signal bracket I believed it was better to fill the holes of the missing bullets rather than replacing it with a chromed aftermarket one. To keep with the original/stock theme, it seemed that with the bike being in Black and having bullets why not set it up to resemble a police bike.

Often what make a big difference with any motorcycle are its accessories. However in 1976 you didn’t have a choice of genuine parts or accessories from the factory. Instead many would “RAT” out there motorcycles. Whenever anything broke or needed replacing on their motorcycle they would use alternate or aftermarket parts. 
AMF made motorcycles, everyone else made the aftermarket parts and upgrades. 
It was like an “unspoken rule” that the company made the motorcycles and everyone else made the improvements for it. If you wanted chrome chances were you went with purchasing a cheaply made part that was already chrome plated. The quality might have been slightly better than Harleys at the time but that started the battle cry “Chrome won’t get you home”.
One of the accessories that did come with the Bi Centennial was the medallions of the eagle and ribbon with Made In the USA. These were the first of what has later to become a very successful Harley Davidson Parts & Accessory market. It combined Eagle Iron which was later phased over into the Genuine Harley Davidson Parts and combine it with the performance and racing parts of its Screaming Eagle line.


It is not the most beautiful bike but what it lacks in looks it more than makes up for in its own significance .for being noteworthy. It remains an Icon. The last in a long line and a prime example of the way things were done.
The stereotypes that were earned as well as all the finger pointing and divisions within the ranks have eased over time. But the fact remains that in the case of the Bi Centennial like that of all things AMERICAN or dealing with Pride have faded and are nearly extinct from the way it was. Sometimes the things like that of importance slipped between the cracks and are forgotten forever. 
Being rebellious and defiant the Bi-Centennial might be a thorn in the side of Harley Davidson but I believe it should also be used as a reminder and I am a stickler for details. This Bi-Centennial represents  all that went on before and has since been changed. I also believe the Bi-Centennial never received the respect nor the esteem that it properly deserves.

The Annual First Ride

 (by Stix Douglas)

I could see my breath as I took my first few steps outside, heading towards the pole barn. At least the wind was calm were my thoughts, as I took a firm grasp of the hand-grips.  I squeezed the front brake lever and threw my leg over to mount the old Harley. Slowly bending down to turning on the petcock and pulled on the choke before reaching to flip the switch on the ignition. Pausing for a moment before touching the starter button. 

It is at that very instant, that very moment that I was caught in a deja' vu'. 

I had been doing this for so many years now and yet there were so few others that would even know today's importance and even fewer to be following in my footsteps.

This was more than just a tradition. The anticipation and anxieties had been building for months as I had waited savoring the moment to take this first all-important ride. It wasn't just another trip down to the local grocery store. Nope, it was something more, much more significant.
Today would be that special day when I would take my motorcycle out for its annual non-sanctioned event known as the First Ride of the Year.

Why would that be so special? You might ask? What is it that makes experienced and traditional bikers solemn and refer to it as the most important ride of the year with such a reverence? It’s because they know the importance of it and know it’s a ritual.

Just then my thumb pressed the starter button. The engine roars to life. Thunder echoed inside the metal building. But it was like music to my ears as I sat there enjoying the sound for a moment. Quickly giving the throttle another twist, my mind lost all consciences of any problems as my mind cleared of other thoughts.

After carefully backing the bike out of the building and waiting a few minutes I pushed the choke back in allowing the engine to idled down into its putting mode. The low RPM lobbing was pleasant. It was the sound that once you heard it you knew it was the work of a finely tuned machine.


Releasing the grips, I pulled my sunglasses out of  my leather coat, and put them on. The skies were clear and it was bright and sunny, making for a beautiful day for this years first ride..

Pulling out from my gravel drive onto the highway.  I enjoyed twisting the throttle a little further to feel the acceleration.  The power and wind thrust me backwards into the seat. I couldn't help it as my face nearly froze with a smile.  I enjoyed running the bike through its gears, taking full advantage of it.

Braving the elements for a ride is very refreshing and exhilarating. I even find it very rewarding at times. Plus it does wonders for my outlook as well as for my own mental sanity, and well-being.

Nowadays organized rides like Polar Bear Runs seem to have taken precedence from some of the impact and previous years popularity by confusing many. But those events have different reasons for their existence then the underlying principle for this annual ride. 

I have always participated in the traditions that I have grown up with especially those concerning "old school and riding".   I am reminded why so many motorcyclists are out riding so early in the year usually without the best of riding conditions. 


Many years ago I vaguely remember a event that took place on a very cold and snowing day, long before I had even started riding. I overheard a wise crack made from a non-riding store clerk to a biker who had just come in from riding in the freezing cold. Sarcastically he asked him how he enjoyed his ride. The biker upstaged him by his response as he paused for a moment, gathered his composure, and very calmly answered:” Well… I didn't have to take out my tool kit so I guess that’s a good thing.”  The Biker then cracked a crooked smile, having said all that needed to be.

Moments like that were what got me to want to ride. You would just have had to of been there to have understood the impact and what it meant. That kind of passion for riding any day, whether it was cold or not was better than to not have rode any at all.

The majority of new two wheeled riding enthusiasts won’t have any idea what this ride is, or what it is all about. Many of them will never experienced it. Instead they continue to keep their bikes in storage, hibernating. But not me, I enjoy an occasional winter ride even if it’s only for a few miles. 

Rolling on down the highway as I was making my way to the store I began thinking of all the others who would NOT be so lucky. Those that wait miss out on the thrill. 

Those who are serious about motorcycling as I am know that it’s NOT about what brand or whatever make or model you have. It’s NOT the distance you ride that day or how cold it is, or even if you ride by yourself or with a group of others.
It is that first ride of the year that gives everyone the opportunity to start their bikes up and at least check off some of their maintenance concerns.
What it IS about is the connection between you and your bike. Its  the time to take notes and to arrange what it might need.  It is the time to plan ahead . Perhaps order parts and to take care of what may have been overlooked or that's been put off to have worked on.

Leaving the store after putting the groceries in the saddlebag I began thinking to myself…. Its not superstition to know your machine well enough to feel you are one with it. Your life and others depend on it. It’s a responsibility that shouldn't be taken lightly.

I enjoyed leaning into the turns but I was also saddened as I slowly pulled back into my driveway. I might have to wait a long time before there would be any decent warmer weather for a longer ride.

Pulling the motorcycle carefully back into it's resting place, I flipped out its side-stand, while quickly running through its shutdown procedure before stepping off it. After removing the groceries from the saddlebags I assessed the ride.

The first ride after the New Year is always magical if not memorable. The satisfaction of getting out there riding this early in the year made me feel as if there is a lot of hope and optimism for an even longer riding season.

“I had really enjoyed my ride and I knew I will have a tremendous year ahead of me.” I can’t remember when that it had gone any better. I was elated by the facts, my riding skills were still intact, and I was feeling even more confident, looking forward to the challenges of the New Year. .But more importantly, I will not have to worry about getting out a tool bag when the "Prime Riding Season"  comes, because my motorcycle will be ready to ride.

Best of luck to all of you on your, “Years First Ride”. According to mine, I’ll be out on the road trouble free this year, will you?

Thunder on the Prairie

Written by STIX DOUGLAS and S. Sydney

With the arrival of summer it is time to start planning my annual trek to the bikers’ Mecca in Sturgis, South Dakota.

My “Wise Guy” buddies Butch and Joe, and I will once again mount our bikes and ride to the Black Hills Rally and Races as we have for many years. In all this time we’ve also been keeping a secret about the place we stay at while we’re there; and that is about to change.

Anyone that has previously visited Sturgis knows of the many changes that have taken place over the years. Due to the increasing numbers of bikers flocking to the Rally, it has spread over a vast area. There is no way to be able to see and do everything during this time. It does however give you a good reason to return again the following year.

Tucked away like a little oasis in the desert just north of Sturgis, we’ve found Newell to be one of the most pleasant, and hospitable towns. A welcomed and wanted change to have a quiet place to go to rest, relax and unwind each night before returning to the swarming masses that congregate at the Rally each day.

Many “Sturgis Virgins” arriving at the Rally want to be a part of the action and remain immersed in the center of the crowds, the noise and excitement trying to absorb as much as they can of the hectic schedule of events at Sturgis. They may not appreciate what this town has to offer.

During Sturgis week in August this town takes on a new name: Thunder On The Prairie. They have added their own community events and offer a Bike Fest for those looking for alternate forms of entertainment away from the massive crowds with a more relaxed atmosphere. Here are some of the events taking place Rally week:

Sunday starting at 1:00 pm is Veterans Appreciation Day. Join the celebration as the community shows its appreciation to all of its Veterans and heroes. Get acquainted with the townsfolk while you, eat and enjoy live music performed on Main Street.

On Tuesday is one of last year’s most talked about events the annual Poker Run starting at Thunder on the Prairie Saloon on Main Street. Sign up begins at 1:00pm and the ride ends about 5:00pm.

You can try your hand at winning, and enjoy a ride that takes you back to the days of the wagon trains following routes that will lead you through some of the best sights the area has to offer.


Thursday is the “Bull Bash” at the rodeo grounds from 1:00 until 5:00pm. Where the local cowboys try their luck at staying aboard close to a ton of fighting fury for eight seconds. This is followed at 5:00pm by the Volunteer Fireman’s BBQ and Street Dance, you definitely don’t want to miss this event. Be sure to try some of the finest BBQ Buffalo prepared and served by their Volunteer Fire Department staff. You won’t go away hungry.

Of course you may find the locals entertaining as well. There is Karaoke every night at the Newell Hotel located just across Main Street from the Thunder On The Prairie Saloon, which has drink specials all week.

Change isn’t always good, and up until recently Newell has been a well kept secret. With its website and the news spreading about this town, the future events and participants will in all probability continue to grow in number. But what won’t change are the hospitality and the genuine sincerity of the people, and that is why we will continue to stay in this region on our annual pilgrimage.

For more information, follow the link Thunder on the Prairie and see what has been kept a secret; you will be glad that you did.

Pictures from the 14 States in 15 Days

My First Two Wheels

My family had just moved into a small rural town in Missouri called Dittmer.  I would be starting first grade later that fall. This was the summer when I came upon my first encounter with two wheels.
One day after we had moved in,I was very surprised to see several older neighborhood kids outside. They were riding their bicycles out on the gravel road in front of our house.
Being the new kid would be difficult enough. But being the new kid witout a bicycle made it even worse. They all were having a lot of fun. It didn't take long for me to know I was missing out.
Watching them riding their bikes fascinated me. I thought I could do that.  I was big enough. I should be able to go bike riding, too. Only thing was I didn't have a bicycle.
You could only imagine my utter disappointment when I rushed to my parents and asked them for a bicycle and was immediately turned down.
It really didn't matter that I didn't have a bicycle of my own. I didn't know how to ride one even if I had one.  But how could I learn to ride a bike if I didn't own one? None of the other kids trusted me or were willing to let me borrow theirs.
My parents might have had all of the best intentions. Our family was poor. It was explained to me that there just wasn't going to be any money for a bicycle. I was so frustrated.
Nothing could stop my imagination or keep me from thinking about it. On foot I knew I could only walk or run so fast, but if I had a bicycle I could virtually fly. Feeling the wind or breeze in your face has a certain magic to it. It inspires the imagination.
It wasn't so much about the speed, but the power to propel you from one destination to another. Having a bicycle meant  I could go places.
Seeing my dilemma, my mother who was a crafty and thrifty woman, came up with, an alternative idea. Just before my birthday she asked me if I might be happy with a used bike.
Perhaps there was a misconception between my mother and the neighbors thinking it was for her.
Maybe that was her original intention in the first place.
Sure enough when the time came I got the birthday surprise of my life. It was a bicycle alright but not just any bicycle it was one of the biggest and ugliest I had ever seen. It was very large, and powder blue in color, with 28 inch wheels but what was worse was the fact that it was a "Girls bike."

It looked something like this only much older and rusted.

It had come complete with a front wire basket, white handle  grips and streamers and even a rear luggage rack. At first I was shocked. Totally in disbelief, it was just so big, too big and it was a heavy monstrosity.
At first all I could do was push the bike around and occasionally I would bust my chin on the yoke of the handlebars. At other times I would straddle the frame and try to run before climbing on the pedals but the point of the seat would hit me in the middle of my back between my shoulder blades. Sometimes I would trip or fall and abruptly hit my tail bone on the frame or end up straddling it with my butt on the chain guard, and would end up scrapping my knees on the ground.
The longer and harder I tried the more painful it was becoming. I was beginning to think that it could only be ridden on flat surfaces like asphalted and on urban streets and there wasn't any of that out anywhere close. It just wasn't a bicycle that could easily be ridden on grass or on uneven gravel roads.
I went to my dad to plead my case for a different bike. His response was: “You wanted a bike you got one, now learn how to ride it.”
My sheer willpower was dwindling fast since I was becoming the laughing stock of the neighborhood.  No one else would have to go through this sort of humiliation. The harder I tried the more frustrated I was becoming.
My only female cousin Diane, who was several years older than I, had come out to stay for a visit. She had seen and overheard the other kids in the neighborhood poking fun at me and had decided to come to my aid.

Together with her help we removed the wire basket, the steamers and the rear luggage rack off the bicycle. Diane stood up and supported the bike while facing me. She held the front wheel tight between her legs and balanced it while telling me to grip the handlebars, and to climb on. and to put both feet on the pedals. Once I done that she held the bike still and then leaned it over from one side to the other while telling me to keep my balance.

Next we push the bike to the top of the front yard and then once or twice while she held one hand onto the handlebar and the other on the back of the seat she would run along side with me. By the third time she pushed off and let go and told me to pedal which I done.

Suddenly I realized I was riding the bike. It was hard to concentrate with a smile across my face. I was accomplishing what I had thought had been nearly impossible.Once I had coasted to near the bottom of the yard I would turn around. What I couldn't peddle I would have to get off and push the rest of the way.

With each trip I got a little more confident. It only took a few times and then it wasn't nearly as hard or as far to push the rest of the way back up the yard.

Next I would venture out onto the gravel road in front of our house. There was only a small area of level ground to ride on. Slowly and one by one the rest of the other neighbor hood kids came out to join me.
Because I had learned how to ride a bike, I felt triumphant, a little braver, and a lot more adventurous.