1968 Harley-Davidson XLCH Sportster
(Page 4 of 4)
January/February 2008
By Phillip Tooth
That peanut gas tank might contribute to the Sportster’s lean, mean look, but it holds an absurdly small 2.2gal, and I was gulping gas at the rate of a gallon every 42 miles. Make the most of the performance and after 75 miles you’d better be looking for a gas station. A peanut tank is for dudes who do their riding from pool hall to burger bar and back.
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That might be why Harley offered an optional 3.75gal tank. “But it sure was ugly,” says Carl. “We called it the turtle tank.” Some riders tried to increase gas mileage by fitting a 21 or 22 tooth gearbox sprocket in place of the stock 19 tooth piece. But then you lost the snappy acceleration, and that’s what the Sportster is all about.
After a day in the Poconos I was looking for my fourth gas station in 300 miles. It was dark, it had started to rain and had turned bitterly cold. Carl was leading the way back on his 1962 BSA Rocket Gold Star with its 5gal Eddie Dow aluminum race tank, and didn’t see me peel off the freeway and down the side road. After putting another round of go-juice in the tank, I threw my leg over the seat and gave it a kick. The engine fired but stopped instantly, so I kicked again. And again. And again. At least I was getting warm.
I was certain that with one more big kick it would go. That’s when the engine backfired, sending my leg up a damn sight quicker than I pushed it down and skinning my shin in the process. While sitting at the side of the pumps rubbing my leg just like my mummy used to when I was a toddler, I remembered Carl’s advice: With these bikes, even a hot engine likes a little choke.
Applying his knowledge, she fired up straight away and I charged down the freeway to the next diner, where Carl waved me in. I rolled up the leg of my Levis and showed him a full six inches of blood and gore. He gave a big belly laugh and said, “You really have had the full Sportster experience.” MC
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