1968 Harley-Davidson XLCH Sportster

By Phillip Tooth

Years produced: 1958-74
Total production: 4,900 (XLCH, 1968)
Claimed power: 50hp @ 6,300rpm
Top speed: 120mph
Engine type: 900cc (55ci) overhead valve, air-cooled 45-degree V-twin
Weight (wet): 205kg (452lbs)
Price then: $1,600
Price now: $4,900-$11,000
MPG: 40-50mpg (est.)

When Carl Fronk returned from his tour of duty in Vietnam in June 1968, the first thing on his mind wasn’t finding a job — it was finding a new Sportster.

“I walked into Chico’s Harley-Davidson in Trenton, N.J., which was right over the bridge from where I lived. I tried to cut a deal, but he wasn’t having any of it. But then he pointed to this XLCH and said I could have that for $25 off list price because nobody wanted an ugly green Sportster.

“It didn’t matter to me what color the bike was because I was going to take it home and paint it anyway,” says Carl. A week later, he was riding around on his shiny new black Sportster.

When Carl shipped out to Vietnam, he left behind a 1961 XLCH Sportster that he’d bought in 1963 with 900 miles on the clock, and used every day to ride to school. And two or three times a week, he’d have a blast at the local drags. He was 16 when he bought it, and Carl rode his Sportster until the day he got on the bus to boot camp at age 18. No wonder he dreamed about owning another Harley every day he was in Vietnam, and couldn’t wait to get his hands on a new one when he got back home 21 long months later — even if it turned out to be the ugly green one.

Blast from the past
It’s funny how things work out. A number of years back, Carl advertised for race bike parts in a motorcycle magazine. “I got a call from a fellow in Chattanooga, Tenn., and after finding out about the race parts, I asked him what else he had. That’s when he told me about this green, original paint 1968 Sportster. I told him, ‘jeez, I’d really like to buy that motorcycle,’ but he was an unwilling participant in the transaction.”

Carl telephoned the owner two or three times a year, and then in 1999, 17 years later, he got a call back. “He was a crusty old guy,” Carl says. “He said that his son was going to graduate school, and as he hadn’t done anything to help him through four years of college, he wanted to buy him a car. The green Sportster was for sale — but only if I bought all the other Sportster parts he had with it.

“I drove down to take a look and couldn’t believe the amount of junk he had in his loft,” Carl says. “There were five Sportsters, all in pieces. Seems he took them apart to stop anyone stealing them. I took a good look at the green Sportster to make sure it was all there before I parted with my money, but by that time, I was taking it home no matter what.”

It didn’t take Carl long to bolt the 1968 Sportster back together. But this time it wasn’t getting a coat of black paint. “Second time around, the ugly green color looks quite attractive,” he laughs.

Hard starter
The 1968 XLCH is probably the hardest of all Sportsters to start, thanks to the combination of a Tillotson carburetor and magneto ignition. A magneto will never give the same intensity spark at kickstart cranking speeds as a battery-and-coil ignition system, and because the Sportster is a long stroke engine, it takes some effort to spin it. And while the Tillotson has an accelerator pump so you can squirt gasoline straight into the throat, the venturi is so big the air just doesn’t travel fast enough at kickstart cranking speeds to atomize the fuel properly.

“Usually the motor will fire up, but it leans out immediately and cuts out. Using a touch of choke to narrow the venturi often helps even when the engine is warm,” advises Carl. Earlier Sportsters with magneto and the Linkhert carburetor are much easier to start because the venturi is smaller. “It seems to me that just about every ’67, ‘68 or ’69 Sportster you see has had the Tillotson swapped for an aftermarket carburetor,” Carl says. For 1970, the Sportster adopted a more standard coil ignition, and that made it easier to start, even with a Tillotson.

As with any bike, if you live with it long enough you’ll learn to love its little foibles and learn the knack to getting it going. It was a bitterly cold morning when I came to try out Carl’s ugly green Sportster, and the straight 50-weight oil Carl runs in it was sure to slow down spinning the flywheels of the long-stroke engine. But he’s not fazed: Carl knows how to start a 1968 Sportster on the first kick whatever the weather — you just need to modify your technique.

Turn on the gas and pull the choke, then crack the throttle open an eighth of an inch. Now take out your Leatherman and use the Phillips screwdriver to take off the chrome air filter cover. Squirt in some starter fluid, and with a gob-full of ether the Harley fires up on the first kick. Never fails.

Carl’s technique doesn’t end with starter fluid. Whatever the weather, he lays the bike over on the side stand and climbs up on the footpeg with his right foot. Then he puts his left foot on the kickstart pedal and leaps on it. “When I was in high school I weighed under 130lb, which is not very heavy. I used this technique because I could kick a Sportster straight through. Besides getting a longer swing, the kickstart mechanism disengages at the bottom of the stroke, so you never get a kickback.”

I was having none of that. When I swapped the BSA twin I was riding for the Sportster, I started it like every other bike in my garage by standing astride. Then we headed for the Pocono Mountains north of Carl’s home in Langhorne, Pa., outside of Philadelphia.

Riding the Sporty
The fat, smooth twistgrip — carried over from the K Model Harleys — doesn’t have a return spring because the piano wire cable acts as a push-pull control on the Tillotson and earlier Linkerts. The nice thing about this system is that the action is light and the twistgrip stays where you put it, but there is too much backlash in the throttle linkage design.

Compared to a Brit twin, the Sportster, with its tall engine with iron heads and barrels, feels top-heavy. But the big surprise is how well the XLCH handles. You really can hustle this bike through the curves — it might not be as good as a Norton or Triumph, but it must have been a revelation to anyone brought up on Harley’s Big Twins. The gear change action is slow, but the Sportster pushes out an honest 50hp at 6,300rpm at the back wheel. Horsepower equals speed while torque equals acceleration, and here’s where the Harley scores with a stump-pulling 48.8ft/lb at 5,000rpm. You don’t need to play tunes on the box to get a move on — the Sportster pulls hard from idle, and once you get into fourth gear you can stay there. Want to take that pickup truck before the double yellows? Just wind it on. Of course, if you want to really get a move on you can bang it down a gear, but the charm of a big V-twin is pulling power. Enjoy it.

Both brakes are 8in in diameter. The front is an impressive die-cast aluminum drum with linings 1.5in wide. You need good brakes to stop a 500lb motorcycle from 80mph, but most Harley riders seem to spend more on chrome accessories and loud pipes than sorting out the stoppers. Not Carl. He’s had new linings machined to match the drums, and they really will squeal rubber if you try too hard. But like most drum brakes they start to lose their bite after hard use, and then you really appreciate the engine braking that comes free with every big V-twin.

Another big surprise is how smooth the engine feels — it is much smoother than the 1966 BSA Spitfire MkII or 1968 Bonnie that Carl also has in his garage. The XLCH pulls like a train all the way past 100mph, and you can even hit 120mph if you hide behind the clocks and grab the left fork stanchion with one hand. At 60mph the Sportster is spinning at a lazy 3,500rpm. You could ride this bike all day long at 80mph — except for one little problem.

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.

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