Resurrecting A Fake XR-1000

Resurrecting A Fake XR-1000

By: LDH

As you know, h-d has a rich

legacy of flat-track victories all across this country. As a youth of 12, I was fascinated to watch the sweet controlled sliding and was even more impressed to learn that many of the bikes did not even have brakes (compression on a real flat-tracker will slow it down perfectly well). So, I set out to build a street-tracker in the manner of old vintage XR-750s that brought about so many victories for H-D.

The donor bike was a sad affair indeed. It was a Craigslist special, and it came with the promise that “it ran fine when I drove it last.” To call this 1982 Ironhead Sportster a “basket-case” would have been stretching the truth, but it was a starting point.

After gathering the proper pieces from Phil Little Racing (fiberglass body parts, bull-horn bars, etc.), the first road test was carried out. Alas, it was smoking like a BBQ

grill and spewing oil from the flywheel timing port that blew out. A wine cork was shoved into that opening just to get it home.

Upon disassembly, one wristpin retainer clip had been omitted by whomever molested the engine last; the wristpin had migrated laterally and gouged a nice canal into the side of one bore whereby the jug literally had to be cut and chiseled away. Consequently, a full engine rebuild was performed by Dan Whitfield (Greensboro), a former test driver and instructor at Harley in PA. Jim Blair in High Point did the crank balancing, and Rob Faria in Thomasville was the wheelwright for 19-inch rims front and back. This is all known as ‘mission-creep’ or ‘budget-busting’ as many of us know.

The bike is not and never will be a flat-tracker. That kind of set-up is a whole lot different than this rig, having the original steering geometry. And it’s not really an XR either. It’s a barely legal street-tracker with tiny turn signals that can get you killed quickly. But it looks mighty fetchin,’ sounds wonderful, and does well at shows.

My favorite part is the occasional adventure in the dirt. At 65 years of age now, my bravery has waned, and I’m now terribly allergic to pain. Nonetheless, I will still throw it sideways; all it takes is a dare. “Hold my beer and watch this” !