That bike was introduced at the Indy mile and Roberts, while knowing Kell Carruthers was building the bike, had never actually seen the race ready edition. Carruthers, knowing its potential had placed a kill switch on the #3 cylinder to help slow the bike down in corners. Roberts rode the bike in the elimination events and made it to the 25 lap main. In that race, he had made his way through the pack and during the final laps was third behind Harley riders Jay Springsteen and Korky Keener. On the last lap and off the final turn Roberts cut the awesome power of the TZ750 loose as the crowd watched him blow by both Harley riders and take the checkered by a wheel. That was 1975 and also the end of the TZ750 flat tracker as the AMA along with the level headed Carruthers moved to ban the bike because it was felt any evolution in it's future production would surely kill someone. This of course was helped right along by Roberts himself stating he wouldn't ride the bike again. Why not? A bike that barely weighed 300 pounds and produced well in excess of 100 RWHP with one drum style rear brake should make every ride an adventure right? I think the AMA, Carruthers and Roberts were right on this one as safety has to come into play sooner as opposed to later.

 

Evel made it popular. He didn't invent it.

 

i belive it got famous when willie g brought out the the super glide in 71. that is why on the 35 th in 2007 had the number 1 on them.

 

I thought Al GORE invented it!!!

 

I witnessed the TZ750 in action at the '75 Indy Mile, and witnessed the history. This year at Indy Kenny did an interview and said that the top speed of that thing down the backstrech was 145 mph. It was an event to see for sure !!!!

Video of the Indy Mile 1975 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nj97m...eature=related

Below is http://www.superbikeplanet.com/dontpaymeenuff.htm


The Bike That Wouldn't Die
The original they-don't-pay-me enough-to-ride-that-thing-Kenny Roberts bike
by dean adams (1994)

Image by Mike Stuhler
It happens, oh, once or twice a year: the phone will ring at Kenny Roberts' house in Modesto and on the other end of the line will be a determined individual who through perseverance, good intentions or connections has obtained the King's private number.

"They'll say, 'Yeah, I have your old race bike.' Roberts explains, "It'll be an old dirt tracker or one of the many Yamaha roadracers. I'll ask them some specific questions, was the frame broken and re-welded many times by the swing arm pivot? Inevitably, after a few questions it becomes apparent that they don't have the bike I raced." Roberts and friends own most of the significant bikes he piloted. Save one.

So, it was with a callused cynicism that Roberts heard through the grapevine that someone out there had one of his old bikes. But not just any old bike. He claimed to have in his possession Kenny's famed Yamaha TZ750 dirt track machine, the bike that he won the Indy mile with in 1975, a bike that tried very hard to maim Roberts on several occasions. Ahhh, that bike.

For those readers without a degree in motorcycle racing history—or simply weren't born in '75—this is the encapsulated story: In 1975 Kenny Roberts was having a bear of a time trying to retain his number one plate because of a charge by a likable man by the name of Gary Scott and his potent factory Harley Davidson. In previous attempts at the championship, Roberts utilized the standard Yamaha four-stroke twin to run down the booming XR Harley. Run them down he did, winning multiple Grand National championships when the series contained both roadrace and dirt track events. However, that success was not carrying on into 1975, the tired design of the Yamaha (helped along by flowbench masters Jerry Branch and Tim Witham) began to show cords, and even The King in his early prime could not stop the advances of Scott and Harley. Bad luck followed Roberts as well that season, clutches that were once infallible roasted, chains snapped, wires loosened and fell off. It was obvious to all at Yamaha that it was time for a new machine.

Roberts, his personal craftsman Kel Carruthers and key personnel at Yamaha scoured the corners of their imagination to find something that would give them an edge. What they needed was horsepower, big power. Hence, a scheme was hatched: Roberts wanted horsepower let's give it to em'. Although none of them realized it at the time they would prepare a machine that would put the fear of God into the King and add an illustrious chapter to racing history.

Although there were grave reservations on many fronts when the details of the Kel Carruthers-built Yamaha became known, hesitance did not stop the principles from assembling one Doug Schwerma designed Champion dirt track frame, a leaned on Yamaha TZ700/750 engine (the very same one Roberts had won Laguna with previously that year) billowing one hundred plus horsepower on the dyno and one set of Goodyear dirt track tires. With these menacing ingredients they threw in the best fabrication skills of Kel Carruthers and flipped the puree switch on the blender. Interestingly, with the aforementioned parts in front of him, Carruthers assembled the machine in just five days.
Carruthers and company were not the first to see the potential of a Japanese multi-cylinder cradled in a dirt track frame.

(Although it is not generally known in present day, other riders had Yamaha TZ trackers before The King, including Rick Hocking, Steve Baker, Randy Cleek and the elder Skip Aksland, but these men were not Roberts neither were they assisted by Kel Carruthers so the results were marginal. Moreover, Erv Kanemoto built Kawasaki triple-powered machines for his riders: Gary Nixon, Don Castro and Scott Brelsford; Kanemoto Kawasakis were fairly successful, although not at the National level. The wound-tight Kawasaki, at least when compared with the brute force Yamaha, had a touch softer power curve and less horsepower. Too, it was time-consuming, Kanemoto recalls; the Kanemoto Racing triple shook so badly that Kanemoto made plenty of foot-trips to the track to find parts that had shaken off. He'd retrieve air filters and anything else not nailed on.)Oh, la-de-dah, isn't life grand at the front of the pack Jay? Yes, dear Corky, dreadful about our chum Roberts having such a bear of a time on that contraption ... say, what's that frightful noise?
The assumptions of this being a monster unleashed were confirmed once Carruthers stepped back from it in his shop. They realized that the Champion Yamaha was, in essence, over-kill, so much so that in the final races of the '75 season Carruthers affixed a kill-switch to the number three cylinder on the Yamaha. Roberts would push the switch on the entrance to corners, killing the spark to that cylinder in order to tame the wickedness of the machine.

In a late-night, pre-Indy phone call Carruthers asked Roberts how fast he wanted to go at Indy. "About one thirty should be enough," he estimated. Carruthers geared appropriately.

Roberts went to Indy without ever seeing the completed bike. Once he arrived the crew sat him on the seat and adjusted levers and the handlebars.

Before the bike took to the track many thought it too powerful and would not be able to obtain any traction. Roberts might have been one of these persons, but he won the first semi-final, putting his name on the grid sheet for the National and from there, the rest is history.

Harley teammates Jay Springsteen (then a just rookie) and Korky Keener initially led the twenty-five mile main event quite easily, playing grab-*** and spraying each other with dirt as the laps ran down to the black and white.

Oh, la-de-dah, isn't life grand at the front of the pack Jay? Yes, dear Corky, dreadful about our chum Roberts having such a bear of a time on that contraption ... say, what's that frightful noise?

Sensing a threat, Keener looked back—very late in the race—and saw Roberts doing his patented water through a screendoor drive through the pack. The shriek of the Roberts TZ750 struck a chord deep within Keener, he signaled Springsteen with a single index finger that Kenny, like death with a black robe and scythe, was coming for them.

Grab-*** time was officially over.

Current Team Roberts manager Chuck Aksland, then a lad of eleven, had begged his grandfather to bring him back east for this event as he knew it would be a scorcher. He was not disappointed, "I still remember seeing hay scattering in the air as Kenny came out of turn four. I still think it was among the best races I have ever seen, top three easy," he says today (1993)

Roberts used the high line to make his charge, essentially bouncing off the bales in making the corner transitions, shaping a crude rectangle out of the oval. With all that Carruthers horsepower he came for Springer and Keener; and on the last lap all three held throttles WFO down the straight, in a flash Roberts clawed by the Harley boys and onto the podium, his margin of victory about two feet at the line.

There are those that say this is the bike and the race that made Kenny Roberts an icon. From nearly a dead last start, Kenny had spun and slid his way to the win. On a bike some thought unridable.

To put this machine's horsepower into perspective for a younger enthusiast, piloting this it would not be unlike racing a modern big bore Suzuki fitted with nitrous-oxide injection—in six inches of water.

The Champion Yamaha 750 is and was considered the definitive unbridled motorcycle, so much so that Roberts, when he got off the bike after narrowly winning at Indy, spewed the immortal Roberts quote: "They don't pay me enough to ride that thing," he said.

Win yes, but live with it? For a season? No thanks. With the King in its saddle the Champion Yamaha never really tracked straight, spinning and hopping on the straights. It tried very hard to toss Roberts over the top and Roberts, truth be known, hated the bike with a passion he would only again have for Freddie Spencer. He raced it twice more after winning Indy, with less than spectacular results,


The AMA, with the help of level-headed Kel Carruthers, quicly moved to ban the bike and the formula that brought it into existence. The argument that if the machine was allowed to breed it would eventually kill someone won the sanctioning body over.

 

Though he didn't invent it... he was one helluva billboard with that logo. Twas back in the days when rider and driver celebs didn't have logos of every possible product plastered all over themselves.

So there was Evel jumping buses, fountains and all sorts of stuff in front of a 100 million viewers...an advertiser's dream... and he had two logos on himself: Harley and the American Flag... hoorah!!!

 

I got me a shirt with that logo on it at the museum...love that shirt. Don't know if it is ok to wear per the fashion police, but I still like it.

 

I can find absolutely nothing on the history of the logo itself. I do remember seeing it for the first time on the 1971 Superglide.

This is just speculation, on my part, but this also occurred during a time when Harley was trying to get more restrictions placed on japanese motorcycle imports. And, H-D at the time was the leading seller of large motorcycles in the world. So, I believe that the #1 logo represents that, and the red/white/blue scheme represents the USA, all due to the reasons I mentioned above. This was a big period in time where "buy American" was the rallying call of the day.

Evel Knievel jumped on the bandwagon because he loved the USA. But the #1 logo already existed on the bikes and clothing.

Also, don't forget, the bicentennial was just around the corner also.

 

I love that logo also, so much so I put it on my bike even though it was a lot of work.

 

Harley had on ly 13% of the market share at that time. Hardly #1.