Shovel top end on an ironhead bottom. Light flywheels + cubic inches = fun. Sounds good too:

 

Look Excellent... work??? OK... No Aluminum Heads sound like Iron heads... period!!
Don't run with em Either.... None on the National Circuit I was on could Anyway!!!
Want to OOOze cool.... think 45Magnum!!!!! Iron all around, and a Real Performance Improvement!!!

 

So it makes 37HP instead of 28?

 

everyone was young and almost living in the bike shop actually some were and sometimes they were alive enough to be watch dogs - iron sporty and 45 stuff was in piles we even had a Indian pile of 15 bikes one on top of the other - take off pan and knuckle stuff filled 4 garages 12 X18 city alley stuff built in the 20s of original parts before it all went into 40 yard dumpsters to make the shop bigger

more unpaid hands looking to make some cash and having talents - so creating something that could sell right guy was the thought and it was all free to do and the time to do it in the shop i hung out at that had the equipment and plenty of stray homeless chicks

hungry - cold - what i had on - and only a bike for transportation in winter — scooter trash was the term - loved every second of it then would not trade that experience for nothing

 

We're not talking about the stone age here when everything was free, today money could be better spent than building a 45 magnum and hoping for "performance"

 

I like the stories of the old days

 

Bit of perspective maybe, all the crazy, tweaky off the wall stuff guys came up back when chasing a few extra ponies draw a direct line to today's performance gains an enhancements. Making crazy horsepower now is pretty cut & dried but when you get down to it it's soulless as take out from the fast chinese place at the run down strip mall. Anybody and everybody can drop the cash, get a kit and do it, all the funs been drained out of it with these newer machines.

 

I'll tell you one.

Back in 1979 a group of us were heading up north to a National Chopper Club Rally. I was riding a 1969 Triumph Trophy, another dude was on a fairly new Triumph Trident, Karl was on a Hardtail 500 Triumph Chopper, Punka had a BSA 650 twin and Rob had 2-year old Ironhead with 4 inch over forks and a mad paintjob.

Halfway there Karl's sissy bar bolts snapped and his rear fender (which was the only thing keeping his girlfriend's butt off the tyre) pivoted backwards and the seat retaining bolt cut a new groove in his 5.10 x 16 rear tyre (back in the day that was a FAT tyre). So we pulled over and as I rode a Triumph I always carried a toolkit and a bunch of spare bolts. We crossed the central reservation so we could go back to a safe place for repairs a 1/4 mile down the road.

Just as we got there a cop turned up and tried to write us all tickets for crossing the centre line and doing a U Turn on a dual carriageway. There were more of us than him and he wisely decided that what we did was forgivable in the circumstances.

We sorted the sissy bar out with some of my spare bolts and headed back up north.

An hour later Rob signaled from his Ironhead that he needed to pull over urgently and I used some more bolts to fix his front fender strut back on and secure his number plate...we had no way of fixing his defunct speedo and then it started to rain.

We got to the rally and drank ourselves stupid for a coupla days and then headed home. Rob needed another bolt to fix his chainguard back on and we had to fix a broken throttle cable on the Trident...we never did find where the horn went....

Then Punka ran out of gas because he never, ever filled his tank up....bastard thing held 5 gallons but it was rarely filled to over halfway. So, I tried to drain some gas out of my Triumph into a condom (I had been told they held a gallon) but gas dissolves condoms and so that was a bad idea and back then you couldn't buy bottled water so we had to ferret around in the ditches until we found an old glass bottle, which was filthy so I pissed in it to wash it out and then put a couple of bottles of gas out of my triumph into the BSA so we could get to a gas station and there I had to lend Karl my last few bucks as he was low on oil and was broke as usual.

Apart from a mirror coming loose on Karl's chopper (there went my last spare bolt) we got home without further incident and I realised that I had not used any of my tools or spares on my Triumph.

I was broke, filthy and tired but that was what life was like in the good old days when just getting somewhere was an achievement and getting back was a bonus.

 

Double post...

 

Hi end cuisine in the ghetto was gas station sushi back then in the city