Clean- sheet design

The Milwaukee-eight is the ninth Big Twin in Harley’s history. It respects that history while looking to the future, says chief powertrain engineer Alex Bozmoski, who led the development team. “While respecting the essential Big Twin character, we’ve created an all-new motor. Every aspect of performance, durability and styling has been improved as a direct response to the voice of Harley-davidson customers around the world.”

The engine retains the brand’s familiar power characteristic, he says: “Strong low-end torque with a broad, flat power curve through the midrange that’s ideal for the touring motorcycle rider.”

The Milwaukee-eight engine produces up to 11 per cent more torque than previous models and yet is more economical. Although starting with a clean sheet, Harley-davidson clearly saw no good reason to deviate from the classic 45-degree V-twin cylinder angle, at least. Its four-valve cylinder heads offer 50 per cent more intake and exhaust flow capacity and it’s counter-balanced to cancel 75 per cent of primary vibration at idle. Improved heat management strategy makes for better rider and passenger comfort, too.

Milwaukee-eight engines will be offered in two displacements and three variations: 107 (1 745 cm3), Twin-cooled Milwaukee-eight 107 featuring liquid-cooled cylinder heads and Twin-cooled 114 (1 870 cm3). Screamin’ Eagle performance boosts range from muffler and intake upgrades to comprehensive Stage I, II, III and IV kits. PM

EBEN HORTON SLIDES open the door of his workshop’s furnace. He is greeted with a low roar and a blast of dry heat to his face as he pushes a 137-centimetre stainless-steel blowpipe into the waiting crucible. Working at a seemingly casual pace that accompanies his familiarity with an ancient trade, he sweeps the pipe through the barrel-deep reservoir and scoops up several millilitres of liquefied glass. At just on 1 100 degrees, this lemonsize dollop of molten glass, known as a gather, emanates orange light.

At his workstation, Horton rests the blowpipe’s midsection on a metal arm. With his left hand he slowly spins the pipe, causing the molten gob at its end to rotate within a wet, wooden shaping tool, called a block, which he holds in his right. Steam hisses and rises as the tools and motion combine to work the malleable glass into a centred sphere. Satisfied, Horton puts the pipe’s opposite end to his mouth. And then, with a measured puff, he blows. After a brief delay, the gather expands like a bubble of lava. It is now the size of a large apple, and ready for the work ahead.

Horton, 42, has been an artisanal glassblower ever since he apprenticed in a shop 27 years ago. Today he is working on the second round of a design process driven by an unusual resurrection: the glass minnow trap.

Glass minnow traps, which date back to at least the 19th century, were once a minor staple of the American fishing scene, and formerly bore many trade names – among them Orvis, Acme, Shakespeare, Mcswain and Joy. In a common design, one end of a jar-like glass vessel was shaped like a funnel leading inside to a main chamber. The other end bore a larger hole, which was closed off with a lid or a cork stopper. Once bait (bread, crackers, pet food, ground fish) was inserted and the apparatus submerged in a body of water, the trap assumed the role of a transparent fish weir. Its plumes of scent would draw fish to the glass entrance funnel, through which they would unwittingly pass inside. A trap owner could submerge the device a few hours, retrieve it, remove the stopper or lid, and shake out the live catch into a bucket.

For all their merits, the traps faded from the scene after World War II, done in by mass production and cheaper replacements. These days, commercially available minnow traps are almost all made of wire or plastic. Surviving glass traps from the earlier era are mostly relegated to the collector scene, more likely to decorate a cottage mantel than to be used as designed. This is a small shame.

Where I live and work, in coastal New England, live saltwater baitfish are a coveted commodity. And although wire mesh and plastic traps do catch them (as do cast nets and seines, all in their turn), my sons and I have found that wire traps quickly clog with algae, weeds and other aquatic gunk, especially in warmer seasons, and become less effective and difficult to clean. We wanted to try glass, but we couldn’t find them. Instead we found Horton, who for 16 years has operated his glassworks, the