THE STORY SO FAR
Last month we reported how Frenchmen Pierre Lauvergeat and Christophe de Goulaine spent 1300 hours restoring a 1917 WWI Harley 18J outfit, and then shipped it to the States. They planned to ride it 4700 miles across the country, paying tribute to the American soldiers who died while fighting to liberate France in World War I. But Pierre and Christophe were struck by a series of mechanical misfortunes and progress was slow. We pick up the story as the Harley – dubbed Bony – is finally fixed and our heroes set off on their epic journey.
The start of the journey had been tough – particularly for the 1917 Harley-davidson 18J. There were problems with incorrect pushrods, an overheating magneto, an erratic carburettor and slipping crankshaft gear. But with the problems fixed (mostly), the journey to Milwaukee could continue.
Despite a sustained pace of 95-190 miles per day, few problems arose except for a clutch that needed tightening, a steering damper (specially made from the frame of a
‘DESPITE A SUSTAINED PACE OF 95-190 MILES PER DAY, FEW PROBLEMS AROSE’
bicycle) unsoldered by the vibrations, a lost petrol auger for a cylinder (miraculously found by the side of the road), a misplaced spark plug pin and a wheel bearing fractured into two pieces. Just the odd bit of tinkering really. The newly-purchased back-up van also acted up and had to be towed to a garage for a new fuel pump. From Florida they headed through Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin. In 20 days, the crew crossed the vast forests of the south to reach the plains and massive wheat fields in the north.
Each day the routine was the same – after a night in a motel, Christophe and Pierre took turns riding the Harley and driving the van. Some stops were judged as essential: in Birmingham to visit to the Barber Museum, in Nashville to have some fun on Broadway with its abundance of bars and music, and in Indianapolis to check out the legendary race track. Some stopovers were more sober than others – especially in the dry counties where it’s impossible to even get a beer to quench your thirst after a day on the road.
The Harley returns to its birthplace
Obviously, the crew had to stop in Harley-davidson’s hometown of Milwaukee, and on Wednesday July 25,
2018 the duo parked their 18J outfit at the site of the Motor Company’s first ever workshop, on the shores of Lake Michigan. On arriving there, the 100-year-old machine had covered more than 1875 miles since landing in Mobile, Alabama.
Christophe knocked on the door of the shack (actually a recreation of the original) that dates from 1903: “Anyone there?” Ten minutes later, Bill Davidson arrived in person. “You’re here? Awesome! I’m overwhelmed. It’s really incredible what you’re doing”, exclaimed the great grandson of one of the founders of the grand old motorcycle marque. Naturally, Pierre and Christophe were touched that a genuine Davidson had come to see their Harley.
While in Milwaukee, Christophe and Pierre tried to find out more about the different carburettors used at the end of the 1910s and start of the 1920s, in the hope of changing the one on their bike that kept causing problems. With a few clues gathered, they moved on to the company’s headquarters – in the old historic factory, where Bony was built.
‘A CROWD OF WORKERS SURROUNDED BONY OUTSIDE THE HARLEY FACTORY’
After a tour of the main factory there was a crowd of engineers and workers surrounding Bony; word had spread and a throng had gathered to admire the machine that had returned from France a century after 18,000 18Js were sent over to the war in Europe.
A game of hide-and-seek with Route 66
Next the crew headed down along the Mississippi to pick up Route 66 to California. To gain a bit of time and enjoy the landscape, they headed off road – Pierre had finally succeeded in getting his GPS to work, which showed the most direct route was along farm tracks.
After this, Christophe’s future wife, Anaïs Auduc, took Pierre’s place as back-up driver. This turned the rest of the trip into a kind of strange pre-wedding honeymoon, with Christophe riding the 100-year-old Harley while his wife-to-be drove the van.
The first encounter with Route 66 took place in Lincoln, 150 miles south of Chicago – but it was a brief one, as the team soon forked off towards Kansas City to see its WWI museum. The reunion with the ‘mother road’ took place 250 miles further south, in Tulsa, Oklahoma. But from there it was a constant game of hide-and-seek with the original Route 66, because since the 1960s Interstate 40 has progressively replaced it and the old road has often fallen in to disrepair.
For two weeks the crew tried to follow the historic route, taking the Frontage Roads running parallel to the I-40, sometimes adventuring along dirt roads and making U-turns at the many dead ends – anything to avoid taking Bony (maximum speed: 40mph) onto a four-lane highway (average speed: 80mph).
The routine continued. Every morning before setting off, Christophe squirted a pipette of oil into the front suspension and onto the rockers. Because the second small gas tank had leaked since the start, only the main tank was used – this gave them a range of only about 30 miles, so they had to stop at least once an hour to fill up.
As the days passed, exhaustion started to set in. “The seat is well sprung, but the absence of any rear suspension means it’s not very comfortable. I can feel the slightest change in the road’s surface. But the soldier in 1918 who used the seat during the war suffered more than me, because he did not have the choice,” said Christophe philosophically. To avoid cramps, he sometimes rode sidesaddle with his right leg in the sidecar.
From western front to western landscapes
A few miles from Albuquerque, New Mexico, Bony suffered another breakdown. After so much off-roading,
the carburettor had swallowed too much dirt and was clogged. It was too late to repair it, so Christophe and Anaïs slept in the van. After the carburettor was cleaned out the next morning, the Harley was off to Albuquerque.
Here, after 3750 miles, Christophe and Anaïs decided it was time to assess the state of the 18J. The rear tyre was bald, the wheel was warped and a spoke broken. However, removing the air filter led to improve running: “She was breathing better, and the motor even seemed to decoke itself,” said Christophe. To give the air intake some protection, he screwed on a bath plug bought from a hardware store. Overall, Bony was bearing up well.
Soon the crew were travelling through a desert landscape that looked like a film set for a western movie with huge red mountains rising from the horizon. Route 66 wriggles alongside the Santa Fe Railroad, and the duo watched mile-long trains lumber across the plains.
In Arizona, the Harley chugged past sand dunes and dried-up lakes, in an area where service stations are few and far between. That made a stop at the Twin Arrows casino essential – especially as it offered a self-service buffet for $10, the cheapest meal of the journey so far.
Leaving Flagstaff towards Kingman, jackets were donned for the first time in months as temperatures dropped below 20°C – and there were disturbing signs from the motor. During oil changes, glistening reflections of metal filings suggested that the crankshaft bearings might be giving out. “The machine was tired and so was I,” says Christophe. “The initial aim was to take her all the way to Los Angeles, but she was starting to give up the ghost. The motor was making a suspicious noise and the back wheel was warped beyond repair.” Christophe put out an SOS on the Facebook page specialising in the Harley-davidson J models to see if someone could help him as they passed the Hoover Dam and carried on to Las Vegas. The 100-year-old Harley was going slower and slower as its engine’s internal problems got progressively worse. “Bony didn’t want to see the Pacific, she preferred to stay in Las Vegas”, says Anaïs. Eventually, the duo decided to call it a day rather than risk a catastrophic engine failure. “After 4680 miles, the adventure was over,” says a rueful Christophe. “We did not make it to Los Angeles, but in the end it’s not the destination that counts, but the journey.”