A Trace of Race.

This photo was taken after a long day Saturday (it's still hot) workin' on motors, helping with a panhead at the local H-D shop . . . buying supplies like shrink tube, wire ends, switches, running errands, etc.  All on this stroker digger with a backpack - strapped to my shoulders.  It reached speeds excess of 90mph for short bursts..  Gasoline sprayed on me from the cap (overfilled it, whoops).  When raw gas sprays on you - you feel like a real racer - Like Force or Garlits. It spits fuel from the carb sometimes - built with real race parts trying to run on the street.  Not always practical.
It started with 1 or 2 kicks every single time I needed it to run.  Most of the time with an audience.
I can kick start it - but, you probably can't.  It should really be started with a roller or hand starter.  It's a fun bike - but kinda dangerous.  It's like a snotty kid who teases you to "do it" - you want to screw it on and hear the pipes - that tone.  I always say "I should sell the stroker and then I could . . . "  But after a day like Saturday, you look at it - and say . . . F#$&'n aye.  Saturday was a good day.

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