My Panhead Nightmare Story
So I decided I finally wanted a Panhead Harley, right? Thought I knew bikes. Man, was I wrong. Didn’t check stuff right, bought a shiny pile of trouble straight off Craigslist. That mistake cost me months of weekends and thousands I didn’t have. Learned the hard way. Now, before I even think about cash, I force myself to do five things. Every. Single. Time.
The Five Checks I Learned the Painful Way
First thing I do now? I check the frame numbers. Not just a quick peek. I mean getting down with a rag and a flashlight. Wipe off decades of grime, oil, maybe some questionable paint. Why? My first supposed ’52 Panhead? Frame number belonged to a damn washing machine or something. Took a grumpy old DMV clerk to point it out. Instant paperweight. Legit? You’re good. Messy numbers? Run.
Next up, listen to it breathe. Not just revving it in the driveway. Make the seller not start it cold before I get there. Important! I see smoke right at startup? Doesn’t matter if it clears later. My wallet feels phantom pains. Used to think a little puff was okay. Nope. Oil smoke when cold screams worn rings or worse.
Third thing: the oil check death stare. I pull that dipstick out like I’m defusing a bomb. What am I looking for?
- Looks like frothy coffee? Coolant in the oil. Big problems.
- Little sparkly bits? Metal flakes dancing? Major engine trouble ahead.
- Smells burnt? Overheating issues. Been there, smelled that. Skip it.
Nice, clean, non-shiny oil? Golden. Anything weird? I walk.
Fourth one seems stupid simple: check under it while it’s running. Seriously, lay down like an idiot. Look for drips, seeps, streams. Panheads always leak a tiny bit. “They all do that!” True. But is it a few drops or an Exxon Valdez situation? My bad buy leaked gear oil and engine oil after 5 minutes. Big puddles = big repair bills.
Finally, I actually ride it, hard. Not just puttering around the block. Needs load. I head for a hill, open it up under stress. Feels hesitant? Knocking? Losing power? Transmission whining like it hates its job? Listen to the bike scream its problems at you. Smooth and strong under load? You might have a keeper.
Why I’m So Stubborn About This Now
After that first disaster bike, I swore never again. Then, couple years back, found one that passed all five checks. Felt solid. Paid good money. Took it out celebrating… first long ride. Going around a bend something just went CLUNK. Next thing I knew, I was sliding down asphalt.
Turns out, the frame had a hidden, rusted crack the seller had skillfully hidden. Passed my checks, but I hadn’t thought to practically sandpaper the damn frame looking for filler. Laid up for weeks, bike totaled. Wife went ballistic. Bills poured in. Thought seriously about just giving up bikes forever.
That’s the deal with old bikes. You can check things, you can be careful. Sometimes junk hides real good. Doesn’t mean the checks are worthless. Still do them. But now I factor in the risk before I hand over a dime. I sweat bullets until I’ve put 500 miles on it myself. Learned the hardest way possible that shiny paint and chrome hides everything. Now? Every mark, every leak, is a story. You gotta decide if you wanna pay to be part of it.
