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Editorial motorcycles

Harley Street Bob vs door frame

How do you get a Harley-Davidson Street Bob through a door frame that is too small? Editor Rolf Henniges has found a way – right through. Video and description can be found here:

E.s are not a dream size: 78-190-24. But I have to live with that. Most have 80-200-0. Which would be much better in my case. No stop! 110-200-0 would be great. You can’t imagine how?

They are door dimensions. The standard door is 200 centimeters high, 80 wide and ideally stepless. The door in question is 78 centimeters wide and 190 high. Before you can get through it into the courtyard, you have to climb a step 24 centimeters high. That doesn’t exactly sound like something to write about, I know. Wait.

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Such a purchase is like being in love

If only I had measured it again! But that’s the way it is with love. Saw the fat girl, drove her and bought her. Such a purchase is like being in love. One is blind. You do things that you shouldn’t do. So it happened that I first bought my Harley Street Bob and then thought about where it should be. It’s kind of like building a house first and then digging the basement underneath. I don’t have a garage. And rent one where I live? For the coal you get a whole house in Northern Germany. But there was an old storage room next to my little workshop. "If you can get in there, you can use the room as a garage," said my landlord. The corresponding door is 95 centimeters wide.

Means that the 305-kilo chunk has to enter through two doors. And out again through two doors. I already suspect that this will by no means be easy while measuring the Harley Street Bob at the dealership: the handlebars are 101 centimeters wide from the clutch to the brake lever. Oh whatever. I used to drive enduro races. At that time the machines also had to go through a narrow door. Nothing like it, beautify the floor of the room and make a ramp. One that can handle six hundred pounds of Harley and 70 pounds of human.

It couldn’t be more stupid!

Weeks later the good piece stands stamping and rumbling in the yard and lures the neighbors out of their houses. “Well,” says the first and looks disdainfully at my self-built ramp, “if that holds up!” The second grumbles: “You might get the machine in there. But definitely never out again. "And the third:" There is hardly any better theft protection. Nobody steals your Harley because nobody gets it out unnoticed. "

Admittedly, after the machine was parked in its warm parking lot for the first time, the door was missing a molding. And the frame was wounded, as if it had been worked on by a mad dog. In the course of the following weeks, the door injuries decreased and the time required to exit a parking space was reduced drastically.

Meanwhile I have the matter under control. Ready to go within three minutes. What sounds succinct requires skilful maneuvering. Because the dry parking lot is not a “dead end”, but a passage room with a total of three doors that the Harley may not block. First, the Harley Street Bob needs to be rotated 90 degrees. Pushing back and forth five times, steering lightly. Then circle through the first door. Fold up the footrests, off-center with the front wheel, fold down, pull the rear. Take a deep breath. 305 kilos of American steel are waiting to be pushed over the step. Again: push the front wheel out of the center, turn the handlebars and …


Lots of displacement for the small living space. Front wheel outside, rear wheel inside – start quickly and off you go.

Yes, exactly: and! Window paste. It can hardly be more stupid. There you sit in the saddle of the machine, the front of which is filled with sunlight, while the rear is still in the room. You’re standing crooked, the handlebars turned. I can’t get my feet on the ground at the same time – 680 millimeters seat height, wide saddle, 24 centimeters step. The handlebars crooked, the legs in suspension. Every time I stay in this position for a short time, I think of Peter, the neighbor above me. When the Harley paid and I was aware of the doors and the step, I rang his bell. "You, Peter, I bought a Harley, it’s so heavy that I can’t push it through the door alone." Peter looked suspicious: "Aha! And now I’m supposed to help push out every time you go for a stroll, or what?" I looked at the floor and answered: "No, I just wanted to tell you that I will start the machine in the room so that I can drive out." How good that Peter is hard of hearing. The sound of my bob leaves nothing to be desired.

OKAY. In the end, it is a last, flowing movement that consists of clicking into the gear, carefully engaging the clutch, turning the handlebars, wriggling out of the door and starting off. The last time we wanted to go somewhere quickly, my son Paul stood by and said: "Dad, why don’t you just buy another handlebar?"

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