Wreckless Erik

He was going to build his own bikes come hell or high water – and that he achieved. Erik Buell threw engineering conservatism to the wind and although his fortunes fluctuated, his huge reputation endures.

- Phil West

Like all mavericks, Erik Buell has never walked the easiest or most sensible path. As an up-and-coming racer he once had to borrow money from rivals just to get home after a meeting – he’d gambled on prize money covering it – and lost.

In his private life, after two divorces, he married his first teenage love – Tish (who’d left him three decades earlier when he refused to quit the track).

But it’s with his left-field motorcycling creations – first in racing, then with Harley-powered street sportsters and, finally, with a homegrown American superbike – that Buell’s reputation will ultimately rest.

All, in many ways, were brilliant. And yet, particularly with the benefit of hindsight, all were also flawed. Yet together they leave a legacy of an innovative and brave ‘David’ taking on a corporate, establishment ‘Goliath’ that demands nothing but outright admiration.

Born the day after April Fool’s Day in 1950, Buell grew up on a Pennsylvania farm. In his late 20s, besotted with bikes, he worked days as a motorcycle mechanic, nights studying for an engineering degree and at weekends he raced – first on a Ducati in AMA Superbikes then, aboard a TZ750, in Formula 1. After graduating in 1979, Erik promptly flew to Milwaukee, talked himself into a job at Harley-Davidson and ended up working on both the radical but stillborn ‘Nova’ V4 and on the chassis development of the excellent FXR, with rubber-mounted engine.