Have you heard of “Harley tax”? When a motorcyclist buys her iconic American two-wheeler, she is obliged to install free-flowing mufflers and a bigger jet on the carburettor to match. Some riders do it after the break-in period, some get the dealer to do it pre-delivery. Most enthusiasts consider this modification so central to the brand experience that it’s near mandatory, hence the use of the word ‘tax’.
The motorcycles come restricted for better fuel efficiency, and to meet noise and pollutant emissions standards. Removing factory restrictions is a time-honoured bit of automotive hacking — a word I deliberately choose since these changes usually render the vehicle illegal for street use. However the rewards are so great, and it’s enough of a grey area that the car-alarm-tripping burbling or blatting or yowling of free-flowing engines of various kinds are to be heard everywhere, even in California, where the restrictions are stricter than nearly anywhere else.
Loud pipes save lives
Motorcycles, much more than cars, are considered fair game for derestriction, and not just because there are far fewer of them. For a start, there’s the scofflaw expectation of the subculture. There’s the focus on performance, and the belief that “loud pipes save lives” (cars can better hear you coming, especially when performing the controversial act of lane splitting). And perhaps most importantly, when you sit astride an engine, and control its fuel flow with a hand rather than a leaden foot, you have an especially tactile and sensitive connection to its heartbeat.
Paying the Harley tax, on almost any motorcycle, results in a gain in power and volume certainly, but also the engine breathes better — revving faster and offering a much smoother and more even power delivery. These days of course, rejetting the carburettors has been replaced by remapping the data on the ECU or engine control unit. Or there are physical hacks that fool the ECU into behaving differently, by telling it the air temperature is lower than it actually is, for example.
On the whole, this transaction is well understood. The companies do what they have to do, which is to keep lawyers, governments and, sometimes, the public happy. It’s up to the enthusiasts to subvert these compliances. If the changes are minor, they may risk a ticket. But if they’re caught in a car that’s been heavily modified for street racing, their beloved vehicle is taken away by the police and crushed. Apparently they are required to watch the hydraulic press squash their dreams.
Audacious and foolish
So what happens when the very act of subversion is subverted? What happens when the modders, tweakers and stealth racers discover The Man has gone way beyond anything they dreamed of? You might guess what I’m referring to, and this article isn’t about the ethics or repercussions of the recent diesel debacle — there are plenty of other places to read about that. I simply want to comment on the sheer petrol-headedness of what [they]/[Volkswagen] did, and I mean that in a good and bad way.
For a giant company to do this is both so audacious and foolish, I’m torn between tipping my driving cap at them, or pointing and laughing and slapping my knee. I know the PR fight for diesel took decades in Europe and other parts of the world where diesel private cars are now common. It certainly must have been daunting to repeat it in the resolutely “gas”-centric US market. But to actually take “Harley tax” onto yourself, and tweak the ECU to behave differently at emissions testing? It’s what boy racers in modded Japanese cars get away with, and brag about on street racing forums.
Gautam Raja is a freelance journalist based in Los Angeles, USA.
