Meet the 1918 Harley-Davidson Model F, a motorcycle that predates television, the BBC, and sliced bread — but still manages to look like it could roar into town and cause a stir.
This particular example, finished in an elegant olive green with red lettering and cream pinstriping, is crossing the auction block at Mecum Indy this May. It’s a little slice of two-wheeled Americana, and yet, oddly enough, there’s a universal appeal to its mechanical honesty that even us Brits can’t help but admire.
Underneath the gloriously painted tank sits a 61 cubic inch V-twin engine — roughly 989cc in today’s money — with what Harley rather charmingly called an “inlet-over-exhaust” layout. That’s an old-school design where the intake valve sits above the exhaust, giving it the nickname “pocket valve.”
It was Harley’s way of making a twin that was both powerful and reasonably civilised, without getting too clever. And it worked. The Model F had around 15 horsepower on tap, which in 1918 terms made it a proper workhorse. Top speed? Just a smidge over 60mph, which was plenty when roads were more rutted than paved.
This machine didn’t just power Sunday rides — it served. Harley-Davidson shipped more than 20,000 motorcycles to the U.S. military during the First World War, and the Model F was among them. Built to take punishment, they were dispatched to the front lines for everything from courier duties to reconnaissance. It was, essentially, the Land Rover of the motorcycle world.
What sets this particular Model F apart is not just its heritage, but its condition and detail. It’s got a 3-speed manual gearbox operated via a tank-side shifter that looks and feels delightfully mechanical. There’s a sprung tan leather saddle, a springer front fork that does its best to soften the ride, and a kickstart with a bicycle-style pedal that adds a touch of vintage drama to every departure.
The footboards are Harley-Davidson stamped, the rims are colour-keyed to the tank, and even the exhaust — a 2-into-1 design with a cylindrical muffler tucked under the frame — seems to have been fitted with both function and flair in mind.
The bike also comes with period-correct documentation: instruction manual, service booklets, receipts, the lot. It’s the sort of thing collectors dream about and riders quietly envy.
There’s no mistaking it — this is a bike from a different time. A time when motorcycles were raw, involving, and unapologetically industrial. You didn’t just ride one — you understood it, coaxed it, and probably swore at it when it refused to start. But when it did, by thunder, it was an event.
So if you’re at Mecum Indy on 15th May and you hear a metallic clatter followed by the throaty rumble of a century-old V-twin, don’t be alarmed. It’s not an echo from the past—it’s just the Model F, reminding us that once upon a time, motorcycles were built with bolts, bravery and a bit of brass.