Harley-Davidson nearly disappeared in the late 1960s. Sales were slipping, Japanese imports were flooding the market, and without a buyer the company was at risk of folding. American Machine and Foundry, then better known then for making bowling equipment and scuba gear, stepped in with cash and production capacity. By the mid-1970s, Harley was cranking out more than 70,000 motorcycles annually.
That sudden growth explains a lot about the AMF lineup. With pressure to fill showrooms, Harley tried just about everything. Italian-built two-strokes pitched as the best Harley-Davidson motorcycle for new riders, fiberglass styling experiments for cruisers, dirt bikes for the off-road boom, and even Bicentennial editions that leaned hard into 1970s Americana. The scale was new, the risks were big, and the results ranged from short-lived curiosities to outright legends like the XR 750.
However, the AMF years weren't just a survival story, they were the reason Harley had the reach and visibility to mount its comeback in the 1980s. The bikes built during this period tell that story, and together they form one of the most unpredictable lineups in Harley-Davidson's history.
Motonit - Vintage Cycle Garage/YouTube
The FX 1200 Super Glide wasn't a best-seller when it launched, but it may have been one of Harley's most important bikes of the era. This was the motorcycle that announced Willie G. Davidson as Harley's design voice, and it set the stage for how the company would style cruisers for the next half-century.
With a lean profile, stretched tank, and fiberglass boat-tail fender that looked ripped from a custom shop, the Super Glide felt more rebellious than anything else on Harley's showroom floor. It was built for riders who wanted the custom look without spending months with a hacksaw and welder in the garage. Even if the boat-tail proved polarizing and was dropped after a year, it signaled an important shift.
What really set the Super Glide apart was how it changed the buying equation. Before 1971, Harley riders often treated the showroom as just the starting point, customizing their bikes almost immediately. The FX 1200 was one of the first Harleys designed to skip that step, offering a finished look that directly referenced the custom scene.
When Harley unveiled the FXS Low Rider in mid-1977, it wasn't just a new model but a new mindset. Harley leaned into the custom-chopper craze by giving riders a factory-ready chopper silhouette complete with raked forks, drag-style bars, mag wheels, and a 27-inch seat height that made it both aggressive-looking and surprisingly approachable.
Mechanically, the formula relied on familiar pieces in the trusted 74-ci Shovelhead V-twin, chain primary, and twin shocks. Harley dressed the platform with upgrades. Dual front discs, a two-into-one slash-cut exhaust, and a stepped saddle gave the Low Rider a sense of purpose, performance, and package coherence the lineup had been lacking. In its first full year of production, the Low Rider became Harley's best-selling model by grabbing nearly 20% of all sales in 1978.
Deluxe engineering touches gave the Low Rider its character. The cast alloy wheels with raised-white-letter tires weren't just design trends, they were fundamental to the bike's lighter unsprung weight and a sharper feel on the road. Couple that with a 32° rake for straight-line confidence and you've got a bike that wasn't just a looker but also rode better than its silhouette suggested.
Riders first meeting the 1980 Tour Glide often pause at its unusual front end. The wide, frame-mounted fairing gives the bike a distinct profile, one that was unfamiliar in Harley showrooms and sparked debate about style versus function. Those who rode it found the handling steadier in crosswinds than the old fork-mounted batwing allowed, though plenty of traditionalists bristled at the departure.
The unusual front design hid a touring chassis unlike anything Harley had offered before. Engineers placed the Shovelhead in rubber mounts that softened the relentless vibration riders had long accepted as part of the experience, and they paired it with a five-speed transmission that let the motor settle into an easier rhythm at highway pace. Together these changes hinted at an approach to long-distance riding that was less about enduring the miles and more about smoothing them out.
Launching late in the AMF years, the Tour Glide carried the contradictions of its time. Harley was still criticized for uneven build quality, yet this model revealed a willingness to experiment with both design and engineering. The frame-mounted fairing first seen on the Tour Glide returned with the Road Glide in 1998, while the Street Glide later adopted the classic fork-mounted batwing fairing — a stylistic divide that still defines the Harley-Davidson Street Glide vs. Road Glide comparison today.
The SST 250 and SST 350 Sprint were Harley-Davidson's way of keeping pace with a market shifting toward lighter, sportier machines in the late 1970s. Built during the AMF years but rooted in Harley's Italian Aermacchi partnership, the SST line carried a distinctly European flavor. The bikes leaned on two-stroke singles rather than the big V-twins that defined the brand, making them accessible to younger riders and those looking for an entry point into motorcycling.
Both models featured simple visual markers — upright ergonomics, slim tanks, and straightforward controls — that reflected their role as approachable daily riders. The 250 made roughly 20 horsepower while the 350 pushed closer to 25, which were modest figures compared to Harley's heavyweight cruisers but well matched to their smaller frames.
More than horsepower, timing shaped the SSTs' place in Harley's history. They arrived when Japanese brands like Honda and Suzuki were dominating the small-displacement market, and Harley needed something in that space. While the SSTs never reached the same popularity, they demonstrated Harley's willingness under AMF to diversify its lineup, even if it meant stepping outside its traditional playbook.
Similarly, the SS 125 and SS 175 looked like scaled-down Harleys, but beneath the badges they carried Italian DNA. Developed through the company's Aermacchi partnership, they used lightweight two-stroke singles and chassis designs that felt more European than Milwaukee. Teardrop tanks, upright bars, and chrome finishes kept them recognizable, but their real identity leaned on Italian engineering.
That mix of American styling and foreign hardware shaped their role. With about 13 horsepower from the 125 and 17 from the 175, they were built to be approachable starter bikes that were easy to ride, affordable, and styled enough like Harley's big twins that beginners could feel part of the same family. In a decade when Japanese rivals were sweeping up new riders, the SS series gave Harley a much-needed entry point.
Today, these small-displacement Harleys are remembered less for their performance than for their rarity. Survivors are sought mainly by collectors of AMF-era machines or enthusiasts of oddball Harley history, and their Italian roots make them stand out in a lineup otherwise dominated by big American twins.
The XLCR is a bike that came straight from Willie G. Davidson's sketchpad. He pushed through a bike that was all black, low, and sharp, carrying only hints of Sportster lineage. In a lineup dominated by chrome cruisers and highway tourers, it stood out with its small fairing, elongated tank, and cast wheels.
Harley also fitted triple disc brakes, unique two-in-one exhaust, and lightweight wheels that suggested performance. On the road, though, the ironhead V-twin struggled to keep up with the image, putting out roughly 61 horsepower. It wasn't necessarily slow by Harley's standards, but it couldn't match the European café racers it drew inspiration from.
That gap left the XLCR in a strange place. Harley loyalists dismissed it, and the café crowd never bought in, so production ended after only about 3,200 units. These days, that short run and singular design have made it one of the most collectible AMF-era Harleys.
XLS Roadster came out of an era when Harley-Davidson was searching for footing under AMF ownership. Riders who wanted a Harley but didn't see themselves in fringed leather or tall bars suddenly had an option that looked closer to the European road bikes parked outside cafés. The XLS carried a peanut tank, a stepped seat, and blacked-out finishes that gave it a stripped-down stance, less showy than the cruisers but no less Harley.
On the road, it felt different with higher ground clearance and longer suspension travel made it livelier in corners, even if the Ironhead motor under the tank was the same heart beating in the rest of the Sportster family. The two-into-one exhaust gave the bike a sharper sound and look, setting it apart in a lineup that often blurred together.
The Roadster never became the mainstream face of the Sportster, but it marked a moment when Harley tried to meet changing tastes head-on. Instead of leaning harder into custom style, this AMF-era machine nodded toward riders who measured a bike by how it carved through traffic or how quickly it pulled away from a light. That makes the XLS less of an outlier and more of a clue about how adaptable the Sportster could be, even in Harley's most turbulent years.
Riders in the AMF years found the XLH and XLCH split along lines of personality as much as hardware. An XLH gave its owner the ease of an electric start and a touch more polish, while the XLCH made no concessions. Kick-starting its cast-iron V-twin was a ritual in itself, something that demanded patience and rewarded stubbornness once the engine finally awoke.
Life with either machine meant living with the Ironhead's moods. The throttle snapped open with excitement, yet long miles exposed why Harley-Davidsons vibrate so much, shaking bolts loose along the way. Breaker points demanded constant attention, and the smell of hot oil seemed stitched into every jacket.
Electronic ignition stripped away some of that ritual with a push of a button. Fewer roadside adjustments made the bikes easier to live with, but longtime XLCH riders sometimes missed the satisfaction of coaxing an unwilling motor to life. These Sportsters remained anything but smooth, yet each update layered a little more usability onto a machine that was always meant to be wrestled, ridden, and remembered.
When the AMA rewrote racing rules in 1969 to favor overhead-valve engines capped at 750cc, Harley's old KR flathead was instantly outclassed. To remain competitive, the company came up with a reworked Sportster-based motor sleeved down to meet the limit. Those early XR-750s, introduced in 1970, ran hot and fragile, but Harley stuck with them. In 1972, the switch to all-alloy top ends transformed the bike into the weapon flat-track riders still revere.
On the dirt ovals of the 1970s, AMF's Sportster-blooded racer became the winning formula. Riders like Jay Springsteen, Mert Lawwill, and later Scott Parker made the XR-750 almost unbeatable, carrying Harley to dominance in AMA Grand National racing. Its balance, tractability, and raw pull made it a favorite even as Japanese and British rivals faded.
The road-racing twin, the XRTT-750, used the same engine but wore full fairings and rearsets for pavement battles. It saw fewer wins – Harley never poured the same resources into road racing — but it gave privateers a competitive, American-built option in an era when British twins and emerging two-strokes ruled the grids.
Old Motorcycles - Robert/YouTube
The Rapido 125 and Baja 100 filled a corner of the AMF lineup that few riders would expect from Harley-Davidson. Instead of chasing commuters or racing prestige, these two machines went after young riders at a time when lightweight bikes were everywhere.
The Rapido, with its modest two-stroke single and oil-injection system, gave students and first-timers a bike they could ride to school without fumbling with premix or wrestling with size. Its chunkier tank and side covers hinted at Harley styling, but the ride itself was closer to the nimble 125s popular in Europe and Japan.
The Baja 100, meanwhile, was Harley's nod to the dirt-bike boom. High pipes, and long-travel suspension made it trail-ready, and its name tapped into the off-road mystique of the Baja 1000. Dealers often pitched it to teenagers moving up from minibikes, promising a Harley that could climb hills and bounce down fire roads. It wasn't built to topple motocross champions, but it gave the brand a presence in a growing part of the market.
Weekend camping trips in the mid-1970s often came with a new kind of gear in tow – a tiny Harley you could roll out of the family wagon. The X-90, with its folding handlebars, was sold less as a motorcycle than as a piece of vacation kit. Kids could ride around gravel lots and wooded trails while tents were pitched and coolers unpacked.
The Z-90 had appeared a little earlier with a more traditional look and a lightweight two-stroke that gave beginners a forgiving first ride. However, it was the X-90 that leaned into the minibike craze, packaged not just for riders but for families who wanted a playful machine that traveled easily.
Production was short for both models, yet the X-90 and Z-90 are remembered as reflecting a moment when even Harley-Davidson was shaped by leisure culture. They were portable, approachable, and built for the kind of fun that fit inside a station wagon.
In the 1970s, the Electra Glide wasn't just a touring bike for civilians, as it was also the backbone of many police fleets. The FLH-Police carried the same Shovelhead V-twin as its showroom counterpart, but outfitted with gear boxes, radios, crash bars, and siren kits that gave it a distinct silhouette on American streets. Departments from Los Angeles to small-town sheriff's offices kept ordering them through the AMF years, making the Police Glide one of Harley's most visible machines in daily use.
That visibility came at a time when Harley's reputation was under pressure. Japanese manufacturers had begun courting police contracts with smoother, more modern machines like the Kawasaki KZ1000P. AMF responded by keeping the Electra Glide Police in steady development: electrical upgrades improved reliability for radios and lights, and frame adjustments in the late '70s gave patrol bikes more stability under load. Even as quality-control gripes dogged Harley in other markets, the Police Glide managed to hold ground thanks to familiarity, dealer support, and the presence of the big V-twin.
Seen in the context of the AMF era, the FLH-Police represents both continuity and challenge. It kept the brand front and center in American policing, reinforcing the Harley-Davidson image of authority and tradition, even while competition closed in. For riders, the sight of a white-faired Electra Glide with flashing lights was as much a part of the 1970s landscape as the bikes parked in showrooms.
Paint schemes carried a surprising amount of weight in the mid-1970s. As Harley struggled under AMF ownership, patriotic branding became a tool to remind riders that the company was still tied to national identity. Dealers leaned into this with the 1976 Liberty Edition, rolling out red-white-and-blue striping and eagle emblems across several models. Gas caps even bore a commemorative medallion, turning what was essentially a decal package into a badge of loyalty to both Harley and the country.
Just a year later, a very different message appeared on showroom floors. Metallic gray paint and Confederate battle flag decals marked a short-lived Confederate Edition spread across five models. Unlike the Liberty Edition, which fit neatly into the national mood of the Bicentennial, this one felt out of step even in 1977, as revealed by Iron Horse magazine's investigation into these special edition bikes nearly 20 years later.
Both editions show how much Harley leaned on cultural symbols during the AMF era, sometimes to good effect and sometimes to miscalculated ends. Among collectors, Liberty models are prized for their patriotic detailing, whereas Confederate versions sit in a strange place, burdened by the symbols they carried.
.jpg){kind=link}