Chapter 10. Where did it all start?

An interlude into my motorcycling past as I try to gain a lap or two with my rebuild over the blog.

Marge, as I said before, is now separated into her component parts, with some final fettling going on, and painting started. The frame is at three levels of condition. The main frame looks like new, and the only work I needed to do was to tighten up the lower head race, which was a sliding fit – i.e. it slid out when I took the forks off. I recall a conversation with Ian Dabney where we discussed various ways of fixing this. I have in the end, after considering special techniques, such as metal spraying, machining a new race, etc. resorted to the tried and tested method using a strip of old beer can. It has the additional advantage that you also get to buy some more beer. Other than that, it was a thoroughly scientific process and feels quite solid.

Both the rear subframe sections are pitted, the left hand being far worse than the right. I suspect they have been acquired from different sources, one in a pond. Probably the best method to fill the pitting is with braze, as was used on the Vincent that appeared in a Bonhams sale a couple of years ago and recently featured in Classic Bike – fully restored. Having seen it in unrestored its almost unbelievable that they could bring it back to the condition shown. In my case however there were no holes in the BSA’s tubes and really only surface pitting. On the poor section I have used an etch primer and filler spray, then rubbed it back down to the bare metal, just leaving the pits filled.

After a lot of consultation, and partly based on my own experience I have gone for using Hammerite Smooth black spray straight onto the metal of the frame. I’m not a fan of powder coating and have usually used etch primer, ordinary primer then sprayed enamel for the main frame. I find it gives a good tough finish, does not form a difficult edge around bolt holes and is easily repairable later on. On a few occasions I have used smooth Hammerite spray for a swing arm and its always come out well, so being a vintage bike I’ve decided to do the whole frame this time. We’ll see if it works, but the first parts completed look just fine – thanks again to Perry for his advice.

 

I knew at some stage in the blog I would catch up with work on the ground, so I thought I would otherwise pass the time with a little bit about my motorcycling history.

The reasons we all got into motorcycling are many and varied. What has even surprised me is the passion, if that’s not too strong a word, that I still feel for it, as I’m sure many do – there must be deep roots. My father was a motorcyclist and overall experienced driver; during the Second World War he served as both a despatch rider in the Middle East and a petrol lorry driver, arguing these were somehow less dangerous occupations. I can remember when I was very young that he would come home for lunch on his motorbike and for a treat give my brother or me a lift up and down the road sitting on the petrol tank – there was that distinctive aroma of oil and I can remember it being quite hot down below. As was common he had a home-made sidecar attached, sufficient to carry my grandmother, my twin brother and myself, with Mum on the back of the bike. We don’t have a picture fully loaded up but obviously stopped for a photo-opportunity one day at Outwood Mill, my brother and I sitting on his Norton.

It was no doubt typical of the time that Dad shuttled between having a decent bike (he also had an Ariel Red Hunter) or a wreck of a car, but eventually we ended up with just a car, although he kept an NSU Quickly for getting to and from work. I can recall at least one occasion where it had caught fire coming up Sanderstead Hill – a pattern emerging here – I guess he didn’t hang about. Mum and Dad also used to watch the bike racing at Brands Hatch when it was a grass circuit and we carried on with that tradition, helped by our neighbour who worked for Esso and could get us paddock passes. The earliest that we can remember going is when we were seven years old, 1962. Once we were lucky enough to see Mike Hailwood on the Honda Six, standing right next to him in the paddock, that must have been a few years later. I can also remember Bill Ivy, I guess on the Yamaha V4, with Dad pointing out that you knew exactly where he was on the circuit. We also saw the Hutchinson 100, run in an anti-clockwise direction.

Growing up as kids we only ever had second-hand push bikes and the nearest we got to a motorcycle was buying a rusty old BSA Winged Wheel from a jumble sale. We hoped to put the engine into an old bike frame, we had even worked out the chain runs, and be able to join the lads riding around the gravel pits between Chelsham and Tatsfield. The engine was unfortunately seized absolutely solid and that venture came to nothing. Then, whilst we were still at school, our Dad gave his car, an old Austin A40. This wasn’t particularly an act of generosity as the front suspension had failed, so he gave us a couple of kingpins and suggested we ask the retired auto-mechanic over the road to help us. Nevertheless, we got it running and somehow kept it on the road; using the grant we would have got for our bus fare to school, pocket money from Saturday jobs and charging schoolmates for a lift home. We ran it on a shoe-string, scavenging parts like tyres from scrap-cars and even recycling engine oil.

It was only when we left school and got jobs that we could think about a bike. My brother started with a Honda 125, then moved onto a brilliant BSA B25 Starfire. He is in fact just rebuilding a US import – a journey back to his past. I can remember as he rode south from Sanderstead you could here him change down for the green at Warlingham 2 miles away – it was loud. 

BSA B25 Starfire

I started with a Honda 50, mainly so I could get to the parts shop if the car was out of action. It must have been hilarious as between them my mates had a Triumph 650, a Suzuki 380GT and a BMW boxer. I could just about keep up with them on a Saturday lunchtime as we went down Titsey Hill on our weekly trip to the Bell in Oxted, but it was a different story on the way back. I managed to pick up a Honda CB250 from a guy I worked with at Hawkers in Kingston, but despite what they said in Classic Bike a few months ago it was quite the worst bike I’ve ever ridden. Handling was atrocious – the frame felt like a tin tray flexing – and to get flat out in top I had to change down a gear to get past a hole in the power curve, rev the nuts off it and hope it would pull top when I changed back up. Happily I sold it for £50 more than I had paid and for just the cost of a rattle can and some contact breakers.

By then I was equally into cars and bikes, variously having an old Mini, a great little 1965 Austin Healey Sprite Mk3 and eventually a 2.5 litre 1972 Triumph TR6. Along this journey with my mates one of our number built what was referred to then as a Model T Hot Rod, basically a steel ladder type chassis with a fibreglass replica body. We went to pick up the 3.8 litre straight-six 6 Jaguar engine from someone out in the countryside. He had a beautiful Norton Dominator Café racer, so while my friend was pouring over the Jag engine he let me ride this up and down his drive – it was a long drive – and I was hooked. I never managed to find one as good and settled on getting a Norton Commando.

Eventually I found one in the small ads, from a guy over in Mitcham. In those days it was quite normal to test ride a bike as the pillion passenger, and this is what we did. We set off and rode sedately round Mitcham Green, which was fine, so I leaned over his shoulder and said, “OK let’s see how it really goes”. With that he dropped down a couple of gears and opened the throttle. We literally took off over a humpback bride – both wheels - and landed with an almighty thump. He then tore round the local roundabouts and I can remember my training shoes screeching on the tarmac as I tried to get my feet tucked on. Eventually I managed to scream “I’ll buy it - I’ll buy it” and the deal was done. That was 1978 and I still have my beautiful, incredible Norton 750 Commando.

When I started going out with Jane we began to take some photographs, so here’s one from that Royal Wedding Trip I referred to some way back, in Honfleur, Normandy, 29^th July 1981, as we were about to hightail it off for the return ferry. Looking resplendent in my Lookwell Leathers, tank bag and panniers, Jane just about to jump back on.

I guess life intervened at that point with a family on the way, although Jane did buy me a course at the Brands Hatch Racing School in 1985, “to get it out of my system”, but actually it just fired my passion more. Time and money however became the limiting factor.

The Norton got rebuilt – more than once - in the intervening years and now has lots of modifications to make it my “go-to” bike, it looks near enough standard but has improved handling and is - touch wood - more reliable. It’s the one bike I would never get rid of – in fact either my son or daughter will have it after me.

Fast forward a few years – there’s a Harley, and I think a Ducati, in there somewhere – and we get to the point when I have a bit more time and just as much enthusiasm. I saw one of the Brooklands Motorcycle days advertised and was thrilled to see that you could take on the test hill. I managed to sign all the necessary paperwork just about in time and we were ready to go. It’s not racing but a great opportunity to have a blast on an old bike. I had as many runs as I was allowed and by the end of the session the Norton had that wonderful mist of hot oil around the engine. Some of you guys let me park it in the paddock, and that gave me the opportunity for another photo op, in front of the P1127 Harrier prototype – for me a nice link to my first job at Hawkers - and a promise of things to come.

 

Not a lot on Marge this week, but I’m getting there slow and steady, so hopefully more next time.

Keep well and stay safe

Gareth