Old tools have an age-worn oil-rubbed torque-nicked patina to them that makes them the best tool to have in the hand for the job. An energy of mechanics past glows from their softened edges; but hard true faces ready to bite a bolthead or twist a nut free lies in wait.
This collection of BSA wrenches look ready for action! Rust requiring an oily hand with intent and a vintage motorcycle project replete with Whitworth fastenings gets underway
Don’t engines look good? Here’s a bevy of fine examples of British Iron that were spied up at Morrie’s last Saturday. BSA Goldie, Norton Commando, AJS 31 Hurricane, BSA Rocket 3.
Any would look good in a garage or more importantly under a twisted throttle on the open road.
The clutch slotted into place easily this evening with primary chain and crankshaft sprocket also slotted onto its splines. New friction plates and springs should give the clutch refreshed bite. I bolted the cover on and dropped the cylinder head temporarily into place to get a feel of the engine as a complete unit. “Lookin’ Good Billy Ray” “Feelin’ Good Louis!”
The pieces fit together as planned; well, mostly. That is what the soft blow hammer is for, to encourage the required mating of the Cub engine components.
Today the case halves were reunited again with enclosed crankshaft. Chilled bearings were driven home, oil seals installed and the main gear spindle with drive sprocket, and the weighty big-end threaded correctly to its bushing, then the cases buttoned up with a smear of liquid gasket and nine peripheral bolts tightened in the workshop manual recommended ‘star’ tightening pattern.
Timing side pinion bolted directly to the crank, tappets slid up to their home and the timing cams and gear meshed according to marks.
I’m on a roll! Cylinder studs threaded down into the lower, piston aligned with gudgeon pin and circlip retainers popped in. Barrel dropped into place minding that the piston rings seat between the piston and barrel wall itself.
That’s enough for today! It all sounds like it went easily together but I don’t explain some removal, adjusting clearances, reassembling – repeat.. For a few of the steps.
Engine assembly truly beginning today; the cylinder head had the valves installed: their respective springs compressed and collets popped in. Rocker spindles threaded with the arms set, covers and carburettor studs and exhaust sleeve screwed in. “Over ‘ere son; on the ‘ead!”
T’is the weekend and it’s time to hare down the A23 to the seaside. The pebbly beach fronted promenade is the place to be seen and Madeira Drive the strip to drag up and down. How low are those ‘bars?
Yesterdays jaunt was certainly a good ‘feather-winded’ trip to loosen overwintering riding skills as well as the bikes awakening leg-stretching. One electrical fault from a hibernating gremlin who had decided to sabotage the negative wire at the fuse. A quick roadside repair and an engine fires up again.
TALE OF THE GREMLINS
This is the tale of the Gremlins
Told by the P.R.U.
The incredible tale of the Gremlins
But believe me, you slobs, it’s true.
When you’re seven miles up in the heavens,
(That’s a hell of a lonely spot)
And it’s fifty degrees below zero
Which isn’t exactly hot.
When you’re frozen blue like your Spitfire
And you’re scared a Mosquito pink,
When you’re thousands of miles from nowhere
And there’s nothing below but the drink
It’s then you will see the Gremlins,
Green and gamboge and gold,
Male and female and neuter
Gremlins both young and old.
It’s no good trying to dodge them,
The lessons you learned on the Link
Won’t help you evade a Gremlin,
Though you boost and you dive and you fink.
White ones will wiggle your wingtips,
Male ones will muddle your maps,
Green ones will guzzle your Glycol,
Females will flutter your flaps.
Pink ones will perch on your perspex,
And dance pirouettes on your prop;
There’s a spherical, middle-aged Gremlin
who’ll spin on your stick like a top.
They’ll freeze up your camera shutters,
They’ll bite through your aileron wires,
They’ll bend and they’ll break and they’ll batter,
They’ll insert toasting forks in your tyres.
That is the tale of the Gremlins,
Told by the P.R.U.,
(P)retty (R)uddy (U)nlikely to many
But fact, none the less, to the few.
Perfect spring weather allowed a good spin on the bikes, up through Lake County and back along the North Shore. Lunch stop in Zion for some delicious blueberry pancake’s with sausage links on the side.
Washed down with endless fresh coffee.
Sunny? Oh yes! It was a sunglasses sky aloft…warm air blew through my unzippered jacket vents.
A couple gaze adoringly at a possible new two-up ride. The shiny moto peers back at them coolly knowing they’ll undoubtedly make the purchase. This magazine cover has the typical B&W with color printing of the time for uncomplicated presentation. Nearly newspaper like.
Laid out on manilla sheet. Here’s the timing side and gearbox innards placed apart like some dissection tableau. More akin to a jigsaw now. I need to read up on the correct order of reassembly.
I decided to bring the Bonnie out of hibernation today. Well a little paw around the block and stretch if the kegs down to the Lake. I did have to fit a new battery carrier too. And some gremlins had decided to take residence over the brutal winter in its electrics. A main lead from The battery had a hidden wire disconnect. Once that was sorted she fired right up a settled quickly into a heart beat.
The fog enveloped the lakefront in atmospheric style.
She ran like a champ. A few dropped gears, but I had the wrong boots on to engage stoutly. I do need to change gear oil though.
Like yesterdays image; but better, ‘cos it’s mine!
Roll on Spring!
Even from behind the old ponies look fab! This is a Royal Signal Corps steed, ready for the off. Spirited stunts anyone?
By mid-week sometimes I don’t know if I’m coming or going: this chap certainly does though! Reading a motorcycling periodical at the same time too. Hope he doesn’t hit that hump!
“Protective headgear sir?” “A Bowler Sir! It’s the hat that won The West would you know!”
Carrowdore 1957; 17 Bertie Mann Triumph Cub, 43 Tommy Robb James.
Old action photographs can show so much more than their content. This field race has a pair of lightweight motos but NOT lightweight racers haring around with speed blurred spectators behind. Summer fun in Blighty!
Rebuilding the forks this weekend! Tubing, bushes, seals, springs, bolts ‘n’ all: it’s all about oil management under compression. We need to absorb bumps and jostles on the lane so the hand grips aren’t wrenched out of your control. The new stanchions and recently powder coated lower legs will give it a nice appearance. But I’ll be putting bellow’d boots over the shiny bits to stop mud ingress to the all too precious seal.
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