Perspiration and Inspiration....

One of my goals with the Matchless G9 project is to make use of items that I have sitting around the garage collecting dust.  I really want to challenge myself creatively by using what I have to build something interesting, attractive and authentic.  By authentic I mean in keeping with a period feel, a machine that wouldn't have looked out of place 50 or 60 years ago.

I am on a severe budget this time and have to think on the level of the home engineer or true shed builder.  The budget needs to go to essentials such as gaskets, valves, springs and guides, piston rings (I am hoping just rings)  Main bearing and connecting rod bearings.  I also need to do some powder coating which is more economical than paint.   New tires and tubes will be required, new chains and wiring harness and cables.   Not a cheap enterprise, however the more I can salvage for the build and the more I can do myself will help considerably.

At best this machine is a 'Bitsa' with frame, engine and gearbox all coming from different years and models which are mercifully compatible.  This can be a special with none of the guilt of ruining an original bike.  That being said, my 'No Chop'  policy will still be in effect.

Here is what I have done so far;

1- cleaned up and de-rusted the barrels, tool boxes and clutch basket.  These are ready for powder coating.  I plan on having the bores measured this week.

2- I have ordered some parts,  mostly beat up and well used, I am currently massaging them back into shape.

3- started removing the swing arm tube in order to take the assembly apart.  Lots of sweat involved along with heat and penetrating fluid.  I am about 50% of the way there.

4- Research. Hours poured into reading articles, forums and parts books.  This is the most work of all so far.



Here is a short list of items (off the top of my head and shelves) that I have pulled down that may finally see some use!

1- Bates Headlamp (5 inch?) chrome NOS 1960's  (bought in 2007)
2- Black pillion pad  (I can't remember where it came from or when!)
3- Sparto style Taillight (bought in 2008 for my Triumph, never mounted)
4- Generic steel rear fender (bought in 2007 for a future project)
5- BSA rear wheel- Came with the Matchless, decent shape
6- A10 Super Rocket Fork legs (acquired from Andy who I met and posted about a few years ago here:  Another one gone

7- BSA front wheel- Ebay purchase from a while ago (compatible with the forks I have)
8- 60's era Leonelli switchgear (bought from a bin at the Paris rally in 2013)
9- 1966 Triumph Bars (originals from the 1966 TR6R project bike, my Father bought a NOS replacement set)

10- universal fork gaitors
11-  NOS 1960's/1970's universal mirror
12- Ceriani and BSA top and bottom yokes (not sure if either will work)
13- Bates style solo seat with springs-  I bought this in a parts lot on Ebay a few years back.


Now onto the inspiration portion of the post.  I have been asking myself what I want from this build, what is the vision and does that vision tie into my aforementioned goal?

My tastes run a little on the conservative side, I am the first to admit that.  I believe that British motorcycles are the apex of style, elegance, power and sheer beauty.  These aesthetics, the foundation laid so many years ago are still being imitated by both manufacturers and builders around the globe.  I couldn't imagine pouring heart, soul and wallet into anything less or anything else on two wheels.  The pictures below, pilfered from many different websites are my inspirations for the project.  You will note the similarities, single seat, pillion pad stripped down and lean in appearance.

This one has a fantastic look, simple and elegant, I would forgo the scrambler bars.

This is a concept drawing (not done by me!)  I like the stance, tank and headlight.  swingarm and disc brake are too modern for me.

Lovely as this one is, I chose it primarily for the colour contrast.  Perhaps something bright other than black? I really like the rear mudguard as well.

Other than the rigid frame this one is close (single cylinder engine aside)

Out of all of them, this is my favourite overall.  With a couple tweaks from the other pictures this could be it!

Now to get in gear back at Motocode HQ!  This bike will not build itself.....

Farewell Daisy

* This entry was written and intended for publication in September of 2015.





I feel like a bastard today.

A deep sadness culminated this morning when I unloaded pieces of Daisy at the scrapyard.
Laying among discarded barbecues and beer caps,  I told myself she deserved much, much better.

Perhaps I should start with an introduction before I reach a Farewell.

I first saw Daisy in 1995 in all her faded almond green splendor.   She humbly sat, still bearing her English plates at the back of the driveway.  A 1969 Morris Minor imported in the early 1980's by my sister's best friend's Mother (did you follow all that?).

Daisy had been an integral part of the family fabric for years, both abroad and here in Canada.  Taking the girls to school, getting groceries,  a true member of the family.   As we know though, sometimes family members become ill and even worse, pass on.

I hadn't thought of her in quite a few years,  until I received a pop up message on Facebook from the owner.  She was selling her home and wanted my thoughts on what to do with her oldest friend.

She had been offered a paltry sum for Daisy, scrap value essentially which seemed a touch out of order.   I made arrangements to come by and visit, not sure what would await me in the backyard.

Sadly it was far worse than I remembered, the sills were rotted and the car couldn't be moved safely.

The only option I could offer was sell her for scrap or cut her up and salvage the valuable parts for sale.  The owner agreed and my father and I began a months long process (on weekends a couple of hours at a time) of cutting, (bleeding) salvaging and responding to ads posted for parts.

As Daisy became smaller and smaller each week, I felt worse and worse.  That sinking feeling that I was destroying something special, I even found myself apologizing to her aloud as I took angle grinder to her quivering frame.

When the rust was settled, I did sell on the engine, front grill, windows and several other bits with others remaining to be posted on Ebay.

As I stood in the scrapyard, unloading those pieces that no longer served purpose,  "Come Together" by the Beatles blasted from a stereo in the main building.  The irony wasn't lost on me as she was sent off to a song that very well could have played on her stereo when it was first turned on.

It seemed to me that another piece of history was dissapearing at my hand.  The fact that I couldn't have saved her, regardless of space and time constraints didn't seem to matter.  This cut deeper.  It was the active participation of destroying a small part of world that I recognized, that I knew and loved.  A simpler way of life or as I prefer to see it, a more honest life.

Daisy was built by men and women, real people earning a proper wage, feeding a western economy that has all but faded.  That meant something and it still should mean something, but it just doesn't seem to anymore.  She had tremendous charm and character, something else direly lacking from our modern roads (and world frankly).

The thought of melting her remains so she could become a tawdry, poorly made Chinese barbecue that someone will buy at Walmart horrifies me.

Those that know me, truly know me, might understand my obsession with all things old and wonderful.  Even then, there is a perception that I am a hoarder (despite my constant selling of goods).  It is an incredibly difficult thing to quantify;  There is no easy explanantion to the uninitiated.  I have said 'This is an important bike because....(fill in blank)'  more times than I can count to blank stares.

  If any one of them felt as I did when I let Daisy go, they would never ask me why again.  They would understand what it's like to let a little piece of magic slip away from our modern world.

Not the real Daisy, but exactly as she would have looked in her full splendour.

Another one gone...

The past weekend brought a rather odd and sad experience when I learned that a fellow Brit bike enthusiast had passed away.  The sad part is obvious of course, a man with a family and friends that loved him is no longer with us.  The odd part was that I didn't really know him, we only met once when I bought some parts from him.

Back in March, while cruising an online classified site I contacted a seller who had several interesting items for sale.  There was a Triumph wheel, an interesting headlight, some forks and tools, etc.  I didn't need all of it, but figured I would ask what he wanted for everything.  The seller responded with a very reasonable figure and arrangements were made for me to come down that weekend.  It was a pleasant weekend, no snow on the ground and quite sunny and warm for winter.  These types of deals and finds never seem to be in the city, only in the outer reaches.  Luckily for me I enjoy the chase, the adventure and the unknown.  On occasion I can even say that the journey itself was the sweetest part of the day. However, I digress.   I arrived at the house early in the afternoon and the seller met me at the door and shook my hand.  As he took me around, gathering up the pieces I had purchased, he revealed a cornucopia of old Brit Bikes and parts.  There was a gorgeous Tiger Cub, a beautiful BSA Goldstar, numerous twins and singles.  I sensed that he wasn't a well man and he mentioned health issues in passing.  I was asked what I did with the parts and I was honest about it;  I use them, sell them, trade them.  Truth is, I just love being around them.  Something I said must have struck a chord as he asked me what I was into.  I mentioned Triumph first, Matchless and BSA.  The Triumph stuff was off limits, but the Matchless gear was up for grabs.  I said I was interested and the seller stated it would be worth my while and to bring a bigger vehicle next time! That was fine with me, I told him to figure out what he wanted to sell, come up with a price and I would return at his convenience.  The call never came.  I casually sent an email to him, to see how he was doing and to let him know I was still interested.   The return email came from his widow who stated that he had passed in April after a brief battle with cancer.  It was mentioned that her son was handling all the items and that she remembered my visit.  I let her know that she could pass my details to her son, that if he was ready or when he could contact me.  

From the moment I responded to her I felt a strange sense of melancholy.  I couldn't put my finger on it, still can't.  I think it might have been that the man's passion was true to the very end.  On reflection, he must have been in tremendous discomfort when I came to visit.  Despite this devastating situation, he took the time to show me his work, his bikes, the collection that no doubt took a lifetime to build.  I wandered out to my garage and looked around, the shelves of items that were treasures to me, the stories that went with them.  Would they mean the same to someone else?  Would they be appreciated should something happen to me?  Will they live on for another generation to appreciate?  Perhaps I saw a future, more learned version of myself in him.  In the end, we can never own anything beautiful, merely be the curators until the next set of hands arrive for it.  I will share a picture I took of this gentleman's Cub that was taken with his permission.  It isn't much of a tribute, but it's all I have and I think it should be shared.