Covid 19 project update and learning from my mistakes...

I am happy to report that things are moving along quite well with the BSA;

I had a couple of minor hiccups that have now been cured, mostly in the fork department.  I don't have photos, however the originals were in horrendous condition.  I could not get the cups off by any method available and had to do minor angle grinder surgery!  Getting the fork tubes out was managed on one of the lowers, however I gave up on the second one.  Luckily I found an appropriate set of lowers advertised as 'BSA Chopper forks' and won them for $30.00 USD on Ebay.

They arrived on Friday and I was able to clean them up and paint them by Sunday.  I used some JB Weld epoxy to fill in some gouges and rough sections on the chrome.

I  also decided to clean up the C11 mudguards with a wire wheel and cut off the bad/bent metal.  By definition, this makes the bike a 'bob job' or 'bobber'.   Being a seriously low budget build, I have to use what I have and buy as little as possible.   Fortunately for me these C11 parts can be very nicely adapted to do the job!

The cut down front mudguard.  I kept the remaining piece (just in case)

a P/O made some indentations for the forks (they were awful)

Front and Rear (rear is a 2-piece part)

The big parts pile did come with a rear hub with an extremely worn down sprocket.  These are not the bolt on variety and are riveted to the hub.  The only way to rectify this problem is to have the hub machined and a new sprocket welded on.  This tip was courtesy of the aforementioned Elder Statesman during my last visit.  Down the road for sure, but big dollars I simply don't have right now.   Cruising the CVMG classifieds, I saw a number of  Triumph Trophy 250 parts for sale/free from a member in Toronto.  I asked if he had a rear wheel , he did (sans brake plate and shoes) and was kind enough to send measurements.  I brought my rear frame and it was a lovely fit.  As it turns out, the wheel is actually from a BSA C15 or B40.  It has a giant 4.0 x 19 Dunlop trials tire (Made in England) that has probably been on it for 50 years.  He let me have it for the princely sum of $20.00 so I was extremely happy.  We chatted and he showed me his lovely Trophy that was having some teething problems, sadly I had little to offer in the way of help.  Thank you again Bruce for the lovely visit and the wheel!

I began looking for a brake plate and bought an incorrectly advertised one on Ebay.  Fortunately it was only $19.00 and arrived in a few days.  I was able to use a couple parts from it, so I decided to keep  it.  Another Britbike forum member came through with a nice plate for $15.00 plus shipping.

Needless to say this has been merciful to my budget thus far.  Not having access to my US mailbox, I had forgotten how brutal shipping costs to Canada are.  Hopefully things will return to normal soon.

Back to the wheel.

I mentioned the rather huge tire on the back.  A while ago I was given a NOS Pirelli MT53 tire that can be used on front or rear.  This tire is 3.5 x 19 and should work out a lot better.  That being said, that rear wheel does look rather good and  it was made for serious business!  It is just too big for this bike.

This BSA has been an excellent exercise so far and has allowed me to hone my new approach to building.  I am now organized and fit everything on before I start spending serious money.  I clean up and paint some parts such as the frame, but that would have had to be done anyway.  The Cub wheel incident was the last straw and a turning point in how I do things.  I keep the garage as clean as possible now and put tools back when they are no longer in use.  Sweeping at the end of the work day is now routine behavior.

If I can make what I have 'in stock' work, the time to find out is now, rather than assume it will work later.  That has caused me expense and heartache in the past and often left me buying parts I will likely never use.   When I bought the Matchless, I should have taken what I had and fitted it together from the start.  Instead, I started sending things out for blasting and powder coating before really knowing what the plan was.  As I look back on seven years worth of blog posts, I can see my pattern of failure.  Buy a project, get completely entrenched in it, spend money, get overwhelmed, lose interest and sell for a slight loss or break even sum.  While I have certainly made money here and there, that was never my goal. 

Seeing is truly believing and hindsight is what it is.  I can't change the past, but I can certainly change the future.

Until next Time.....

Ode to the BSA's I have owned (but never did anything with)...

With the BSA Covid project in full swing,  I thought I would take a trip down memory lane and revisit my rather checkered relationship with the marque.

First a little history.

My interest in vintage motorcycles began in the late 1980's but I didn't get the fever until a few years later.

The early 1990's gifted me with two memorable dalliances at the same time. One with the lovely Mary Jane and the other with the equally enchanting Miranda, the 1967 MG Midget.

Both were all too brief but left a lasting impression on me.  Being able to own and maintain a classic British car at the time wasn't feasible to say the least.  While I did have an MGB a decade later,  this may have been the path that truly led to bikes.


 I started with the 'The World of Motorcycles' progressing to several magazines on the subject such as Classic Bike and The Old Bike Journal.  I still have the very first issue of Classic Bike that I ever bought from the long gone Book Villa on King street in Hamilton.  It was August of 1994 with a buyer's guide included.

Once the magazines were in my hand, there was no turning back.  I had to have an old motorcycle and it had to be British.


Before the internet, bikes were a lot harder to find.  The only real resource was a thick, three part monthly classified newspaper called the 'Tri-Ad'.   The paper covered a fairly wide area and having no car at the time presented a multitude of challenges.

It was always exciting to flip through the vehicle section and see the listings.  Excitement however more often led to disappointment as the bike would be gone by the time you called or received a return call.

I will gloss over the many bikes I missed out on and get to the first that I remember looking at.

It was a 1968 or '69 BSA 250 Starfire like the one pictured.  The price was $600 dollars and it looked very clean and original.  There was some sort of issue with the piston and I was assured it was an easy fix.  I had the money (barely) and expressed interest.  I don't recall telling the buyer that it was a done deal or leaving a deposit of any kind.  Around this exact time one of the flatmates left, leaving my other flatmate and I short on utilities and rent.  I respectfully called the seller back to say that unfortunately I would be unable to buy the bike.  He did not take it well and proceeded to hurl a barrage of expletives at me.  I responded in kind and hung up on him.  This was the fall of 1995.

Fast forward to spring and I was on the hunt again.  This time I had more money saved, problem was there were no bikes.   I don't remember the how or the who involved but I was given a lead, a bike shop in Toronto called the Rocker Box.  The owner Doug gave me the number of another friend who had several projects for sale.  After admiring all his bikes, some of which I had only seen pictures of before I took the number and left.  The young lady I was seeing at the time had a van and was more than happy to make the hour plus drive with me.  I parted with $350.00 and came home with a 1964 BSA basket case B40.

Definitely not what I brought home!

I buggered about with it for a few months but really had no clue what I was doing.  The bike was certainly not complete which also caused some issues.  At this point I had an unquenchable thirst for a Triumph Twin from the 60's.  This time I was the guy in the Tri-Ad posting something for sale.  I sold the bike for what I paid for it and moved it on.  The fellow who bought it was a little strange and I was happy to see the tail end of him as he left the driveway.  One of those types that just had an awkward aura.  I remember rigorously washing my hands after the deal was done.   Several months later he called me to complain that the bike was not complete, inferring that I had somehow cheated him!  I reminded him that he inspected everything before purchasing and he paid what I paid.  I told him that should I find any B40 parts in my travels he would be the first to know.  That call has yet to be made.

I did get my Triumph twin, from the same fellow that sold me the B40.  It was retrieved with the same girl and the same van. I can remember that it took us a couple of hours to gather the parts from various sheds and a gigantic Quonset hut.  He must have had at least 300 motorcycles on the property.    The young lady had fallen asleep in the van passenger seat having made the drive after working the night before.  She received the shock of her life when his horse-sized great Dane jumped at the window and woke her up! 

  I have posted a picture of the Triumph before and will certainly gather my memories on that in a future post.  

Fast forward thirteen years or so to 2009.  The Tri-Ad was long gone and replaced with Kijiji and Craigslist.  I spotted a 60's BSA Lightning basket case for $600.00 and snapped it up.  I did very little with it other than order a gasket set and a couple of other parts.  The reason being that I was given a CB360 and I became the proud owner of a 2008 Triumph Scrambler named Katie.   I sat on the BSA for about six months before moving it on.  I had other things on the go and was thoroughly enjoying my shiny new bike at every opportunity.  

Not the exact bike, but pretty close.

Summer of 2018.  I had just sold the Beetle and my garage was looking empty.  Bills were paid and I had some money left over.  Enter Kijiji once again.  I spotted a C15 bundle for $800.00 (with ownership) and decide to jump on it.  The bikes were in rural Quebec and in retrospect I think it was more of an excuse to take a road trip.  I must have known that these wouldn't be kept as I chose not to write about it here.  I did get one rolling however and picked up a few bits and pieces.  They are sweet little bikes and have lots of potential.  I have seen many used as trials bikes, baby cafe bikes and in the case of one Craig Jones, bobbed.  This one was sold the following January to a retired enthusiast who I recently 'bumped' into on Facebook.  He is still working on it and making everything right.  

I should note that it wasn't until 2014 that I had access to a proper garage.  Prior to this I worked in alleyways, backyards, kitchens, apartments and basements.  I have also bought and sold at least a couple dozen 'other' bikes over the years as well. 

I do have a few pictures of this one.

Rather unbelievably, someone cut the front end off to use on a trike!

Last summer I paid a couple hundred dollars for a wrecked 1970 Starfire. When I got it, I realized very quickly it had been in a fire.  I had a picture, though I have no idea what happened to it.  This poor beast was shuffled on a scant month or so later for the amount that I paid for it.  "That is the end of BSA's and the end of impulse buys for me!"  I foolishly stated.

Never say Never.

Until next time!

Support your local Elder Statesman.....

 Elder Statesman:

noun-

an influential citizen, often a retired high official, whose advice is sought by government leaders.

any influential member of a company, group, etc., whose advice is respected.

About a month ago, I was having a somewhat miserable weekend.  Those of you who work on old bikes and cars will understand immediately.  It was the sort of of day where the best laid plans all unravel; Parts you thought would fit don't fit; that 'I only have one of these left' piece falls from the bench and shatters.  The sort of day that can cause one to lose faith and want to pack it all in. 

The frame had been freshly painted green for this mock up.

I was certainly the author of my own misfortune that day. Lacking a front wheel for the BSA project, I thought I could get away with fitting one from a Triumph Cub.  I found out (naturally) that the wheel spindle was too narrow for the forks.  Then I had a second 'brainwave'.  Take the narrower top and bottom C11 yokes from the big pile and mount the forks and wheel that way.

Perhaps I am being a bit hard on myself as the set up in the photos above looked acceptable.   I spent the day cleaning up the Cub wheel, grinding off rust with a wire wheel and filling pits with metal stick epoxy.  I then sanded everything smoothly, coated with rust paint and went to put on my 'golden boy' Shinko tire.  As a side note, I really like the look of these, I am told they are made from old Yokohama and Pirelli molds. 

Wouldn't you know it, the rim strips I ordered were 21" instead of 19!  Bugger, I thought however it was certainly not 'bugger'  which was said aloud!  I then proceeded to take some fabric tape off the shelf and wrapped it around the rim.  I mounted the tire and tube only to end up with not one, but two punctures.   After some further choice words, the tube was ripped from the tire and thrown in the bin.  I decided to soldier on and attempt to fit the wheel anyway.  I am not sure what prevented me from measuring this mess before I dug in.  Long story short, it was evident that this harebrained scheme would not come to fruition.   I left the garage to ponder my next move, which should have been obvious from the get go.  Call the local BSA man. 

I will admit that I am very hesitant to call up people and ask for parts or guidance.  I have a bad habit of assuming that I'm being a nuisance or that I am infringing on privacy.  The BSA man, who is in his eighties still rides and restores bikes.  When I first visited his garage my jaw nearly hit the floor looking at all of his spectacular builds.   He made a point to tell me that each bike was built from parts and few had matching numbers.  He was quietly proud of his work and rightfully so.  Rivet counters be damned!   He is also a member of my local branch of the vintage group and lives about 15 minutes away.  I called and left him a voicemail which he returned within an hour or so.  He had a correct wheel with decent tire for the paltry sum of $100.00.  

I looked forward to seeing him and much of my anxiety about being something of a bike building failure dissipated when I entered his shop.  I looked around a little and we chatted some.  He had no problem with me looking closely at his lovely '47 B31 and taking mental notes.  I let it slip that I had been having a frustrating time as of late.  Without missing a beat he said 'You've got too much stuff in that garage of yours.  You need to get the bikes on wheels and the rest will follow'.  Simple but sage words.  Not wanting to dither, I took my leave.  The BSA man's words ringing in my ears.  

I spent the next week and weekend purging the garage.  I gave away three tote bins worth of goods and gathered several bags of garbage, recyclables and hazardous waste to go to the local transfer station.  I moved things around and organized.  I swept and bought more little storage shelves for sundries.  I reorganized my solvent shelves and my tools.  I then looked at the 'new' workspace from the driveway in a state of disbelief.  

It was as if I had just moved to a new property, the difference was absolutely staggering.  Since then I have been able to find what I am looking for, I have been able to work and move freely as can the rest of the family.  

Those simple powerful words from the outside were exactly what I needed to hear. 

My advice to any reading this is to cast aside your ego and seek out those elder statesmen.  Listen and learn for you are not a nuisance; you are a torch bearer.  

My deepest thanks to the BSA man, I look forward to meeting with you again. 

Until next time..... 

Friday Inspiration.....

Brazenly stolen from  Legend Motors;  I hope that my Father's G11 is still out there and looks this good.....


Until next time...

The life of an Alvis apprentice, circa 1956...

While cleaning out my father's home late last year I felt incredibly lucky to discover these intact documents from six decades ago.  It gives one a very clear snapshot of not just the era but the expectations employers had of their apprentices.  This legally binding document, makes clear the position of the employer as master and apprentice as willing servant and keeper of secrets (and the faith).

It really is a beautiful document to hold, the high quality of the paper has not dried or faded in any way.  The wax seal and watermarked paper are also in impeccable shape.   Of course, I would expect nothing less from a company like Alvis, that produced some of the most beautiful luxury cars of the time.    That wasn't their only line however, they also produced aircraft engines and armored vehicles that are still in production.  Very recently the Alvis name has resurfaced in automotive production (on a small scale) crafting and recreating past classics.  I encourage you to peruse the site, if you are a car buff you will likely find it as inspiring as I do.

http://www.thealviscarcompany.co.uk/


I scanned the following document to the best of my ability;  The form is on the large side with rather deep creases in the center.  I will likely re-scan the middle section again,  For now, here it is.

While I had hoped to find more documents from my father's time at the factory, none have turned up yet.  I am, of course happy to be able to share this one with you.

Until next time....

Was I always this sentimental?

Yes, apparently I was.


It's funny how a memory or feeling can be triggered quite randomly;  for a moment you may even find yourself reliving it.

I live near a somewhat busy country highway, with homes staggered throughout.  On my drive to work this morning I spotted a house with a side lot being used for new Volkswagen storage. I imagine this is rented space for unsold stock from the dealer down the road.  While VW sales have been up on the whole (despite a series of scandals) they are certainly dwindling here in Canada. I was seriously interested in the Golf Diesel wagon until I read about all the fuel pump issues.

I am however, getting off track.

For some reason, as I drove by all those (probably unwanted) cars,  my mind drifted back to 1982.

I have spoken about Victor, our family car at the time in previous posts.  He was a cheerful 1969 red Beetle that my dad bought new, chosen by a narrow margin over an Austin 1100. Considering my father's level of patriotism and belief in the home product, it was a bit of a surprising purchase.

Even at a young age,  I always felt that Victor was a friend;  It was through his small rear windows that I first experienced the world outside of our home.  Being in the backseat almost exclusively, I was also the closest to his mechanical heart, beating reliably on every trip we took.  My favourite being the hour long drives to my grandparent's house in the country.

Victor was a very tough and determined little car;  I vividly remember the brutal winter storm of 1977 during which my sister was born.  The hospital was at the top of a tall escarpment, a 330ft climb from where we lived.  All that could be seen was the blinding white of blowing snow; the high winds repeatedly struck Victor's body as he held true to course.  As larger, more powerful vehicles laid helplessly by the way side, he carved his path and by God, nothing would get in his way!

We had many more memories and many, many good times over the next few years.  The most amusing incident being my father's absolute refusal to allow a bushel of Sauerkraut (the exact expletive laden slur directed at the Germans escapes me) in his car.  My mother was forced to pack it in the front with the spare tire.

Fast forward to the fall of 1982, sometime before Halloween.  It was a Tuesday and my father announced that he would be picking me up from Cubs.  I was strangely uneasy about this as he had never picked me up and we only lived a block away. (Unlike today's bubble wrap children, we actually walked everywhere, something I am quite proud of!)

I would point out that I didn't distrust my father in any way, however I couldn't escape an awful feeling that had grown in the pit of my stomach.  In retrospect this was an early example of instinct and to a lesser degree premonition that has been with me since.

It was rather cool that night as I stood outside the church alone.  I felt comforted when I heard Victor's distinct exhaust note coming around the corner.  My dad was somewhat ambiguous about where we were going, only that it was a surprise.  Was I being sent to military school?  were we moving? I really had no idea.  The drive to our destination seemed painfully slow, but we had arrived.

 It was a car dealership in the east end of the city.  I looked up and saw a strange word on the sign.  N-I S-S-A-N. I sounded this out to myself, unsure of what a Nissan was (Datsun were transitioning the brand at this point; some cars actually had both badges on them).

We got out of  Victor and walked over to a rather boring looking blue station wagon in a row of other boring station wagons.  Dad informed me that it was ours and he would be picking it up the next day.  'What about Victor?' I asked.  Dad explained that while our family had grown, Victor had not.  It was time for him to find a new home.

  Suddenly that awful feeling I had was justified, knowing that I would have to say goodbye to a good friend.  To my father's credit he was excited to have something new and wanted to include me in a traditional father-son experience.  To my credit, I asked lots of questions and attempted to bury my disappointment.  At least that's how I remember things.

Now that the Sentra had come home, Victor was relegated to the parking spot behind our backyard fence.  I would visit with him everyday, sometimes sitting inside and pretending to drive him away.  I worried that someone in the alley would steal him or smash a window.  Fortunately I could still see him from my bedroom.  When he was put up for sale, nobody wanted him.  On the one hand I felt badly for him and on the other,  I hoped we could keep him.

Beetles were garden variety in those days and plentiful.  Victor had one distinct advantage in that he was completely rust free due to a Ziebart treatment when new.  Eventually he was sold to the neighbour's son who bought it for his wife.  With fresh paint and a tune up, Victor was resplendent. That was my last memory of him and I cherish it.  Through a VIN search a few years ago  I discovered that he was sold again in 1985, the last time he was registered.  I'd like to think he is still being looked after by a caring owner.

My one remaining piece of Victor, as displayed on my garage cabinet. 

Is it wrong to love a car or motorcycle?  Not as far as I'm concerned. To choose to love anything or anyone is the noblest pursuit.  With the knowledge that all things must end, it is the bravest thing to be capable of.

As for the memories?  Hopefully the good ones live on forever.

Not the actual Victor, but identical.

Matchless G9 Engine strip down...

At long last!  Now that some family commitments have been attended to, I am able to get back on track with my many (read: many, many, many) projects.  I have been waiting a year and a half to tear into the bottom end of the G9 engine;  This should keep me busy until my friend can finish welding up the Beetle.

The Verdict?  So far things look very good!  The con rods are very clean and straight, with no nicks or scratches.  The crank bearings are very good as well and can likely be reused.  I was pleased that the oil pump turns freely and the bottom end was coated in a film of oil.  The engine was certainly rebuilt at some point as the 'sludge trap'  bolt has been removed and replaced several times.

 Matchless Twins lack a true Sludge trap, instead having passages that can be easily cleaned out periodically.  Despite having +80 over sized pistons, this engine was very carefully looked after.   A shame really that the rest of the bike didn't receive the same treatment and survive in the same fashion.  I am sure that some of it is in that big pile of parts, as for which ones?  That is a secret lost to time.

More to come!

Any time spent with King Dick is quality time.

As a side note, 'Krave' is probably not fit for human consumption.  I, However have no issue using the box to catch decades old oil drops.

New Tool!

I have wanted one of these for a long time, a good quality home built (Canadian) drill press.  

I lucked out and found this beauty for $50.00 from a retired machinist who lamented the lack of decent tools available these days.   I promised him that I would look after it and provide a good long term home.  After 41 years she runs smoothly, with lots of power and will likely outlive me! 

It feels good to use a tool that was built within 50 miles from my home, built within the community to a high standard.   I love finding British, Canadian and American tools and preserving them.

Boycott China.  Boycott garbage that is destroying our environment and piling up in our landfills.

Made in the west matters.  Keep your tools sharp and your neighbours working!  

Gay Paris ain't what it used to be....(CVMG Rally 2016)

Ah Paris in springtime! The sound of revving engines in your ears, the air perfumed with burning oil and ancient petrol.   I am of course referring to Paris, Ontario host to the annual CVMG rally.

I have to say that while there were some highlights this year, It was a bit of a let down from years gone by.   I should start by saying that I had been looking forward to the show for months on end.  I couldn't get the Friday off from work but made arrangements to go immediately afterwards with my family.  After an hour on the road, we were turned away at the gate.  I was shocked that vendors would choose to shut down at 5:00PM on Friday with the sun in the sky and 4 hours of daylight left.

Needless to say, this tainted the weekend experience for me and carried over to Saturday when my Father and I returned.   That being said,  my report may not be entirely balanced.

With that out of the way, let's start with the good.

Friends.  It was great to see some old faces and meet internet acquaintances face to face.  It was especially great to meet Carl from the Essex-Kent chapter and see his beautiful Matchless restoration.

Bikes.  Always a pleasure to see these old beauties restored or surviving in our modern world.  I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

Now for the bad.

  It seems to me that the grounds were much fuller in years past.  More bikes and people and much more variety.  While there was a British and Italian presence,  most of what I saw for sale was either Harley or vintage Japanese.   The Japanese bikes I did see for sale were overpriced in my opinion, with the exception of a 1975 Yamaha 2 stroke, 100cc in good original shape for $500.00.  I could be mistaken but a 1980's Honda scooter does not constitute a classic.  It certainly shouldn't have a price tag of over $1000.00.   I was crestfallen by the lack of British parts, far down from years past.

Either the stuff was all snatched up on the Friday or it just wasn't there to begin with.

I have to face the facts I guess.  As each year passes the cadre of British bike enthusiasts naturally falls victim to attrition due to old age, death and divorce.  While I do my best to keep things alive, I simply wasn't there in the golden years to see it all first hand.

My complaints aside,  I will return. Next year I will go on the Friday as tradition would dictate, get first in the gate and first to the goods.

Now for some pictures!

This bike was a real stunner!  I would guess that no expense was spared!

While this resembles a custom, this Spanish made machine was a factory race bike.

The Nimbus, a truly unusual machine...

Who can resist a Brough Superior?

This little CZ had a unique charm

I would have loved to hear this one run!

Ride or restore?  I would shine and ride it, not many of these left.

No words required here....

It looked to me like this was a barn find, unfortunately the owner was in talks to a potential buyer and I did not want to interrupt.

Humble, lovely and factory fresh.

I had to explain what this was to my father,  He said he never saw one on the road in England during the 40's-50's.

This Parilla looked even better in person.

Until next time!