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Make | Model | Year | CC | Cylinder | ||||||||||
Ace | Sporting Solo | 1923 | 1260 | 4 | ||||||||||
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Ace Sporting Solo, 1260cc 1923. | ||||||||||||||
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Make | Model | Year | CC | Cylinder | ||||||||
Borin | onbekend | 1920 | 600 | 1 | ||||||||
Description | ||||||||||||
Borin ca.1920 600 cc side valve single frame# 5658 engine# 403 | ||||||||||||
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This month
Belgian Grand Prix
- August 1921
GA Strange pauses at his pit during the 1921 Belgian Grand Prix, held at Spa. The works James rider was to go on to finish in fourth place, an impressive result in a high-quality field. Winner of the 500cc class was Hubert Hassall on his side-valve single cylinder Norton, with second and third respectively the Indian side-valve single-mounted pair of Bert Le Vack and Freddie Dixon.
By 1921, there was an array of machinery racing at the highest level in the half-litre class. There was of course the well-developed, reliable and quick British side-valve singles, exampled by particularly the Sunbeams and Nortons. There was a side-valve single for Indian too (basically the back half of a V-twin) though overhead valves were becoming in vogue, with the 350cc AJSs displaying breathtaking speed, while Triumph was hedging its bets, running four-valve ohv models and two-valve side-valvers alongside one another.
James, Douglas, ABC and Scott were among those makers campaigning twin-cylinder machinery, albeit in different guises. The Douglas and ABC were fore-and-aft four-stroke twins while the Scott, of course, displayed another philosophy entirely. The two-stroke, water-cooled two-speed machines were unlike anything else and had enjoyed success in the preceding few years.
James’ twin was a much more conventional machine. Using a V-twin engine with a capacity of 495cc, the James was actually somewhat of a dated design by 1921, it having appeared in the Greet firm’s range in 1914 in pretty much the same specification it was now offered. What’s more, James made a point of racing what was on sale to the public, a fact noted in The Motor Cycle in mid-June 1921, in a report on TT practice: “The 3½hp James machines, which, by the way, are the standard type as sold to the public for several years past, seem to have excellent acceleration powers.” Unfortunately, however great those powers of acceleration, they couldn’t help Strange or his team-mates Listone and Stobart in the race proper – in the event, of the trio only Strange finished in a lowly 21st (of 24) having suffered three crashes on the final circuit, all caused by punctures.
Sensationally (and famously) winner of the 1921 Senior TT was Howard Davies, riding his 350cc AJS, and actually using the same engine he’d employed to finish runner-up in the Junior TT. Second and third were the 500cc side-valve Indians of Freddie Dixon and Bert le Vack. Triumph’s Freddie Edmond, on a two-valve side-valve, set fastest laps of the race but was one of several high-profile non-finishers – other fancied runners who failed to see the chequered flag included Tommy de le Hay (Sunbeam), Victor Horsman, Graham Walker, (both Norton), Charles Sgonina, George Shemans (both four-valve Triumphs) and Clarrie Wood (Scott), as well as the entire – and expensively assembled – BSA team, while the beaten finishers included Alec Bennett (Sunbeam, fourth and a leader earlier on, but riding injured and tiring fast) and George Dance (Sunbeam, another earlier leader who finished seventh after a hefty fall and the loss of his bottom two gears with three laps to go).
So, to Belgium and the third of the International races of the season (the TT was the first, the second was the French GP, won by Bennett on a Sunbeam). There was a strong British contingent in Belgium and early on there was a breakaway group of eight riders, led by Edmond on the side-valve Triumph and containing Hassall, Walker and local man Breslau (all Norton), Le Vack, Dixon (both Indian), Shemans, Sgonina (ohv Triumphs) and Strange, on the James. Gradually, the field diminished and it was down to a British versus American battle; Hassall kept the Norton going, winning from the Indians of Le Vack and Dixon and fourth, Strange. Fifth and sixth were another pair of British machines, a pair of ABCs ridden by Claessens and Perrin.
James was never a company particularly entrenched in racing, with the best ever TT result Pollock’s 17th in the 1914 Senior. A 500cc V-twin featured in the James range for many years, being introduced in 1913. Post-WWI the model reappeared, where it was joined by a 662cc version, which was uprated to 750cc but failed to see the end of the 1920s. A 500cc ohv V-twin was added in 1929 – and very handsome it was too. The V-twins continued until 1935 when at season’s end they, along with all the other four-strokes in the range, were dropped. Strange, who rode a range of machines in TTs that befitted his name, achieved a 10th place finish in the 1923 Junior TT on an OK-Supreme, and also competed in the Island on a Beardmore Precision and a Sheffield Henderson.
Royal Enfield star, 1952 winner Johnny Brittain, was to finish third.
This month
The 1953 Scottish Six Days Trial
The 1953 Scottish Six Days Trial (SSDT) was expected to be a battle not only between the top riders but also the main manufacturers too. Riders of the calibre of Johnny Brittain, Hugh Viney, Gordon Jackson, John Draper, Artie Ratcliffe, Bob Ray, Jeff Smith, Brian Martin and David Tye were among those who lined up at the start, riding a variety of machinery from the leading manufacturers, with the wares of AMC, BSA, Royal Enfield and Ariel supplying motorcycles for the real ‘top men.’
Pre-event, the two favourites were the two Johns, Draper and Brittain. The pair – riding BSA and Royal Enfield respectively – came into the ‘Scottish’ as favourites on account of being the two men on the national scene in the richest vein of form. Added to that, Brittain had won the event in 1952 so it was understandable the pair were expected to challenge for overall honours.
However, if they’d discounted veteran Hugh Viney, they’d done so at their peril. Viney started off in fine form and maintained it, winning the event outright for the fourth time (he was the winner in 1947, 48 and 49). Riding his rigid-framed 350cc AJS, Viney held off young team-mate Gordon Jackson and won by three marks. Opined The Motor Cycle; “His (Viney’s) win was well merited, since he led the trial from start to finish and rode faultlessly, as only he can, throughout the entire six days.”
Johnny Brittain, on the 350cc Royal Enfield springer, had to be content with third, with Draper (500cc BSA) coming in fifth, the pair split by Ariel man WSG ‘Nipper’ Parsons. Sixth was Bob Ray (500cc Ariel), seventh GE Broadbent (350cc Royal Enfield), eighth Artie Ratcliffe (350cc Matchless), ninth HR Kemp (200cc James) and 10th youngster Jeff Smith (500cc BSA). With the exception of 1959 winner Roy Peplow, all the other winners for the eight years (1954 Ratcliffe, 55 Smith, 56 Jackson, 57 Brittain, 58 Jackson and 1960/61 Jackson) were in the 1953 top 10.
Words and photographyby
Phillip Tooth
Phillip Tooth
The last-of-the-line Norton Commandos were in essence great machines, though the circumstances in which they were built contributed to them from being far from ideal.
With a name like Interstate you’d expect the Norton Commando 850 Mk III to gobble up the miles. And it does. This is a motorcycle that covers the ground in such a relaxed way it feels like you could ride from one side of America to the other at a rock-steady 90mph.
The long-legged 828cc twin feels unburstable. Slow down to 70 and the engine turns over at a lazy 3900rpm. At that sort of speed petrol disappears through the twin Amal Concentrics at an eco-friendly rate of 50mpg but with a generous 5.25 gallon tank that still means you can cover over 200 miles before you need to start looking for a gas station.
Below 2500rpm the engine shakes on its rubber mountings. You know it is happening, but at least the vibration is not transmitted to hands and feet with the same urgency as a Featherbed framed Atlas. Then as the tachometer needle approaches 3000 it is almost as if the Great God of Motorcycling has blessed the Norton and banished the shakes. The Commando is transformed into one of the smoothest motorcycles in the world.
In the early 1970s the Commando was just about unbeatable in production racing, so take a detour onto some back roads and you’ll find the Mk III has the same legendary handling as the lighter, quicker 750 twins. The gearbox action is slick, the diaphragm spring clutch is two-finger light and the 850’s engine responds instantly with huge dollops of creamy torque.
The Mk III is no snortin’ Norton. This is a refined tourer with a build quality good enough to take on the best from Germany and Japan. Unfortunately when this Interstate was made in early 1977 Norton Villiers Triumph was already in the hands of the Official Receiver.
The Commando story really begins when Dennis Poore and his Manganese Bronze Holdings empire bought what was left of Associated Motor Cycles Limited (AMC), makers of AJS and Matchless, Norton and James motorcycles, in September 1966. Poore’s company already owned Villiers and so that December a new company was formed – Norton Villiers.
Besides being a very good businessman, Poore also knew a thing or two about all things mechanical – he had been a Wing Commander in the wartime RAF, raced an Alfa Romeo and had a Master’s degree in engineering from King’s College, Cambridge. He realised that the ageing Atlas badly needed updating. Poore wanted someone who could think outside the box and take a fresh look at motorcycle design, so in January 1967 he appointed Dr Stefan Bauer to head up a team to develop a new flagship motorcycle that would wear the Norton badge.
Heated grips would make the MkIII a more enjoyable ride in winter...
Bauer was an Austrian born and educated in Vienna. He became a professor at Cambridge University, where he taught Poore, but in 1940 he went to Canada to work on atomic bomb research. After WWII he returned to the UK to work on nuclear power reactors before joining the Rolls Royce nuclear submarine programme. There was no doubt that Bauer had a brilliant mind. He was only 5ft 4in (1.6m) tall and he even looked like everyone’s idea of an absent minded rocket scientist. He was also a modest man. But he was no motorcyclist. In fact, he had never ridden on one, so Poore added two experienced motorcycle development engineers to Bauer’s team – Bob Trigg and Bernard Hooper.
One quick spin on the back of an Atlas convinced Bauer that something had to be done about the vibration. He also dismissed the legendary Featherbed frame as not rigid enough, despite the fact that it had been copied by countless manufacturers for their race bikes. Bauer then suggested the engine should be rubber mounted. This was not a new idea – BSA had used rubber mounting for the Sunbeam S7 – but that 500cc shaft drive twin was hardly a roadburner. The general consensus was that rubber mounting the engine would ruin the handling.
Then Bob Trigg came up with the idea of suspending the Atlas engine and exhausts, along with the AMC gearbox with final drive, swinging arm and wheel as a single unit in a rubber-mounted subframe. This would then ‘float’ within a new main frame. Trigg and Hooper perfected the design, using a bacon slicer to shave down Metalastic rubber bushes until they got what they were looking for, and patented the idea as the Isolastic system.
Interstate petrol tank means there’s the ability to cruise for many miles.
We love cars with row-upon-row of gleaming toggle switches and buttons. They're anachronistic and possibly a bit elitist, but they enhance the feeling of a direct connection between you and your machine. Sadly, they're going the way of the dodo.
There's something delightfully simple about the toggle switch, something eminently satisfying about the press of a button. Distilled down, the switch is nothing more than a circuit breaker, a device for controlling a small part of your car, but it's dying. It's being replaced by touch-activated display screens, capacitive touch panels, passive monitoring systems, proximity sensors, and automatic bottom-coddling devices. In many cars, you no longer have to decide it's dark enough to turn your lights on or wet enough to run your wipers. There's something to be said for the audible, tactile pop you get when you push a chromed door release button. It directly, inescapably connects you to the process.
One reason modern cars lack the character of their forebears is they seek to remove the effort from the act of driving. We cannot be alone in noticing a correlation between the effort it takes to drive a car and the love people have for it. Witness crank-start antiques where the driver does the spark advancement, adjusts the hand throttle, checks the oiling mechanisms, hits the grease zerks every couple days, and re-varnishes the wooden floors once a year. It takes work to make those machines move, and it requires a level of understanding between man and machine which long ago evaporated. Predictably, almost a century on, people still find that stuff fascinating.
Conversely, many of the most tech-laden cars on the market are devoid of lust. There's no sex in an iDrive knob, no joy in a touch screen, no passion in an electronic trunk release. For all the effort that goes into a modern interior, cars are becoming less engaging and more antiseptic. The reveal of the 2011 Lincoln MKX at the Detroit Auto Show introduced a car with almost no physical buttons, and while it's a neat concept, it's almost too futuristic — the MKX represents a Jetsons-type design aesthetic where no one stopped to consider how detached the end result would be. The Nissan GT-R presents a similar case: It's an incredible feat of engineering, and yet, it's regularly derided as unexciting and dull. Is the car too talented for its own good, or is the giant, shotgun-riding computer screen the culprit? Why, in an age where the computer is so closely tied to work, would we want one planted in one of the last bastions of personal meditation?
Physical switches connect you to the car. There's satisfaction in the cause and effect they present. That said, mourning their passing is conflicting, as the relentless march of technology and the constant development of shiny things is always fascinating. On a certain level, the things which make cars lovable are the things that make them dangerous, so perhaps the rise of wildly distracting multimedia and telecommunication systems simply means we'll circle back around to dangerous cars again. Regardless, we'll always lament the loss of the good, old-fashioned button.
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