Motorcycle Tales, Part II -- The Navy

It was during my Navy service that I got my next bike. After one year of college without any wheels, I bought a car the following summer. I worked for over a year before the draft caught up with me forcing an enlistment. (Take that Uncle Sam. You can’t draft me. I’ll just join. Yea, that’s the ticket.)

I didn’t need wheels through bootcamp, and I made it for about a year and one-half of various schools and training in Great Lakes, Illinois and Denver, Colorado car-less before reported to my first duty station aboard the USS Vulcan in Norfolk, Virginia. Once there I quickly shopped and bought a brand new Toyota Corolla. I was about to buy a used MG B, but I decided on a nice new Japanese car instead. Turns out that was a good decision. Having one vehicle with British Lucas electrics is about all a guy can handle. It was a small car, very reliable and very economical. A little yellow two-door hardtop with black leather seats. It served me and my buddies well for almost four years of Navy life. A great commuter, and I never really took it out of Norfolk.

After a short time on board, two shipmates, David Woodman (Woody) and Dan MacDonald (Mac), and I moved into a house we rented on the “beach” in Norfolk. Later Mac got out and Fred Gardner moved in. Then, years later, Woody moved to Orlando, Florida for a new duty assignment. As people moved out, I’d replace them with new roommates, keeping the magic number at three.

All my buddies were getting motorcycles, mostly Harley’s, although there were medium size Hondas and Yamahas too. I was fond of Triumphs ever since I saw the bike owned by my high school friend, Gary Murphy. He had a Triumph Twin and that was about the coolest bike I’d ever seen. So, with the help of my buddy Woody and his loaned $600, I was soon the owner of a nice ’66 Triumph TR-6. This was very similar to the more sporty Bonneville model from Triumph; the main difference was the fact the TR-6 had a single carburetor rather than the Bonneville’s two. A 650cc vertical twin engine with overhead valves, it was a state-of-the-art British bike in the days of Honda and Harleys, although the Lucas electrics left a bit to be desired.

The bike was blue over white and had all the typical British accouterments. There was a small luggage rack on the tank and a steering head tensioner knob sticking out of the triple-tree. Typical Triumph “pea-shooter” exhaust mufflers and a tall and wide seat that lifted up to access the battery. You could lock the seat down to protect said juice box, but more likely to lock your helmet via a hook that engaged the helmet’s strap D-ring. Typical of most used motorcycles, it had low mileage and ran like a charm. You had to kick it to start as most “non-Honda’s” were still not electric crank. I never had any mechanical problems the whole time I owned it, but that didn’t stop me from tearing off parts, stripping down the engine, and making changes.

I immediately started customizing the bike. My friend Woody had a full-blown chopper, a custom Harley 74 ci with an extended front end and a very nice paint job. (Actually, since it was a Panhead, it was possibly a 61 c.i.) Other friends had Hondas, but were soon purchasing Harleys. Big “dressers,” Harley Sportster, even a Harley “Servi-Car” which was the three-wheeler, flat head engine bike used by meter maids. We would spend our weekends working on the bikes and riding down to Kill Devil Hills in North Carolina or out to Virginia Beach to cruise Atlantic Boulevard.

One roommate (after Mac got out of the Navy) was Fred Gardner. He traded his 250cc, two-stroke Yamaha for a big Harley “dresser” with all the bags, windshields, and floor-boards that came with those "Glides." Once we were at our favorite watering hole, Brads. We might have had a few. Anyway, Fred took the bike off its side stand and immediately dropped it on the ground. We all started laughing, Fred included. We grabbed the down side of the bike, lifted it upright, and over it went on the other side. It had “crash bars,” and the drops didn’t hurt anything although I think I might have hurt myself laughing. Somehow we made it home that night. Don't drink and ride. The life you save may be your own!

The Triumph had a fully enclosed chain with an automatic oiler that dripped oil onto the links. Even with the enclosure, this resulted in a messy situation. I shut off the little petcock that regulated the oil flow and oiled the chain manually.

Then I removed the bottom half of the chain guard and threw it away. I took the top half into the ship, and — with the assistance of friends on board — I cut away most of the top guard leaving a small covering just on the top of the chain. I also cut off the back part of the rear fender with a hack saw, losing the tail light in the process. The term “chopper” refers to this wholesale removal of parts, lightening the bike and giving it a more sporty appearance, although this was more common on a big dresser Hog, transforming it into a British bike look-alike. I replaced the tail light and license plate holder with a chrome combination I purchased from a catalog. I removed the front fender and threw that away too … something I often regretted any time I rode in the rain.

I painted the rear fender, side covers, and gas tank a light blue metallic, and I painted my helmet to match. I was new to painting and put the color on the tank too thick and it “wrinkled” into something called “orange peel.” I then tried waxing the tank and the little crevices in the orange peel trapped the wax and left white residue. I quickly learned that the degreaser I used to clean the engine would also remove wax, so I at least corrected the problem with white stuff all over the tank. If you didn’t look close, the paint looked OK. I replaced the large, stock seat with a thin affair from a chopper catalog. It was called a "cobra" seat because it resembled a cobra snake, wide at the front and slim behind. It was about one inch thick, but style over function was my motto.

I put a simple and cheap “sissy bar” on the back behind the thin “cobra” seat I added and I attached the license plate / tail light to the sissy bar. These custom parts were stretching my poor sailor’s budget, but it was a necessity, and we could always do without food and clothing … but never beer.

At one point I was helping my shipmate and later roommate Mike Bott (Bottman) with his 450 cc Honda customization. We picked up some nice square metal stock on the ship and heated it up, bent it into a sissy bar, and attached two brackets on each side. We then sent it out to the chromer for a new shiny surface. When we picked it up he chewed us out. “You should have told me it was stainless steel!” said he. We didn’t know. He asked why we used the very expensive metal when simple cold rolled steel would work fine for a sissy bar and be much, much easier to chrome plate. We didn’t realize it was stainless. Probably worth ten to one hundred times what a piece of regular steel bar stock would cost. No wonder our defense budget is so high with sailors making stainless steel sissy bars on weekends!

A year or so later, I got real serious about customization. I bought 6-inch extensions for the front shocks which gave me a bit of a typical chopper front end but not so much I had to modify the frame to change the front geometry. Not as severe as my friends 24 inch extended Harley front end, but a bit of a chopper look. (His steering head was modified. Otherwise the extended front end would make the bike so tall no one could ride it, not to mention how squirrely the steering would be.)

I found a Harley Sportster "peanut" tank and replaced the original triumph gas tank. I didn’t want to drill a hole in the frame, so I machined a small steel cylinder on the ship and a neighbor who was excellent with a welder attached it to the bottom of the frame top tube. When he got done doing the best job of welding I’d ever seen, I asked him what I owed. One dollar, he said. Now things were cheaper back then, but that was ridiculous. I gave him a five. (Should have given him a ten or a twenty, but I wasn’t rich either.)

The rear mount for the tank matched the original Triumph fitting and a bolt through the new welded attachment if front held the tank like it came from the factory. I also replaced the Lucas electric regulator with a custom heat sync and a diode from General Motors. I replaced the ignition coil with an auto part. (Can’t remember if there was one or two, but I think that TR had dual points and dual coils.) I moved the headlight/taillight switch to the side cover and, using a double-pole, double-throw, center off switch, I created both the light control and the high/low beam switch. Not as convenient as a handlebar dimmer, but it worked fine. In those days you didn’t ride with the headlight on. The Lucas electrics wouldn’t handle that anyway.

I added a bicycle horn to comply with legal requirements and replaced the standard mufflers with short “stubbies” connected to custom pipes that put the mufflers right under the engine for maximum lean clearance. I never hooked up the brake light switch until just before I sold the bike, but otherwise it was a fine looking and reasonably legal machine.

I remember one Saturday I was going to replace the handlebars and the rubber mounts in the triple-tree. These mounts were a brass fitting set in rubber and surrounded by another brass fitting. This was to minimize vibration to the handlebars. They were pressed into the top of the steering head. I had a big “drift” which is like a large nail setting tool and a 5 pound mallet. I was trying to just strike the outer brass and drive it out of the steering head. I had my bike in the living room of our house, our preferred work space, and I spent all day trying to get those two mounts out and replaced. The drift would slip off the narrow brass cylinder and I'd end up hitting the rubber which didn't work at all. The hammer would just bounce back in my hand when I hit rubber. It took me all afternoon, but I finally succeeded. I don't recall how many six-packs that required. I should have written it down in case I ever had to do that again.

I went to school on that Triumph. Service manual. Hanging out at the local Triumph store. Talking to other mechanics. I started building my tool collection. The first special tool you need is an impact driver. Many of the case screws, like the ones that held the primary chain cover were phillips head screws. But they could be pretty tight and hard to turn without stripping out the screw head. So, down at the local bike shop, I bought an impact driver. It is solid metal and about the size and shape of a short flashlight. One end held a heavy duty screw driver bit. You put it on the screw and hit the back of the driver with a mallet. That forced the bit into the screw … no slipping or stripping, while tough internal gears turned the driver. You could set it to remove screws or drive them tight.

I also bought a Sears torque wrench so I could tighten the screws the required amount. Folks working on American iron like a Harley need a set of wrenches in "SAE" sizes — "American" sizes like one-quarter inch or eleven-sixteenths. You need open end and box wrenches plus sockets. If it's a Japanese bike, then you want metric tools. Guess what? Triumphs used yet a third size called Whitworth. These are specified by the British Association for Advanced Science and Triumphs, BSAs, and Nortons used these odd size nuts and bolts so it required special wrenches … of course the Brits call them "spanners." It was an odd form of metric, but you had to have special wrenches because you can't do all the mechanic work with a Crescent wrench. I gave all my Whitworth tools away when I sold my TR.

Allen wrenches, voltmeters, rubber mallets, pliers and feeler gauges, special tools for inserting O-rings; I had them all, and still do except for those Whitworth wrenches. I didn't have a lift, but my TR had a center stand as well as a side stand and I could easily change front and rear wheels. I would take them to the dealer, however, to put on new rubber. I was good, but not into changing tires. That's a pretty tough job, even on a bike. I became friends with welders and machinists and the local chrome plating shop. The ship had plenty of experts that were available for the cost of pizza and beer, and I fixed a lot of radios in exchange for some machine work. It was a good deal for us both.

Before long I could tune up an engine, change oil, fix a flat, and tell if a plug was fouled. I rewired, re-hosed, added chrome and aftermarket speed stuff, and generally turned that bike into an extension of my psyche and into the best shape it had been since leaving Coventry … probably better. I started collecting special factory tools. Once I replaced the rocker arm shafts on the bike. They had a rubber O-ring on the end to seal in the oil. When I slid the shaft in place, it cut off part of the O-ring. I got more rings and figured out how to use a hose clamp to squeeze the rubber ring down for insertion. Later I bought a factory part that looked like the socket from a socket wrench. The inside was smooth and tapered down. You put the cam shaft through the tool and it would squeeze the O-ring. I added a small clamp for inserting pistons and squeezing the metal piston rings. Auto mechanics are familiar with a similar, although larger tool. These special tools made the job of working on the engine much easier.

If our landlord had known that we regularly tore down and rebuilt bikes in the living room, she would have had a heart attack. Actually we were model tenants. We always paid on time, never called the land lord to fix a running toilet, and I painted the house from top to bottom when I moved out. We lived there for almost four years and I had about six different roommates during that time … and they all had bikes from Woody and Mac to Bottman and Mark Foreman. We didn't have garage, just a car port, but we did have the living room. When I finally moved out, she told me we were the best tenants she had ever had and was going to miss us greatly.

Bikes were much simpler in those days. I learned to adjust tappets and carburetors. I rebuilt top ends and rewired, re-tanked, and remodeled many bikes. Changed carburator jets and ignition timing cams. We cleaned and polished and degreased and chrome plated and painted and stripped. We became expert outdoor painters conquering skills like making a "lace" paint job and pin stripes. Never did do "flames." I spent so much time at Mac's Triumph, a Norfolk landmark, he offered to hire me for busy Saturdays, but I didn't do that for long.

I had a learned a lot about painting by this time, and I painted the new tank, side covers, and rear fender a second time. This iteration was a dark blue, almost black. I didn’t repaint the cut up chain guard, sending it out to the chrome plater instead. My first customization included a sissy bar behind the seat, but his time I went for a cleaner look and no sissy bar. I kept the old cobra seat. I moved the tail light and license to the side of the bike by the axil. Not the best location, but a common sight on many choppers.

We were always on the lookout for a good bike. One day Woody spotted a used Sportster in the paper and we headed over with our buddy E.J. to try to buy it. E.J. wasn't his real name, but a nickname he got from E.J. Potter, the Michigan Madman. The original E.J. would drag race motorcycles with Chevy V-8s in them. Since our friend shared the surname and was into bikes and choppers, so the E.J. moniker sort of stuck.

We got over to the house advertised and talked to the owner's wife. She said her husband would be home in a few minutes. We waited in the car until he arrived. He was showing us the bike, which I think he was asking $800 for, when another guy drove up and walked into the garage. This new arrival said he would take it and he'd pay $100 more than asking price. The owner was an honorable man, and told him we were there first and the price was as advertised. We all threw our money into a hat and bought the bike on the spot.

E.J. customized the bike in our backyard. As I recall it had high rising pipes that swept up the side. They would burn the passenger leg, but sure looked cool. He did a lace paint job on the tank. You take a piece of lace … not having any in the house we went to a local thrift store. After spraying an undercoat, you tape the lace to the tank and spray paint through it. When the lace is removed it leaves a fascinating pattern on the tank. No spray booth available, we used the great outdoors on a sunny day. We hung the tank on the clothesline outside to dry. I've got one picture of three hardtail Harley frames in Joe Eden's back yard in the process of getting new, metal-coat paint jobs. We were becoming professional at this customizing stuff.

As I approached time to leave the military, I considered going into the chopper business, but I thought a better idea would be to start customizing vans. They were becoming very common and a lot of the motorcycle tricks like custom painting would apply equally to vans. I had also planned to become an "organ repairman." (That's Hammond Organ. Stop snickering.) So many possibilities for a twenty-something kid. The future was so bright, I had to … well, you know the rest of the lyrics.

Woody came back up from Florida for a visit one week. He’d traded the chopper for a brand new Sportster, and we had quite a ride that weekend. There were about a dozen of us on all kinds of bikes headed south.

We rode to one of our favorite weekend destinations, Nags Head in North Carolina. It was a hundred miles or so ride to places like Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hills (the latter more home for the Wright Brothers than the former). Beautiful rides to beautiful places.

One time I was threading my way through some rural Virginia road and I got to an intersection. One of those simple highway “T’s” and there was a split off of the left lane to turn left and the right to turn right. Suddenly, out of the blue, there was a stop sign and I was going around 40. I hit the brakes hard (had a passenger). I slid a bit and gave up, powering through the stop sign. Turns out a cop was there to see my display. He stopped me, but I talked him out of a ticket with my explanation. “I tried to stop, but I was speeding.” Honest, no ticket.

A while later I spent some time at a girl friend’s apartment. It was about 3 A.M. when I left and there wasn’t a car on the road. Back then Norfolk had those big plates you rode up on to trigger the stop light to give you a green. The bike and I wasn't heavy enough to trigger the stop light switch. After waiting what seemed like half-an-hour for a green, I said to hell with it and ran the light. There was only one other car on the road and he was half a mile away. Turns out it was a cop. I talked him out of that ticket too. Now I was on a roll. Soon after I was roaring through a parking lot doing a wheeling late at night. I got to the street, stopped for the stop sign, and turned onto the street lit up by a police car’s red lights. I reminded him I had stopped for the stop sign and there was no legal speed limit on the parking lot since it was private property and all the stores were closed so I thought it was a very safe place to practice dangerous acrobatics and I would never do that again and couldn't he be kind to a young sailor and …. He agreed. Again no ticket.

After that I didn’t want to test my luck. If the speed limit was 45, I never went over 50 … except a few times when I went 60. (Smile)

When I customized my Triumph the first time, I painted my helmet to match the light blue bike. (Not something recommended in this modern world — paint may react with the helmet plastic damaging the integrity of the helmet.) When I repainted the bike and new tank, I left the helmet alone. One night my roommate, Bottman, wanted to borrow my helmet. He was riding down to Virginia Beach and hoped to pick up a girl. (What sailor doesn’t HOPE to pick up a girl?) Since Virginia requires a helmet, he hung mine off the back of his bike for the girl. He rode the twenty miles to VA Beach and back (no girl). All that time, my helmet rubbed against his back tire and I got it back with a hole in it. Maybe he bought me a new one. I don’t remember.

One time Woody and I headed for Richmond, Virginia, a trip of about 150 miles. (This was before he moved to Florida.) It started to rain which soaked my leather jacket. (Leather may be “cool,” but it does soak up water like a chamois.) We stopped for gas and a break at a little station. They had one of those chest type coke fridges with cool water circulating about the sodas keeping them at the delicious temperature. I threw my wet jacket over the machine. My pants and boots, levis and leather in that order, were soaked too. When we were ready to leave I reached for my jacket and took a 110 volt zap. I jumped back. Old fashioned machinery with a poor ground put the line voltage on the metal chassis. If I’d been dry I wouldn’t have noticed it, but I was soaked and, therefore, well grounded. I tried to yank it off several times, but the electric shock forced me to let go. I asked the owner to grab it, but he refused fearing a shock. He was dry. It would have been OK for him since he was dry. Woody wouldn't help either; he just laughed. Finally I gritted my tech and yanked the jacket off as fast as I could.

I often rode with a 3/4 helmet. Those completely full helmets weren’t popular back then. Usually I just wore my glasses, although I did have a shield I could snap on the helmet. Let me tell you that rain at 60 mph feels more like b-b’s or bee stings. “You can tell the happy biker by the bugs on his teeth.”

One of my roommates, Mark Foreman, had a Harley three-wheeler. (I always had two roommates. As different guys either got out of the Navy or transferred, I’d find another person to share our three-man house.) He had bought the Harley Servi-Car from another shipmate, Pat Matzell. The Servi-Car was designed by Harley to fill service rolls such as delivery of parts and wasn't exactly a speedster. Right up to when H-D discontinued them in the late '70s they had a simple 45 c.i. flathead engine, but they were as reliable as can be and putted just fine down the highway.

The bike had been partially customized, although it just had a 4x4 sheet of plywood for a body and snow tires on the back. Pat and friends had put about twelve pounds of “Bondo” on the front head stock, covering all the old Harley castings with a big, flat, and smooth surface to which a beautiful dark, dark blue finish had been applied. The first time the front end snapped around against the stop, it cracked all the Bondo. Those extended front ends would gain a lot of acceleration when they twisted at a stop light. The front end of the trike was show quality (before the cracks), but the backend never got completed.

It was tré strange to ride. From the seat you looked forward and thought you were on a regular bike. But when the road curved, you didn’t lean. You actually had to steer through the turn. What many don’t realize is that with a bicycle or a motorcycle, you don’t “steer.” You actually “counter-steer.” That is, to turn right, you move the handlebars to the left. That throws the bike over on the right side and you lean around the curve with the bike taking it's own path. Sure the front wheel turned in the direction you were going, but you didn't "steer." It is more about body than arms. Once people learn to ride a bike, they never forget. What you learn is counter-steering.

Later, in my racing days, I learned how to reverse that process to move upright quickly after a sharp curve. By twisting the bars deeper into a turn the bike will be quickly forced upright. You gotta be careful, though. Too much and the bars will go from stop to stop and you will go from ouch to ouch.

So riding a three wheeler is completely counter-intuitive and it is freaky. Once I tried out a BMW with a Steib sidecar a guy was selling that lived near ODU in Norfolk. Same strange feeling as you steer through turns with no lean. (Hack racers lift the sidecar up and the guy in the car, who has a colorful name I’ve forgotten, uses extreme body english and wide leans to assist the fast turns.) Sidecar racing is fascinating to watch, but it isn’t done any more, even in Europe … at least that’s my assumption. Looks like Speedway racing is only happening in California these days. A lot of old things have disappeared. The world is always changing. Sad. But the Isle of Man TT is still going.

As I approached the end of my naval enlistment, I purchased a new Dodge Maxi-Van with the intent of hauling my bike home. However, I ended up selling the bike (and a lot of musical instruments and amplifiers) in order to pay for the van. Sort of an O’Henry story (Gift of the Magi). I sold my Gibson Firebird guitar and a Fender Deluxe Reverb I had had since high school. I did bring home a nice Fender Dual Showman speaker cabinet that was custom made for Woody and me by a Navy cabinet maker. I ended up selling it to Mike Goodman in Longmont. Dual 15 inch speakers aren’t much use without the amp.

After my military discharge, I spent several months in Spokane, Washington, living with my parents and customizing the interior of my new van. I then headed for Colorado where I’ve lived ever since. Soon my Navy buddy, Woody, joined me there. He brought his Harley Sportster and also a dirt bike. So I started shopping for another motorcycle.

That story and my Colorado bike adventures will have to wait for part three.

Motorcycle Tales, Part I -- High School

In the summer of 1961, I was a fourteen-year-old ready to start my first year of high school in the Fall. That summer I bought my first motorcycle, a Sears Allstate MoPed made by Puch. It was $200 and my grandmother helped me buy it. She paid $100 down and signed on a loan for the remaining balance. I paid $10 a month for a year and it was mine.

I didn’t have a driver’s license yet, but that didn’t stop me from driving the bike all over town. Now this was a MoPed, but that doesn’t mean it was a bicycle with a motor. Sure it had pedals, but it had a nice 50cc engine. You would start the motor with the pedals like a regular motorcycle kick starter. It had a thumb operated compression release that was used to kill the motor and could also make it easier to kick over, but that little engine was very easy to start.

It had a two-speed transmission shifted by rotating the left hand grip. There was a regular clutch on the left and the right side had a hand break and throttle like most bikes. I don’t remember how you activated the rear brake. You probably peddled backward like a bicycle. The motor was air cooled with a fan and a cover over the cylinder head. The one-cylinder engine was very underpowered and the top speed was around 30-35 mph, and you probably needed a hill and a strong tail wind to get to top RPM. It had a single seat and a sort-of luggage rack on the back fender, although I did give friends a few rides on that precarious rear fender.

After the cops caught me driving on the street about three times, they threatened to take the bike away if they caught me again. I didn’t get any tickets. It was a small town. So I had to wait for the next spring, March to be exact, when I turned 15 and that was old enough to get a driver’s license. But, before I got shut down by the cops, what a summer I had. I remember the first day I rode so long that I got sunburned on my arms. Now I always wore short sleeves and had a good tan on my arms. Yet I was out in the sun almost 12 hours that first day and got a real red going on my usually tan arms.

I mostly remember riding down fifth avenue toward the swimming pool. That’s a nice part of town with lots of trees and good streets for riding. I must have been about the only kid in Lewistown out on a motorbike that summer. Things began to change the next year, however. Honda came to town. The first Honda bikes were called CB100 and they were sort of like step-through motor scooters with a 50cc engine, but Honda got a lot more power out of that little mill than my rather anemic MoPed. They had a centrifugal clutch so you just gave them gas and away they went. I think they had three speed transmissions shifted by a foot operated lever that you would press in front to shift up and press in back to shift down.

I've written elsewhere in my blog about my cycle crash that broke my collar bone. I was riding off road and ended up flying over the handlebars when I rode into a big hole in the ground. I seem to always get in trouble when I leave the "two-lane." (You can read about it here if you like.)

Broken Bones

Honda also had a very nice model that looked like a miniature version of a real motorcycle called the CB110. It also had a 50cc engine, but a regular hand operated clutch and really put my little bike to shame. I can’t say exactly when, but shortly after this Honda craze started when I must have been around 16, I got a Honda 150cc. A model called a Benly. Like the larger “Dreams,” it had a rather unique pressed steel frame rather than the tubular frame that was more common and a short swing arm front suspicion like you tended to see on European motorscooters. The engine was an integral part of the frame bolted on top and bottom to add strength and stiffness.

Compared to my previous bike, or the CB100s and 110s around town, this was a “real” motorcycle. I remember one of my first rides in the early evening out toward Eddy’s Corner and feeling the difference in air temperature as I dropped down into the little valleys and rose up the small hills.

Riding a motorcycle you are directly exposed to nature, not encased in a ton or two of glass and steel like folks in automobiles. That means your senses are directly involved with the journey. Besides being acutely aware of small changes in temperature, especially when riding at night, I also was keenly aware of surrounding smells. A ride past “Eddy’s Bakery,” for example, and your nose was filled with that wonderful smell of fresh baked bread. I also noticed the clean, “soapy” smell when I rode past a laundromat. This close connection to nature and the outside world is one of the key reasons people ride, in my humble opinion.

About a week after I got the new, big bike, I rode up into the Judith mountains towards the Air Force radar base. I turned down a rough road and descended into a valley. The road was a “fire road.” It was built for access in case of a wild fire, and wasn’t really suitable for regular traffic. An off-road bike wouldn’t of had problems, but my big “city” bike wasn’t able to make it back up the road. A combination of steep inclines and very large rocks with the low ground clearance and a suspension meant for smooth asphalt soon had me stalled. I was up there with friends. I don’t remember; I guess they had bikes too, but small bikes more accustomed to off-road. More likely, I was just with Charlie Bardwell and he was riding on the back. We hiked to Charlie’s parents trailer which was parked for the summer in the cool mountain area. I remember we were starved and feasted on a can of beef stew. It tasted good to us starving souls. We were saved!

Somehow, eventually, I made it home. Charlie’s mom probably drove us. My dad was pretty mad I’d “lost” my bike. The next day, my friend, Ron Fleming, and others headed up in his dad’s Willys Jeep Station Wagon. (Might have been Gary Hornseth or Jack Barney or both.) We had a big rope to tie to the front of my bike and, with the assistance of my friends pulling like Egyptian slaves building a pyramid, we got my bike up the hill and back on the main road. Oh the trouble you can get into when a teenage brain is in charge of large machinery. There should be a government warning label on teenager’s forehead!

My Benly was a miniature version of the larger 250cc and 305cc bikes known as Honda Dreams. There was also a big version of the 110 called the Super Sport. That was the largest Honda bike at that time and my friend John Barr had one that he souped up for racing. He had bored out the engine to expand the displacement to 350cc and had a sport fairing made of fiberglass that was used on serious road racing bikes of the era. He added to scoops two feed air into the carburetors, although I don’t think they were directly attached.

We both took our bikes to the “King Kam Raceway” out by the airport and dragged raced them. I won in my class, a feat not diminished by the fact that I was the only bike in the bracket and as long as I made it to the finish line I was guaranteed first place. Years later my young son, Michael, broke the nice trophy I got that day for just competing. My wife, Linda, never understood why I didn’t get mad when Mike broke the trophy. She didn’t realize that I had little attachment for a token of simply showing up at the drags. Still it was fun and it was a very nice trophy. I threw it away along ago.

At one point I suggested to my parents that I be allowed to take my bike on a road trip. John Barr and I (and I think, maybe, one other person … don’t recall for sure) were planning a trip down to Yellowstone Park, a ride of about 300 miles one-way. I was frankly very surprised when my parents said OK. We rode down to West Yellowstone in one day, and then spent the next day touring the park. I recall being concerned about bears. Sometimes there were traffic jams called “bear jams” as the animals approached the edge of the highway and people stopped to gawk. We discussed how we would make a U-turn and quickly escape if we encountered such a bear traffic jam.

On the way home we drove on the Interstate past a small town near Billings. John said he heard there was a guy with a fast bike living there, so dropped off the highway to go check out the town. I continued on. A while later John caught up with me. (In those days there were no daytime speed limits in Montana, and my 150cc Honda only went about 60 mph, so John’s much faster bike caught up with me easily.) He said he drove up and down the main street, but didn’t see any other bike.

Although I remember some things that happened over 50 years ago like it was yesterday, other things "I don't have a clue." I don't remember what I did with either my old MoPed or the Honda. I know I didn't take them to college, so they must have been sold by 1965. I asked my dad, but he doesn't remember either. In fact, he thought my grandpa won the MoPed and that is how I got it. So his memory isn't helping either. So I don’t know what happened to my black Honda, but it was gone before I went into the Navy. That's the next stop on this nostalgic journey. Tune in to "Part II" for the continuing adventure and the tale of my two-wheeled escapades while stationed in Norfolk, VA.

First Earthman on Mars?

This will be the last task before landing. Strap myself into the acceleration couch. Ship is secure and ready for landing. It’s been a long voyage. Now it is in its final hours. All the check lists are completed, and it’s all up to the computer now.

Who thought that I, alone, the smallest astronaut in the history of NASA would be here? About to enter Mars’ thin atmosphere. Soon — if all goes well — and the board is lighting up green indicating systems are ready — soon I’ll be the first Earthman on Mars.

I remember when it all started some seven years ago. There were twenty-eight of us back then. A few washed out during the training process. I was the smallest. I’m only 5 foot 8 and I weigh 130 pounds soaking wet. They even had to make a special space suit for me I am so small. I didn’t expect to make it through all the training, much less be picked for the trip. Didn’t seem likely, and I doubt anyone on that first day would have predicted that I’d be the lucky winner of the ultimate lottery. The captain — and the full crew — of Earth’s first manned flight to Mars. No one, least of all myself, would have thought that it would be me — or anyone — alone.

It wasn’t supposed to have turned out this way. We had originally planned for a four or five man crew. Then it was three, before it was trimmed down to two, and then the plan changed to a single astronaut.

You see, the problem is quite simple. Weight vs. rocket fuel. The heavier the rocket, the more fuel needed to make the trip. In fact, the extra fuel adds more weight, which makes it an even tougher equation to balance. So add up the weight of all the astronauts, plus the air, water, and food required for each occupant, and you can see the problem the engineers struggled with.

The greater load required larger engines and more fuel and the tanks to hold the fuel, which increases weight all the more requiring yet more fuel. The ship just keeps growing and growing to lift the load of the astronauts and their required supplies.

The final solution was strikingly simple. If there is only one astronaut, and a small one at that, then the fuel requirement is the minimum. That made for the simplest solution, and — in engineering — simple is often the best.

It’s a long ways to Mars (and back). Over 35 million miles even when at the closest approach to Earth. Over nine months in travel just to get here. So designing a ship that could carry a small crew and all the provisions needed led to bigger and bigger rockets to carry more and more fuel, and that just proved impossible to build.

I still recall when the Colonel stopped by my small room (smile) and gave me the result. The design team had reached a decision. The rocket would be built for only one man. And, as the smallest astronaut, I’d be that man. What a way to win the lottery. It turns out that size does matter.

So here I am. Over 35 million miles and nine months later. (Funny that it worked out that way … just like a new baby.) Soon the rocket will enter the upper atmosphere of Mars. The ship has already rotated so the approach is tail down. I’m sure Mars is beautiful from here, but I can’t see it. You see, there are no portholes in this ship. (Actually, you don’t see. Get it?) No openings to reduce the structural integrity. That keeps the design simple and as light as possible.

The ship does have a view. It’s exactly like the periscope you have on submarines. It is located in the nose of the rocket and it gives an excellent, 360 degree view, but it can’t look backward. So I’ll be descending to the surface of Mars depending entirely on radar and instruments. Those are the eyes of the computer doing the actual navigation those last few miles. Shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, if it is, I won’t have long to worry about it. At the speed I’m going, if the rockets don’t fire for a gentle landing, it will be a quick trip down.

There, I can hear the pumps starting up. It’s all under computer control. I’m like that elevator operator. All I do is punch the buttons. Next stop, main floor and lobby.

Now the noises are increasing. Pumps and gyros coming up to speed. Soon the engines will fire. There, I hear the roar and, for the first time since launch, I feel weight. After coasting all the way to Mars in a weightless state, it’s good to feel the pull of gravity again — even if it is artificial gravity from the rocket acceleration. See, I did listen in all those lectures, even though I didn’t think I’d ever be the one to get here.

The computer is increasing thrust. I’m pressed hard into the acceleration couch. The timer shows five minutes to touchdown. Like the Mohel said when the knife slipped, “It won’t be long now.” I remember Abraham, the Israeli astronaut I trained with. He’d tell that joke every time we simulated countdown.

Now three minutes. The acceleration is getting hard to take. After months of weightlessness drifting through space, I’m not used to gravity. Hope I don’t pass out and miss the final moments. But then, I’m alone, who would know?

There, only one minute left. Thirty seconds. Ten seconds. Touchdown. I felt the bump. Not bad. If I’d crashed then there would be no way back even if I survived. Felt like a good landing and now the engines are shutting down. Finally I have something to do. Push the button elevator man. But the doors won’t open yet.

No, you see I’ve landed on my tail and the only way down to the ground is a small ladder through the center of the ship and between the rocket engines, which, right now, are about as hot as the center of a volcano.

So it’s more of a waiting game. I have to sit here for twelve hours until the rocket tubes cool in the thin Mars atmosphere. It’s been nine months. A few more hours won’t be bad. But at least now I can take a look around. I climb out of the acceleration couch and activate the periscope. Now I can see Mars.

Oh wait, almost forgot. I’ve landed on the night side of Mars. I won’t be able to see anything until morning. Even if Mars’ two moons are out, they are too small and we’re too far from the Sun for them to light the scenery like a full moon would back on good old Earth. So I’ve got to be patient.

First job is to contact Earth. Let them know I made it. Then I’ve got some equipment checks and maybe a light meal and a short nap. Actually there is no way I’m gonna be able to sleep now with the surface of Mars only a few feet and a few hours away.

I know Neil had prepared his speech for when he first stepped down on the moon. We’ve talked about it a lot during training.

“A small step for man ….” He meant to say “A small step for a man …” In fact, he is sure he did say the “a.” But we’ve all heard the tapes.

In any case, it worked OK for him. As famous as “Dr. Livingston, I presume.”

At first I thought I would tease him in my little speech. “A small step for a small man.”

But this is a great moment for Earth … and not just the good old US. No, this mission was international. Sure, I’m an American, born and raised in Montana. Over half the astronauts were from the US. But it is a Russian engine and a Japanese computer and an Israeli periscope and … well, you get the idea. So my little inside joke would not be appropriate. Kids in school will probably learn what I said. Better be formal if this is for the history books.

What will I say? Actually I have no one to say it to. No orbiter over head. No copilot in the lander. This mission is much simpler. One rocket. One man. Land on Mars. Take off from Mars. That too kept the weight and the fuel requirements small. I do have a recorder, however. So my speech will be heard ultimately.

What will I say? Now you’ll just have to wait and see.

The hands on the clock move so slow. A couple more hours and it will be time.

Getting close. The sun is starting to rise, and I’ll be descending the ladder in just fifteen more minutes. Now that it’s light, I can check around. “Up periscope.” That’s fun to say, even if I’m just talking to myself.

Looking west. Nothing much to see but sand and hills. Swinging the scope around to the north. More of the same. Now looking east. Wait. There. Off in the distance. It looks like a city. I’ll crank up the magnification. Yes, it is a city. A walled city. Looks like a castle. Wonder how old it is. Possibly millions of years. Are there going to be relics and fossils of a previous Martian civilization? Were the canals actually “man”-made?

No, on top of the castle. I see it. A flag is raising. A flag waving in the thin air. That’s not a fossil. Someone raised that flag. There must be life.

Suddenly it dawns on me that the periscope has another control. I can aim it down and observe closer to the rocket. I think the excitement of spotting the castle in the distance made me forget all about that. I’ll rotate the scope downward now.

Wow. There’s a caravan of people moving toward the ship. I can make out the animals … very odd. Looks like they have too many legs. Look a bit like a camel but somewhat like an elephant too. And more the size of an elephant. I can see people riding on the back of the animals in big boxes held by straps under the belly of the strange beasts. Other are walking alongside. They’re carrying shields and spears and some have colorful flags. They are bare skinned with little but wide belts for clothing. Also I think I have spotted some flying craft off in the distance. What a strange combination of ancient and modern items. Half naked riders on animals and aircraft too. Odd indeed.

They look a lot like Earth people, although it appears they have a bit of a red tinge to their skin, but there are some dark skinned people too. They have very large chests. Probably needed for the thin atmosphere. Long legs. I can’t tell at this distance, but I’ll bet they are taller than me. But that’s an easy bet. Odds are that I would win it on Earth too.

I’ve move the scope’s direction to the front of the procession. It’s led by a large man. He's riding some beast about the size of horse, although, again, there are too many legs. He doesn’t look quite like the others. Not as thin. I think his skin is white, although he has a good tan. He’s only wearing simple clothes, sort of a skirt or kilt, and his chest is bare. He’s riding in front and headed toward the ship. He has a loose article of clothing with a wide belt at his waist. A curved sword hangs from the belt. There are other things attached to his belt. I see instruments and devices that look like a cell phone or portable radio walky-talky. Even something that looks distinctly like a gun or a hand weapon of some sort. Looks rather high-tech for a society with castles and swords.

I don’t know if there is danger, but the mission plan has me staying here for four months until Mars is in the correct position in its orbit for the return trip, so there’s no use trying to hole up in the rocket for defense. This space craft could easily be toppled or disabled. I had best go out and meet these “people.” If they are blood thirsty savages, that will be the end of me. No reason to delay. “What’s for dinner? said the one missionary to the other.” “Clowns taste funny,” said the cannibal to his friend. I think I’ve read too many comics.

Better get into my surface clothes. A heavy jacket as the morning is pretty cold. Warm pants with boots and gloves. I also have a small oxygen concentrator to assist with the thin air. Back on Earth they assumed that I would quickly adjust to the thin air like mountaineers get used to high altitude. Then I won’t need the oxygen device. I best head down the ladder now. I may be the first Earthman on Mars. I just hope I’m not the last. No use putting it off.

Climbing down. Between the engines. They’re still a little warm. On the last step. There, I’ve stepped off the ladder. Darn! I forgot all about my little speech. Turning around.

The procession is approaching. They’ve stopped at the base of the rocket. The man in the lead dismounts from the odd looking animal. Up close I can see that the creature he rode has four legs on each side and a ferocious looking face like a wild boar. He walks toward me and appears ready to speak. And so the first Earthman on Mars meets the first Martian. I hope it is a welcome and not “no trespassing.” But then why would I understand his language. But I do. It is English with a bit of a Southern drawl.

He says, “Welcome to Barsoom.” “My name is John Carter.”

Light Bulb

A common symbol or icon for an idea is a picture of a light bulb. Thomas Edison, famous for inventing the modern light bulb (among many other useful things including the record player), is the archetype for the American Inventor and even for American innovation.

Now three Japanese scientists have been awarded for their innovation. Isamu Akasaki, Hiroshi Amano and Shuji Nakamura have been given the Nobel Prize for Physics for their invention of the blue LED (light emitting diode). When they produced bright blue light beams from their semi-conductors in the early 1990s, they triggered a fundamental transformation of lighting technology. Red and green diodes had been around for a long time but without blue light, white lamps could not be created. (Color television … even before LED flat screens … used the three primary colors of red, green, and blue to produce the full rainbow (spectrum) of colors.)

Despite considerable efforts, both in the scientific community and in industry, the blue LED had remained a challenge for three decades. These three succeeded where everyone else had failed. Akasaki worked together with Amano at the University of Nagoya, while Nakamura was employed at Nichia Chemicals, a small company in Tokushima.

Their inventions were revolutionary. Although incandescent light bulbs lit the 20th century, the 21st century will be lit by LED lamps. Thanks to their invention, LED lamps can emit a bright white light, are long-lasting, and energy-efficient. They are constantly being improved, getting more efficient with higher luminous flux (measured in lumens) per unit electrical input power (measured in watts). The most recent record is just over 300 lm/W, which can be compared to 16 for regular light bulbs and close to 70 for fluorescent lamps. That works out to around 5% efficiency for incandescents and the much improved, but still very poor 25% efficiency for CFLs.

As about one fourth of world electricity consumption is used for lighting purposes, these LEDs contribute to saving the Earth's resources. Materials consumption is also diminished as LEDs last up to 100,000 hours, compared to 1,000 for incandescent bulbs and 10,000 hours for fluorescent lights.

It appears to me that the current shift from incandescent to compact fluorescent lamps (CFL) (driven by "green" concerns for both the environment and the wallet) is starting to transition to LEDs. Price remains the biggest disincentive, but volume production is bringing the prices of LED lamps down quickly. A trip down the aisle at Home Depot or Lowe's will quickly demonstrate the surge in LED products.

Improved manufacturing techniques and economy of scale is bringing LED prices down further, and the long life of LEDs improves the economics for home users. CFLs were long lasting compared to the often “burnt out” incandescents, but LEDs are much longer lasting than CFLs. In fact, with modern LEDs, storing replacement bulbs in the closet may become as antique as outdoor plumbing and the dial phone.

A significant feature of LEDs is that the light is directional, as opposed to incandescent and CFL bulbs which spread the light more spherically. This is an advantage with recessed lighting or under-cabinet lighting, but it is a disadvantage for table lamps. New LED bulb designs address the directional limitation by using diffuser lenses and reflectors to disperse the light more like an incandescent bulb. LED lamps can also be designed to support dimmers, a problem for CFLs, and there are more options for size and shape; no need for curly-Q glass designs.

The LED lamp holds great promise for increasing the quality of life for over 1.5 billion people around the world who lack access to electricity grids: due to low power requirements it can be powered by cheap local solar power.

Because of the low power requirement for LEDs, using solar panels becomes more practical and less expensive than running an electric line or using a generator for lighting in remote or off-grid areas. We are already experiencing a wave of garden lighting powered by the sun and rechargeable batteries. LED light bulbs are also ideal for use with small portable generators which homeowners use for backup power in emergencies. Even the trusty flashlight is using LED bulbs.

This may lead to other changes in the future and the power distribution systems and wiring in the modern home may change in response to this new lighting appliance. The 115 volt power in the US, which is optimal for incandescent lamps, is much too high for LEDs. Ironically it is too low for CFLs and they contain circuits to jump the voltage.

In a CFL, electrons from a heated filament flow through the bulb and collide with mercury atoms in the tube. As a result of these collisions, photons are released, but they are in the UV wavelength range and thus not useful for illumination. To convert UV to visible light, the inside of the fluorescent tube is coated with a phosphor. As the emitted UV photons hit this phosphor, the coating glows and gives off the visible light of the bulb.

Although this sounds simple, it requires three different voltage levels to get started and to operate. That’s why older fluorescent lights had starters and ballast and other additional circuits to produce the starting current and maintain operation. Modern CFLs contain miniature circuits in the base to provide for starting and operation.

LEDs, on the other hand, operate at the voltage of a semiconductor junction, about 1.5 volts. So the base of an LED lamp must contain circuitry to reduce the 115 volt to a lower value. It is possible, once LED lights become the only bulbs in the home, that low voltage circuits will become as common as today’s 115 volt wall socket juice. As LED lighting is adopted, 12 volt house wiring may become the standard. (Most modern electronics would operate well on 12 volts, although there are a few home appliances that need higher voltage. Perhaps the house or office of the future will have both 12 volt and 115 volt circuits like many travel trailers and motor homes do now.)

When I finished my basement, I put in two 12v circuits to run low voltage LED lighting in my entertainment/family room and the downstairs bathroom. In the future, this will become much more common.

The lower voltage would be safer from electrical shock, short circuits, and fires. In addition, CFLs contain very hazardous materials including mercury, making waste disposal an issue. So the ultimate shift to LEDs will be good for the environment and for society in many ways.

Although the Nobel Prize is usually given for theoretical discoveries, this invention of the blue LED ranks up there with Edison’s equivalent invention in how it will ultimately change the world. I believe the 20th century was enabled by the light bulb. Now the 21st century may see an equal transition due to the LED lamp.

LED lights. Now that’s a BRIGHT idea!

The British Motorcycle Empire

This is the story of when British Motorcycles ruled the World. Today's modern high-perfor-mance motorcycles owe a great deal to classic British bikes. Most of the names are gone now, out of business due to a combination of management incompetence and an inability to keep up with the competition's innovation.

The British manufacturers failed to modernize their factories, their bikes, and their business practices. High volume manufacturing of Japanese bikes produced lower prices, while their engineering quickly overtook the classic British designs. It was primarily just a failure to keep up with the times. In many ways, following the British examples of style and performance, Honda and others refined, improved, and modernized the entire motorcycle business. Riders today owe a great debt to these Anglo pioneers. It is a shame that the famous British brands have all but disappeared, except in the memory of motorcycle buffs.

The first true sport bikes were 1950s British motorcycles like the Triumph Tiger T110 and the BSA Gold Star. They also dominated off-road competition for two decades. The first modern superbikes were the Norton Commando and the Triumph Trident, the Trident triple being the first modern, multi-cylinder motorcycle, beating the Honda 750 Four to market by several months.

And “café racers,” possibly the first “choppers,” were invented in England on the frame rails of Triumphs, BSAs, Nortons, Enfields, and the rest. In the 1960's, the “British Invasion” wasn't just about Rock & Roll, it was about great British Motorcycles.

Motorcycle’s history is also tied to the United Kingdom with the famous Isle of Man TT. Many a significant speed record and many a successful advertising campaign began with this storied race.

The International Isle of Man TT (Tourist Trophy) Race is a motorcycle racing event held on the tiny British island, Isle of Man, that was, for most of cycling history, the most prestigious motorcycle race in the world. Motor racing began on the Isle of Man in 1904 with the Gordon Bennett Eliminating Trial. In 1907 the famous TT race was established by, among others, the Collier brothers, owners of the Matchless motorcycle company. Racing discontinued in 1939 due to the war and was reestablished in 1947.

The small island located between England and Ireland is also known simply as “Mann.” Don’t ask me why the Brits have so much trouble deciding how to spell it!

(Actually it comes from the “Manx Gaelic” language and means “mountain” or “island” and can also be interpreted as “man” or “men.” In any case, both “Isle of Man” and “Manx” are certainly terms embedded in motorcycle history thanks to these British fore bearers.)

The motorcycle event was part of the Fédération Internationale de Motocyclisme (FIM) Motorcycle Grand Prix World Championship during the period 1949–1976 before being transferred to the United Kingdom after safety concerns and run by the FIM as the British Grand Prix for the 1977 season. The Isle of Man TT Races became part of the TT Formula 1 Championship from 1977 to 1990 to preserve the event's racing status. From 1989 the racing has been promoted by the Isle of Man Department of Tourism as the Isle of Man TT Festival. The great race goes on with the 2015 event starting on May 30.

Although my buddy Woody would refer to “TT” as “tavern to tavern,” it actually meant “tourist trophy.” Whether these customized café racers were truly designed for speed and racing or just the intention of the riders to park them outside the nearest tavern or coffee shop to “look cool,” they were part of the mystique of British bikes.

I’m reminded of the quip where a man walks into a bar and asks another man if that is his Harley parked outside. When the second man responds, “yes,” the first than asks, “Oh, so are you an accountant or a dentist?” Which is really mean. The rider could be an architect! You know that "you meet the nicest people on a Harley." It wasn't just the Japanese bikes that established that modern truism. From Marlon Brando to Steve McQueen, they weren't on a Harley, but a Triumph.

Let's list the famous Triumph and other British bike riders. Some known by me are: Lee Majors, Marlon Brando, Bob Dylan, Steve McQueen, Elvis, Brad Pitt (and Cate Blanchett), Robbie Coltrane, Jay Leno, Paul McCartney, Clint Eastwood, Evil Kneivel (he rode Harleys and other brands too), James Dean, Tom Laughlan (Billy Jack), Pamela Anderson, Diane McBain (Mini-Skirt Mob), and of course Les Harris.

Leslie Frederick Harris is the British businessman and motorcycle enthusiast who helped resurrect the Triumph Bonneville after it failed in 1983. The British press often refers to him as "saviour of the British motorcycle industry." He even had a go at resurrecting the Matchless brand, but that didn't pan out, and he died in 2009 at the age of 69.

Add in some more current names such as Alanis Morissette, Nick Cage, Steve Jones, Matt Adler, and Michael Chan … and don't forget "the Fonz" before Henry Winkler started selling reverse mortgages. Easy Rider may have showcased Harleys, but the Brits got their good press too.

Some rode in "real life" and some rode on film. Many did both. In the movies and on TV we saw James Brolin as Dr Kiley in the old B&W TV drama Marcus Welby and Hugh Laurie as Dr. Gregory House on House on cable. The list goes on: Kate Hudson and Mathew McConaughty, Robbie Williams, Christina Aguilera, Heidi Klum. Richard Geer, Ann-Margaret, Tony Francisco, Dean Martin, Anthony Quinn, Antonio Banderas, and Harrison Ford. Plenty of leading men (and ladies). Even Wallace of Wallace and Gromit fame rode a Brit bike. Oh, and one more: Mickey Cheatham.

Yet, despite all this, a brilliant history, leading market share, and some of the best engineers in the biz, the British Motorcycle Industry self-destructed in the 1970s and 80s. But interest in them has been greatly renewed of late, so much so that new motorcycles are being produced today by several legendary British marques like Triumph, Norton, and Royal Enfield.

Matchless, AJS, and AMC

I’m starting with a company that will appear time and time again as we trace the history of the many British brands from birth to death. Yet this company is only recognized by serious motorcycle students. It is the British “AMC.” No, not American Motors, the former producers of such fine motorcars as Rambler, Metro, and Jeep before they disappeared into Chrysler Corporation. This is the British company “Associated Motor Cycles.”

The first Matchless motorcycle was made in 1899, and production began in 1901. Matchless Motorcycles was the brand name of Collier & Sons, the father Henry Herbert Collier and his sons Charlie and Harry. In 1931, at the height of the Great Depression, the Colliers Brothers acquired AJS Motorcycles from the Stevens' Brothers. (A. J. Stevens & Co. Ltd, from 1909 to 1931, the early brand held 117 motorcycle world records.)

Then in 1937, Matchless acquired Sunbeam Motorcycles from Imperial Chemical Industries who had taken over the troubled company. This left the Colliers owning three different marques of motorcycles: Matchless, AJS, and now Sunbeam, each famous brands on their own account.

On October 12, 1937 the company re-registered as Associated Motor Cycles Ltd. as a way to encompass all three brands. Things went well under the new arrangement. By the close of the 1930's, AMC was being well-managed and was in sound financial shape.

Matchless Motorcycles were so well respected for their quality and reliability that several other companies, both within and outside the motorcycle industry, contracted Matchless to provide their engines. The most famous of these would be Brough Superior, regarded as perhaps the finest motorcycle of its day and made famous by Lawrence of Arabia.

During World War Two, all civilian motorcycle production halted and AMC, along with everyone else, began producing motorcycles for the British War Department. These AMC products were all branded “Matchless.”

Norton and BSA were the primary suppliers to the British Army since the Triumph factory was bombed in 1940. Bad for Triumph, good for Associated Motor Cycles, who had been trying to win a major military contract. AMC produced a fairly advanced machine to British government specifications and made over 55,000 bikes during the war.

With all this prosperity, it was time for the AMC empire to expand. This began an era of acquisitions. It started in 1947 with the takeover of the Francis-Barnett company of Coventry, who were building Villiers-powered lightweight motorcycles. They followed up with the 1950 takeover of the James Motorcycle Company, Birmingham.

Next was the crown jewel: Norton Motorcycles in 1953. But this one was different. Unlike James and Francis-Barnett, Norton had real market reputation and brand, so AMC wanted to focus on this fame. It was decided to leave the existing management in place and allow Norton to operate as a separate entity, albeit part of the AMC empire. In retrospect, the entire move to acquire Norton wasn't all that that well thought out. Other than the Norton Dominator, their entire product line was obsolete, with much investment required.

In August 1954, Managing Director Charlie Collier, the last of the original Collier family who started the Matchless company, died at age 69. He had devoted his life to the company and had great knowledge and skill that the company would sorely miss. A few weeks later, H.J. (Ike) Hatch, AMC chief development engineer, passed away at age 68. Later in 1954, AMC announced they would discontinue their factory racing efforts, although they would continue to support a few selected privateers, riding the AJS 7R, Matchless G45, and Norton Manx. Through the efforts of Jock West, AMC succeeded in restoring the Norton brand, starting with the Dominator 88, then the Dominator 99.

Jack Williams had filled the void as chief development engineer left by Ike Hatch's death. He was instrumental in the improvement he made to the AJS 7R and in bringing the Matchless G50 to production. In a road test of their new Matchless G11CS Sports Twin 600 by The Motor Cycle magazine, after achieving nearly 104 mph on a closed circuit, they they tore the engine down for inspection, revealing it to be in excellent condition. It was a true marketing coup for AMC.

By 1959, AMC had acquired the Brockhouse Engineering Group, who themselves had purchased the ailing Indian Motor Cycle Co. of Springfield, Mass in 1951. Indian had discontinued production of it's legendary V-twin in 1953 and had since been engaging in importing British motorcycles to America, including Norton, Vincent, Royal Enfield, AJS, and Matchless. This arrangement ended in 1960. The US distributorship was awarded to Berliner Corp. in New Jersey. Berliner also imported Zundapps from Germany and Ducatis from Italy.

AMC had been producing the Matchless and AJS Motorcycle lines for years. The two brands shared essentially the same basic machinery, with a few detail and cosmetic changes to differentiate them. Similar to Ford and Mercury or Dodge and Plymouth, there were little difference between the two bikes other than the logo on the tank. So, when Matchless launched its first vertical twin, AJS soon followed with a sister-bike. The first twins were the 498cc Matchless G9 and it's twin, the AJS Model 20, introduced in 1948 at the Earls Court Show.

These were bumped up to 593cc in 1956, creating the Matchless G11 and AJS Model 30, then again to 646cc in 1959 for the G12, and again to 745cc in 1965 for the Matchless G15.

Matchless built a very good vertical twin, at least when compared to the other British marques. Things like a center main bearing and full-length studs fastening the head and barrels, were unique at the time. They were sound machines and should have done better in the market place. As far as AMC bikes go, however, most of the attention was being lavished on the Norton models, as they were seen to have the best chance of success.

It seems that AMC got caught in the same time warp that swallowed up every other once-successful British motorcycle maker. When things were going gangbusters in the 1950's, they failed to reinvest any of the money into new designs or modern manufacturing equipment. They seemed content and intent on soldiering through by buffing up ancient outdated designs. That might have worked had it not been for a person name Soichiro Honda, who showed the motorcycling world what was possible. Suddenly, every British design looked sadly out of date.

Another thing that hurt AMC was a loss of direction, caused by the deaths of the Colliers and the exodus of much-needed talent like Bert Hopwood and Jock West.

In 1960, after roaring success in the 1950's, things had sunk so low that shareholders revolted and demanded changes in management. Financial losses continued. In 1962, AMC announced it's new “Standardization Program” in which they would close down several plants and merge production of Norton and other brands.

Always known as one of the most blatant brand-engineers, having placed both AJS and Matchless logos on essentially the same machines for decades, the implications of “standardization” were immediately obvious to the motorcycling public. It disenchanted many brand-loyal enthusiasts who never returned.

There were other engineering failures and management changes, including involvement of the British government officials. By 1965, the model lineup included mostly a jumbled collection of AJS, Matchless, and Norton engines being swapped into Jubilee and Featherbed frames, trying to hit the magic combination.

By 1966, AMC slipped into receivership. In September, Manganese Bronze Holdings took it over, renaming it Norton Matchless Ltd. This later became a part of Norton Villiers, who a few years later would also take over the ailing BSA empire, including Triumph, renaming itself Norton-Villiers-Triumph (NVT).

By 1967, the last of the Matchless-AJS motorcycles were built. From then on, of all the companies that Associated Motor Cycles had originally thrown into the pot together — Matchless, AJS, James, Francis-Barnett, and Norton — only Norton would survive, for a few more years, at least.

Sunbeam

Sunbeam was a British manufacturing marque that produced bicycles, motorcycles, and cars from 1912 to 1956. Originally independent, it was owned by BSA from 1943. Sunbeam is perhaps most famous for its S7 model, a balloon-tired, shaft-drive motorcycle with an overhead valve in-line twin engine. Rather advanced for British bikes.

In 1937 the Sunbeam motorcycle trademark was sold to Associated Motor Cycles Ltd (AMC) which continued to make Sunbeam bicycles and motorcycles until 1939.

In 1943 AMC sold the Sunbeam name to BSA and Sunbeam Cycles Ltd came into being. Three Sunbeam motorcycle models were produced from 1946 to 1956, inspired by BMW motorcycles supplied to the Wehrmacht during the Second World War. They were followed by two scooter models from 1959 to 1964.

When Sunbeam production came to an end, BSA sold the remaining stock of parts to Stewart Engineering, and this company is now the sole supplier of spares for late-model Sunbeam motorcycles. The Triumph Tigress, also sold as the BSA Sunbeam, was a scooter designed to have good performance and handling for the motorcycle enthusiast. These final Sunbeam two-wheelers discontinued in 1965.

Ariel

Ariel Motors was a British motorcycle manufacturer based in Bournbrook, Birmingham. It was one of the leading innovators in British motorcycling. The company was sold to BSA in 1951, but the Ariel brand survived until 1967. The last motorcycle-type vehicle to carry the Ariel name in before disappearing entirely was a short-lived 3-wheel tilting moped launched in 1970.

The original company was established in 1870 by James Starley and William Hillman. They built wire-spoke wheels under the first British patent. This allowed them to build a lighter-weight "penny farthing" bicycle which they named 'Ariel' (the spirit of the air).

The Ariel Square Four with a 500 cc engine designed by Edward Turner first appeared for the 1931 season. Around this time the company went into receivership and then a new company was formed. The Square Four became a 600 cc. The Square Fours had overheating problems with the rear cylinders which resulted in distorted heads throughout their history. A redesign in 1937 resulted in a 995 cc OHV version designated the 4G.

In 1951 Jack Sangster sold Ariel and Triumph (bought in 1936) to the Birmingham Small Arms Company group (BSA), and joined their board. Ariel began making the 500 cc KH model and the 650 cc Huntmaster, with engines based on BSA parallel twins. Reliable and capable of 100 mph, the Huntmaster proved popular with sidecar enthusiasts.

By 1956 Edward Turner became head of the automotive division, which then included Ariel, Triumph, and BSA motorcycles, as well as Daimler and Carbodies (the manufacturer of London Taxicabs).

BSA closed the Ariel factory at Selly Oak in 1962 and moved production of the Leader and the Arrow to the BSA factory at Small Heath. Production of the 50 cc Pixie began in 1963. In 1965, Ariel produced its last motorcycle, the Arrow 200 with capacity reduced to 200 cc introduced earlier during 1964 to qualify for lower UK rider insurance. Ariel motorcycles ceased production in 1967.

In 1999 a new company was formed in Somerset, England, using the old "Ariel" name. This incarnation of the Ariel Motor Company currently manufactures the Ace model motorcycle and the Atom, a road legal high performance sports car that looks a bit like a Formula 1 or Indy race car, although a two-seater. Since both bike and car are powered by Honda engines, I don't include this latest versions of Ariel as part of the British tradition, but a modern merging of national technologies.

Royal Enfield

Royal Enfield was the name under which the Enfield Cycle Company made bicycles, motorcycles, lawnmowers, and stationary engines. The legacy of weapons manufacture is reflected in the logo, a cannon, and their motto "Made like a gun, goes like a bullet.” Use of the brand name Royal Enfield was licensed by the The Crown (U.K. royal government) in 1890. The original Redditch, Worcestershire based company was sold to Norton-Villiers-Triumph (NVT) in 1968.

In 1893, the Enfield Manufacturing Company Ltd was registered to manufacture bicycles, adopting the branding Royal Enfield. In 1948, a groundbreaking development in the form of rear suspension springing was developed, initially for competition model "trials" models (modern enduro type machines), but this was soon offered on the road-going model Bullet 350 cc, a single cylinder OHV. This was a very popular seller, offering a comfortable ride. A 500 cc version appeared shortly after. A later 1950s version of the Bullet manufacturing rights and jigs, dies and tools was sold to India for manufacture there, and where developed versions continue to this day.

In 1949, Royal Enfield's version of the now popular selling parallel twins appeared. This 500 cc version was the forerunner of a range of Royal Enfield Meteors, 700 cc Super Meteors, and 700 cc Constellations. Offering good performance at modest cost, these sold widely, if somewhat quietly in reputation. The 700 cc Royal Enfield Constellation Twin has been described as the first superbike.

During the onslaught of the Japanese motorcycle manufacturers in the late sixties and early seventies, the English factories made a final attempt with the 1962–1968 Series I and Series II. Made largely for the US market, it sported lots of chrome and strong performance, completing the quarter mile in less than 13 seconds at speeds well above 105 mph. It became very popular in the US, but the classic mistake of not being able to supply this demand added to the demise of this last English-made Royal Enfield.

Established in the 19th century, it would appear that Royal Enfield along with Triumph is the only motorcycle brand to span three centuries, and still going, with continuous production. A few of the original Redditch factory buildings remain (as of 2009) and are part of the Enfield Industrial Estate.

From 1955 to 1959, Royal Enfields were painted red, and marketed in the USA as Indian Motorcycles by the Brockhouse Corporation, who had control of the Indian Sales Corporation (and therefore Indian Motorcycles) and had stopped manufacturing all American Indians in the Springfield factory in 1953. But Americans were not impressed by the brand engineering and the marketing agreement ended in 1960, and from 1961, Royal Enfields were available in the US under their own name. The largest Enfield Indian was a 700 cc twin named the Chief, like its American predecessors.

Royal Enfield motorcycles had been sold in India since 1949. In 1955, the Indian government (not to be confused with the American “Indian” brand”) looked for a suitable motorcycle for its police and army. The Bullet was chosen as the most suitable bike for the job. The Indian government ordered 800, 350 cc model Bullets, an enormous order for the time. In 1955, the Redditch company joined Madras Motors in India in forming Enfield India to assemble, under license, the 350 cc Royal Enfield Bullet motorcycle in Madras (now called Chennai). Under Indian law, Madras Motors owned the majority (over 50%) of shares in the company. In 1957 tooling equipment was sold to Enfield India so that they could manufacture components.

Royal Enfield India manufactures and sells in India, and also exports to Europe as well as America, South Africa and Australia. Recently Royal Enfield has undergone a major retooling particularly in the engine department on their flagship 500 cc model. This retooling has sparked such an interest in these bikes that they have started double shifts at the plants.

Norton

Norton Motorcycle Company (formerly Norton Motors, Ltd.) is a British motorcycle marque, originally from Birmingham, UK, founded in 1898 as a manufacturer of "fittings and parts for the two-wheel trade.” By 1902, they had begun manufacturing motorcycles with engines purchased externally. In 1908, a Norton-built engine was added to the range. This began a long series of production of single and eventually twin-cylinder motorcycles, and a long history of racing involvement.

In 1902, Norton began building motorcycles with French and Swiss engines. In 1907, a Norton ridden by Rem Fowler won the twin-cylinder class in the first Isle of Man TT Race, beginning a sporting tradition that went on until the 1960s. The first Norton engines were made in 1907, with production models available from 1908. These were the 3.5 hp (490 cc) and the “Big 4” (633 cc), beginning a line of side-valve single-cylinder engines which continued with few changes until the late 1950s

Norton struggled to reclaim its pre-WWII racing dominance as the single-cylinder machine faced fierce competition from the multi-cylinder Italian machines and AJS from the UK. In the 1949 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season, the first year of the world championship, Norton made only fifth place and AJS won. That was before the Featherbed frame appeared, developed for Norton by the McCandless brothers of Belfast, and used in 1950 on the legendary Manx Norton and raced by riders including Geoff Duke, John Surtees, and Derek Minter. Very quickly the Featherbed frame, a design that allowed the construction of a motorcycle with good mass-stiffness distribution, became a benchmark by which all other frames were judged.

McCandless' finished design was expensive, as it required over forty feet of the best Reynolds steel. It was a welded twin loop with a swinging arm fitted with their Norton's own design of shock absorbers, with a heavily braced cross-over headstock. The British company, Reynolds Cycle Technology a bicycle manufacturer well known for its tubular steel alloy production including the famous Reynolds 531 Steel alloyed with Manganese and Molybdenum and the current Reynolds 953.

Norton also experimented with engine placement, and discovered that moving the engine slightly up/down, forward/back, or even right/left, could deliver a "sweet spot" in terms of handling. Motorcycle designers still use this method to fine-tune motorcycle handling.

In 1951, the Norton Dominator was made available to export markets as the Model 88 with the Featherbed frame. Later, as production of this frame increased, it became a regular production model, and was made in variants for other models, including the OHV single-cylinder machines.

Manx Nortons also played a significant role in the development of post war car racing. At the end of 1950, the English national 500 cc regulations were adopted as the new Formula 3. The JAP Speedway engine had dominated the category initially but the Manx was capable of producing significantly more power and became the engine of choice. Many complete motorcycles were bought in order to strip the engine for 500 cc car racing, as Norton would not sell separate engines.

The racing successes were transferred to the street through café racers, some of which would use the Featherbed frame with an engine from another manufacturer to make a hybrid machine with the best of both worlds. The most famous of these were Tritons — Triumph twin engines in a Norton Featherbed frame.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the racing successes Norton was in financial difficulty. Reynolds could not make many of the highly desired Featherbed frames and customers lost interest in buying machines with the older frames. In 1953 Norton sold out to AMC. In 1962 the Norton factory in Bracebridge Street, Birmingham was closed and production was moved to AMC's Woolwich factory in southeast London.

Villiers

Villiers Engineering was a manufacturer of motorcycles and cycle parts, and an engineering company based in Villiers Street, Wolverhampton, England. Prior to the turn of the century (the twentieth century, not the current), Villiers was manufacturing parts for the Sunbeam Motorcycle Company.

The were well known for the quality of their products. Manufacturing more parts than were needed by Sunbeam, they also sold to other companies and were a very prolific producer of engines.

Villiers developed and patented the cycle free-wheel, which every cycle manufacturer required. The production of free wheels reached its peak just after WWII, as the company produced 80,000 per week or 4 million per year. Most readers would recognize this mechanism in their bicycle’s where it allows one to coast and not have to pedal while the rear wheel coasts on its own.

Villiers manufactured a range of single and twin two-stroke engines (from 98 cc to 325 cc) for light motorcycle and vehicle manufacturers until the 1960s.In 1956, Villiers produced its two millionth engine. In 1957 Villiers absorbed JA Prestwich Industries, makers of the famous and popular J.A.P. engines.

In the early 1960s, the company was taken over by Manganese Bronze, and in 1966 together with AMC became part of Norton Villiers.

J.A.P.

JA Prestwich Industries, was an English engineering company named after founder John Alfred Prestwich, which produced cinematographic equipment, internal combustion engines (for which the company was generally abbreviated to "J.A.P."), and other examples of precision engineering.

John Alfred Prestwich (1874 – 1952) was an English engineer and inventor. He founded the company in 1895 and was a pioneer in the early development of cinematography projectors and cameras.

From 1904 to 1908 complete motorcycles were produced by J.A.P. based on the development of the first overhead valve (OHV) motorcycle engine to be produced in the UK.

After that the factory concentrated on supplying its engines to other manufacturers, including Brough Superior, Triumph Motorcycles, A. J. Stevens & Co. Ltd, Enfield Cycle Co, Hazlewoods Limited, Zenith Motorcycles, and HRD Motorcycles, the forerunner of Vincent Motorcycles. Machines that incorporated its engines included the AJS Model D, fabricated for the Russians in the First World War.

J.A.P. exported significant numbers of engines to foreign motorcycle manufacturers including Dresch and Terrot in France, and Ardie, Hecker, and Tornax in Germany.

J.A.P. engines continue to used in motorcycle racing, and most commonly speedway or dirt track.

Motorcycle speedway, usually referred to simply as speedway, is a motorcycle sport involving four and sometimes up to six riders competing over four counter-clockwise laps of an oval circuit. Speedway motorcycles use only one gear and have no brakes and racing takes place on a flat oval track usually consisting of dirt, loosely packed shale, or dolomite (mostly used in Australia and New Zealand). Competitors use this surface to slide their machines sideways, powersliding or broadsiding into the bends. On the straight sections of the track the motorcycles reach speeds of up 70 miles per hour.

Speedway uses a unique type of motorcycle, governed by the FIM's "Track Racing Technical Rules." In the past, bikes with upright engines were used. With their very low mounted pegs, tiny fuel tanks, and frames and wheels that look more like bicycle than motorcycle, speedway bikes look very unique. As speedway bikes do not use brakes, the clutch is used as a release mechanism at the start of races. FIM regulations state that the motorcycles must have no brakes, are powered by pure methanol, use only one gear, and weigh a minimum of 170 pounds, still a very light bike.

Speedway racing is popular in Europe and in California with several large tracks, but there are tracks in New York and Indiana too. A very specialized form of racing, modern speedway isn't as popular as it once was in the hay-day of J.A.P engines.

BSA and Norton-Villiers-Triumph

The Birmingham Small Arms Company Limited (BSA) was a major industrial combine, a group of businesses manufacturing military and sporting firearms; bicycles; motorcycles; cars; buses and bodies; steel; iron castings; hand, power, and machine tools; coal cleaning and handling plants; sintered metals; and hard chrome process.

At its peak, BSA was the largest motorcycle producer in the world. Loss of sales and poor investments in new products in the motorcycle division, which included Triumph Motorcycles, led to problems for the whole group.

BSA produced the first Sunbeam bicycle catalogue in 1949 and produced its own “4 Star” derailleur gear with an associated splined cassette hub and 4 sprocket cassette. BSA bought New Hudson motorcycle and bicycle business in 1950 and followed this up in 1951 with the purchase of Triumph Motorcycles which brought Jack Sangster onto the BSA board. The effect of this acquisition was to make BSA into the largest producer of motorcycles in the world at that time.

The Group continued to expand and acquire throughout the 1950s, but, by 1965, competition from Japan (in the shape of companies like Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki, and Suzuki) and Europe from Jawa / CZ, Bultaco, and Husqvarna was eroding BSA's market share. The BSA (and Triumph) products were no longer aligned with the markets; mopeds were displacing scooter sales and the trials and scrambles areas were now the preserve of European two-strokes.

Some poor marketing decisions and expensive projects contributed to substantial losses. For example, the development and production investment of the Ariel 3, an ultra stable 3-wheel moped, was not recouped by sales; the loss has been estimated at £2 million. Furthermore, BSA failed to take seriously the threat that key-start Japanese motorcycles might completely destroy the market for kick-started BSA motorcycles.

In 1968, BSA announced many changes to its product line of singles, twins and the new three-cylinder machine named the Rocket Three for the 1969 model year. It now concentrated on the more promising USA, and to a lesser extent, Canadian, markets. However, despite the adding of modern accessories, for example, turn signals and even differing versions of the A65 twins for home and export sale, the damage had been done and the end was near.

Reorganization in 1971 concentrated motorcycle production at Meriden, Triumph's site, with production of components and engines at BSA's Small Heath. At the same time there were redundancies and the selling of assets. Barclays Bank arranged financial backing to the tune of £10 million.

Upgrades and service bulletins continued until 1972, but the less service-intensive Japanese bikes had, by then, flooded the market on both sides of the Atlantic. The merger with Norton Villers was started in late 1972, and for a brief time a Norton 500 single was built with the B50-based engine, but few if any were sold publicly. The 500 cc BSA B50’s enjoyed much improvement in the hands of the CCM motorcycle company allowing the basic BSA design to continue until the mid to late 1970s in a competitive form all over Europe.

Clews Competition Machines or CCM for short, is a British motorcycle manufacturer based in Bolton, England. CCM was born out of the collapse of BSA's Competition Department in 1971.

By 1972, BSA was so moribund that, with bankruptcy imminent, its motorcycle businesses were merged (as part of a government-initiated rescue plan) with the Manganese Bronze company, Norton Villiers, to become Norton-Villiers-Triumph with the intention of producing and marketing Norton and Triumph motorcycles at home and abroad.

In exchange for its motorcycle businesses, Manganese Bronze received BSA Group's non-motorcycle-related divisions—namely, Carbodies, the taxi cab producer. Although the BSA name was left out of the new company's name, a few products continued to be made carrying it until 1973. The final range was just four models: Gold Star 500, 650 Thunderbolt/Lightning and the 750 cc Rocket Three.

However, the plan involved the axing of some brands, large redundancies, and consolidation of production at two sites. This scheme to rescue and combine Norton, BSA and Triumph failed in the face of worker resistance. Particularly the Triumph employees who protested the changes and held a two-year sit-in until the English government took notice. Norton’s and BSA's factories were eventually shut down, while Triumph staggered on to fail four years later.

Triumph

Triumph Engineering Co Ltd was a British motorcycle manufacturing company, based originally in Coventry and then in Solihull at Meriden. A new company, Triumph Motorcycles Ltd based in Hinckley gained the name rights after the end of the company in the 1980s and is now one of the world's major motorcycle manufacturers.

The company began in 1885 when Siegfried Bettmann emigrated from Nuremberg, part of the German Empire, to Coventry in England. In 1884, aged 20, Bettmann founded his own company, the S. Bettmann & Co. Import Export Agency, in London. Bettmann's original products were bicycles, which the company bought and then sold with its own brand name. Bettmann also distributed sewing machines imported from Germany.

In 1886, Bettmann sought a more general name, and the company became known as the Triumph Cycle Company. A year later, the company registered as the New Triumph Co. Ltd. now with funding from the Dunlop Pneumatic Tyre Company. During that year, Bettmann was joined as a partner by another Nuremberg native, Moritz Schulte.

In 1902, the first Triumph motorcycle is produced, powered by a 2.2hp Minerva engine and subsequently known as No. 1. By 1927, the Coventry factory, now consisting of 500,000 square feet and employing 3000 people, produces 30,000 units per year. In 1937, Triumph’s car and motorcycle businesses were split, and Edward Turner was appointed as chief designer.

Motorcycles were produced at Coventry until World War II. The town of Coventry was virtually destroyed by the "Coventry Blitz" (September 1940 to May 1941). Tooling and machinery was recovered from the site of the devastation, and production restarted at the new plant at Meriden, West Midlands in 1942.

The Triumph Speed Twin designed by Edward Turner before the war was produced in large numbers after the War. Efforts to settle the lend-lease debts led to nearly 70% of Triumph's post war production to be shipped to the United States. Post War, the Speed Twin and Triumph Tiger 100 were available with a sprung rear hub, Triumph's first attempt at a rear suspension.

Privateers put wartime surplus alloy barrels on their Tiger 100 racers and won races, inspiring the Triumph GP model. By 1950 the supply of barrels was exhausted, and the GP model was ended. The American market applied considerable demand to reverse this action, and a die cast, close finned, alloy barrel was made available. The alloy head made the valve noise more obvious, so ramp type cams were introduced for alloy head models to reduce the noise.

Another motorcycle based on the wartime generator engine was the 498 cc TR5 Trophy Twin, also introduced at the 1948 Motor Cycle Show. It used a single carburetor, low compression version of the Grand Prix engine. Britain won the prestigious 1948 International Six Days Trial. The Triumph works team had finished unpenalized.

To satisfy the American demand for motorcycles suited to long distance riding, Turner built a 650 cc version of the Speed Twin design. The new bike was named the Thunderbird, a name Triumph would later license to the Ford Motor Company for use for a car model. Only one year after the Thunderbird was introduced, a motorcyclist in Southern California mated the 650 Thunderbird with a twin carb head intended originally for GP racing and named the new creation the Wonderbird. That 650 cc motor, designed in 1939, had the world's absolute speed record for motorcycles from 1955 until 1970.

The Triumph brand received considerable publicity in the United States when Marlon Brando rode a 1950 Thunderbird 6T in the 1953 motion picture, The Wild One.

The Triumph Motorcycle concern was sold to their rivals Birmingham Small Arms Company by Sangster in 1951. This sale included Sangster becoming a member of the BSA board. Sangster was to become Chairman of the BSA Group in 1956.

The production 650 cc Thunderbird 6T was a low-compression tourer, and the 500 cc Tiger 100 was the performance motorcycle. That changed in 1954, with the change to swing arm frames, and the release of the alloy head 650 cc Tiger 110, eclipsing the 500 cc Tiger 100 as the performance model.

On September 6, 1956, at Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah, American racer Johnny Allen secured the motorcycle land-speed record on a heavily modified Triumph T110 with a top speed of 214.17 mph. This success led to the development of the Tiger T110's successor — the Triumph Bonneville. Soon the T120, a tuned double carburetor version of the Triumph Tiger T110, came to be known as the Bonneville.

As Triumph and other marques gained market share, Harley became aware that their 1 liter-plus motorcycles were not as sporty as modern riders would like, resulting in a decreasing share of the market. The Triumphs were models for a new, "small" Harley Davidson as a result: the now-fabled Harley-Davidson Sportster, which started as Harley's version of a Triumph Bonneville. With its anachronistic V-twin, the Sportster was no match for the Bonneville, but the Harley proved a solid competitor in US sales and eventually also in longevity.

During the 1960s, despite internal opposition from those who believed that it would reduce the macho image of the brand, Triumph produced two scooters; the Triumph Tina, a small and low-performance 2-stroke scooter of about 100 cc with automatic clutch and a handlebar carry basket, and the Triumph Tigress, a more powerful scooter available with either a 175 cc 2-stroke single or a 250 cc 4-stroke twin engine for the enthusiast.

In 1969 Malcolm Uphill, riding a Bonneville, won the Isle of Man Production TT Race with a race average of 99.99 miles per hour per lap, and recorded the first ever more than 100 miles per hour lap by a production motorcycle at 100.37. For many Triumph fans, the 1969 Bonneville was the best Triumph model ever.

During the 1960s, 60% of all Triumph production was exported, which, along with the BSA's 80% exports, made the group susceptible to the Japanese expansion. By 1969 fully 50% of the US market for motorcycles more than 500 cc belonged to Triumph, but technological advances at Triumph had failed to match those of the foreign companies. Triumphs lacked electric start mechanisms, relied on push-rods rather than overhead cams, vibrated noticeably, often leaked oil, and had antiquated electrical systems; while Japanese marques such as Honda were building more advanced features into attractive new motorcycles that sold for less than their British competitors.

Triumph motorcycles, as a result, were nearly obsolete even when they were new. Further, Triumph's manufacturing processes were very labor-intensive and largely inefficient. Also disastrous, during the early 1970s, the US government mandated that all motorcycle imports must have their gearshift and brake pedals in the Japanese configuration, which required expensive retooling of all the motorcycles that didn't match this requirement for US sale.

The British marques were badly equipped to compete against the massive financial resources of Japanese heavy industries that targeted competitors for elimination with long-term plans subsidized by the Japanese government. Triumph and BSA were well aware of Honda's ability, but, while the Japanese were only making smaller engined models, the large engine market was considered safe. When the first Honda 750 cc four cylinder was released for sale to the public, Triumph and BSA had trouble. A 3-cylinder engined motorcycle was developed to compete against the Japanese fours: the BSA Rocket 3 / Triumph Trident.

The parent BSA group had losses of £8.5 million in 1971, £3 million for BSA motorcycles alone. The British government became involved. The company was sold to Manganese Bronze Holdings, which also owned Norton, AJS, Matchless, Francis-Barnett, James-Velocette and Villiers. After many consultations with the factory personnel explaining the consolidation necessary to compete with the Japanese, in September 1973 Norton-Villiers-Triumph group chairman, Dennis Poore, finally announced the closure of Meriden works effective February 1974. Of 4,500 employees, 3,000 were made redundant.

Worried about unemployment and having their products given to a rival firm, the workers at the Meriden factory demonstrated against a relocation to Small Heath, Birmingham, the BSA site. They staged a sit-in … for TWO YEARS! With political aid of the newly elected Labour government and, in particular, the then-minister for trade and industry, Tony Benn, the Meriden worker's cooperative was formed, supplying Triumph 750 cc motorcycles to its sole customer, NVT.

After the collapse of Norton-Villiers-Triumph in 1977, the cooperative bought the marketing rights for Triumph with more government loans, later becoming Triumph Motorcycles (Meriden) Limited. The venture, with only two 750 cc models, the Bonneville and Tiger, started well with a successful variant, the 1977 Silver Jubilee Bonneville T140J and by 1978 was the best selling European motorcycle in the vital USA market.

Meriden introduced several new models during its last years, but none were able to stop the decline, worsened by a UK recession and a continuing strong pound harming their US market.

In 1983, the debt-ridden company briefly considered buying the bankrupt Hesketh Motorcycles, and even badged one as a marketing trial. Despite also touting a 900 cc prototype water-cooled twin at the 1983 National Exhibition Show to attract outside investment, Triumph Motorcycles (Meriden) Ltd itself became bankrupt on August 23, 1983.

Triumph Motorcycles (Hinckley) Ltd is the largest surviving British motorcycle manufacturer. When Triumph went into receivership in 1983, John Bloor, a former plasterer who acquired his wealth from building and property development, became interested in keeping the brand alive, and bought the name and manufacturing rights from the Official Receiver. The new company, initially Bonneville Coventry Ltd, ensured that Triumph has produced motorcycles since 1902, winning it the title of the world's longest continuous production motorcycle manufacturer. A licensing agreement granted to motorcycle spares manufacturer, Les Harris, kept the Triumph Bonneville in production until 1988 when Triumph re-initiated a new product line for 1990 and 1991. Triumph now makes a range of motorcycles reviving model names of the past, including a newly designed Bonneville twin with a 865 cc engine and including a model, T-100, that duplicates very closely the style of the old ’65 Bonny. (This author rides a 2014 Bonneville T-100 "Black.")

Earlier this year, while visiting my sister in Montana, I noted a UPS delivery that said “B.S.A.” on the box. Wondering if the famed brand was back in business selling motorcycles, I looked closer. Of course, B.S.A. stands for Birmingham Small Arms, and the box was a rifle scope her son had ordered.

No, it’s still up to Triumph to continue the heritage of the great British bikes. The Magelli brand of small bikes comes from the U.K., but this is a new company formed in the 21st century. Norton limps on as the so-called “Donnington Park Revival,” and makes around 500 to 1,000 bikes in its current factory, which has been expanded, so we may yet see that storied brand return to the US market. Rickman Motorcycles, a brand started in the ‘60s, is still in manufacture and best known for putting Honda engines in racing frames.

So that really leaves the Triumph company to be the final representative of the British Motorcycle Empire. Perhaps echoing the history of the British Empire, the flag has fallen around the world … and now we await the result of a vote to determine if Scotland will move for independence. As a wise person once said, “The only constant is change.” But it is still hard for us older folks whose memories are now classified as “history” to accept this maxim.