Sometimes life takes a curious twist and goes down unexpected avenues. Back in '89 I'd crashed my CB900 four into the back of a car at a closing speed of about 50mph. I'd blinked and what had been an empty road suddenly had a cage tottering along. Blind, frozen panic was my far from useful reaction. I could quite easily have been killed but apart from shock and some bruises I'd escaped with my full leathers being reduced to rags.
Both bike and car were complete, utter write-offs, although the fusing of the two could, to my mind, have made a neat bit of modern sculpture. The aged car driver was led away babbling incoherently whilst I almost came to blows with the ambulance men over my refusal to go to hospital. I was still in a state of shocked confusion, some five days later, when I bought a 1967 BSA B44, an 441cc OHV thumper.
'What the f..k didya buy one of 'em for, you daft bugger,' was the general consensus of opinion amongst my so-called mates. I just shrugged my shoulders and looked more gormless than usual. The usual tirade of abuse followed when the B44 refused to start whenever an audience assembled to view the fearsome sight. The noise out of the open megaphone and a chassis that jumped about like it wanted to take up rock and roll promised performance on a level with a turbo-charged Kawasaki Z1, an illusion that was shattered the first time the engine was used in anger.
The B44 had its roots in a trail bike, what I think were then known as scramblers, its power was of the soft, though far from svelte, nature made for going up mountains over muddy terrain. The street version ran taller gearing and different cams, a combination that all but eradicated any chance of wheelies - it was possible with a lot of clutch abuse but that was more likely to lead to a chaincase full of clutch bits than true highway happiness.
I was quite dismayed to have to really abuse the throttle and gearbox just to keep urchins on 250 Superdreams in sight! The effect of revving the bike through the gears was to turn the whole landscape blurred as the vibes wrecked my sight and left my extremities shaking like I was having a fit. No, no, no. The B44 has to be ridden in the context of a lazy, laid back thumper when it begins to make some sense.
With a weight of around 300lbs, about 30 horses and the compact dimensions of a Japanese 125, the BSA was easy to hurl around town and country roads, kept in third gear below 45mph there was no need to slip the clutch or chance a broken left hand by excess abuse of the lever. Once I became used to having the gearchange on the wrong side, the box turned out to be quite slick except when a couple of hours' town riding on hot days overheated the engine. Then it rattled, locked up or turned out a plenitude of false neutrals. Clutch drag would also rear its ugly head with consequent stalled motors at junctions.
Starting a hot engine required judicious throttle positioning and a brave kick that often snapped back with ankle breaking intensity. Okay if you're ready for it and wearing heavy-duty boots but very nasty when an innocent in trainers tries a half-hearted prod. Cold starting needed a flooded Amal and about four kicks before the engine made encouraging noises if not fired. Several times physical exertion, in the form of a bump-start, was necessary.
The lack of dragging disc brakes and low mass made this easier than expected. The combination of TLS front and SLS rear drums, given its 90mph top speed, was more than adequate for the kind of limited riding that the vibrating motor permitted. A useful bonus was that the brake shoes didn't seem to wear at all (as well as being brilliant in the wet), although shagged rear chains in less than 6000 miles more than made up for such frugality.
Similarly, heavy oil consumption more than made up for reasonable fuel economy. About 75mpp and 65mpg. A lot of that oil leaked out of the engine joints even when the bolts were tightened down with such intensity that they threatened to pull their threads out......they kept coming loose, needing attention every few days! Some kind soul had fitted electronic ignition, so maintenance was merely adjusting the two valves every 1250 miles and playing with the single carb's idle settings whenever I felt really keen.
Despite forcefully expressed doubts by my mates, the B44 ran rather reliably on the road, able to do 250 miles in one sitting before I had to go over all the loose bolts. The intensity of the vibes rose exponentially once over 5000 revs but relatively tall gearing made for a relaxed 70 to 75mph, with a gentle thrumming running through the machine that was more invigorating than tiring. First time riders did express doubts as to its mechanical integrity but they had been spoilt by a surfeit of sophisticated Japanese machines and wouldn't recognize true character even if it hit them between the eyes.
I managed to extract 22000 miles in three years of joyous riding before the engine began to complain. I think it rather took exception to the time I ran it along at 85mph for half an hour when I'd strayed on to what was supposed to be a motorway but judging by the general traffic speed was some kind of race track. Everything started to wear out all at once - bore and piston, valves, chain primary drive and even the big-end as well as a gearbox that decided once it was in third gear it didn't want to come out again.
The chassis was fine, generally competent with no hidden nastiness and would probably have taken rather more speed than the motor was capable of producing. I liked its looks as well, with the tank in fern green and black, the outline enhancing the butchness of the motor.
Now, B44 engine spares are not exactly abundant or cheap (many CCM bits can be used) but spurred on by all the tales of self-destruction I'd read and heard, I'd managed to pick up some major components over the years at reasonable prices. The rebuild was just a matter of fitting these components into the disassembled motor and hoping that all the tolerances went the right way - some of parts were built to such a low engineering standard that the tolerance build-up could leave massive clearances in moving parts, with subsequent poor performance and excessive vibes.
The gearbox selectors proved rather elusive but turned up just as I was becoming desperate. An engine with practically new components was finally assembled, polished and sealed with the latest in liquid gasket technology. When it started on the third kick I knew I'd done a good job. 2000 miles of running in followed, which turned up no major problems and revealed a motor significantly smoother and faster. The screws didn't come loose any more and I could cruise at 75 to 80mph, with a 95 to 100mph top speed. Oil leaks were minimal!
If this was how they came out of the factory then BSA had a winner on their hands that they were silly not to develop. During the next two years I did 16000 miles without major incident. Then, just a week ago, I smashed into a car again. This time it certainly wasn't my fault as the auto had sped out of a side street at warp speed, driven by a juvenile who could barely see over the wheel. The police were on his tail and helped me up off the ground after I'd summersaulted over the car and down the road a few times. Car and bike were once again coalesced and I refused to go to hospital despite what felt like a broken neck. Two accidents in five years isn't bad going, I suppose, but I think it's about time I bought myself a nice safe tin box. Maybe!
AG