BSA made more than 500,000 Bantams over the years - yes, wasn't the British motorcycle industry big not so many years ago. Compare that to all the cries of joy when the new Triumph company shifts 5000 bikes in a year. Not that you'd believe the past achievements from the number of Bantams still left on the road, a crying shame to my way of thinking.
In recent years, except for my hard working D175, the only one I've see is an early 125 version with rigid rear end and L-plates! The fellow had the audacity to fit long forks and paint it bright pink!
I dare say there's an owners' club somewhere but the last time I joined an organisation the Boy Scouts still stood for youth and innocence. Days when men knew what their right foot was for and anyone riding a Japanese bike was laughed at, they looked even funnier than Mods in parka's on scooters. I never had the chance to beat up the Mods and now two-wheelers are so scarce that we all have to be friendly.
By the time my 1969 D175 was manufactured BSA had put in 20 years worth of development from the original D1, itself closely related to the German DKW design. Similar engines were to turn up in the Eastern block, the design relatively easy to build and assemble, but none done as well as the Bantam.
Power was mild for a two stroke single of 175cc, 13 horses at 6000 revs, but many were the tuning options - often a quick way to ruin the reliability. The D175 benefited from a heftier crankshaft, better designed crankcases and a slightly lower compression ratio than other models at 9.5:1. The four speed transmission was a bit of a throwback to earlier days.
I have tried a high compression piston and running without the baffles whilst advancing the ignition. RD fans might wax lyrical about the resulting noise and laugh derisively at the mere 85mph top speed that resulted, but the engine became very finicky at lower revs. It was also possible, mandatory amongst youngsters, to take a file to the ports. Unless done with the kind of finesse and precision possessed only by the top tuners the piston could measure its life in hundreds rather than thousands of miles.
Kids will be kids, and many were the engines destroyed before their time. I can recall one youngster with the Bushman version of the Bantam, what could loosely be described as the leading trail bike of the day. He was desperate for more power, spent days taking the engine down and fitting go-faster bits. By the time he'd finished with the barrel there was more port than bore surface.
On the first day, without even bothering to run the components in, he speed tested the Bushman on a newly opened section of motorway. He reckoned he did 90mph before the engine seized the first time. After half an hour's cooling she freed and started up. The second seizure was at 50mph, the repeated violence on the transmission causing the clutch and gearbox to break up.
The locked back wheel threw him down the hard shoulder and left the Bantam to be flattened by a white Ford Anglia. I know it was white because I spent hours dismembering its bonnet from what little was left of the Bushman. The rider escaped with minor bruises and cuts, was soon repeating his hard earned experience on a Suzuki T200. A machine that repeated the Bantam's seizure at even higher speeds and with a similar result. This time I didn't offer to buy the bits off him.
The weakest part of strokers of this era was the simple lubrication system but as long as the throttle was restrained the piston and small-end refrained from seizure. I was always reassured by the haze of burnt oil, at least I knew some oil was getting through to the engine.
I preferred to keep my engine stock, both for longevity and ease of running. I didn't rate the transmission very highly. A high state of tune resulted in much cog swapping and clutch abuse, especially in town. That was only okay if you didn't mind a chaincase full of broken clutch plates and primary chain rollers.
Invariably, high mileages of over 20,000 would wear out most of the crank's bearings as well as the piston and bore. I did manage 35000 miles of mild riding out of one engine, with a decoke and new points every 5000 miles. A good helicoil kit's essential on machines of this mileage, as threads do tend to strip. The bike being more of a commuter than the preserve of enthusiasts, resulted in many being dumped after a few years of life when they failed. Hence the rareness of the bikes.
Who remembers all those Post Office Bantams? Me, I've got a couple in trillions of bits at the back of my garage. My brother actually worked for the PO for a while and had the undoubted privilege of riding around on a Bantam all day long. I tried to get a job there, too, but was told I had the wrong kind of attitude. All I said was that I wanted the job to ride around on bikes all day and, of course, for the money. My brother reckoned I was well off out of it as the bike was very tiring to ride all day, not having very comfortable suspension and cheap tyres that turned wet roads into ice-rinks.
The chassis was good enough to house the Tiger Cub's engine in the last days of that model's reign. Suspension was inspired by that fitted to bigger BSA's, actually being damped and tautly sprung, a rarity amongst both Japanese and British commuters of that time. Most Japs had such naff suspension that they waggled like irate ducks when chucked through the curves. In the cut and thrust of the bends I could take them easily despite their speed advantage.
The frame's more than adequate for the 75mph top speed. Comfort was just acceptable on bumpy modern roads as I'd had the seat filled with high density foam and upholstered a couple of years ago. The suspension's been rebuilt a couple of times but is basically stock. I was bought up on this kind of bike and don't like the remoteness from the road of modern machines - I will readily admit they have a much more sophisticated ride, but who cares, the bike still gets me where I'm going. The years have toughened up my body.
Mileage now stands at 86000, with three engine rebuilds consisting of new crank bearings, pistons and barrels, plus the transmission. I was lucky to buy the bike in 1975 when they cost next to nothing, buying up lots of broken engines for a few quid at a time. Rebuilds are not expensive, only new gaskets needed as I have enough engine parts to open a shop.
The D175 weighs only a few pounds over 200lbs, its taut, lithe chassis great fun around town or out in the country. As long as I didn't have any trouble with the electrics, which always appeared a bit dodgy. On a rare day, the alternator might pump out 60 watts but little of this power found its way to the lights. The coil ignition gobbled up whatever power came its way, leaving a murky glow that might just attract the more desperate moths. I have got the ignition working directly off the alternator via a big capacitor, so it doesn't really matter about the rest of it.
These days a good Bantam costs about five hundred quid which seems like jolly good value from where I'm sitting. As well as being a potential classic they are still useful commuters, if you can take the lack of electrics, brakes and suspension travel, enjoy the sure-footedness and low running costs. As a first British bike for a learner the 125 version would be highly entertaining and have as much pose value as a Cagiva Mito.
D.H.
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My BSA Bantam D14 stood outside the house indolently leaning on the sidestand. The paint on its tank gleamed in the sunlight, the shine of the engine alloy made it look as good as new. It hadn't been like that when I bought it three years ago. Then it was a rusty heap with a knackered engine that only just ran. It didn't tick over, it rumbled and crackled. It had cost two hundred notes to buy and another five hundred to get in its current condition. Yes, and too many long evenings and cold weekends.
It isn't my only bike. The GS550 is the general dogsbody, used for work and the occasional bouts of pleasure. There's a Bonnie in a million bits, half a Tiger Cub and an original CB750 with a knackered top end (and, no, I won't sell it to you). When I started biking in the early seventies a mate had a D14 and I remember how punchy and taut it had felt after my knackered CD. I knew then that some time in the future I would buy one. I had carefully run the bike in and now it was rewarding me by refusing to start. I had kicked it over so many times that the kickstart mechanism broke. That had meant another partial strip down which did nothing for my temper.
There appeared to be a good spark, petrol was getting through and the timing was okay. Bloody temperamental two strokes, I began to curse. I tried a new spark plug and it crackled into life first kick. Although the old spark plug was working fine outside the engine, once inside it must have been breaking down.
The bike snicked into first with a reassuring click. It will pull away with hardly any throttle up and acceleration is quite vigorous if you let rip. Gearchanges are precise but a little heavy, you really need to wear some decent footwear. Steering is precise and the chassis, as mentioned before, feels taut. There is probably little more damping than on a Japanese bike of a similar age but the suspension movement is limited to a few inches so it does not really matter.
The bike holds its line over bumps, both in a straight line and through the curves, but hardly any of the bumps are absorbed by the suspension. Road surfaces have deteriorated since the sixties and it's very tiring to ride the bike for more than 50 miles on anything other than a smooth road. As the latter are only available on motorways, this makes the usefulness of the bike limited to short hauls around town and quick spins out in the country. On motorways, the Bantam lacks the speed to keep up with the general traffic flow. In theory, the bike should be able to do over 80mph. In practice, the vibes once past 65mph do not encourage engine thrashing. If you insist on ignoring the warnings, then the small and big-ends will quickly wear out. Cruising at 60 to 65mph is perfectly plausible and 70 to 75mph can be held for short periods without too much fear of mechanical disaster.
The Bantam engine is a simple two stroke single design without a reed valve or electronic ignition in sight. Split vertically, it can be rebuilt with a smattering of silicone gasket and made oil tight. The contact breakers, unfortunately, are of the quick wear type, as is the primary chain....fortunately, both cheap to replace. Since the rebuild I have done 22,800 miles with no other engine problems, save for oiling of the spark plug and some chassis problems. My engine is in standard condition save that it is in a slightly lower compression state than stock. The engine rebuild, once all the bits had been acquired, was simple and straightforward and a welcome relief after the CB750.
The chassis problems came from new swinging arm bearings of inferior quality that broke up after 1200 miles. This frightened the life out of me as I was doing 60mph at the time. Bike and rider ended up in a ditch. Damage was restricted to a few scratches and a bruised thigh. The movement allowed by the broken up bearings made the chain fly off and break up the chainguard.
The frame is a quite well designed tubular construction. So good, in fact, that in the late sixties the Tiger Cub engine was installed in the Bantam chassis. Handling standards are better than modern commuters like the RXS100, YB100 and, indeed, I could keep up with my mate's restricted RD125LC on A roads. Obviously, it lacked the comfort afforded by even the basic commuting tackle, but all this 25 year old design of chassis needs to take it into the nineties is uprated suspension.
The Bantam shows its commuter origins and the limitations of British production engineering in the petrol tank and side panels. Constructed shoddily, their shape limited by the engineering constraint of keeping costs down, they do nothing for the overall look of the machine. Sad to say, besides a CB72 or T250, the Bantam looks outclassed and poorly executed. BSA never had style high on the list of priorities on any of their models and the D14 suffered more than most from corporate indifference.
The Bantam makes up for this in being incredibly cheap to run. I usually get around 80mpg, although as much as 95mpg is possible. That is better than most of the restricted 125cc commuters, only things like GS and CG 125s can beat it. Tyres last for more than 15000 miles, whilst chains go for around 20,000 miles and sprockets don't seem to wear at all.
Neither do the brake shoes but this is probably because they are not tyre squealing in their effectiveness. The back is okay, requiring a hefty stomp before it will lock up the wheel. The front, though, overheats very quickly and then starts to fade. Used a few times from speeds up to 50mph there are not too many problems. The bike stops in a straight line and the combined force of both brakes is usually sufficient to avoid disaster. The bike can be manoeuvred whilst braking and isn't upset in bends by a trailing throttle or gentle application of the brakes.
However, do just one urgent stop from 70mph and the brake needs half an hour to recover. In fact, I have found the braking so worrying in modern traffic conditions that I have a front end off a BSA A50 in the garage, which I shall fit when I have a free moment (it's on the list of things to do after the CB750 top end rebuild....). Hopefully, the combination of better suspension and a TLS front brake will make the bike much more pleasant.
Where the bike does shine is in the wet. The gentle retardation of the drum brakes is great after modern discs. There is good feedback from the tyres, I am always aware of how they are reacting to the slippery surface and when the wheels start to slide they always do so gradually and snap back into line when I promptly take remedial action. Only a fool does more than 60mph in the wet, so the Bantam crackles along like a good 'un with few bikes trying to overtake me.
Even in the wet, I never have any problems with the electrics because I did a complete rewire myself and relocated most of electrical components out of the weather on rubber mounts (cut up inner tube if you insist on being precise). The front light is useless on unlit roads but does adequately warn drivers of my presence. Batteries last about 12000 miles. I have experimented with the big capacitor solution but never got the engine to run.
What else? Oh yes, riding around on a British bike brings all kinds of characters out of the woodwork. I once parked the Bantam next to half a dozen race replicas in a city centre. I came back to find a large crowd of pensioners gathered around the BSA totally ignoring the existence of the five grand plus hyper machines. If you find it hard to make friends or meet people, buy an old Brit and it'll solve all your problems.
My favourite move is burning off H reg cars from the traffic lights. The BSA moves well up to 50mph and must make car drivers wince in horror that something so ancient can burn them off. Ho, ho. I suppose if I had to I could use the BSA as my sole vehicle, especially if I did that front end swap and put some softer Koni's on the back.
In fact, the more I think about it the more it appeals, because it has been just as reliable as a modern bike and more economical than most. It has more street cred than an MZ, there are lots of cheapish spares available and I like running around on it. Pity BSA didn't develop it a bit - a 125 version with the same low running costs, modern styling and supple suspension would surely sell in today's market!
Pete Simpson
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I like to keep a spare bike. Not that I don't trust number one, but for commuting and in case of breakdowns a second machine's useful. Who wants to drag a 500lb dead weight through city traffic when you can have a bit of fun on a lightweight hack. To date I've had eleven cheap hacks, most of which lasted six to seven months before expiring. The longest lasting and most fun has been (and still is) a 1968 BSA D14/4 Bantam. Hard to believe? In my opinion it takes some beating...if it's treated with the respect it deserves. More on that later.
The D14/4's a 175cc (61.5x58mm bore and stroke), 14hp, four speed, two stroke (loop scavenging) single. It's got the best 6V electrics I've ever come across, cost a mere £200, with 20,000 miles and four owners under its wheels. Running costs are low, 90-100mpg attainable in normal use, though it runs hot on unleaded fuel. Four star or Super Plus unleaded cure that. Well, it is 10:1 compression. Pre-mix oil at 32:1 is a bit of a bind, but even that doesn't make much smoke.
At 24000 miles I had to replace the original rear tyre, a Dunlop Rain Cheetah, which it's still got on the front. Both tyres are 3.00x18, so a £14 Nitto was stuck on the back. The original chain and sprockets lasted a mere 21000 miles. A new Parry chain cost a tenner and a pair of sprockets cost the same.
Most spares are readily available and cheap. Full gasket set £5. Crank seals £4 the pair. Points and condenser £5. Amal rebuild set including slide, needle, jets £13. I was amazed. An old fossil and the spares are cheaper and easier to get hold of than for my CG or MZ. Maintenance's minimal - every 3000 miles it gets a new plug, gearbox oil and reset points and timing. Hour and a half, it's done! Due to the gentle way it develops power it never seems to go out of tune.
Handling, even on 27 year old Dunlops is okay. It won't scratch because the first thing to touch down is the handlebars! It'll take some quite silly angles of lean with nary a twitch, even at low speeds. Chuck it about on twisty roads and it'll keep up with the best Jap 125 hacks and run round 'em on corners. A fifty inch wheelbase, 215lbs weight ready for the road and British geometry, all pay off. Push it to the limit and you can feel the frame flexing but show me a hack's that's better.
Performance's brisk. It's fairly slow off the mark but is capable of being coaxed up to 85mph. It doesn't exactly have blistering acceleration due to wide gaps between the four gears and no power band, but it will slog it out up quite steep inclines and pull from as little as 20mph in top. Maximum power's at 5750rpm, which equates to 65mph on standard sprockets. I've geared mine up somewhat. Thrash it, 50 to 60mpg is all you get, plus smokescreens to put a KH250 to shame. Plus vibration becomes a bit grim. Enough to shake engine bolts loose, which isn't pleasant. This is a bit of a shame as it's such a joy to sling around the B roads. Comfortable seat, sensible riding position, wide flat bars and controls set just right, adds up to a bike that is great fun.
The brakes are fine in town. Progressive, loads of feel, but used hard the front fades out completely, needs a while to get over the shock of being hustled. Hardly surprising, really, as there are small SLS drums at each end. Engine braking is, of course, conspicuous by its absence.
Go into a corner too fast and the chassis is very forgiving. Just hold on, dab the rear brake and lean it over. It'll get around okay. If the worst comes to the worse, a touch of boot to the tarmac will regain any lost control. Honest! And all on 1968 suspension, too. Everything just seems to be so well matched. But then it's fairly difficult to get into serious problems due to the low state of tune.
Reliability is not all a bed of roses. In town or trotting about out of the city is fine. Push it too far and you will both suffer. Don't forget its age. A couple of years ago I raced a chap on a GPX250. I was at the limit chasing them down my favourite bit of road. I know it like the back of my hand. Obviously he didn't. I was really enjoying myself, 60mph on the twisty bits, right up behind him and he blasts away on the straights. The last bend is deceptive. Looks nasty but isn't. I rode round the outside of the GPX, got 30 yards in front and seized the bugger up.
Scored the barrel, scored the piston, broke all three piston rings, reduced both big and little ends to fillings and broke the gear lever return spring. The rebuild cost £115. All new parts, rebuilt and balanced crankshaft, new bearings, etc. Whilst it was in pieces I ground the rough bits out of the ports and lapped the barrel and head together. Ran it in and noticed quite a difference. It pulled even better, accelerated better, smoothed the roughness at high revs and lost the ping out of the exhaust. More of a dug-dug than an MZ's rang-a-dang.
But I learnt my lesson. No more thrashing. I ride it to work, a ten mile cross city hack which I can manage in about 15 minutes (which is quicker than my big Jap), 90mpg, and the boss lets me park it in the heated workshop at work - ''Don't want to leave a classic bike out int' rain, do you?''
But riding to work is what Bantams were all about. They were the first bike designed for learners and for hacking about. Even in the depths of winter it'll start fairly well. Tickle the Amal (that means flood it for all your young whipper-snappers not yet initiated into the arts of old British bikes), shut the air control lever (choke to you) and trot it down the drive in second. Bump starts a treat. The kickstart is the worst part of the bike. It was not until the last model, the B175, that BSA finally did the decent thing and beefed up the kickstart to such a degree that it doesn't bend until it catches the exhaust, jam up and then strips the splines off! That's happened twice. The parts to effect a repair (spindle, quadrant and lever) cost £20 new, but fitting them involves removing the clutch, so the second time it happened I threw it away. I'm toying with the idea of fitting the later parts but it means reaming the right-hand crankcase out and I couldn't be bothered to tear the engine down just to do that.
All the other hacks have been and gone. All of them ended up costing me quite a bit of time, money and extra grey hairs. They all degenerated quite rapidly - rotting away, falling apart, stripping threads all over the shop. None of them felt particularly secure on the road, and I've fallen off (or over) all of them, apart from the Bantam. And, yes, whenever I park up, some old duffer appears and says - ''I know, they don't make 'em like this any more, I had one yonks but it was red, better than all this foreign rubbish, and I remember when I rode to Catterick one winter, five foot of snow...'' and so on.
Bantams are still available as runners for £200 or so, but expect to pay £600 at least for a pristine example. I have just bought a dismantled D7 for £20, another £150 should see a jolly good hack. Try one, see what you think.
Ivan S. Cherry
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I know, I know, BSA Bantams are wonderful, have a fanatical following and can even be raced. But? Well, the 1969 D175 had been immaculately restored by someone named John from Newcastle, who was twice my weight and bred ferocious Dobberman canines as a recreational hobby. His parting words were to the effect that if I broke the stroker then I'd be fed to the pups (Pups? They were huge things at three weeks). Word about the Malone testing methods must've gotten around.
Back in the early seventies, when the model was coming to the end of its production run, Bantams were popular amongst learners who had yet to be restricted to 125's and right at the beginning of that decade didn't even have to wear crash helmets! Can you believe that, children? Happy days, or what? Of course, the Bantam was already outclassed by Honda twins and a whole host of Jap strokers, all of which could be taken to revs that would turn the D175's engine into shrapnel.
The only things it had going for it were a superior, much tauter, chassis and a relatively simple motor - many a novice learnt the art of stroker porting on Bantam mills; even more how easy it was to make them overheat and seize up. To be fair to the motor, left stock and ridden as the makers intended, then it was a reliable enough device for the first 10,000 miles or so. But who was going to be contented with such sanity in the mad old seventies? Quite!
A weird shaft of nostalgia hit when I gave her some revs and let out the clutch for the first time. Give the engine its due, there was an initial burst of acceleration that was beyond what most 12hp learners might experience the first time they popped a clutch and it sat on the road with a precision that eludes most modern commuters. 13hp allied to not much more than 200lbs meant that there was, indeed, some fun within the confines of its ancient outline.
By the time I'd flicked through the box and hammered the throttle some less celebratory times were evident. Come 60mph the entirely stock motor turned as somnolent as the editor when asked for some dosh and the precision of its steering was overwhelmed by the short travel suspension fluttering away over the suddenly rough road surface. Suddenly rough, that is, compared to riding a bike with modern suspension.
Speed brings out all the crudity of the design, both in the malevolence of the suspension and vibration of the 172cc two stroke motor. Fight through this, it's possible to put all of 80mph on the clock. Well, the madly oscillating speedo needle eventually settled on that figure, but its reliability was as questionable as a Labour politician when interrogated on public spending. Observation of the way the scenery was flashing past suggested, in reality, somewhere between 70 and 75mph. Increased velocity smoothed out the bumps a little, though flat out there was the slightest of weaves from the back tyre. No doubt fitment of modern rubber would eradicate that, but devotees of such period pieces prefer long lasting, old fashioned tyres.
It was nothing to worry about, the D175 being one of those machines whose geometry and weight distribution inspires a certain amount of trust. I could only fault the riding position insofar that I felt a little bit perched atop the machine rather than an integral part of it, a feeling of dislocation that soon faded into the background. Compared to modern hacks, the ergonomics and comfort were as far ahead of the game as an R80's beyond an GSXR 750. It was just a matter of the designer giving some thought to the way the various elements integrated - on Jap commuters they just don't give a shit.
The only area where they messed up was with the spark plug. Rain caused the engine to run intermittently at low revs, despite the fact that the huge front mudguard made damn sure that the bike wasn't sprayed by an excess of water off the front end. The plug and cap sit there, just waiting for the acid rain to eat into them. Luckily, the clouds dissipated and the sun shone before I became sufficiently annoyed to do something stupid.
The electrics were the same old shit that the British industry thought they could get away with, though the Japanese of that era were just as bad in the provision of adequate lighting (but less unreliable) - the real reason the Jap's bothered to fit 12V electrics was that it was needed for the electric boot that soon became mandatory in their designs.
The Bantam wasn't well equipped enough to ride down dark country lanes and even in town the way the back light flickered in rhythm with the engine revs at tickover hardly inspired thoughts of a long and happy life. On the plus side, a minimal effort on the kickstart got the engine slapping away like a good 'un, a welcome relief after some of the big twins I've come across recently - age must be catching up with me.
Ease of riding in town is probably the Bantam's greatest asset. The only area where it was pressed was the SLS front drum that didn't react instantaneously when slammed on in the face of some dozy ped or cager. A wrench on the bars being more help in avoiding accidents. Anyone wanting to use a D175 in serious mode would do well to fit a better front end.
Braking apart, the bike had useful manoeuvrability and adequate urge for hustling through cages. No end of fun was had taking the piss out of drivers. Drawing up alongside them at the lights on a bike with a vintage appearance and smoky exhaust led them to expect Raleigh Runabout levels of performance when in reality the little stroker was quicker off the mark than the vast majority of cages. It much preferred use of half the throttle range to being revved until it melted; excess revs weren't rewarded with a plenitude of acceleration. Play it cool, in other words.
In most city traffic conditions by the time some cager had wound up his coffin to a level of acceleration where he began closing in on the Bantam, it'd be time for him to brake whilst the BSA merely sneaked into the narrowest of gaps and sped off into the distance. The poor old cagers were most aggravated by being burnt off in such a manner, resorting to much horn work and squealing tyres. Poor demented chaps.
The Bantam has a lineage that goes back to 1948 in 123cc format but the useful ones were made between 1968 and 1972 in the form of the D14 and D175, though a lot of the earlier 175's were upgraded to later, tougher engine spec's. Mild tune jobs are okay when done with some expertise but the more power the more fragile the motor becomes. If you must indulge in such excesses make sure you have at least one spare engine - you'll surely need it.
As a town bike, used for the odd country road sortie, the Bantam's more than adequate and reasonably packed with fun riding. It's also viable as a second bike if you want to save your prime vehicle from excess road abuse. As a sole means of transport it won't take high speed A-roads or motorways unless you have a deal of patience - I know one guy who's toured all over Europe on one, so anything's possible.
The decent stuff costs around a grand, which ain't bad value, these days. If you buy well on the private market there's no reason why you should experience any depreciation, and may even come out a little ahead of the game in a year's time. As for me, I don't think I'm quite senile enough to indulge yet but I did manage to get the bike back in one piece!
Johnny Malone