Good British motorcycles from the sixties are hard to find. When my cousin was trying to sell his '61 Falcon I was first in line. The combination of a stock chassis and only 9000 miles was too much to resist. The bike had spent much of its life greased and stored. My cousin had completely forgotten its existence until he found it buried at the back of his garage. A quick replacement of all the perished parts and he was back on the road for 2500 miles before the machine came into my hands.
The price wasn't too high as the engine had taken to cutting out and the starting was difficult. The motor was made by AMC, an update on the old Villiers single cylinder stroker - a quite infamous device. The long stroke layout with marginal lubrication was prone to failure when revved high; keep it below 5000 revs and you'd probably be okay. As the engine was basically a smaller version of the 250, both sharing the same 73mm stroke, it was quite tough.
After a bit of poking around I found the points on the right-hand end of the crankshaft. They looked new but there was lots of arcing when they opened. The condenser looked old and was the most obvious component to replace. The arcing went away, starting became a second kick affair and no more cutting out. The replacement from a car shop (it doesn't matter that it's 12V instead of 6V) only cost a quid. My cousin was pretty sick when I revealed the cheapness of the repair as he'd thought the piston was nipping up.
The engine didn't make much more than 12 horses but it flowed out from tickover and made the bike a pleasure to potter around on in town. After 50mph it ran out of steam, 60mph possible but not really recommended for long periods of time. Performance was slightly better than an MZ 125 that my neighbour owned, much to his disgust. A slight leak in the exhaust allowed a really loud bang in the silencer on the overrun. I really enjoyed watching pedestrians jumping out of their skin. I think the leak came from where the downpipe mated with the exhaust port. A very loose fit that no amount of gasket goo fixed because the engine heat melted it.
The four speed box and chain primary drive for the unit construction stroker was probably quite advanced in its day. I found the gearchange much more clunk than click whilst the primary chain churned away. Once into a gear it wouldn't leap out, which was its best point, but rolling to a standstill it'd lock up in whatever gear was chosen. The clutch noisily fried until it started to drag when the engine would stall if we couldn't move off. Neutral could then be selected and the mill would start first kick. I tended to look well ahead and plot a course that avoided too much waiting at junctions.
The Amal carb would also disturb by leaking fuel over the engine, a trickle rather than a gush, but enough to make the engine misfire. In the end I had to take the carb off, clean the crud out of the float and fit an in-line petrol filter. Tickover varied daily, according to humidity (I think) and was quite a reliable guide to the prospect of rain when it'd tickover fast enough to shake the tank! Fuel was a reasonable 75 to 85mpg.
Although, under mild use, there wasn't too much vibration apparent in hands and feet (helped by new rubbers), every week I had to go over every single bolt on the bike. The engine mountings loosened fastest, so I drilled and wired them. A couple of times I caned the engine, I had no choice as I'd misjudged traffic speeds in an overtaking manoeuvre, which made everything buzz heavily. Two of the engine bolts had broken their wires!
I once tried to start the engine when the plug was oiled up. No way, but I did managed to break the kickstart lever in half. The jagged remnants took a liking to my leg, leaving me screaming all the way to the hospital where I had several injections and twenty stitches. Worse still, I couldn't find a new lever, ended up having a Triumph item modified to match the splines on the shaft. After 34 years I suppose parts do become a bit fragile.
Fragile's the best description of the chassis. There were a couple of good points. Large mudguards kept the worst of the weather off the bike. A deep saddle gave impressive comfort when matched with the upright riding position - ideal for gentle riding. The 18 inch wheels allowed fitment of modern tyres with impressive grip.
Those were the good side, the poor aspects centred around the antiquated suspension and a somewhat minimal frame. On smooth roads the ride was acceptable if a little on the harsh side. Steering was neutral if heavy for a 275lb motorcycle. Rough roads had the front wheel all over the place, both ends doing the pogo-stick roll and the bars trying to jump out of my hands. It was better to have a light grip on the bars rather than trying to fight the larger oscillations, that way they died out rather than amplified still further. Oddly enough, the wobbles were more intense at 25 and 50mph but died down at 30 to 45mph.
Pot-holes were even more of a problem. The forks felt like they were going to break and I almost ended up side-saddle when the jumping chassis was hit by a double whammy - the back wheel hitting the same black hole whilst the front wheel was still jumping up and down wildly. No damping in the forks or shocks, you see. Under that kind of abuse the frame deformed like it was made out of rubber.
Such an old machine couldn't be blamed for lacking damping and not being able to cope with modern roads. A dramatic improvement was wrought by fitting a Triumph Daytona front end and old pair of Girlings. That lasted for less than a month as someone wanted the Daytona forks for a real Triumph and made me an offer I couldn't refuse.
The drum brakes, all of five inches in diameter, were good for shock tactics. They certainly shocked me, anyway. To be fair, they'd pull up strongly from 50mph - just the one time then they'd need an hour or so to cool down again. They were sensitive, softly slowing the bike down, giving the impression that they would work even on icy roads. Even with such a weak front drum, the forks would still shudder in their bearings, although the massive mudguard acted as an antique form of fork brace so they didn't twist.
The chassis problems might sound a bit profound but with a little care the bike could be plotted through town and along my favourite country lanes. For some odd reason I really enjoyed my journeys on the mild stroker. Inexorably there were breakdowns. The occasional need to tweak the points, the time the cylinder head came loose, the silencer trying to fall off - just a few examples of the more memorable events in a year's worth of riding. The Francis Barnett defined riding as an adventure in which anything could, and usually did, happen.
I found the lights so appalling that I avoided night riding with the same fidelity that I avoided the local yobs, who seemed to have reverted to the Middle Age, stoning people, like old buggers on ancient iron, who didn't fit in. Exactly what early indulgence in sex, videos or drugs turned them into rabid rabble I wouldn't like to say, but I've been tempted several times to let my dogs loose on them. That would be a proper lesson in brutality and define their true position in life. Erm, the FB's fitted with diabolical 6V lights that go out at tickover and cast, at other times, a yellow glow a mere foot in front of the bike. Absolutely useless, I've seen better stuff on a pushbike!
In a year I only did 3750 miles, which tells you a lot about my relationship with the bike, but it was fun, honest. The only major engine work was taking the top end down to clean out all the accumulated carbon from the basic stroker lubrication process. This was a 750 mile chore if I wanted to avoid the performance of a constipated moped.
As a serious commuter the FB really needs better suspension, brakes and lights. The engine's still up to the job. As a reminder that the British motorcycle industry produced some gritty commuters the Falcon's not half bad. I think the appearance has more class than Jap equivalents like the Honda Benly. It's also a talking point with fellow old codgers who can remember the golden days. I'm open to offers on the bike as I've explored its capabilities fully.
R.L.