I didn't even like British bikes but I thought I was going to make a killing rather than nearly be killed! I was offered a 750 Interstate for 500 sovs. Mangled front end, wrecked exhaust, been standing for a couple of years, no idea what the engine was like but it still turned over. A quick flick through the classic comics revealed prices in the £2500 to £4000 range. I rubbed my hands in glee, raided the wife's building society account and got it delivered for free as part of the deal. Clever boy, I told myself, and the wife, who looked like she'd eaten an Alsatian curry when she saw the mess that was deposited on our doorstep.
With the vague promise of redecorating it after I'd finished, the Commando was shoved in the front room and I got to work. Prior to this I'd only been involved with Jap bikes, so it came as a nasty surprise so find that my metric spanners slid off the British bolts. Worse still, there are apparently several different kinds of Brit standards - Whitworth, UNF, etc. Stupid pricks! Just to confuse things, there were bolts with metric threads and Brit heads! Aaargh! Get the mole-grips and hammer out.
Several stripped threads, rounded off nuts and bloodied fingers later, I had the front end and exhaust off. The forks were so bent that they snapped when the local frame straightener had a go. So much for British quality. The spoked wheel was rebuilt and used forks found, plus guard, light and clocks! £250! A rather rusty but intact set of exhausts was found for £40. More hammering and spannering had the blighter back together.
Meanwhile, I'd bunged in fresh points, plugs and oil. Hammered away on the kickstart for a couple of days until the thing finally fired up. It took about two seconds for the neighbours to start hammering on the door and five minutes for the police, ambulance and fire services to turn up. No, the thing hadn't exploded into a huge fireball, it made so much noise and vibration that the whole terrace of houses rocked on their foundations. Some poor old dear dialing 999, reckoning there had been a gas explosion or terrorist incident. After getting a severe ear bashing from all concerned I conceded that I would confine my mechanical wizardry to the back yard.
Some time later, after replacing all the shot Isolastic mounts, fitting a used petrol tank (that wasn't rusted out inside), bunging on a newish set of Avons and polishing the old bastard to a mirror shine, I had my first ride on the much venerated twin. This wasn't how I'd describe the thing, though, after the first the few minutes. Finger numbing vibes, a tank that shook between my legs like it was out to castrate me and handlebars that flapped in the wind.
Obviously needed a bit more fettling, didn't it. Several days were spent shimming the Isolastics. Too loose meant the swinging arm wobbled as it wasn't attached directly to the frame - I mean, can you believe that? Too tight and the thing went walkies with the vibes even at tickover. The best I could do was handling like a worn XS650 and vibration like a Harley 1200 (another pile of overrated crap if my short blast was any indication). Norton experts will probably scoff at this ineptitude and fix it to run like silk and handle like a dream in a mere matter of minutes. I don't think!
By the time I was ready for a serious blast total cost was up to a grand but I thought the bike looked good enough to go for three times that so I wasn't totally unhappy. The spec on the machine was 65 horses and 420lbs, which wasn't bad for the early seventies, and the big twin gives out loads of stomp. Apart from the odd handling I quite enjoyed a fifteen minute blast, getting the rev counter up to eight grand in second gear on one memorable occasion! God did it jive to that, judging by the vibration.
Back home, it was pissing out oil of almost every joint and blasted off enough heat to make me think it was going to melt before my eyes! The back yard was awash with the black stuff, coming out of the engine at about a pint a minute! The tank was soon empty!
Much later, I'd told a Norton enthusiast what I'd done. It was like telling a religious fanatic that you'd like to crucify Jesus. The poor old guy was spluttering, red faced with rage. In case you ever have the misfortune to buy a Norton, note that the factory recommended maximum revs of seven grand and that most owners balk at the idea of taking them over 5000rpm! Apparently, it's a quick way to blow the crankshaft apart! Oh well!
The next day I filled the tank up with oil and she started up fine. A bit noisy and vibratory but I expected that. I thumped around town for a few days, basking in the admiration of the general populace - they insisted on waving and screaming at me. It might not have been sheer enthusiasm on their part but the rusted through exhaust system, or even the way the thudding brute caused gaps to open up in the pavement! I found it strangely impressive.
Then I had to do a fifty mile run in a hurry, the Commando the only available set of wheels. Motorway most of the way, half an hour, easy, thought I. Ten miles into the trip I had to pull over to put my eyeballs back in their sockets. During this hazy trip to the hard shoulder, I failed to notice a Fiat Uno coming up the inside. He hammered into the back of the bike, sending us into a massive spin.
When I woke up, mere moments later apparently, I found myself flat on my back in a field, being investigated by several cows who stank to high heaven and had a disconcerting inclination to try to chomp on my crotch! I got out of there fast, only to find the Norton impaled in a hedge, with another written off front end and battered cycle parts. The pigs, when they turned up, were not amused. Neither was I, as I didn't have tax, insurance, MOT, etc.
The only good thing about the whole incident was that I walked away from it without any serious damage, though the bastards made me spend hours in the hospital for check-ups - I always seem to end up with the 200 pound nurse who moves with total Teutonic subtlety.
By the time I'd paid for the Norton to be returned to my house, fixed up the front end and cycle parts, we were looking at a grand total of 1500 sovs gone west. I'd had enough of the sod, that was for sure, so it was advertised for £3500. Zero phone calls. £3000, same trip. £2500 got quite a few phone calls but not many people turning up. Those that did weren't impressed with my paint job or the general condition of the machine. The best offer I got was £1250.
Put it in for £2000, then. The phone never stopped ringing for a week! Loads of punters on my doorstep but they weren't ecstatic. It wouldn't exactly grace the pages of Classic Bike, I was told. In the end it went for £1500! All that effort and pain for zero profit. It was worse than that, the Norton had left so much oil sprayed over the front room that I had to spend a hundred notes redecorating it. Stick with what you know, is all I can say.
Colin Leigh
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Do you recall the shock of the new? Seeing for the first time a particular motorcycle that strikes deep into your heart. Lust, craving and desire follow. Then it's dejection and depression because there's no way in the world, at the age of seventeen, that the money can be found. The bike that really made my blood flow was the original 750 Norton Commando. I never forgot that heady feeling.
Some five years ago I had the chance to buy a refurbished and upgraded example. The original 750 had some diverting bugbears, from silly things like points that fell apart to the more serious like crankshaft bearings that disintegrated. Most of the 750's problems were solved over time, the example on offer had, for instance, electronic ignition and Superblend main bearings allied with a dynamically balanced crankshaft.
A wad of bills testified to the great expense and tender loving care devoted to what had once been MCN's machine of the year. It looked, sounded and felt so nice that before I knew what I'd done I had written out the cheque for £3250! Riding the bike for the first time was a revelation. Everything was much more brutal and direct that my normal fare of Japanese middleweights. Having the gearchange and brake lever on the wrong side was the least of my worries, something I'd quickly adapted to.
All the controls were heavy but the effort was worthwhile. Great thumping wedges of torque rushed in when I wound open the throttle. My left hand was almost broken when I tried to pull in the clutch for the first time and stomping the gear lever was akin to dropping a ten pound weight on my foot. Acceleration was furious, neck jerking stuff of which dreams of the fast life are made. Accompanied by the kind of churning vibes that made me weary in the depths of my soul, left me wondering as to the efficacy of the famed Isolastic engine mounts, and thankful that I still had a perfect set of teeth, for fillings would surely have dropped right out after a few moments.
There was no mistaking that this was one dynamic, disorderly piece of long stroke vertical twin British engineering. In fact, the owner had patiently explained, as if to a moron, that the reason the engine shook in the frame at tickover, making the whole bike rattle like a jack-hammer, was not because there was anything wrong with the motor - perish the thought - but because he'd tightened up the shimming in the Isolastic mounts as far as they would go. The choice being, on this era of Commando's, between a relatively smooth set-up with ill-making handling (the swinging arm being as isolated from the frame as was the engine) or the aforementioned vibes with the steering precision and stability for which the Norton name was justly famed in the sixties, thanks to its mythical Featherbed frame, which was dumped after the 750 Atlas model redefined the meaning of vertical twin vibration.
It soon became apparent that the best way to ride the Commando was in fourth gear, where the relative lack of revs and tall gearing subsumed most of the grinding vibes, where the torque, anyway, made much use of the gearbox above 30mph hardly worth the effort, especially given the way my shoe was being torn apart by the lever and my left hand was screaming at the clutch abuse.
There was one limitation on this seemingly laid back, if not mentally liberating, ease of use - namely, that below 30mph in top some quirk of the final drive design made for a resonance in the chain that fed paranoid thoughts of instant demise, the chain snapping in two and massacring either my leg or the chaincase. Or maybe both. This resonance effectively locked the box into top gear, meaning massive amounts of clutch slip, which was like trying to stop a catapult once released.
As well as being heavy the clutch was also very vehement. The upshot of all that was that if the bike ran below 30mph in top I had the choice of opening up the throttle or pulling the clutch in, grinding to a halt, turning off the engine, knocking the suddenly freed box into neutral and then firing the bike back into life on the kickstart. Well weird! I have mentioned this trait to other Norton Commando owners, and read many a test, but no-one seems to share my problem or is able to offer a solution.
Some non-standard component in the final drive or primary transmission may be the cause but I've put it down to the unique character of my particular machine, it's got to be better to have individuality than thousands of bikes that are absolutely identical. I soon learnt to get into third any time that 30mph, or less, was needed, when the problem disappeared as if it was a mere figment of my imagination.
The gearchange was heavy but definite, only liable to miss a change when I tried to hurry the box or when I was less than manly with the clutch - trying to change gear without the latter produced death noises, a false neutral and a box that sulked for the next five minutes until it sorted itself out. The gearbox oil was separate from the rest of the engine, being of pre-unit construction, and didn't seem to object to 10,000 mile oil changes.
It took me about six weeks of constant riding to become used to the Norton's ways. As my clutch hand strengthened it became a much nicer machine to ride and proper boots gave my feet an easier time. They were also necessary to perfect the art of kicking the big twin into life. A matter of not just an audacious kick but also of perfect throttle and choke positioning, variables that depended on the engine's temperature, the humidity and, seemingly, on the flux of the moon. After a while, intuition plays a part and it became a first kick affair every time; an accomplishment that made me feel really good, on a par with the gods.
Curious how these old British bikes worm their way under the skin. Thus, some four months and 5,500 miles into the game, did I sense a discordant note from within the engine, an untoward flurry of vibes as 4000 revs were approached, a need to work the throttle harder than before, and in a miraculous moment of smoothness at 4500rpm, when the mirrors stopped shaking, a puff of grey smoke that curled up from the silencers only to be lost in the mirrors as the wind twirled it away.
I rode the bike for another 100 miles when its pain at my lack of immediate response became even plainer, with the footpegs trying to fall off their alloy mounting plates and a bloody big crack in one of the lustrously chromed megaphones. The latter announced by enough noise to have the neighbours phoning the police and ever so young police officers galloping along the pavement, waving their notebooks, shrieking something that was thankfully loss to the magnificent growl.
Fearing the worst, I removed the engine from the frame and started to tear the head off. I didn't have to look far for the cause, a loose exhaust valve-guide that had allowed the valve to mash its seat. Bits for Commando's are available new, so it was just a matter of regrinding the seat and fitting the new bits. I let a Norton expert do a complete cylinder head refurbishment for £250, was pleasantly surprised to receive back a polished head that glowed like chrome, with the ports beautifully cleaned up and all the threads refurbished.
It came back just in time for me to avoid terminal withdrawal symptoms. Running was even better than before, a more responsive engine and fuel improving from 50 to 55mpg. I bathed in the glory or a well set-up vertical twin, that up to 90mph could still see off many a middleweight Japanese four. Light weight and gusty torque made up for any deficit of outright power. The Norton would lope up to the ton, no problem, but then began to slow, although on a good day it was possible to do about 125mph. I say about because the speedo went a bit vague at such speeds, the needle twittering, one time flicking off the scale as if we'd entered warp speed. We hadn't, it was just the vibration.
After the head refurbishment, the Norton ran for the next two years and 28000 miles with just the usual maintenance. A long enough time and fine enough ride to convert me so completely to its cause that I didn't even need to think about taking it off the road for six months to completely rebuild the engine, every internal component, apart from those within the gearbox, needing attention, replacing or rectification. About £1200's worth of work!
I did the rebuild myself, a perusal of the manual convincing me of its apparent simplicity. It all went back together with the ease of a particularly zany Meccano set but I knew straight away, from the way it vibrated and responded to the throttle, that there was more art and artifice in the rebuild than revealed by the workshop manual. It wasn't terrible but it lacked an edge, seemed more craven in nature than before, exulted less in response to my right hand, and ground out so much vibration that I couldn't bring myself to push it beyond 5000 revs.
I tried to persuade myself than a few thousand miles of running in would sort it out but if anything they just confirmed my opinion of my own poor engineering abilities. A fairly despondent two years and 9000 miles followed, my lack of care showing up in a chassis that started to corrode where it wasn't wearing out. Loose forks, shot shocks and a leaking petrol tank were but symptoms of a general malaise, a decline in spirit, that affected both the machine and myself.
Several times I came close to selling the bike, for even in its poor state it was still worth serious money, but my recollections of charging through the countryside in the early days of ownership kept such a traitorous act at bay. Finally, I decided a complete refurbishment of the Commando was needed. The engine was entrusted to the same guy who'd done the head, with orders to extract the best that could be found in the mill, topped off by an SU carb conversion, rubber belt primary drive and later vernier Isolastic mounts.
The chassis I did myself, not having the money to off-load it on to anyone else. Four months later the as new machine stood gleaming on my driveway under the glorious summer sunshine. Polished and painted to perfection, I knew the moment the motor stuttered into life, just by the way it gently throbbed in the frame, that I was on to a winner. I didn't even mind the 3000 miles of moderate riding that it took to bed the motor in.
What a glorious engine, what a sublime sound and what a feline beast it'd turned out to be. I could barely bring myself to get off the machine after a hard day's ride! Of course, by then I had set the riding position to suit myself perfectly, always wore heavy-duty boots and had macho lower arm muscles.
The SU carb and belt drive made the motor feel marvellously contented at 90mph in top, fuel was around 60mpg and consumable wear so moderate I never bothered to work it out - in comparison to the cost of rebuilding the mill every two years a meaningless expense.
I love the rorty old Norton. Buying one is expensive, setting one up properly even more likely to cause bankruptcy, and the end result, even when close to perfection in my eyes, quite likely to horrify those more used to sophisticated Japanese bikes. But on the road it's a real hero, revealing every ounce of the effort involved in the motorcycle experience to those willing to listen to its beat.
J.J.
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My best friend has an ex-plod 850 Commando, still has the huge white fairing and a motor that has gone around the clock a couple of times. In contrast, my original spec 750 has done a mere 27000 miles, with just one major rebuild some 6000 miles ago. It's about as mild as a big Norton twin can get but still good for 110mph. The main thing is that it's a reliable, almost vibration free, 90mph cruiser.
The ex-plod bike, in comparison, has been tweaked and will do 120mph despite the plastic. It rumbles and shakes, though, despite sharing with my bike fitment of the later vernier shims in the Isolastic mounts. As far as I can recall, I think it was the Plod who demanded them for ease of servicing and they were later fitted to the final series of 850 Commando's.
The history of my bike is a bit odd. It was bought by a collector in the early seventies who stashed it away until the recession of 1992, when in desperate need of dosh he sold it to me for £2500. In happier days he'd valued it at ten grand! He was a motorcyclist, had turned the engine over every couple of weeks and fitted modern rubber before selling it.
The clock read just 4000 miles when the bike fell into my hands and I'd ridden it and ridden it until the top end started smoking. That was the first hint that the whole engine needed a rebuild, something I only found out after I started to strip it down. About £1500 was spent fixing it!
These days, having taken the hint, I have a second bike (CB500 twin) for the serious stuff and just use the Commando for pleasure. My initial feeling was that it was a brilliant piece of kit. I've owned many British twins and was well pleased with the relative lack of vibration and excessive amount of torque - way ahead of a Bonnie, for instance.
The heaviness of its controls was par for the course, didn't really hinder the bike in the various conditions it had to take as my sole form of transport. It was the magnitude of its versatility that made me treat it as a proper motorcycle that was meant to be ridden rather than a classic that was meant to be admired and pampered. Hence high miles and loadsa of speeding.
The Isolastic mounts, which effectively separate the engine, gearbox and swinging arm from the rest of chassis, are famed for producing an ill-handling brute but as long as they were set up properly I didn't really experience any hinged-in-the-middle madness. The later vernier shims are much easier to adjust, but even the old system wasn't that bad - after all, a bit of bonding between man and machine is all to the good.
The Commando isn't as light handling as a Bonnie or Featherbed Norton but it does have a basic stability that even the modern Honda lacks - thanks to relatively large wheels that don't flip away without any warning and do far less damage to the tyres. I was appalled when the original Jap tyres on the CB wore out in less than 6000 miles; at equal speeds the Norton will do at least twice that! Admittedly, the Honda needed almost no maintenance and its O-ring chain was amazingly free of hassle compared to the stringy affair on the Commando (which also, ancient thing that it is, has chain primary drive).
Whilst the handling was fine, the drum brakes weren't quite up to excessive high speed work. The TLS front drum was better than most in the sixties but no way could it claim the same kind of stopping power as even seventies' discs let alone thoroughly modern fare. Fade was experienced after a couple of hard stops from in excess of 80mph - a real problem on fast swooping back roads when I had to slow down to let the brake cool off.
The rear drum and engine braking weren't up to much, retardation limited by the swinging arm waggling away when banked over. In the Norton way, it's possible - and probably advisable - to retrofit the later disc brake, although my friend has never been complimentary about their behaviour in the wet. Shoe life, at either end, is amazing compared to Jap disc's, around the 15000 mile mark.
The odd shape of the seat where it wraps around the small petrol tank makes for both a lack of comfort and a certain disassociation from the machine - it's hard to feel part of the package when you're rather awkwardly perched atop it. Under mild use the engine turns in 60mpg, under heavy abuse around the 45mpg mark; in neither case does the lack of range develop before both bum-ache and shoulder spasms set in. 50 miles without respite is more than enough. Again, it's possible to fit a bigger tank and later saddle, which would solve both problems simultaneously but I love the way the bike looks too much for that; better to suffer in silence.
It's also one of those bikes that needs lots of polishing to keep it up to spec but, unlike the Honda, I don't seem to mind putting in the effort. The petrol tank's GRP, has cracked and developed leaks a few times but it's easy enough to patch with a glass-fibre kit. As far as I know, the silencers are original fare and still immaculate - an impossible achievement for a Jap bike, I think. The front guard did rot on its underside, did so in a cunning way - the first I knew of it was when it was hanging off by one bracket, fortunately in town and not the open highway when it might have fallen off and locked up the front end. Worth keeping an eye open.
Engine maintenance is pretty tedious. The valve clearances can get edgy after as little as 250 miles, the top end the most dodgy area of the bike - dropping valve guides and bent pushrods not unknown. The original points were renown for their shoddiness, especially the advance/retard mechanism, but they are long gone. Replaced with relatively trouble-free electronic ignition, though the vibes from the engine can take it out.
The rest of the maintenance is really down to making sure that nothing has come loose, after each and every hard ride. Although the rider doesn't feel it, the engine vibes can spit out bolts even if they are Loctited and wired in position! The Honda, in contrast, is amazingly well put together but doesn't have the Norton's sheer class - maybe in 30 years time?
The Commando was well ahead of its time when it was launched in the late sixties but they messed up with shoddy engineering. Some of the 850's were equal to the Jap fours of the day in terms of speed, ahead of them in handling, but not up to their bulletproof design standards. That so many Nortons have survived is mostly down to the dedicated enthusiasm of their owners who spend time, money and energy keeping them rolling. The pay-back's heaps of character, loadsa fun and increasing values as long as the bike's kept stock. Not that the latter matters, I've no intention of selling mine.
John Hemingway
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I decided I needed another Commando. They get to you like that. I began the endless round of phones calls and visits to see old dogs that were vastly overpriced. I visited several import houses where I saw numerous complete and low mileage bikes that turned out to be wrecks that consisted of numerous non standard parts that were only low mileage because they had expired early in their lives in the hands of whichever American gorilla had bought them and then butchered them.
I actually made an offer on one of these bikes. It was in fact just an engine and frame whose numbers matched, the rest being made up of bits that were either non standard, worn out or both. I offered £500 only to be told straight faced by the vendor that he expected to get £2800 for it. I wonder if he ever sold it? I decided that I would be happier to buy a basket case and restore it myself. At least that way I would know what had been done.
I eventually found a 1972 Norton 750 Commando with 20,000 miles on the clock. It had come into the dealers the day before I arrived, it was in a number of boxes but was basically complete and straight. I paid a not inconsiderable £1500 for her and took her home. I then spent the next few days completely stripping the bike down to component parts, carefully labelling each piece and using dozens of jars, envelopes and photos as I went. I had £1500 to spend on the restoration.
The dealer had told me he believed the bike had been taken off the road some years ago and that the engine had been done up before it was put away. This was supported by the fact that I drained two gallons of oil from the engine, all the ports were blocked off and it had been filled completely to the top! I also found that every single wire had been cut off at its connector, presumably because a rewire was planned.
On stripping the engine down I found that the barrel was a brand new 750 item on its original bore. This cheered me until I noticed that the pistons were different - one having a slotted skirt, the other being solid. I was advised that on no account should I use the slotted one, which meant stomping up for a new pair. I carefully examined the rest of the engine parts, preplacing or refurbishing as necessary. A properly rebuilt Norton engine can be a very reliable device, a bodged job can be hell on earth.
I replaced all the bushes and bearings in the frame, forks and swinging arm. Luckily the gearbox was perfect and had been fitted with a needle roller layshaft bearing. The bike was painted candy apple in colour, not standard, admittedly, but it set off the lines of the Commando so well that I could live with that.
This was to be no show-piece, though, that spent its time in the living room. I intended to use the Norton hard. With this in mind I fitted Boyer electronic ignition and a single carb conversion - using an Amal with one size larger main jet. These two mods I highly recommend to any Commando owner; there is now very little to go out of adjustment or synchronisation, the bike just goes on and on, mile after mile.
Out on the road, the Commando is a perfect motorcycle for what I require. She is deceptively fast and the Isolastic engine mountings really do iron out all of the vibes once on the move. You just become aware that there is a lot going on down below and the more you ask for the more you are given. I once saw a road test that managed to get 125mph from a 750 Commando that was in bog standard trim, but I have not tried anything so very potentially damaging to the engine as that. What mine will do flat out I don't know, I am content to do 85-90mph because I rather value my licence.
At tickover the bike sits on its mainstand with the front wheel gently bouncing up and down whilst the tail light shakes about ominously. As soon as the revs rise, though, everything smooths out and the more you ride it the more impressed you become. The shims in the Isolastic mounts are supposed to be checked every 2000 miles but they rarely need adjustment. The Mk 3 is even easier with a vernier adjustment mechanism, even if more vibes do get through.
I own a motorcycle to ride not to spend all my time repairing, which is why I am pleased with the Norton. Each modification I have done serves a purpose and makes the bike ideal for me. It might not suit everyone, some purists have told me that I shouldn't have fitted electronic ignition, others have said I am losing out on top end power in having only one carb. That may or may not be true, all I know is that in normal road conditions it would not be possible to tell if the bike had one or two carbs.
The same huge gobs of torque are present, making the four speed gearbox redundant for most of the time. Compared with Jap bikes of the time, a correctly shimmed frame feels much less like it is hinged in the middle than rival Japs which usually weigh 100lbs more than the Norton. Perhaps a well sorted Dominator or Bonneville would have an handling advantage on paper, but on the road the relative lack of primary vibes on the Commando means the Norton is much more useable for longer periods.
The single front disc is, these days, antiquated but works okay wet or dry. The rear drum is a pleasure to use. The slightly raised bars and slightly forward footrests work well at speeds up to 70mph. The large petrol tank spreads the legs a little, but its range of over 200 miles compensates. The bike looks as good as new and cleans up well after being used in wet weather.
Another point in the Norton's favour is the ability to draw a crowd whenever it is parked. Past Norton owners appear from nowhere even if I just visit the shops. When I first came to put the bike back on the road I was pleased to find that fully comp insurance was only £55 through the Norton Owners Club with Carol Nash. This is a very substantial saving. At the end of the day I have spent about £3200 on this bike.
From day one I have logged every penny that it has cost me and although I would not make any money on her if I were to sell her, I would certainly not lose any. With the prices of Commandos spiralling ever upwards I feel that owning this bike is a good investment. If I had chosen to use cheaper parts (I used genuine Norton bits throughout) and less stainless steel items, I could probably have saved £700.
Finding a good Commando is not easy. There are lots of highly priced bikes about that are either about to fall apart or are very far from standard. Go for something in a low state of tune with sensible modifications, preferably with proof of the claimed money spend.
Whether any particular project is worth it in the final analysis is very much a personal decision. However, I know that I get a real high every time I ride this bike. The sound she makes is enough to stir the blood of any real motorcyclist. Was it worth it? You bet it was.
Tim Raymond
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I'm still not sure how it happened. There I was running along quite nicely on a Honda Hawk. Stopped off for some fuel at this backwoods gas station. Saw they had a few bikes for sale, it was only natural to have a look. And, there it was. A 1972 Norton 750 in Interstate livery. Not my favourite silhouette. But the big vertical twin motor, canted suggestively forward, brought back fond memories.
I wasn't even drunk or drugged. I'd been riding for over a week on the Hawk. Hard days, long distances and a monk-like existence. My brain had finally left behind various terrifying hallucinations and I was meeting each day with a new found clarity. I could actually enjoy cruising at a mild 70 to 80mph.
In the States, even now, old British bikes are not expensive unless they are extreme classics, like big Vinnies. The price tag on the Commando would have any member of the Norton Owners Club wetting his pants. How could I resist a test ride? I'd done so many miles on Nortons in the past that the experience of that brutish torque came flooding right back.
The garage owner looked on amused. He had been around long enough to know how recalcitrant they could be. The bike was almost sold when I got it going first kick. Boyer ignition helped, the stock points are terrible. I had thought the Hawk full of torque, but the Commando showed it up in no uncertain terms.
It growled as it thrust forward, the torque hitting me in the stomach as I made with the throttle and gearbox. The latter a delight in its own way, needing firm pressure but giving back a feeling of precision. The handling was a bit weird, with a slight hinged in the middle feel and some shaking of the head coming out of bends hard. But not vicious. Unless a lot of care is taken with the Isolastic engine mounts they all do that.
When the garage owner talked about giving me some money if I gave him the Hawk in exchange, there was no easy way out of the deal. Despite my exemplary new lifestyle my previous exploits in South America had severely dented my bankroll. The clock read only 29000 miles and the engine sounded like it would get me the 2500 miles to the Big Apple.
It was only when I was back on the main road that I began to recall all the times my previous Nortons had let me down. Main bearings blowing, valves tangling, pistons exploding.....a litany of disasters that eventually so warped my judgement that I ended up on fearsome Japanese iron. I reassured myself that most of my problems were caused not by the inherent fragility of the Norton mill but by my almost demented need to tune the motors until they burst asunder. The stock 745cc engine growls out not much more than 60 horses. Good only for 110mph, not that I was going to wring the neck out of the Norton to that extent.
No, with my new found wisdom, if not outright fear, I was content to burble along at 70 to 80mph over some fairly rough but wide back roads. Even this mediocre speed was sufficient to have American drivers blasting their horns and waving their fists as if I was still some demented highway hoodlum. Well, it was such pleasant summer weather that I could not resist riding sans helmet.
The Isolastic system of absorbing engine vibration was always a curious affectation. As with many quaint bits of British engineering it works after a fashion. Depending on the tightness of the set-up, there was a choice between almost total isolation and wobbles or perfect handling and some vile vibration. When set up perfectly, it was smooth and stable in the 40 to 80mph range.
Alas, as mileage increased my own machine revealed itself as becoming both looser and more vibratory. At the next gas stop (about 45mpg, par for the course for these old Nortons), I gave the swinging arm a kick and was suitably alarmed by the way it waggled around.
Where the spacers should have been there were the remnants of what looked suspiciously like cut up beer cans. There was a garage attached to the gas station, where some artful bodgers straightened out crashed cars. They let me drill out and roughly cut some thin plate which I hammered into place. Hardly a sophisticated repair but it seemed do to the job. Quite made my day; must be going f..king senile.
The Hawk had proved a surprisingly comfortable bike to ride long distances. Its riding position was perfect for my frame. The Norton was a nasty piece of work for more than a 150 miles in a day. The tank was too wide where it met the seat, the seat too hard, the bars far too high (Yank cow-horns) and the footrests thus hopelessly misplaced.
It was great in town, once my left hand had once again adapted to the pressure of the clutch, but anything more than 60mph proved troublesome. There was also the vibration, which seemed fierce over the first 500 miles but thereafter ceased to annoy me. It was a typical British bike trait, almost as if the machine wanted to dissuade the casual rider, only willing to reward those who put in some time and effort. Rather like life, I guess.
On one deserted stretch of road there was a half naked frail hitch-hiking. Ride on, I told myself, so was surprised to find myself regressing by slamming on the single Lockheed front disc, which was, by the way, even after all this time still a fierce stopper. Such was the retardation that I had the forks juddering. I ignored the woman for a while whilst I tired to pull the forks off, intent on checking that the steering head bearings were not on the way out. By the time I turned my attention to her some loud yobs had pulled up in a four wheel drive. Temptation removed.
I have to admit that after doing a 1000 miles on the Norton that old throttle crazy urge is hard to resist. Sometimes I'd just like to find a deserted bit of road and see what the old girl will do flat out in fourth gear. See if valve bounce sets in before the vibes blur things so much that forward vision becomes totally obscured. There's a certain art to riding in a totally crazy manner.
Just doing that small mileage has kept me so busy that I've managed to resist. The valves seem to demand adjustment every time I need to fuel up! The chain turned out to be similarly afflicted, full of tight spots. The carbs are hardly ever in balance. Bolts keep coming undone, bits rattling, trying to destroy themselves. That's British biking for you. Oh God, what have I done?
Johnny Malone