AJS Model 31 650

My elder brother had owned the AJS Model 31 for a long time. He had shocked the motorcycle fraternity of the University of London by turning up on the 1963 machine. Immaculate it wasn't but nicely turned out, with the usual upgrades to electrics, brakes and tyres. That was six years ago when I was only 13. Inevitably, watching my brother ride off into the distance with his girlfriend on the back had me all agog. I was heavily into bikes before I was allowed to swing my leg over one. When the girlfriend became his wife, demanded a cage I had the chance to buy the venerable Ajay OHV twin...with the proviso that he could buy it back when resources allowed.

I'd passed my test on the usual joke CG125 and ridden the Ajay a few times. Vivid memories of power, vibration and all the road shocks delivered to my kidneys. Rather than put me off, I just wanted more and more. The bike just looked and sounded so right. Once into my ownership my enthusiasm knew no bounds. I'd leap out of bed at unlikely hours, run down to the garage to check that the Ajay was still there and revel in its glowing chrome and polished alloy. Couldn't believe that, at long last, it was all mine!

I didn't have that many problems adapting to the gearchange and brake levers being the wrong way round (that should read right way round, but it is a minority view). The change itself was amazingly predictable after the horror show on the worn out Honda. With its separate gearbox, proper oil could be used without it being too viscous for the rest of the motor. The clutch lever did require excessive effort and soon had my fingers screaming for mercy. Took about six weeks until it didn't hurt any more. Take up was a bit vicious, dead easy to leap forwards and stall the mill - very embarrassing.

There were a mere four ratios but the spread of its 40 horses was such that no more were needed. Fast turning it wasn't, a bit of a plodder by nature it gasped rather than hurtled forward if the throttle was twisted hard. But give in to its nature, twist the throttle carefully and slowly, the motor would wind itself up and the bike hammer forwards relentlessly.

No problem with the traffic light GP. Poor old cagers left open-mouthed, eardrums shattered by the almost straight-thru exhaust. Sometimes, I'd go out early in the morning (I live in the Wessex countryside), ride down the back lanes without a helmet. Stupid, suicidal, etc! But, oh, what a new world. 50mph felt so fast with the wind whipping through my air, my eyes streaming with tears until they because used to their exposure and the exhaust making one hell of a racket whilst the engine sounded like all the bearings were shot. It's surprising how much noise a full-face helmet shuts out.

These bikes come from a period when crash-helmets weren't compulsory and doing the ton was a major achievement. For sure, a lot of riders ended up dead or maimed from accidents but riding without a helmet is one hell of an adventure in nanny-state Britain. It fitted in perfectly with the character of the Ajay, which was really pushing its limits if more than 80mph was held for any length of time. My brother reckoned a top speed of 115mph but then he has a mouth full of false teeth and ten year's practice at absorbing the vibes.

He also reckoned that once past 105mph the engine smoothed out, but I could never bring myself to subject the Ajay to that kind of abuse. 95mph was the most I ever did, which was bad enough to leave me with ringing ears for 24 hours. I did that run wearing my helmet, I hasten to add. I did do 80mph helmetless once but it was amazingly hard work even with the excellence of the bike's riding position which kept me happy both on the open road and in town. I can't imagine how the old ton-up boys got away with riding like that day in, day out.

Give the Ajay a good run, it's start trying to undo most of its nuts and bolts. They didn't actually fall off but they would've had I not gone over the bike after every hard ride. The only real trouble spot I had with maintenance was doing the valves every 400-500 miles - they went very loose indeed if left for longer. Tightening up the adjusters I'd find the gap closing up. Tiresome; an acquired art as brother did them all in less than ten minutes compared with an hour's cursing from me.

The suspension was firm, its short travel nature giving the bike a very solid feel - my back took about a month before it stopped complaining! The engine was mounted low in the frame but all the bits and pieces tucked well in (brother had cut back the stands and fitted folding pegs), so it could be heeled over on to the edges of the quaint square-cut Avon rubber. It went a bit squirmy at extreme angles of lean but it was surprising how rapidly I could sling the 400lbs machine through the twisties.

Gave a few Jap riders a shock, anyway. There was much more fun involved in every ride than pain. It has to be mentioned, I suppose, that brother does a complete engine rebuild every 40-45000 miles. That involves a rebore, new pistons and rings, new crank bearings, etc. Between rebuilds it needs a couple of primary drive chains, valve guides and its very regular maintenance sessions. However, it's all very predictable, unlikely to catch you out on the road. When anything starts to go, there's a lot of extra noise and vibration. Bruv has an impressive collection of spares, collected cheaply over the years. The owners club is another good source of spares, gossip and tips. You see very few Ajay's on the road, even compared with Triumphs, BSA's and Nortons.

I was lucky in that the bike had been rebuilt 4000 miles before it fell into my hands. All I had to do was the regular maintenance and keep the bolts tightened up. Poor old brother, though, was a bit of a pain. Coming round to check the bike was still in one piece and have a ride. His angst was so great that his wife gave in and allowed him to buy the bike back after seven months in my hands.

We almost came to blows, the resolution being another AJS twin. Not immaculate or original but all there and well loved by another obsessive enthusiast who'd found all the kick-starting too much for his bones - he was 74! It took several trips to convince him I was going to look after it, he reckoned I was far too young to appreciate such a masterpiece of British engineering. An old codger at 19? Sure, but you should see the grin after each and every ride. These bikes get to you!

Kevin S.

BSA C11

I can recall the day, six months ago, that I bought the BSA C11. It was one of those marvellous English summer afternoons - bright blue sky, burning sun and the delightful aroma of greenery as the 249cc thumper boomed through the countryside. Soon was added a burning smell from the clutch. I reduced speed from a thumping 60mph - rubber mounting and balance shafts were not technologies that BSA knew anything about in the late forties. At 40mph the smell went away and I just had to make sure I wasn't run over by some caged lunatic.

Entering Sheffield, home in sight, ped's and car drivers turned curiously to look at the loud, earth shaking apparition that was a C11 wobbling through town. They seemed quite disturbed by the sight. It wasn't concours and I wasn't some old codger. The exhaust was rusted through, the rest of the machine coated in road grime. Its past owner some ancient hippy more interested in weed than maintaining or even cleaning what many consider a classic motorcycle. I still had to pay £750 for the old heap, though.

Back home, the weak clutch turned out to be nothing more than loose spring nuts. In fact, most of the nuts and bolts on the bike were a touch loose. I later found that, despite using Loctite on the threads, a fifty mile ride would have everything coming apart! I solved the worst of this by wiring in all the important nuts and bolts!

Didn't make any difference to the vibration. In theory, the engine made 12 horses and could put 70mph on the clock. In reality, more than 60mph resulted in a huge outpouring of vibration from the ancient OHV engine. I once - and, only once - held on tightly, with a following wind, overtook a mate on a CD175 who reckoned I must've been doing 75mph. The clock was so blurred and my eyesight so out of it that I couldn't read the speedo!

This took place on a long, straight B road that me and my mates always use for the odd bit of speed testing. There aren't any turn-offs, so no loitering cop cars. Its one downside is the presence of lots of small bumps. On anything made since 1960 these are hardly noticed but on a bike with girder front forks and rigid rear end, I was almost shaken off the sprung saddle. The CD owner thought I was playing silly buggers when I weaved in front of him - I had no way of controlling the bike accurately.

It wasn't that bad when on smooth roads - I'd owned an old style chopper that was much heavier going. The firmness of the suspension gave it a unique feel of sure-footedness on good roads but the slightest bump in a bend had me backing off rapidly. The C11 runs quite a heavy flywheel, slamming the throttle shut can have the wheel reacting against the bump. Depending on the angle of lean, severity of the bump and degree of velocity this can be mildly amusing or a near death experience. If, like me, your licence is near extinction the lack of speed and interesting handling keeps the boredom at bay.

12hp is restricted 125cc territory, except that the BSA is always full of blood and guts, demanding a certain amount of tenderness on the gearchange lever and throttle to achieve usable forward motion. Put a complete learner on one of these machines, the chances are they will either fall off or quickly give up in disgust. Even the kickstarting requires a hefty lurch that bears no relationship to the minimal power and small capacity.

Its origins were totally pre-war and limited by metal rationing after we'd beaten the Germans to a pulp but though slow it was reliable and long-lived - the BSA singles only became dire, like the twins, when they were increased in capacity and tuned to silly limits. I soon became used to the thumping vibration, finding modern, small capacity Japs quite insipid in comparison. In contrast, their riders got off the BSA, after a quick blast, complaining of dead fingers, numbed feet and painful teeth! Definitely an acquired taste.

As were the brakes. Pitifully small SLS drums that needed a death-grip before they showed signs of working. The exhaust noise and disturbing vibration always made cagers and ped's aware of my imminent arrival (from half a block away, I've been told!). The rest of the survival routine was planning well ahead. This era of BSA's don't change direction rapidly, being large of wheel, but the well triangulated girder forks don't easily bend in crashes - cagers seemed to appreciate this, somehow, didn't throw themselves across my path very often. Wearing an old Barbour jacket over several layers of clothes bulked me out to an aggressive extent. I must've looked quite frightening from the seat of a car!

The rigid rear end of the bike meant the sprung saddle took rather a battering from the usual ruined road surfaces. We hear tales of sperm count being cut in half over the past few decades but judging by the way the front of the saddle slammed into my groin, the oldsters couldn't have been very well endowed. The worn springs allowed a bit of lateral movement that would've had me all over the place had I not gripped the tank firmly between my legs. As the tank vibrated quite fiercely this didn't really add to the comfort. 50 miles in one go was more than enough for me. Maybe I'm a wimp, or something, but some classic nutters have claimed to do 150 miles in one sitting in their youth! Ouch!

There were some good points about the ancient hack. It was absurdly cheap to run. 70-80mpg, chains, brake shoes and tyres that didn't seem to wear at all. Although the engine required quite a lot of fiddling, it never seemed to wear seriously - I added 4500 miles to whatever it had already done (maybe a quarter of a million miles, who knows?) in less than six months.

I also cleaned it up - the old alloy and paint responding remarkably well to some serious effort. Only the silencer was so far gone that it developed big holes and made starting increasingly difficult. An old BSA A65 can went straight on as if it was designed for the job, sounded almost as fruity and made starting a second kick affair from cold. From hot, it just needed one almighty kick. As far as I could tell the bike was standard, just minor patching up where necessary. I could well believe that it had passed through the hands of a series of serious motorcyclists who had revelled in its outrageous practicality. A modern equivalent, albeit one with suspension and brakes that worked, would be an Indian Enfield.

Towards the end of my ownership I fell for a young lady who demanded the plush perch of a more modern steed - the little bit of rubber I'd attached to the rear mudguard didn't go down too well. I was tempted to keep the C11 as a second bike but someone offered me £1500 for the shining relic. They ain't worth that much but I'm not going to complain, am I?

Duncan North

Buying Newish Triumphs - Cheap secondhand Triumph triples and fours

Thanks to those nice parallel importer chappies (see the ads in MCN if you've been asleep for the past few years), prices for used Triumphs of recent vintage are at a level to interest even the most miserly of UMG readers. As they are generally reliable and tough even the oldest ones are worth a look if money is tight yet lust still high.

Triumph started off in 1991, with the mass of machines making it on to the market in 1992. Doesn't time fly? A six year old 750 Trident triple being the cheapest deal available. They go right down to two grand on the private market - expect lots of cosmetic rot, crunchy gearbox and marginal electrics from a machine with more than 50,000 miles under its wheels for that kind of money. Oil spewing engine gaskets are a sign of a well neglected bike, which in that state will in all probability include shot chassis bearings.

We know of one chap who bought a far gone but running 750 for £1600, swapped the engine for a 900 and did the chassis up - total cost around £2500 for a fine running bike! Worth thinking about. There's nothing really wrong with the 750 engine, just that the 900 had much more grunt without adding any extra mass. On the weight front (480lbs stock), large savings can be made from fitting a 3-1 exhaust and dumping a lot of the induction plumbing which is really only there for emission control. Poor routing of the watercooling pipes does ruin the butch looks on one side and there ain't much you can do about that.

There's absolutely no need to pay more than four grand for an absolutely immaculate, low mileage and newish 750 Trident. Three grand will buy a really nice one with not much more than ten grand on the clock and chassis in fine state (the early ones don't like British winters, but no worse than the cheaper Kawasakis). Really, it should look like it's just been well run in.

Some Triumphs do burn out their electronic ignition at as little as 25,000 miles (and the factory sometime replace them for free even if the guarantee's finished) but there's no way to suss this - they either work or don't. There are some available from breakers so it can't be that common. Obviously, anything with the wiring starting to rot is a prime candidate for this, if not electrical self-immolation.

The 900 Tridents run from £3000 to £5000, with a similar range of conditions. However, the 750's did appeal more to the mature rider after a thoroughly sensible motorcycle and they seem to be a bit less neglected. Some 900's even survived the despatch circuit and there are a couple still rumbling around with over 100,000 miles on the clock. Not a sensible buy as they very rarely come up for less than three grand even when thoroughly wrecked!

The combination of spine frame and stressed engine's pretty tough in crashes - much more likely to crack up the wheels or bend the forks. Look for the usual things - we've seen a couple of really bodged 900's with straightened forks and welded wheels. In a bike capable of 145mph and carrying so much mass this is a quick way to experience the death dance! If you see such an example do something nasty, like phoning the cops or trading standards office.

The usual winter weather shit does for the brake calipers, although the swinging arm bearings and linkages have grease nipples. These are often ignored with the usual bearing demise - and a big Trident's not the kind of bike you want to ride on shot chassis bearings; the top heavy mass fights back with a nasty vengeance! Worn tyres have a similar effect, prime rubber being a costly necessity; don't expect more than 5000 miles - hard ridden ones only manage half that! Sorting out worn chassis bearings, tyres, brake pads and calipers can add up to over three hundred notes - check them out carefully and bargain down accordingly. The Sprint has a useful half fairing but doesn't really fetch much more on the private used market, though dealers do mark them up hopefully.

The basic spine frame and engine layout were retained in many different guises. Not that successfully as far as the speed merchants were concerned - not that something like the 120hp Super 3 Daytona was lacking in power, it was still burdened with excessive mass, especially compared with something like a Fireblade. The coming of the T595 made a whole host of wannabe speedster Triumphs obsolete.

Which means bargain time on the private market with all kind of interesting deals. Five grand will buy an absolutely prime Super 3, though six thousand notes is often demanded. Something rough around the edges will go for £4000 and we know of one lucky chap who bought a 1995 Daytona for £3450! Although the Triumphs had their fair share of poseurs, most ended up being hard used. Most often shown, as in ageing Tridents, in the clutch and gearbox. The latter was never much better than Honda's rougher efforts whilst the former wasn't really up to the wheelie antics of the more mad riders (neither was the T595's, for that matter). Easy enough to check and evident in its wear and nastiness even in a mild charge through town. It's hard to disguise wear and neglect on these fast Triumphs, the genuine low milers standing out with the sheen of their easy life. Hunt around, for the same kind of money there's a great variety of machinery and no need to tolerate anything with more than 20,000 miles on the clock.

The Speed Triple was more a styling effort than a reinvention of the triple idiom but its raunchy looks go well with the grunty engine, its appearance in most ways still superior to the T509 which sports one of the ugliest front ends in the motorcycle world and has still failed to clean up the watercooling tubing. Prices reasonable rather than bargain basement, with at least five grand needed to pick up the really decent stuff. A cheap and cheerful 750 version appeared in 1997 which can be had for that kind of money, these days. Malone, of UMG fame, got his 900 up to 73000 miles under a regime of religious neglect, so don't be put off with stuff quoting fifty grand (as long as the price is around £4000 or even less). Many think this model the definitive old style triple. Who can argue with that?

Both the custom and trail markets are also well catered to by the sixties inspired Thunderbird and the threateningly large Tiger. The latter had a passing popularity with the despatch crowd - one lad revelled in daily tales of the excessive number of cages he'd damaged! Expect the usual neglect and decay from such types, though they still demand three grand for them. A good Tiger can be had for around £4500, paying more might buy something newer and lower mileage but the condition or longevity won't be noticeably better. The Thunderbird's still prime meat in classic circles, not much available for less than five grand - not that bad as it has as much style as a Harley yet's much more usable. The new sportier version of the 'Bird will eat into its value over the next few years.

The four cylinder range never had the same effect on the punters and ought to be dumped. There are some bargains around - two grand for an early 1000 Daytona; twice that for a '95 140hp 1200 Daytona and £3200 for a 30,000 mile 1200 Trophy, are just some examples we've seen recently. Insurance and running costs aside (if you need to ask...), the whole range is worth a look.

Dick Lewis

The Truth About Vincents - 21 years on a series C Vinnie

 

The first real tank slapper I had (this was when I hadn't owned it long) I thought I might be riding it wrong. After all, the Norton Dommie I'd owned didn't do that sort of thing. The second time was the real frightener - I shot between two cars on the wrong side of the road and narrowly missed mowing down a chip shop queue. I knew then that I was in for a trying relationship.

In a vain attempt to overcome this debilitating behaviour, I adjusted the slack out of the many bushes in the forks. Found, after much experimentation, that the only way to tame the beast was to tighten the steering damper until the bars can't be turned! Goes down a treat at MOT time.

Before I discovered the damper trick, I had a good mate who reckoned he could master any bike within ten minutes. I let him have a ride (second opinion and all that) and despite being warned he set off for a blast past the factory gates, determined to do 115mph. When he eventually returned looking bug-eyed, tight-lipped and with a definite tremor in his pallid knuckles, his only comment was that I should get rid of the bloody death-trap! Sound advice which I didn't take.

As I was new to Vincents, I blamed myself for the erratic starting. Although I knew the ridiculous drill - I'd owned big singles before - finding the correct stroke on the rear cylinder, etc, it wasn't until the beast completely stopped starting that I investigated. Finding a dodgy spark, sloppy valve guides and 11:1 pistons conspiring to prevent the horrible thing from firing.

Now, I'm not a bloke who gives into adversity easily - I've lived with the same woman for twenty years! I was becoming dangerously fascinated with a nearby mineshaft that was waiting to be filled but after ingestion of what are now considered harmful chemical substances I mended the magneto well enough to give 50/50 starting - that's fifty Hail Mary's followed by fifty pneumonia-inducing swings on the appropriate pedal.

To repay me for this act of kindness on the next ride, as we were returning from Scarborough, the gearbox jammed in third, resulting in a burnt out clutch on Saxon Hill hairpin; although on this occasion the bugger did get us home without resorting to the train.

After burrowing into the mysteries of the, er, unusual transmission and knocking the sliding (when it's not seized) gear off its shaft with a steel tube and large hammer, easing the bush with a scraper and reassembling, I refilled with EP90 gear oil and have never had the problem again. Which makes the gearbox about the only trouble free item...

Not long after this mischief I fitted 8:1 pistons in an attempt to gain easier starting. It didn't work - I discovered much later that Vincents need a 150 percent healthy magneto but I did succeed in considerably reducing performance. It would just about pull the ton! Mind you, it never has done the much trumpeted 125mph, even with an expensively rebuilt engine which includes racing cam, big carbs, new mag and straight thru exhaust.

This lack of a decent top speed was just one of the many disappointments. The bikes that were supplied to the press in 1947 must've been very special or else the writers very dishonest. Take the supposed 100,000 miles between stripdowns - mine's managed 25-35000 miles (can't be too specific as the speedo keeps breaking) despite changing the oil every 1000 miles. And the engine's completely shagged out, and I mean absolutely knackered - major engineering work is usually required when rebuilding one of these vee twins. Very expensive, equivalent to the cost of a few LC's - I know us classic bikers aren't supposed to acknowledge such strokers, but I think they're the best thing since inside bogs!

Stepping from an LC on to a Vin, the most noticeable difference is the brakes. The LC has 'em, the Vin doesn't. Even though I haven't ridden into the back of a bus recently, I still find it difficult to believe that the brakes I'm stuck with are the same ones which were said to stop you on a three-penny piece (or even a fifty quid note, which is much bigger).

Standard brake mod's (how's that for a contradiction?) include racing linings and the addition of stiffening gussets in strategic places. This makes them halfway decent stoppers until the linings wear and then the cam can go over-centre, which jams the shoes on to the drums. Extremely amusing - but only sitting here writing about it. No, besides a finally honed sense of panic, what you need to pull up fast on this bike is a set of fancy asbestosis-producing linings, which last for around 8000 miles. For some reason, the left-hand ones wear out faster than the right - very strange as these are double sided SLS brakes worked by a balance beam which should give equal braking on all shoes.

But not half as strange as the psychology of active Vincent ownership. I think I can safely say that this motorcycle is definitely not suited to people who're prone to paranoia (that'll exclude 99% of us). However if you're a short-arsed Parisian with the hump, given to muttering about the bells, you'll love the horrendous cacophony made by the engine - and that's just turning it over. When it's actually running, imagine Godzilla dropping Rolls Royces down Everest for the valvegear, a 99 piece steel band for piston slap and a trio of accelerating Jumbo jets for induction suction - and you'll have some idea why all Vincent owners look so worried!

After the wife became pregnant, I fitted a set of Girdraulic forks and a sidecar - what fun! I've had more near misses on this contraption than I've had dole giros since the lovable M.Thatcher closed our local pit. I once took me old dad out - at the first red light he leapt out and ran into the nearest church! The only good thing was all the junk it'd carry, though on one trip I had to keep replacing the spokes - as I said, loadsa fun!

More joy was found in the poxy chain oiler. It either lets the chain run dry or smothers the rear tyre with warm engine oil. Smashing if you like crashing! Instead, I oil the chain every 200 miles, which gives around 10,000 miles chain life. Not bad considering the crude transmission shock absorber - yet another troublesome area. I've locked mine up solid, so all the silly little springs won't break again, leaving me stranded miles from home.

As to vibration, it goes like this: Up to 60mph, acceptable shaker; 60-75mph, occasional double vision and one numb finger; 75-90 difficulty keeping feet on footrests and three numb fingers in both hands; 90 plus, short bursts only possible - expect premature baldness, dead fingers, dead toes and dead genitals. Fine if you're an eunuch or live in a monastery; which I'm not and don't...

When the lad got big enough to bite kneecaps instead of ankles, we unhitched the sidecar and tipped it into the Calder and Hebble Navigation canal and did yet another engine rebuild. Needed more work than normal but I'd done 15000 miles with no major problems and was actually enjoying riding the brute...when gradual loss of compression and power forced me to lift the heads. Burnt valve seats, an all too common problem on Vinnies. There's lot of other stuff, like short-lived magneto's, but what the hell...

I bought mine for £180, have kept it for 21 years! Anyone who expects a great riding machine will be in for a shock. They're not bad bikes but not particularly good either. And don't think I'm about to sell after this diatribe, cos I'm not. Not as long as I can fire it up anyway.

H Sivyer

Honda CBR900

The CBR900 had me in its sights for a long time but it was only in 1997 that the price was right. A three year old for £2750. Ain't life f..king wonderful! I tested the bike in the usual way - full throttle, massive wheelie take-off - if that and coming down to earth with an alarming bang didn't kill it then it must be okay. It survived. My enthusiasm even survived the blank look on the fourth owner's face when I mentioned oil changes and servicing.

My previous mount sold the week before for £2500 - a prime meat example of the Z1000, which just goes to show how strange the used motorcycle market has gone. I was used to meaty power, excess weight and handling out of the ark. The CBR900 had much more power any way you want to look at it and was carting along at least 150lbs less metal. It doesn't take an Einstein to work out the consequences; the major one being yours truly getting stuck in like a dog with two pricks.

It took approximately 90 minutes for the plod to get in on the act. Some porcine (literally, triple chins at 25!) bastard had his notebook out after his mate in the driving seat had almost rammed me into the armco. 'Did we know, sir (heavy sarcastic emphasis), that doing 125mph between two cars was likely to end up with a prison term?' I pointed out that one of the cars was undertaking me! Some blighter in a big Merc who was already well gone. This was ignored, I was told that I was going to be done for dangerous driving as well as being 55mph over the speed limit. The porcine one gave me a wink, waited for a few seconds before starting to write out the ticket - was he hoping for a bribe? I gave the old owner's name and address, which came up on their computer and laughed all the way home. Got one over on the buggers!

The CBR spent the next half hour swinging through my favourite country lanes. Couldn't believe how far over it would go without coming unstuck. A couple of times I went into bends too fast, twitched the bike upright and slammed the anchors on - the Honda didn't like that kind of treatment, the front wheel slamming around and needing an excess of muscle to avoid riding off the road or into an oncoming car. Twitchy little bugger, thought I, but then I would never have tried such speeds on the Z which would have thrown me off, dug up the road, written a few cars off and destroyed any loose farm animals - and in all probability still be ready for more!

I wasn't actually going into bends too fast for the CBR, I soon found out that there was plenty of grip in hand and that there was no need to back off! This was all well weird, used as I was to hanging off the side of the Z whilst it tried to imitate a buffalo with a hot poker up its backside. The monstrous power available at the flick of a wrist had to be held in utmost reverence; try it on too hard then the back would go sideways, probably even backwards. Even coming out of bends with a mild bit of throttle action in, say, third, had the front end going all light and twitchy, though it never tried a Z-like stop to stop speed wobble - the Z did it with both wheels firmly on the tarmac, down to crap suspension, weight distribution and steering geometry, not to mention a frame that could suddenly turn plastic.

It took me a while to get used to this. Kids who'd grown up on such devices showed me up no end in the early days. Even CBR600 mounted youths could leave me for dead in a series of curves. Watching them getting their knees (elbows in one case!) down was highly inspiring. I followed their lines and angles of lean, scaring myself silly when the power pulsed in and the back tyre started to patter with the sheer excess of the forces involved. I never did find the ultimate limit; that is, when you fall off! But I had some fun doing power slides out of curves on slightly damp roads; I could feel the point at which the Michelins were about to let loose! Try that on some old hulk like the Z and you'd end up a hospital case.

The one area where the CBR was lacking was that of comfort. Obviously, it's a replica which therefore needs speed to make any sense, but the seat's resemblance to a plank was either built in or down to 33000 miles worth of wear and oversized previous owners. Fuel consumption was around 30mpg, tyres about 3000 miles and brake pads circa 4500 miles. That added up to heavy costs but what the hell...

Hell was where I would've liked to fling the bike when all systems failed about sixty miles from home. It took me but a few moments to deduce that it was the electrics which had gone down. Namely, one expensively melted battery, the result of an equally dead rectifier. The wiring had been poked about by someone with a death-wish, a couple of bared wires jigging about in all probability causing the machine's downfall. It took three hundred quid and a couple of hours of an auto-electrician's time to sort the mess out! I'm old enough to recall a time when you could buy a jolly good motorcycle for that kind of dosh!

Gave the Honda a heavy thrashing after that incident, just to convince myself that it was worth the hassle. Yes, yes, yes. I was inspired to spend my hol's roaring around the South of France at warp speed and ignoring the Frog Pigs who couldn't keep up! Ran into a couple of characters from one of the glossies, was shocked to find the rumours were true - was offered enough drugs to write off a sane person's liver and propositioned by one desperate guy! Poor chap thought he was Hunter S Thompson in drag! I managed to get out of it without resorting to violence.

The CBR buzzed along at improbable revs and speeds, the only hassle keeping my body temperature down in the fierce summer heat. After one crazy trip I could hear the coolant bubbling in the radiator! 185mph on the clock was the most I saw (I know, it was probably optimistic), which I thought was amazing for an engine that then sported more than 40,000 miles on the clock! One worrying sign, the motor began to eat up the lubricant at a rate that emptied the sump in 500 miles. I took this as a sign not to do any more oil changes, no point if it was all going to be burnt off, was there?

Back home, the bike was a bit more vibratory, with some surge at low revs. I put this down to the fact that I'd never touched the carbs (the previous owner told me it wasn't necessary!). On the overrun, there were puffs of white smoke out of the exhaust but it still screamed along at incredible rates of acceleration and velocity.

With 46,456 miles on the clock the CBR ground to a halt with a large bang! I just managed to hit the clutch before the bike was thrown off the road. After great expense, the bike was back home and I had the engine in a million pieces. A broken con-rod was the culprit, which had messed up the whole mill. After the usual round of insults a used motor was installed but this turned out to be a bit of a dog with no inclination to go over 150mph. Must've done a high mileage.

The local dealers didn't want to know as far as a trade-in deal or sale went but I got shot of the bike for 2500 notes on the private market. A bit of a loss but I'd had more than my money's worth as far as on the road kicks go. A total licence kill (don't register the bike in your name), an outrageously fast piece of kit that's still well on the pace and handles better than most other bikes. Takes a bit of time and skill to master but responds well to a firm hand. Of course, there was only one thing to do after the CBR - use the dosh as a deposit on an R1.

Dave F.

Suzuki TL1000S

Mounting the TL1000S for the first time I expected the worst. Tales of its handling nastiness legion. It had a natural riding position, at least for me, and the engine revved with a gravelly edge that had me full of enthusiasm. The Japanese had hopefully combined Italian gutsiness with their inbuilt reliability. First impression were of an incredible shove in the back from the motor laying down its power and easy handling. I'd expected it to go for the on-coming cagers with a vengeance, but it went where it was pointed, no hassle. That brief ride left the impression that the bike was in a whole new league - compared to my venerable Honda CB750F1.

No, the owner wouldn't consider a part-ex and wondered why I was wasting his time with a ludicrous four grand offer for a 6000 mile, nine month old machine in absolutely pristine showroom condition. The more nefarious dealers could've clocked it and claimed it was brand new. You should've seen the look on his face when I thrust MCN under his nose - the shadow importers had them on offer for under six grand, new, and their handling reputation made them extremely slow movers. After some reconsideration, a severe ear-bashing from his wife, and an offer to throw the F1 into the deal, the bike was mine! I couldn't believe it! It was only then that I remembered to point out that the Honda needed an MOT, new pistons and valves...all's fair in love and war.

The glossies reckoned that anyone under twenty stone was going to have plenty of problems from the TL's rotary damper back end. As I weight just over nine stone, I was all ready to be thrown off at the first corner, though the bike had a steering damper and a ride harsh enough to suggest the suspension had been turned up to maximum. But it floated through the bends and scarpered along the straights at about twice the rate of the F1.

In fact, I soon gained the impression that I was going into the corners far too slowly and could've got away with much more speed. The low profile, fat tyres were a revelation in terms of grip and tenacity, also the angle to which the Suzuki could be thrown over. Bloody hell, I'll have to get myself some knee-sliders! Even more entertaining, the bike shot up to 160mph on one straight, the mildest of weaves from the back end indicating that, perhaps, things were going to turn nasty. At half that speed, the knackered Honda would try to throw itself off the road, so I was well ahead of the game. God knows how the F1's new owner got on; total culture shock, I think.

Used to that bike's lackadaisical brakes, giving the TL a handful had the front tyre screaming in protest and the bike doing a massive stoppie. For one moment I thought I was going to be thrown over the handlebars but the bike relented as I hurriedly eased off the pressure, just gave my spine a battering until the back end stopped the pogo-stick routine. For the next half mile the bike did, indeed, feel a bit like a twitchy carthorse - my guess, the violence of the back end leaping up and down under the mad braking overheated the rotary damper. It soon went back to precision city, though.

My mates, mostly Blade mounted, found my purchase of the TL a thing of great mirth. They looked a bit glum when I told them how little it had cost and weren't too amused when I burnt them off at the traffic light GP! Poseurs! True, my excess use of throttle had left the rear tyre smouldering away, taking off about a 1000 miles worth of tread! Compared with the Honda F1, which gave you enough time to compose a novel when either winding itself up or coming to a halt, the TL had an instantaneous reaction to inputs that took a little bit of getting used to. Understatement of the year!

The bike endeared itself to me no end when, in the rain, I gave it too much stick - rather than throwing me right off the road, it gave a near ninety degree twitch then hollered off as if nothing had happened. It was all quite odd in the wet - here was a bike with about ten times the grip of the Honda but speeds were about the same because I daren't use too much power and the brakes had me pissing myself because I was never quite sure how harsh the discs were going to be even just using one finger - made me all nostalgic for the F1's predictable lag. Sure!

The vee-twin motor liked to sing along at 6500-8000 revs. There was a wonderful excess of power and it smoothed out. At low revs it felt a bit too jerky but this was only in comparison to its sublimeness at high revs; compared to the worn out F1 it was paradise found even at its worst!

This is the problem that a lot of potential purchasers face. The glossies hype modern bikes and at the same time compare minor imperfections between the models as if they were huge and outrageous faults. Whereas to someone used to fading seventies and eighties superbikes they are the bees knees!

Consumables were more of a mixed bag. The O-ring chain, despite the outrageous power pulses, needed little attention rather than the F1's daily chore. The tyres were short-lived in the extreme, the Metz's reduced to baldness in less than 3000 miles - when the handling went quite vile above 70mph! With less than 1mm of tread left even the F1 could've taken the Suzuki in the bends. The F1 would do 10,000 miles on a set of Avons; the handling already so shot that the state of the tread made sod all difference. Brake pads were about the same 4500-5000 miles, although the Suzuki replacements cost nearly three times as much. I'm not complaining, though, any extra cost more than made up for by the excess of kicks.

Apart from the mentioned reaction to running around on worn out tyres (also, the front slides away with shocking ease in the wet when almost bald) the bike was shaken around on fast bumpy bends. Keep up that kind of riding for more than ten minutes, the rear damping faded a bit and gave the impression that the whole bike was about to go out of control. But it never did. Maybe it was the steering damper taking out the apparently inbuilt suicide antics or maybe it was just the press exaggerating a minor fault.

TL's are so hard to sell that it's bargain basement time. Outrageously fast, brilliantly braked and able to take corners much faster than the older style fours it may lose out to the latest spate of race rep's but all the money saved on the deal will let you have more fun on the open road. I'm converted, anyway! Doing three times my normal mileage and sporting the obligatory huge grin. The best four grand's worth in the land.

Martin Lawe

Bargain Bikes: Low End Motorcycles

Ever falling new bike prices have filtered through to the low end; what used to cost 750 to 1000 notes a year ago can now be found for 500 quid, or less. This is bargain basement time but finding the good deals is just as hard as always - there's always some optimistic soul trying to flog an old dog for silly money and loads of time can be wasted tracking down the useful stuff.

First then, get used to the telephone interrogation routine. What you want to find is a bike that has been owned by someone sensible who's given it a bit of tender loving care. How long has their name been in the logbook? How often has the oil been changed? Any obvious sign of crash damage? The state of the consumables? Has the engine been stripped? Keep the questions rolling, look for hesitation and general ignorance. It's surprising how many people will admit, over the phone, to never doing an oil change. Eliminate the obvious defectives (bikes and owners both) and concentrate on the stuff that sounds good.

At this price actual age of the bike means little. A five year old Jap can look pretty awful if it's been abused and neglected; a fifteen year old one can look a bit faded but fine if given some TLC. Mileage is equally misleading, old hacks that have been clocked in a much worse state than bikes that have done a genuine 50,000 miles.

Most Japanese four strokes, given regular oil changes, will do an easy 50,000 miles; many will break through the 100,000 mile barrier. Chassis disintegration is a larger problem than engine implosion; and a well put together bike, lacking the usual rust, is a sure sign of a well loved machine. Consumable demise isn't a great problem; cheap replacements in breakers. The same could be said for chassis components but it's always a hassle mixing and matching forks and shocks. Chassis bearings are cheap enough but a nasty business to replace. Good bikes give off a patina of trust that is recognizable when you've done the rounds for a while - believe it or not!

Commuters

Think £500 commuters, then it's mostly four stroke Hondas - singles and twins. That kind of money buys a really nice CG125 on the private market - four or five years old and less than 15000 miles. CG's are tough old things up to at least twice that mileage, maybe three times that. Regular, as in 1000 mile, oil changes the key to longevity. In its mild way, the big tank CG looks quite classical and feels more together than rival stroker commuters. The pushrod thumper whirls away without any apparent nastiness, only turning a bit vile when held flat out for a couple of miles. 125mpg is its major claim to fame. Plenty around that have been owned by sensible chaps who have even found the time to regularly polish them.

The Benly's are Honda's alternative commuter, including the CD250, their most recent effort. For this kind of dosh, expect a ten year old with around 25000 miles on the clock - can include anything from looking merely a bit faded to something that's a real old slag. All down to the owner and regularity of oil changes (again!). Build quality isn't up to the old CD's so if it looks pretty decent chances are it's just that.

The older Benly's usually sport ruined chassis and still thrumming motors, the vertical twin mill having a long history of taking whatever the owner can throw at it. Five hundred quid should buy one of the few prime Benly's left on the market. Most likely the later 200, as both 185's and early 200's had some engine problems and could be rather shorter lived than expected.

Five hundred quid will also buy one of the prime older CD175's or CB200's, the odd one still grinding away against the odds. The best of the bunch is a sixties CD175, spine frame and all, as it has a surprising turn of speed despite its commuter looks. As with all these old Honda twins, a sure sign of a genuine low mileage engine is a slick(ish) gearchange. Also, a lack of clutch drag in town. There are a whole host of sixties Honda twins but the good ones are closer to a grand than 500 notes.

I wouldn't spend that kind of money on one of the old CB125 singles (S or J), although one of the last CB100N's might tempt me if it had a low mileage. Of the stroker commuters, only the Yamaha RXS100 really appeals and then I'd make sure that it was one that hadn't been thrashed by youthful learners. KH100's can also be good buys.

The other four stroke single of note's the GS125, an OHC number that can run for as much as 60,000 miles, though infrequency of oil changes can halve that! Neat looking, compact and economical, it handled okay, seemed a bit more powerful than the CG and didn't have any obvious faults. The DR125 tended to be much more abused, whilst the custom GN125 is too pricey being relatively new; a blessing in disguise unless you like be laughed at or kicked off the road by true custom dudes.

There are plenty of other commuters in this price range but they tend not to react well to either age or mileage, though there are always exceptions that prove the rule - the one owner, low mileage trip that turn up in the local press at bargain prices or through family or friends.

Serious 250's

500 quid buys all kinds of 250's, and even stretches to some interesting bikes of slightly larger capacity. Those 250's that are the most fun are also the most fragile - strokers like the RD250 and GT250 twins, or even the inflammatory KH250 triple These bikes go back two decades, or even more, but have usually gone through several incarnations, rebuilds and tuning efforts, emerging either totally shagged or better than new.

Anything that's survived this long will have a decent chassis upgrade - if it hasn't it's been down the road so many times that the crash damage will be evident - expect a decent pair of Brit shocks, newer front end and proper bearings in the head and swinging arm pivots.

I recently bought one of the last KH250's for £450 - faded paint, a bit of alloy rot, 79000 miles on the clock and an engine that rattled, pinged and knocked like it was on its last legs (they all sound like that about five minutes after the rebuild). It smoked like a new MZ but still managed a surprising burst of speed, helped along by noisy spannies and degutted air-filter. Don't know how close to stock the engine internals were but it'd blast through the ton without any effort. I sold it after a week for 700 notes - two sets of spark plugs, 30mpg and a weird high speed shuffle threatened my peace of mind.

I've done serious miles on both the GT250 Suzuki and RD250 Yamaha, much preferred the latter because it didn't give off the impression of fragility that the Suzuki had in both its chassis and engine. A good RD should have fierce acceleration and a nice feeling of stability. 500 notes won't buy a prime example, but with a bit of engine or chassis work they can be compelling little devices.

By comparison, the fours strokes are more serious, less fun. The 250 Superdream immediately comes to mind as a perfectly plausible set of wheels (though the 400 was better, needing a lot less throttle work to get where it was going) until the 50,000 mile mark when all the engine internals are close to, or past, the point of return. Dead easy to buy something that's running, seems to be fine, only to find a few miles later it's dead meat. 500 notes should certainly buy one of the remaining decent examples, can even stretch to a tatty 400.

Later variants on the Superdream engine are a bit out of this price range, though the odd CB350S does turn up from time to time. Build quality's a mixed bag - some chassis go off rapidly, others survived better than the motor (which had the usual Superdream problems) - probably depends on whether the bike lived outdoors or indoors overnight. Look for just one or two owners, bikes that have gone through many hands usually too neglected to be worth taking a chance on.

Yamaha's offering, the XS250, is almost as uninspiring as the Superdream, though its simple engine (pistons rising and falling alternatively without any balancers) is easier to maintain except when minor but hard to trace electrical problems cause awkward starting and nasty running. It's often just worn switches intermittently shorting out, very cheaply fixed by taking them out of the circuit. The bike also doesn't like non-standard coils and often eats up spark plugs in a few thousand miles.

Having said all that, both the 250 and 400 are neat little motorcycles that will float along at 80mph for as long as you can hang on and not do too much damage to the consumables. A lot of them have rusted their chassis to death, those well cared for easily recognized by their slightly faded patina.

The Suzuki GSX250 was a similar near miss to the XS250, compounding its difficulties by having an eight valve cylinder head that needed both regular attention and frequent oil changes to avoid metallurgical transgression - that is, turning to cheese! Its motor smooth almost to the point of remoteness, any vibes that turn up on the test ride should be viewed with suspicion. Such is its reputation, that I managed to buy a one-owner, 27000 miler, for 400 notes.

It didn't shine with showroom vigour but neither was there an abundance of cosmetic decay - at least until it was left out overnight during a rainstorm and I didn't even recognize the resulting rusting relic! The corrosion cleaned up quickly, almost painlessly, but leave it for a few days and it becomes as resistant as barnacles on the bottom of a ship! I had a gay old time thrusting the thing through Central London, though I could have done with a little more power and bit less mass. Sold it a nice profit with 39000 miles on the clock when it was beginning to smoke on the overrun, so I won't hear a word said against them.

Most of the 250 thumpers are similarly uninspiring. The old CB250RS being the best of the bunch in this price range but wholly unlikely to turn up with an engine that will see out the month. Most ruined by DR's. The handy chassis has had any number of motors shoe-horned into it, including XL600's! The best that can be expected some radically altered bolide with a much rebuilt motor - such bikes almost impossible to suss for future longevity.

Both the GN250 Suzuki and SR250 Yamaha were blunted by mild custom styling and pathetic power outputs but can be useful town bikes and there are many that haven't been hard used. I prefer the SR, though I had a successful interval on the GN way back when. Again, poor build quality makes it pretty obvious which five year plus old bike has been looked after and which has been neglected. I wouldn't touch anything that shows signs of an engine strip (gasket goo, ruined engine bolts, etc) because neither motor responded well to amateur mechanics or outright bodging, though they will both keep going long enough to get out of the street. 500 notes should buy something with less than 20,000 miles and faded chassis with no immediate need for consumable replacement.

The other thumper of note's the Kawasaki Z200, perhaps the best of the bunch save that they are now so old that few good ones are available. Useful blend of speed, power and low running costs (80mph, 80mpg and more than 15000 miles from the consumables). The later Z250 was more of the same but was a bit ruined by pollution laws or just plain lazy engineering, didn't have the finesse of the smaller thumper.

These thumpers had trail versions, but they tended to be much more abused, but occasionally something reasonable turns up.

Middleweights

There are loads of bikes from the seventies that fit into this category - everything from sensible twins to ridiculous triples. Anything with classic status won't make it into this price range - that includes stuff like H1's, CB400/500 fours and GS550's but still leaves plenty of interesting tackle.

Where to start? At the bottom... Honda CX500's are still rolling around the despatch circuit and still a cheap way into sensible motorcycling. It doesn't look so awful as when it was new and has a blend of low running costs, reasonable performance and half decent handling (assuming the suspension's been sorted). The downside's that there's no telling when the motor's going to explode or just plain wear out.

At the other end of the game, high mileage GS450E's give every indication of illness by knocking their main bearings. This can happen as low as 50,000 miles or more than twice that. Good GS450E's have motors that are bland to the point of near nonexistence, so easy enough to suss - if you suspect something's wrong it very probably is! Chassis degeneration is quite interesting under London's regime of acid rain!

Go back even further in history, buy a GS400 or GS425 - as long as you find a mature owner you could snag yourself a bargain, though the earlier twins usually did in their valves or cams rather than main bearings (the eight valve GSX400 being one to avoid). Other Suzukis worth avoiding are their stroker triples, the paucity of power not warranting taking a chance on a design that liked to overheat, consume masses of fuel and handle like an angry mammoth.

Venturing into four cylinder territory, few if any Kawasaki or Suzuki fours will be available for this kind of money. The Yamaha XJ550 the best you can expect - not an intrinsically bad bike just one that didn't inspire much love or respect in its owners. Electrical hassles and chassis consumption (as in a rust eating disease) as likely to be a hassle as minor things like breaking camchains, ruined valves or a shot gearbox. Nevertheless there are some good buys out there.

Honda's CB550 is another possibility, lacking the XJ's edge (which in turn lacked the GPz550's edge) but a pleasant enough old bus to roar along upon, especially with a suspension upgrade to tighten up the handling. The engine's the weakest of the 550's (ignoring the CBX550 in this price category) but one of the simpler to work on - look for camchain rattles, knocking big-ends and/or thrashed camshaft lobes or rockers. Gentle use equals longevity.

One of Honda's tougher designs, the VT500, is going to be well thrashed and abused at this price point, but that won't necessarily stop it going around the clock a second time. You need to know what you're doing, basically. The same goes for the more mediocre Kawasaki fours - Z400 and Z500, maybe even ancient GT550's - with the exception of the 500's camchain problems, they can be tough and long-lived, the chassis as likely to shed its bearings, rust back to nature, as the motor is to blow up. A huge range of conditions and mileage available.

Perhaps more sensible to hit on one of the Kawasaki twins - Z400, 440 and 750 - which were so mild to begin with that they often led a gentle life until falling into the hands of the usual madmen. I had 20,000 miles out of one Z440, didn't even change the oil or clean it. With 73000 miles on the clock, it was jet-washed, polished and traded in for a VT500 without incurring a loss. Mind, I almost fell off a couple of times when the performance sent me to sleep on the motorway!

650/750's

The bigger the bike, the less five hundred notes buys. Well, there are plenty of rat fours barely able to turn a wheel but who wants to handle a complete chassis and engine rebuild - the only surprise is that people actually expect money for these heaps.

The pick of the bunch is Honda's CB650. Yes, sounds like I've gone senile but I've come across a few, even bought one, that have been owned by mature types who take a delight in telling me the correct valve clearances and how changing the oil makes such a difference to the gearchange (which if it still works probably means the words are genuine, so nasty can worn ones turn). Not in abundant supply but hunt around the motorcycle classifieds for the good deals.

Another motorcycle mired in mediocrity, but still able to turn a reasonable speed, Suzuki's GS650GT is also available for this kind of dosh. A smooth shaft drive the sign of a well looked after example, myriad engine problems can intrude at high mileages - all down to the saneness of the past owners; usually pretty good as it's a bit of a pig of a handler, discouraged wild riding.

Yamaha's XJ650 was a similar machine but tougher on the engine front but not without its whims and tended to wear out the whole motor eventually.

About the only 750 you're going to buy for 500 quid, an old and rotting CB750F1. Not exactly inspiring but it can be turned into a fast(ish) brute with a bit of effort; most of the ancient stuff cuts out in the wet, causing the rider to ride off the road or be back-ended by following cagers.

Other Stuff

There's loads of Iron Curtain stuff available, the best of a rotten bunch, of course, the MZ 250, though some UMG addicts reckon that the Jawa 350 is miles better. I'll leave you to find out the truth of that for yourselves; enough's enough - you have to draw the line somewhere!

Dick Lewis

British Twins - The Dead Rise!

No-one else makes vertical twins the British way. Yamaha, perhaps, came closest with their XS650 and both Laverda and Benelli gave the dice a throw, but all three big twins lost the point with their excess of mass. The Japanese make modern vertical twins but don't put much effort into them, the GPZ500S and TDM850 the only ones that come close to being interesting. But British twins are as intrinsic to this country as some resolute old dowager, and just as firm in their constitution.

Take two big flywheels, a couple of puny bearings, hang off a pair of con-rods and the biggest pistons you can get away with. Keep everything as simple and cheap as possible - pushrods, chain primary drive and a minimal amount of metal in every possible component. British designers grew up on postwar days of steel rationing and never quite got over the shock!

The result of these machinations, a 650cc twin weighing 350-400lbs, capable of putting 110mph on the clock and flying through the bends. Some were better than others. Norton had the best frame in their Featherbed design. Triumph had the strongest and least vibratory engine. BSA's handled better than Triumphs, were less vibratory than Nortons. Royal Enfield were more advanced than anyone but that didn't stop them gushing oil. AJS and Ariel never really made the grade but time has been kind to their status, rareness working wonders on their credibility. In fact, most of these bikes are so old and so modified along the way that it's impossible to be definitive about which is currently the best engine available. Even standard looking bikes can hide much modified motors.

Some things never change. Triumph Speed Twins, for instance, however well put together the chassis, however new the bearings and however modded the suspension, still behave like buckling bronco's in tight, bumpy bends at anything remotely approaching a decent turn of speed. Featherbed 650 Nortons, even with upgraded, balanced cranks, rubber belt primary drives and meticulously assembled engines still vibrate like primeval old dogs above 6000 revs. And BSA engines turn as finicky as a three-legged dog if you tune them beyond certain limits.

On the other hand, there are any number of well put together, upgraded British twins out there that are very fine riding devices. As long as you stay within the definition of sane motorcycling - rarely going above 90mph, with an 80mph maximum cruising speed; gentle on the controls at all times. Out of that you get plenty of cheap kicks, reasonable reliability and a bike that goes up in value the longer you own it. This is the kind of trip you want to get into if your licence is nearly dead and you've had your fill of Japanese hyperbike thrills.

In the beginning, more or less, there was the Triumph 500 5T of 1946 vintage, aka the Speed Twin. The infamous Sprung Hub back end gave this bike the characteristics of riding a camel whilst the engine vibrated furiously away. Its adherents main claim for validity, except for its external lines, are that all the elements of motorcycling are rendered miraculously direct - that is you feel every road bump, and every ounce of effort in turning petrol into forward motion. Those owners with any teeth left have usually ground them down to the stumps! These are serious classic bikes - the definitive engineering for a whole breed of subsequent Triumphs, not to mention a vast array of imitators; therefore seriously expensive. Two and a half thousand notes might just get you in the game for one of the later examples.

Look for oil tightness, relative smoothness below five grand (you'll need to try a few examples to see what I mean), lack of exhaust fumes plus a quiet engine. Well built examples don't leak much oil and have a very gentle tickover. Hopefully, you'll find one with all the usual engine upgrades, plus some modern drum brakes!

The 350cc version's so mild as to be dangerous on modern roads but some people revel in the relative lack of vibration. The 650cc 6T likes to break chassis parts when revved out fully, but few owners subject their pride and joy's to such outlandish abuse. All of these old Triumphs are limited by a lack of practicality - unless you're the kind of old codger who enjoys roadside intervals to fix minor problems (and many old Brit riders are!) - and their classic bike status.

Another curious old Triumph of that era, the antique sidevalve TRW. This was the mother of all old sluggers; hardly any power, mediocre frugality and some strange handling on anything other than smooth roads. What it had going for it was an extreme simplicity and a certain ruggedness, the kind of bike that could be bodged around the clock a few times. Of course, time has also been kind to its looks and it's more likely to stop traffic than some modern hyperbike. You can still find something useful, if sensibly modded, for around the grand mark.

Move on a few years, some more interesting Triumphs emerge. Though they didn't really fix the frame until the mid-sixties, towards the end of the fifties something like a 500cc T100 Tiger had a useful blend of power, practicality and just plain good old kicks. Arguably, the singled carb 500cc Triumph twin is the best of the bunch. For sure, its 30 horses lost out to the more powerful 650's but practical cruising speeds were actually very similar due to the bigger bike's excessive generation of vibes. Well rebuilt, at around the three thousand note mark they offer a lot that is best about old style British motorcycle riding.

The purists still deride the change from pre-unit to unit construction, arguments for and against on both sides. What's far more important, these days, is the actual state of the motor and the unit construction bikes certainly have a better reputation for longevity when used in anger.

The most infamous of this bunch, the T120 Bonneville, though it had a couple of years in pre-unit construction format before the real thing emerged in the early sixties. A marvellous line in style, enough power to put 120mph on the clock on a good day and the best reliability of this era of British twins. Vibratory, leaking oil and prone to bearing and valve-gear failure when used to the full, most of these hassles sorted with a bit of modern re-engineering.

A good Bonnie, as opposed to a bad one, is an almost lyrical experience - once you get used to the vibration and queasy handling on the early models. I'd go for a 1967/8 model, that had the chassis as well sorted as it was going to get, had reasonable brakes and suspension, as well as being the toughest of the bunch. Dealers want five grand for such a bike, but the private market will turn up a marvellous one for 3500-4000 quid.

As with many Triumph motors, they can keep running with an awful lot of internal wear. It's not unknown for someone to whip the head off when investigating a minor problem to find out the whole engine's in need of replacement. The good engines are discernible in their relative lack of vibration, noise and oil leaks but you have to be a bit of an expert to suss the good from the bad.

Another nice sample of Triumph engineering from the sixties, the T100SS, had all the qualities of the earlier 500cc Tigers, better build quality, slightly more power and better economy. In the kind of typical riding that British bikes are subjected to, the T100SS is more useful than the bigger twins and a generally fine tool. Though prices aren't bargain basement, it's still possible to pick up something useful for around the two grand mark.

One of Triumph's greatest mistakes was to push their venerable vertical engine to 750cc; at least they didn't tweak the power in the same way that Norton did. Prices of the 750's have surged ahead over the last year for no sane reason, nostalgia being a strange and wonderful thing. Added to its extra capacity, the factory often churned out Friday afternoon specials, poorly fitted if not engineered components adding to the chaos.

Most of the nastiness should've been sorted by now, plenty have been completely re-engineered using better quality modern materials. Vibration is impossible to eradicate, though, especially on the twin carb engines - so that makes a late T140 Tiger the best bet as it also had the lowered saddle height version of the oil-in-the-frame chassis (which was also less susceptible to cracking up). The rougher ones go for under two grand.

Nortons never quite matched the ease of style of the Triumphs. The Wideline Featherbed frame limited the way the tank and saddle could be moulded into an object of desire, though the lines of the engine were arguably more attractive. The motor that was to go on to infamy in the Commando series, had its roots in the Model 7, something of a vintage relic left over from the war that in no way presages the Featherbed's excellence of handling. View the Model 7 as a decent enough old plodder and it wasn't half bad but in no way up to dealing with postwar 500cc Triumphs.

Norton' solution, in 1952, was a brand new rolling chassis, the infamous Wideline Featherbed frame at its centre, but it also benefited from Norton's race track success with regards to suspension and steering geometry. The 88 Dominator admittedly suffered from vibration, even at such a minimal capacity, so much so that it could crack up early model frames.

It wasn't until the 1960 Norton 88SS Dominator that the design really peaked, blending a 36hp 500cc mill with the Slimline chassis, Roadholder forks and the best styling that the Featherbed series was to attain. A much more manly device than the Triumph Daytona, it could crack the ton without much effort and steered with unheard of precision and fidelity that if you overlook the lack of suspension travel is on the pace with the more mundane Jap middleweights of the nineties. Three grand up for anything remotely decent, but at that price it should have all the engine mod's going, making it even better than stock.

Equally of note, the 650SS took the Norton engine as far as it really ever wanted to go, could keep pace with the Bonnevilles of the day and was almost the perfect embodiment of the British twin... save for the way it could vibrate madly when used harshly. An extra grand's needed over the 500 and it may not be money well spent but there are plenty of engines that have been totally sorted.

It's best to avoid the 750 Atlas and probably all 750 Commandos. I say probably because there's the odd one that has been detuned and upgraded that makes a remarkably useful road tool. You have to be pretty quick off the mark to find them, though. No, better to go for the 850's, in as mildest a form as you can find, the later the better - post '75 Mark 3's in particular, although many engines have been upgraded to superior spec. Three to four grand, please.

BSA twins were somewhere between the Nortons and Triumphs, eventually becoming passe when the latter actually managed to make their motorcycles handle in a reasonable manner. The pre-unit series the defining BSA's, the 650cc A10 the bike of particular note. Its major weak spot, puny main bearings, all but eradicated by the pervasiveness of the SRM roller bearing conversion.

Most A10 motors are now well sorted, smoother than the Triumphs but something of a plodder rather than anything to set the blood aglow. Try to avoid the early ones, the chassis not up to much - the duplex frame version with twin shocks is the only model up to the nastiness of modern roads and even then it isn't safe at speed unless sporting the TLS front wheel conversion. There are still usable examples on the private market available for less than two grand.

The A7 isn't a bad motorcycle, just a tediously slow one. Unlike the A10, the better version's the A7SS, which at least had enough blood and guts to stop the rider falling asleep, more of a revver than the harsher 650. It's a better buy than the later A50, which had to carry too much mass, although it could last for a long time. One of the milder unit construction A65's is closer to the mark, something like a Thunderbolt with the obligatory SRM crank conversion. Plenty of well sorted examples of all three models for less than two grand, making them something of a bargain buy in British vertical twin circles.

Whilst Triumph, Norton and BSA were dominating the sales charts and the roads, Royal Enfield were trying to bring some relatively modern engineering to the genre, though they were never to master the art of correct engine breather placement, often derisively described as Royal Oilfields. Even in 1950, their 500 twin had the gearbox bolted to the back of the engine and the sump cast into the bottom of the motor (though it still circulated oil as if it was a dry-sump system). The 500 peaked in the Meteor Minor of the early sixties, arguably a better bike than the more main-line British twins but, these days, those twins have largely been upgraded and have a reasonable spares situation. No such effort has been put into the Enfields.

The best buy amongst the Enfield camp is one of the last Series 2 mills which ended up in the excellent Rickman frame. Here you have an almost modern British vertical twin, a glimpse at how the breed might have developed if there had been enough money around to exploit the talents of British engineers. The Series 2, unique amongst British twins, actually had a wet-sump engine, hefty main bearings and a dynamically balanced crank. That added up to a mix of heavy power (not quite up to the standards of the wilder Commando's but it could take any Bonnie), almost as usable as an 850 Commando on the motorway (beyond 85mph vibes began to go heavy) and sturdy handling that bettered the rest of the Brit's in stability, the only limitation from its mass when swinging through the tighter bends.

This is a serious motorcycle, then, likely to appreciate in price greatly as rareness sets in. The spares situation isn't desperate but it's nowhere near as easy as in the mainstream of Brit twins. As there are no serious engine defects there's not much re-engineering needed, the main problem from fitment of shoddy parts - if you want to use this as a proper motorcycle, bear in mind that the build quality is variable. It's an easy way to write off four thousand notes if you don't know what you're doing.

Whereas most Enfields have some interesting engineering on offer, neither Ariel, AJS nor Matchless managed to rise above the middle ground of British technology. In all of these cases, look for something mild in nature, well preserved and basically stock, though obviously the more new engine components the better. If you join the relevant owner's club, the spares situation is reasonable for engine parts but sometimes difficult for the metalwork. Which at least shows they have their priorities right!

AJS and Matchless were basically the same models with different badges, eventually being taken over by Norton. Ariel ended up as part of BSA, used the A10 engine in later models. There are still some models of each make with motors running in a pretty dire state, and they keep clacking away to the last possible moment, which can prove expensive. It's more a case of avoiding the Ajay Model 33 (that Atlas mill!) and tracking down something with a few spare bikes thrown in as part of the deal. They can be relatively cheap and sensible ways into the British bike scene.

So there you go, loads of possibilities, lots of potential and some bargains. There's also a huge social scene, great friends to be made and lots of people who'll go out of their way to help you out. Can't be bad.

Johnny Malone