BSA B44

Old British singles. Just the phrase summons up all sorts of hell. Goldstars that fell apart under me. Tiger Cubs that ran off the road. A Panther than actually exploded when I tried the unlikely feat of floating its valves. And a BSA B25 that was the bane of my life for a few days. Enter the B44. The 441cc OHV thumper arguably the best of the BSA unit singles, its excess of capacity compared to the 250 offset by a better build quality. The engine was sort of kept in production by CCM, who modified it mightily and revelled in its off-road potential. You could even guess that Yamaha's XT500 was inspired by the old design which never made it into the modern OHC world of the XT. Yet another missed opportunity.

My enthusiasm stopped short of actually buying one. Senility hadn't set in that deep. One of my richer friends had a very large garage full of old British stuff. Most of it I wasn't even allowed to sit on, but the lowly B44 in original unrestored condition (more or less) was rolled out and the keys shoved into my hands. The usual litany: if I could start it I could borrow it for an afternoon. And I did; first kick, too, the machine immediately endearing itself to me.

Compared to modern iron, the B44 feels more like a 125 than a middleweight. Neutral riding position, heavy controls, awkward switches and a pulsing motor. The exhaust roared, the gearbox clunked and the bike hopped forward without any real intensity. Despite its capacity, it needed a bit of throttle to rock and roll. Faster accelerating than most cages it'd probably have trouble seeing off a 250 Superdream in the harsh light of reality.

Top speed runs went without any great trauma. Beyond 75mph primary vibes overwhelmed all other sensations and by the time I got 90mph on the clock I was seeing two of everything. 105mph came up for a brief moment, the bars shaking so heavily that I had to loosen my grip, causing the bike to snake about a little.

It also rocked on its suspension when flung through bends with the usual elan. Nothing too dangerous or violent, probably down to a bit of wear in the chassis. Short and light, I had no trouble slinging the bike down on to its pegs and trying to get the tyres off the edge of their tread. Such madness sometimes necessary due to the antiquated drum brakes - they may've been fine in the era of Morris Minors but hopeless against the machinations of your average GTi lout.

The electrics were similarly outdated and likely to go up in flames if a decent light or horn was fitted. Bits of wire poked out of unlikely crannies; left parked the bike was a dead ringer for vandalism. Details on the BSA - the run of the cables, the angle of the exhaust, etc - were all hopelessly out of kilter. The basics - engine output and chassis dynamics - were pretty good for a sixties machine, though never likely to put the bike ahead of the game.

I returned the B44 in one piece. Oil leaks weren't apparent and the engine ticked over nicely. The owner walked around the machine looking for obvious signs of abuse and found none. So it's probably a tough little number... or maybe I'm losing my touch!

Johnny Malone