Riding in the rain can be pleasant on a motorcycle. Modern waterproofs stop the ingress of water, so no sitting in wet underwear for hours. Of course, choice of machinery is very important. Believe it or not, my 1972 BSA 650 Lightning is an ideal mount. What’s needed is a very secure chassis, decent tyres and a power delivery that lacks viciousness.
Although the Lightning was the twin carb version of the A65, I'd fitted some milder compression ratio pistons which had the twin benefits of reducing vibes and making the machine much more pleasant at low revs. The engine would pick up on just a hint of throttle and roar up to 6000 revs when power did a rapid disappearing act. It might seem strange to go to great lengths to reduce the stock machine’s 50hp at 7000rpm but beyond 6000 revs the vibes blitzed so fiercely through the chassis that in practice such extra power was not easily employed.
Another major modification was to the electrical system which used to send the bike into a coughing fit at the merest hint of wet weather. Electronic ignition, a complete rewire and lots of silicone sealant on things like coils and HT leads, completely transformed the electrical reliability. Admittedly, the Zener Diodes don’t last for much more than 5000 miles a throw and the headlamp bulb’s power was constricted by the meagre output of the Lucas alternator and, also, by the vibes which would cause its failure every few thousand miles.
A most pleasant side effect of the electronic ignition and lower compression pistons was much easier starting. When I'd first bought the bike it had required a dozen or so manic plunges on the starter to bring it into reluctant life from cold. It took about fifteen minutes to warm up, often stalling and requiring a repeat performance. For someone over forty this was more than knackering, my only other form of exercise, was leaping up and down on the wife once a week. Once modified, though, a much milder kick started the bike after two or three attempts, taking only a few minutes to warm up.
Another worrying aspect in the wet was the unique TLS conical hub. Once set-up correctly (about half an hours work every week) this was pretty good in the dry, able to put enough braking forces on the forks to have them bouncing on their stops. Something quite impressive as the suspension is as stiff as an early Ducati. However, the cooling vent was perfectly sighted to pick up water, with the predictable consequence of making the front brake very unpredictable. This was largely cured by blocking off the vent with some very dense mesh and a change of shoe materials.
Fortunately, the 654cc OHV engine had bags of engine braking and a rear SLS drum that was as sensitive and predictable as could be. The art of riding fast in the rain is to go as smoothly as possible, looking far ahead to work out what actions are needed before they become necessary. I particularly liked the 19” front wheel, shod with an Avon tyre, which always felt immensely secure on damp roads and didn’t do anything really nasty even when I had to suffer the sudden locking up of the wheel before I’d sorted out the brake.
Perhaps the only major horror was the way the centre stand prong dug into the tarmac when leaned over at quite moderate angles. Having the back wheel pivot off the road, sending a massive lurch through the chassis, did wonders for constipation. That was easily fixed by sawing off the prong, although use of the centre stand is now a two man job, It’s not unknown for the side stand to let the machine fall over; the chassis is basically tough and can withstand such abuse.
With its small petrol tank and relatively tall seat, the Lightning takes a bit of time to adapt to. It never feels like you're sitting in the machine, rather that you're perched way atop the beast. The seat becomes as hard as iron and the bars leave you perched perfectly to pick up the maximum amount of turbulence. It’s bloody hard work to hold on to the bars at anything above 70mph for any length of time.
With the aerodynamics of a brick shit-house, it’s hardly surprising that fuel is run through the engine in the 45 to 55mpg range. It didn’t improve any, as I'd hoped, after I’d fitted a pair of almost straight through megas. There’s nothing like the glorious snarl of a big twin on open pipes, though. As the engine has always been a rattly bugger, I took the increased exhaust noise as a sign that I could ignore the engine noises, but was never brave enough to push engine services beyond every 500 miles.
If that sounds extreme, all I can say is that the valves always needed adjustment, the spark plugs replacement and oil had turned a murky cream colour, no doubt not aided by being run through the frame to the oil tank cum upper frame tube. It wasn‘t particularly easy to drain off the oil or fill up the tube with Duckhams finest. Oil coolers are available and worth fitting. As the engine is fitted with SRM main bearings, the major BSA engine problem, weak crankshaft support, is neatly sidestepped.
The valvegear lasts better than most Triumphs, with no need for major attention until after about 8000 miles of abuse. Pistons and bores last about three times that distance, and the engine's barrels are now on plus sixty pistons. I don’t know if I can say that the mill is easy to work on, but I’m used to it now and get it out of the frame and down to the crank in a couple of hours. Apart from a very slight leak from the head gasket, the unit is commendably oil tight. It wasn’t when I first got it, pouring out the stuff as fast as I could put it in. Much work flattening engine surfaces and careful application of liquid gasket has got the engine in its present splendid state.
The four speed gearbox is still precise but needs a firm foot. The clutch is heavy enough to build up hand muscles and failure to use it when changing gears caused the box to throw the machine into a false neutral. I haven't actually had to touch the gearbox’s internals, so I ain‘t about to complain. Clutch cables fail to last for much more than 6000 miles despite being religiously lubricated and routed in the best possible way.
The Lightning is not the kind of bike that takes kindly to less than involved owners. It would be dead easy to run the machine into the ground in just a few thousand miles. The vibes are its biggest problem. I’ve had things break off from time to time, I even had one exhaust pipe crack so badly it fell off, making the engine sound like a Sherman tank running through a pile of dustbins. Even with meticulous maintenance and good engine internals there is still enough uncertainly to make each trip a bit of an adventure.
But having owned the bike for the past four years, I’ve sorted out most problems and have no reluctance in stating that my A65 is in a much better state than when it came out of the factory! It’s still fast enough to see off most cars on all but motorways, where the need to maintain a constant speed on a dead straight road leads to as massive a dose of boredom as it does vibration. The latter ensured by the need to keep 80 to 85mph on the clock to avoid being run right off the road! The riding position ensures that the my back aches for days afterwards, even if the pillion pegs are used in conjunction with a nose in the clocks posture. I’m really rather too ancient for that kind of thing.
No, where the BSA shines is on more minor roads where its bend swinging abilities come to the fore. Where the growl from the exhaust causes a wide grin to spread across my face. Where the way it accelerates on an excess of torque rather than power hits me in the gut with a lovely sensation of overcoming the laws of motion against all the odds. And yes, even when its pouring cats and dogs, and you can hardly see where you're going, the A65 still delivers the goods, more smiles per mile than most other bikes!
Tiny