My cousin had owned the BSA Rocket 3 for nigh on 20 years, yet had done less than 20000 miles. He was married with half a dozen kids and had hung on to the triple against all the odds. He always reckoned that he'd sell the pristine classic when someone offered him £10000. The recession put paid to that idea and he let me take the old relic off his hands for £1750. I’m still not sure if this was a bargain or a rip-off.
It should be understood that this is my first, and most probably last, British bike. I was used to a GS1000 that ran to 92000 miles without giving much trouble then blew its crankshaft in a big way. Something to do with my juvenile need to wheelie and bouncing the valves at 10000rpm...
I thought I was going to have to rein myself in with the big BSA. My cousin always rode around majestically at C90 speeds and wouldn't break the speed limits let alone race with the GS. The Rocket had these huge ape hanger type bars that put my hands up around my earlobes. They twitched a bit as I gave the bike the first taste of throttle. Power wasn’t shocking but leaving my cousin’s house after the deal was done, I gave the old girl a dose of throttle, dropped the clutch and proceeded to do a massive wheelie the length of the street. Surprise, surprise, the BSA was going to be fun.
The engine is a three cylinder OHV unit, which cynics would describe as a Daytona with an extra cylinder. The BSA had the engine slanted forward, unlike the Trident version, and was also housed in a different (better?) frame. 58hp was developed at 7500rpm (the red line at 8000) whilst wet weight was around 470lbs.
This may not seem like much hp but the triple had a delightful directness of power that made even the GS appear somewhat effete! It would lope along mildly but strongly below 3000 revs, with a lovely gurgle from the ray-gun silencers. Thereafter, power rushed in, taking the front wheel off the ground in first or second, reaching a crescendo at 7000rpm with a spine tingling howl. The racket from the OHV top end dissuaded me from pushing the tacho beyond 7500rpm, as did the tingling vibes.
The gearbox provided some moments of amusement. It was on the wrong side for a start and I kept hitting it as if it was the back brake. This pushed it into another gear with a graunching noise and tried to stop the back wheel from turning. After I'd readjusted my reactions the box revealed itself to have well spaced ratios and a slick, if heavy feel. The easy going nature of the engine’s power meant that I was quite happy with a mere four ratios. The clutch was on the heavy side. A single plate diaphragm unit it made some clunking noises and would snap the bike forward viciously until I became used to its action. Inadvertent wheelies were either fun or perturbing depending on how many other vehicles were around.
Once, I sort of fell into the side of an Escort as the bike sidled off sideways. The cage cushioned my fall but I don’t think the owner was too amused by the dent in his wing. The rate of acceleration from the lights was well on the pace, as fast as most seventies 750s. I was amused by the look of surprise on some bikers’ faces when the BSA took off in a frenzy of smouldering rubber and twitching bars. A lot of the acceleration was down to the high gearing, top speed was only about 125mph before vibration and noise warned me off. About a week after I bought the Rocket, my cousin turned up for visit, moaning about the way I was mistreating his beloved classic. I took him for a ride that left him frothing at the mouth, something about the terrible vibration running through the pillion pegs and the wind blast trying to take off his old open-face helmet. He reckoned I'd be killed before the month was out.
Handling was better than the GS1000. I was confounded by the front forks. OK, I was only used to old Japanese tackle but they offered a very sophisticated ride despite not having much by way of travel. They would soak up some quite vicious road shocks without any of the leaping about, clanging noises or bouncing so rendolent of the GS1000. Yet, they also managed to take out minor road bumps, ignore white lines and give back enough feedback to ensure that I knew what the tyre was doing.
The Girling shocks were, in contrast, way past their prime, the springs sagging and the damping non-existent; so much so that after a week I bought a new set. The contrast between the front and rear ends was so stark that I had no choice. That tightened up the chassis nicely, the frame had strength and well thought out geometry on its side (BSA had decades of experience in designing good frames and it hadn't deserted them), but quick changes of direction were hard work. So much so, that my muscles hurt after half an hour’s country lane work. It was harder going than on the GS because I could take corners 10 to 20mph faster.
The same applied in town. With a 57 inch wheelbase it needed its wide bars for leverage but even then the top heavy feel could catch me out. Plunging through traffic in a thoroughly manic way, using the power and gears hard, left my shoulders howling in complaint and my left hand feeling like it was sprained. Wimp, I can hear old British hands screaming, and it’s true that after a year or so my muscles had strengthened so that I no longer noticed the effort involved.
I was willing to accept heavy handling in exchange for good stability. The only time the front end shook was when exiting bumpy bends rapidly, and then only because the wheel was trying to get off the ground. The shakes would die down if I backed off the speed or flicked the bike upright. I soon learnt that they could be ridden through, unlike on the GS which was more reluctant to wobble but when it started was likely to let go in a big and fearsome way.
I was pleasantly charmed by the bike’s economy. Most of the time I was getting around 55mpg, only extended motorway thrashing would turn in worse than 50mpg. Oil was another matter, a pint added to the tank every 100 miles. I thought it might need a rebore but my cousin reckoned it had been that thirsty from new. Some of the oil leaked from the vertically split crankcases and the cylinder gaskets, the rest of it must've burnt off. Certainly, on cold starts there was a bit of smoking.
Even with such consumption I always changed the oil every 1000 miles. At this mileage the bike required a full service - valves, points, carbs and going around the chassis tightening up all the bolts. The only thing that needed more frequent attention, as in every 500 miles, was the front TLS drum. This conical hub set-up was a bit infamous for the way it reacted to amateur attempts at playing with its adjusters.
The front brake could be very jerky and ineffectual if it didn't have its dose of regular attention. However, once well set up it’s a surprisingly good stopper with none of the fade for which drums are renown. The only proviso is that when cold it doesn't respond very well until a little bit of heat has been generated. On the plus side, there were none of the wet weather delinquencies of old Japanese discs. Shoes last 12-15000 miles and there’s obviously no caliper rot problems.
Those cynics looking for tales of British engineering infidelity will be disappointed! Two years of reasonably hard use have now got the speedo up to 46000 miles without having to take the engine down. An easy early life doubtless helped a lot, as has regular servicing. The exhaust valves and triplex primary chain are supposed to be weak points, especially on Tridents (dig, dig), so perhaps I've got one of the good ‘uns where all the tolerances have gone the right way. I wouldn't buy one for serious money unless I was very sure about its history. There are a lot of shiny Brits out there with dog engines and silly price tags.
I'm not completely converted to the British way of doing things. A recent spate of electrical failures (no, I didn't fit dodgy GS bits, although I never had any electrical problems on the big Suzuki) culminated in the battery exploding. Acid ended up everywhere, the fault down to a combination of blocked breather pipe and failed rectifier putting out pure AC. What a mess. The rectifier failure could have been down to the alternator shorting out (or vice versa), so in the end I had to do a complete electrical refurbishment as well as repaint the frame where the acid had attacked it. The chrome, alloy and paint is certainly a lot better than the Japanese muck and the Rocket still shines up nicely.
I've just bought a GSXR1100 with the plastic torn off and a pair of proper handlebar fitted. This thing shifts like nothing else I've got my hands on, so now the BSA is due for sale. I'll miss the noise and feral nature, have some fond memories and always have a good word for the old triple. I think it's about due for a top end rebuild, as the valve gear makes a cacophony of screaming metal and the power's down above 5000rpm. By the time you read this the chances are high that my cousin will have bought the bike back!
Freddy