Norton 77

The forthright Malone correctly states, there are worse bikes than this but they don’t have Norton on the tank, though I would even be prepared to argue with that with regard to a Hi-Rider or a Jubilee... no matter, most owners of this factory mongrel sort of stumble on to them (a few lunatics actually bought them new back when we’d never had it so good) precisely because they have Norton on the tank, and therefore deserve everything they get.

I actually like most big Nortons because they are torquey and robust if properly screwed together, so I decided to build one, and got what I deserved too. For the record, it’s a 600cc Dominator twin engine (a 99) that the factory stuck into some old frames they had lying about that were originally designed for the pushrod singles. When I say originally, I mean about 1922 - the way the swinging arm is tacked onto the back of the old rigid seat tube demonstrates this.

The marketing ploy was to offer it as a sidecar tug in order to pension off a 600cc sidevalve engine originally designed by Mr Norton himself in 1908, so in the firm’s terms it was a pretty up-to-the-minute design. The cold commercial truth was that the only Nortons that anyone really wanted had Featherbed frames (even the pushrod singles were thus transported by 1959) and the factory had a load of antiquated rigid frames with swinging arms stuck on they couldn’t quite bring themselves to scrap. Once they’d run out of mugs who wanted to flop about at 75mph with a chair on, they tuned up the engine, added a bit of chrome and flogged it to Americans with a serious death wish as a desert racer called the Nomad, presumably because you were unlikely ever to get home alive. Not many people were fooled and the whole ghastly business only wasted Norton’s production facilities for three years.

Having one of the pushrod singles and tiring of the lousy big-end and exhaust valve life, I felt I had nothing to lose. Putting a sidecar on had cured the thing’s propensity for yawing like a camel with too much water in its hump at speeds over 70mph, simply because it couldn't do seventy anymore hauling all that weight... in truth, it was hard pressed to do more than 60mph, and tuning up a Norton single involves major bottom end redesign if you want reliability. Why not get more performance by bolting in a relatively modern twin, after all the factory did it.

At about this time a friend had decided to throw a 99 motor out of his cafe racer in favour of an old Combat engine he had lying around, which meant that he would need some practical transport, so he put together a rigid Norton sidevalve. This was so devastatingly slow that he took a fancy to my pushrod engine, resulting in a handy swap.

I stripped the twin engine (very simple, apart from the fiddly head/pushrod), fitting new big-end shells and did a rebore with a pair of newish pistons I had kicking around. These days, people seem to want about £70 a pair for pattern Norton pistons, so it pays to keep your air and oil clean anyone who runs an old bike without modern filtration is a Luddite or poseur. As the bike was destined to pull a sports Squire chair with my infant daughter and any adult hapless enough to come along, mechanical quietness was a big consideration, so I fitted a ramped cam and slow followers along with the obligatory right-hand siamese exhaust the result was just about bearable, my children show no signs of clinical deafness, though they have developed an intricate species of sign language for use above 50mph.

The quiet cam also lasts far better than a lot of the later sports cams... just ask the next Commando owner you meet (tee hee). A late, high compression, single carb head was popped on top, the magneto persuaded back into reluctant life and all that remained was to drop it into the frame - persons of a tender disposition should skip the next paragraph.

Two evenings of sawing, grinding and bleeding converted a sheet of quarter inch dural into a set of engine plates that held engine and gearbox in the right place. The quaint tin chaincases that Norton had the brass neck to patent back in the 30s did not fit, however, as the shaft centres are about half an inch further apart than on a standard Dominator, another two evenings were spent mauling them with cutters and a welding torch until everything fitted and the primary chain could be adjusted (by pivoting the separate gearbox, would you believe?) without leaving a large hole in the back of the case. The whole mess also has to actually contain and retain oil.

This oil rots the rubber shock absorbers in the clutch, which if they aren’t replaced yearly cause the clutch centre to eat itself, which produces lousy gearchanges and the world’s most elusive neutral. Failure to retain oil converts new primary chains into a red-hot collection of rusty sideplates and blued, broken rollers after 500 miles of hard use. Oil tightness was eventually achieved by extensive use of a hide hammer and vile language on the outer case.

I had to go up one tooth on the gearbox sprocket to stop the rear drive chain decapitating the two silly little bolts that holds on the silly little bracket that holds on the lashed on swinging arm that breaks the frame if it works loose (how this might affect the handling was really a very secondary consideration). I fought shy of the usual bodge of welding the bracket in, as this makes it impossible to remove certain Norton gearboxes. This meant fitting a tiny 17 tooth engine sprocket to restore gearing suitable for sidecar pulling. Anyone mentioning belt drives can go argue the toss with my bank manager - this system might be marginal but it gives at least 15000 miles per £7 chain with only a couple of adjustments, cost nothing but a bucket of tears to set up and has worked OK. Who’s worried about transmission noise and vibration when there’s a Norton twin shaking away? A set of Commando forks with beefed up springs and Matchless dampers produced a reasonably taut front end, and were a straight swap for the long Roadholders originally fitted.

The engine breather was piped back to the oil tank to stop it lubricating the back tyre, but the pipe was nicked by the gearbox sprocket so bungs just the right amount of oil onto the rear chain. Snail cams from a Malaguti transform rear chain adjustment. SLS brakes are improved by fitting Ferodo MZ41 linings, but repeated use at high speed makes them fade faster than Thatcher’s smile. Fully floating the front brakeplate improves matters considerably, but the only real cure is to put a chair on and just ride flat out. On the few occasions I’ve been unable to intimidate potential obstacles by this ploy the brakes have still been cool enough to stop me, usually by locking up the wheels and allowing me to drift out of harm’s way. Properly set up they just about cope with modern urban conditions, but wear is fearsome... 5000 from the rear if you’re slewing the back wheel round a chair all the time, and the front shoes go for 8000 miles.

I ran it solo for the first few months whilst everything bedded down (to find out what was going to break or fall off) and to check I’d got the basic idea right. The results were mixed but encouraging. The big, heavy frame soaked up the mildly tuned engine’s vibration extraordinarily well, everything being comfortable and buzz free up to 80mph, when the inevitable parallel twin vibes do get through via the bars and footrests. At this speed it was turning over at 5500rpm, which is beginning to push things with this kind of engine, but the same low gearing that made it rev so (relatively) high also meant it got there gratifyingly quickly and was very happy to keep on going up to 90mph (decidedly frenetic), and a ton was possible at the redline with gritted teeth.

Taking off from the lights with the nice smooth AMC gearbox was plenty of fun as it could be persuaded to hop the front wheel with very little effort, its vintage appearance giving people quite the wrong impression... old duffers used to lean out of their Escorts and drone on about their ES2s (I could hear them too, the engine really was as quiet as a newish Suzuki) until I dropped the clutch and WENT; whilst young dumbos gunned their cars but couldn’t catch it - very gratifying.

I can’t offer any comparisons with other motorcycles because it was too unsafe to make them: the engine outperformed the chassis in a way that makes an old Honda 750 appear sleek and docile. At lowish speed the rear brake locked up the back wheel if stomped upon, causing the front end to wag around until it went light with the next application of throttle. Straight line stability was excellent due to the long Wheelbase and heavy rake, an old Norton trick that won them a lot of races.

High speed cornering required folly, determination and blind faith in about equal measure. The long, unsupported frame tubes to the headstock started to flex, changing the wheelbase and the relationship between front wheel and the rest of the bike. On entering a corner the front end nodded and dropped into the curve, by the time I’d compensated by picking the thing up, it’d nod in the other direction, starting to run wide, so I had to drop it in again, by which time it was digging in again and I’d be back... thus the line was about the same as the edge of a threepenny bit. In fairness, it never felt like it was going to let go.

Apart from developing a funny knock, traced to a loose oil pump worm drive allowing the crank to shuffle about and lock the right piston against the flywheel, the bike started and went very well. Clutch action was light to middling, gear changing a pleasure, the power soft but sudden enough to be interesting, and fuel consumption was 60mpg overall.

Unfortunately, I lent the bike to a friend who was deeply distracted by a broken love affair. I rode his nicely set up MZ, whilst my girlfriend was pillion on the more powerful Norton. When I shot off through the Dales in the Lake District he followed without taking in an intervening bend and wall. He was unhurt but my girlfriend ended up with a cut face and my bike had a re-modelled front end.

By the time I’d whipped her off to the hospital to have the nastiest gash stitched and he’d kicked the bike straight, we had about an hour and half of daylight left to do the 70 miles home, with a bike without a headlamp, a pillion still in shock and about 3" less trail on the front forks than the maker intended. I don’t know quite what it says about the bike, but we made it and we all remained friends very character building this motorcycle lark. ji It was obviously time to put the sidecar on, an arcane business that I'll go into one day should anyone ask me to, but will gloss over at this point by saying merely that it was done, and took about three people three hours and as many pints of Taylors afterwards to recover.

As the Squire is pretty central to this story, I should say here that it’s a good sidecar, though some would say that’s a contradiction in terms. It cost me £100 third hand complete with mountings six years ago. The previous owner had used it on a 750 Honda to ferry his whippets about, and it was in good nick. In 30000 miles it’s cost me. two new body mounting: blocks (£10) and a new screen (£21). The screens break because my kids swing around on them and I insist on trans porting things like cookers and wardrobes in the chair.

Maintenance has consisted of tightening up the taper roller wheel bearings (one flat per year) for the MOT. The mountings are sensible, robust and don’t go out of alignment unless you use the chair for adapting car body panels. The hoods are a bit Mickey Mouse, but I have a mate who adapted the original to provide more headroom for my growing brood and reinforced the dodgy bits. It’s heavy enough to stay stable when empty, light enough to sling around, strong enough to take a lot of people and luggage, and comfortable enough to let my daughters sleep through some of England’s finest scenery and do 350 miles a day without going stirr crazy.

Having bolted on this paragon of 70s British minimalist engineering to my rorty ’50s classic bitsa, I ended up with the proverbial committee horse - or pig, to be more precise. The heave-ho required to crack a chair around at anything over a snail’s pace necessitates fitting big bars and a steering damper, plus a seating position sufficiently uptight to allow the lunatic in charge adequate leverage. Failure to provide these conditions results in collapse of the lumbar vertebrae and/or complete inability to negotiate corners, but correct provision results in aerodynamics akin to a falling wardrobe, with a consequent acute reduction in performance.

The original title of 77 proved to be at odds with the Trades Description Act, but only by a whisker... 75mph was achievable if I put my chin on the steering damper and locked my arms like bat’s wings on the bars, but pride and terror forbade this. It would cruise at 55-60mph and still have a bit in reserve, but the combination of flexing frame, narrow tyres and inadequate springing ruled out pushing it much above 70mph.

In truth, the engine no longer outperformed the frame, but the total package was less than devastating. Over the years the tyres became fatter and squarer, someone wound me some really hefty rear shock springs and I finally gave in and paid a friend £100 to build a set of leading link forks, after which the whole bike became a pleasure to sling around marred, only by the fact that the engine was too slow... visions of popping in an 850 Commando engine kept tugging at me, but as the transmission was already stretched out to the edge of reliability I gave up, deciding to just enjoy the ride.

Whatever I might say in condemnation of the puny frame, feeble suspension and weak drive train, I must temper by stating that, properly modified, this bike has given me more laffs per mile travelled and pounds spent than any other, and has lasted well in the face of quite merciless abuse. As originally conceived, however, it was not terribly clever.

Let’s start with mechanical problems. The original magneto worked fine until it pegged out without warning one very cold February afternoon and refused to work ever again. A mate towed us back with his 650 Triumph, which was near collapse, as well, after pulling outfit, pillion, 2 adults and 2 kids for 20 miles at a steady 50mph. A Commando type points drive and Boyer electronic ignition, £25 used, solved this problem once and for all - the engine ran sweeter too.

At 10000 miles the layshaft poked itself out of the back of the gearbox (a common Commando fault) due to the oversize sprocket and general strain imposed by the extra mass, but had the decency not to crack the bearing housing, so I just filled the hole with plastic padding with the gearbox in situ and Loctited (is this a new verb?) in the roller bearing that the factory should have fitted as standard... no further problems.

A recent tendency to jump out of first gear on spirited take-offs suggests that the layshaft is on the move again, but new bushes and shims will cure it. Early on the gearbox shuffled in the new engine plates, burning out the clutch rollers - but these were easy and cheap to replace, and merely required a bit more grunt on the mounting bolts to prevent a recurrence.

Exhaust valves never lasted more than 8000 miles, though this is solely due to the crappy nature of most available pattern valves, and easily cured these days... I just had a lot of crappy old valves around and was loathe to spend any money on new ones. Similarly, the clutch would chew the ears off pattern drive plates until there was no drive left, but an old set fitted 20000 miles ago have barely worn at all, so in this case original items seem to be the best bet.

The primary drive sprocket ate its woodruff key at 28000 miles, knocked the alternator rotor loose and placed a lot of strain on the drive-side main bearing. Having felt by this time that I’d had my money’s worth from a 30 year old motor, I glued the whole mess back together again with new keys and Loctite, thrashing the bike to Scotland and back in a really determined effort to make it go bang, having first picked up an 850 Guzzi for chair duties (another tale indeed.....) with the result that it obstinately refused to break down. Even on its last legs it would still pull 75mph in extremis, and happily run flat out for hours at a stretch, until I started to believe in its robustness. Within a fortnight of getting home it started to growl horribly, however, and the final stripdown revealed a cracked piston and knackered mains.

By this time I’d picked up a spare engine for £30, so basically, it’s been a very cheap bike, but required a bit of ingenuity to keep going. Now, of course, it’s a classic, so parts are getting too pricey to make it a realistic proposition, but at least they're available, so I’ll keep running it on knackered old bits and the odd new component until I get tired of the intensive fettling an oil nail demands if it’s to run right. Given that I already owned the thing (£50, 12 years ago and around 100000 miles on various engines and gearboxes) and enjoy spannering, I can’t really complain.

Actually, I can complain, and will, about the running costs rather than the outlay or (probably very profitable) resale value, but must grudgingly concede that these are mainly the result of the dreaded chair haulage. Flat out cruising and round town hustling will bring fuel consumption down to 35mpg, which with the standard three and a bit gallon tank is a bit of a pain, to say nothing of the 150 miles per pint oil. consumption.

Trick oil control rings and a bit of lathe work on the pistons can pull this up to about 400mpp, but the whole scavenging system is piss poor and requires extensive modification. Piping the engine breather back to the oil tank pressurises the oil tank so much that you have to pipe in a huge breather pipe and run the resultant froth into a catch tank. The unsavoury contents of this item can be poured back into the oil tank or thrown onto the chain depending on its condition. All in all, not the stuff of eighties motorcycling.

The engine’s inherent tendency to burn oil does nothing for the life of the poor quality exhaust valves, either. The effects of the lousy scavenging can be minimised by judicious use of the right hand, or fitting new pistons, valves and guides, but the cost of the former is death from boredom given the modest power output, and the latter recourse gives only temporary relief at a great pain to the wallet. All the new-old spares have been gobbled up and fitted to immaculate Dominators that will go neither fast nor far enough ever to wear them out, so the only realistic course is to thrash along on old-old spares and live with the rattling consequences.

I have managed to buy used pistons that are perfectly serviceable for a few quid, simply because the proud owner has insisted on a rebore rather than live with a light rattle, whilst rings can be rescued from 500 Triumphs, Triumph Heralds and the like, but it’s getting more difficult all the time. Decent barrels cost an arm and a leg, but sleeves are cheap and plentiful, as are rods, cranks, cases and heads, whilst all the bearings can be had from your friendly local factor.

If you don’t insist on doubling the weight and halving the performance with a sidecar, a Dommie is still a reasonably practical proposition, with electronic ignition, QH lights, proper oil filters, tolerable brakes and decent dampers all readily available to drag it into the mid seventies. You've got to be prepared to fit all this stuff, however, so a good measure of enthusiasm (read masochism) and a bit of cash are also required. I must also have a small moan about tyre wear on this type of bike, again on the understanding that outfits are unkind to tyres at the best of time. y eats the triple duty Avons, that the company so kindly still produce in the obsolete 3.50x19 size, 5000 miles being the absolute limit on the back, while the front and (Mini) side-car tyres are usually done for by 10000 miles. As adhesion is not of critical importance on a 35bhp outfit, however, you can sling just about any old crap on the back - people tend to give you old relics that’ve been festering in the potting shed since Uncle Alf chopped in his M21 for a Honda 550, so actual costs are not as crucifying as the wear figures suggest.

The only blight on this is that the tread fell off one old remould during a prolonged 70mph thrash, the tyre was literally cooked off the big, narrow rear rim under the hideous cornering forces that a side- car generates. a As the bike was in full tour mode at the time - two adults, two children, two tents, etc jacking it up with the obligatory scissors jack and wrestling out the not so quickly detachable back wheel proved not to be merry fun. I finally had to put the front tyre on the back, squeeze in a skinny 18" inner tube donated by a local well- wisher, on a remote garage forecourt where the handy thermometer mercilessly informed me that the shade temperature was 85’, as fine a way of spending the hottest day of the year as any real man could wish for. As a card carrying wimp I merely labour on the mental scars. For reliability you must keep your tyres in good nick, and that can get expensive... my meanness has cost me dear in knuckle skin and brain cells, which maybe says something about anyone who tries to run a Norton on the cheap.

Why do it? Well, for one thing I’m poor and it was easier to convert a bike I already owned than buy one better suited to the job, or at least cheaper, which is the most telling factor in the final analysis. I must also confess to liking the old heap’s looks, the ant’s abdomen petrol tank complete with hefty kneegrips, the low slung oil tank and pointer dog headlamp mounting... and, above all else, the contrast between the throaty noise and the spindly looks.

It is during the winter when the bike really comes into its own - no fear of snow and ice for outfit riders because it stays controllable during a skid. In fact, I can remember emerging from a warm house at the dead of night to find the world silently sheathed in fresh snow, roaring off for a good long ride, just for the pleasure of sliding and drifting about in the magical silence and deserted landscape. Slithering down icy hills changes from the usual numbed inevitability of falling off that meets the solo rider into a game to be relished; just how many times will you have to pirouette to scrub off the required amount of speed before that main road intersection?

180° turns around the front wheel followed by a quick poke of throttle and opposite lock make them the world’s easiest vehicles to park, and when you’ve done it you just switch off and walk away, no searching around for stands and locks (very few people have the bottle or experience to swipe something like this, and those that do aren’t into nicking bikes, for the most part): way, way, easier than getting out of a car.

There, I’ve done it, compared it to a car, as do most motorcyclists who’ve never ridden one. Any fool can drive the latest Dagenham delight along at 60mph, but doing the same on the Norton takes skill, with a consequent sense of achievement. And you can poke an outfit through holes in traffic that your average car driver has neither the wit nor coordination to attempt, and somewhere, somehow, the matter of STYLE has to be addressed... where cars inspire me with torpor, put me on an outfit and I want to drive with brio... it seems to be the same for everyone.

I’m going to sell it, though, because I need a bike with more power, so I have to re-enter the market-place that I’ve managed to avoid for the past 12 years. After this long it owes me nothing, but due to the insanity of the market it'll probably fetch more than I’ve ever paid out for it. I won’t regret getting rid of it, but whoever buys it should have some fun. It certainly isn’t a real classic, but it’s sure as hell been the kind of bike you can live with.

Dale Middlehurst

 

80s Trail Bikes

You don't see many proper trail bikes on the road these days; those you do see have usually seen better days. Even confirmed trail riders are having to look to enduro models or are building specials. In fact, if you look at any of the model ranges you Won't see much in the way of trail bikes, with the exception of learner machines or 600cc plus bikes. A real change from the halcyon days of the late 1970s when, after heavyweight, under-powered half-hearted attempts, the trail bike evolved into a small, lightweight, reasonably powerful macthine, justly able to fly the dual purpose banner.

At the beginning of this decade the machines were really getting their act together, building on their seventies experience to improve chassis technology and introduce modern styling.

In 1980 Honda launched a completely re-vamped line up of XLs from 100 to 500cc. The old, established 250 was toppled from supremacy by the XL185S - the combination of low weight, small size and powerful motor at last gave the punters what. they always wanted: the lightness of the SL125 with the power of the XL250. Based on Honda’s ubiquitous 125 motor, the XL185, and indeed the range as a whole, were noted for their general reliability and longevity.

The XL185S became so popular that at one time the TRF almost became the XL owners club. With no particular vices and an unburstable engine (so long as 1200 mile oil changes are adhered to - if they’re not the top end does the usual Honda trick to cams and bearings), the XL185 is much sought after for specials. Indeed, the motor will slip easily into the XL125 Pro-Link frame.

Some 185s can be rattly, but before you strip down the motor, check the advance/retard mechanism I’ve known a quick adjustment and spray of WD40 to quieten down the motor. Also, in common with many other models, attention to camchain adjustment is essential. Don’t leave it to the automatic tensioner as these seldom work effectively, if at all. The automatic decompressor in older machines frequently slips out of adjustment (only the XL500R featured a more sensible manual decompressor). The silencers are reduced to dust at an alarming rate on the S models. Whilst it’s still possible to buy legal aftermarket exhausts, many bikes have home grown silencers fitted. The XL185 was produced in SA, SB and SC form, staying virtually unchanged, the only modifications cosmetic, the last SC model resembling the successful, competition XR200.

Yamaha, Honda’s nearest trail bike rival, kept their DT range unchanged in the early eighties. The gas guzzling DT175MX (70 miles to the tank) was still the trick machine to have, sporting the right kind of heritage as well as mono-shock rear suspension. The XT500 had its faithful followers of masochists, whilst at the smaller end, Yamaha produced their answer to the XL250, the XT. Smaller than the XL250, sporting a more sensible 21" front wheel as opposed to Honda’s cartwheel 23", it was unfortunately saddled with a 17" rear rim at a time when there was no alternative tyre of that size. At 17hp, the power output wasn’t particularly sparkling which may help explain why not very many were sold, although having ridden one I confess I preferred it to either the heavier and more revvy Honda or the under-powered KL250A.

Complaints about the XT250 appear to be limited to the gear ratios which are not wide enough, the lack of grip on the OE tyres and the lousy front mudguard which does nothing to protect either rider or engine. Later bikes were fitted with 18" rear wheels and it’s possible to fit these to earlier models.

Suzuki acknowledged the change in decades by restyling their TS models and using the suffix ER. Popularity of earlier models was somewhat limited by their penchant for seizing and they also had a reputation for being just a little flimsy for serious off road fun and games. Suzuki also introduced the DR400, initially alongside the SP400, on which the DR was based. Although produced for only a short time (discontinued in 1983), the DR was to prove. a much more reliable and robust machine, the SP suffering from poor lubrication of the head.

Kawasaki never managed to shatter the world with their trail bikes, but at the turn of the decade they offered a range of two and four stroke machines. The earlier KL250A, never a real threat to the XL and which suffered head problems, was revamped - given lighter moto-crosser styling, a high level exhaust, larger jet carb and a counterbalanced engine, hence the model name KL250C. It was also given a box section swinging arm, needle roller bearings, CDI ignition, auto camchain tensioner, more ground clearance and, most importantly, dumped 22lbs - even if it still retained 6V electrics. It was destined to be an unpopular model, the engine had lost most its four stroke punchiness, with little engine braking, whilst an inherent gearbox problem meant the bike jumped out of 2nd gear when the going got tough. Last examples were sold off cheap when the new water-cooled, 12 volt, KLR250 was introduced.

Everyone remembers the old 1970s KE125 and 175, with dated styling and slab sided silencer, but in the early eighties Kawasaki completely revamped their range into a more modern moto-cross style, although, surprisingly, they stayed with twin shock suspension. By now they had also gone over to reed valve induction, recognized as a far more effective induction method than disc valves. Internally, they introduced electro-fusion bores, although rebores on hard used machines can be a costly affair. New parts are readily available, which is just as well as used parts, particularly for KE175s, are difficult to find.

There are some problem areas to watch for with the D model KE175. The clutch can start slipping between 10-13000 miles depending on (ab)use; a set of of clutch plates setting you back £22.-The kill switch expires, easily fixed by tearing it out of the loom. Gearboxes whine loudly, caused by cogs not meshing fully, although I’ve never heard of it giving rise to any failures.

The introduction of the 125 learner law saw an indecently quick shake up of the trail bike market. Almost overnight the 175-200cc class disappeared. All of a sudden we had stylish, water-cooled, extremely high seated, trick but nonetheless under-powered 125cc machines. Yamaha were first on the bandwagon with the DT125LC in 1982 here was real high tech to lure young spotty. Praised by the press, this was a world away from most folk’s idea of a trail bike. The aggressive styling was frowned upon by some die-hard green laners who thought something less conspicuous more suitable, whilst the four stroke fans were appalled at the prospect of a two stroke future.

The only happy people were the learners who had the ultimate in street credibility with a machine the size of a full blown moto-crosser. De-restricted, the engine pushed out 16.2hp, not impressive by today’s standards. Off road, hard use tended to overheat the motor thanks to the tiny size of the radiator.

The new law and Yamaha’s success saw Honda restyling and mono-shocking the old XL125 later that same year. The bike actually had grease nipples in the swinging arm. The XL was joined by the two stroke MTX125 in 1983, which shared the MTX200’s habit of running hot in slow riding and cold in fast riding, as well as being very sensitive to spark plug condition. They also rattle worse than an MZ - but believe me, they all sound like that.

Not surprisingly, Suzuki followed suit with a no-nonsense raw powered TS125X. Available in both full power and 12hp forms, it soon became a favourite with learners. It was the largest of the bunch and certainly felt more powerful than 12hp - when one magazine tested the output of the restricted model it produced 15hp. In 1985, after an absence of a year, a new 250 was reintroduced by Suzuki. However, the TS250X was more of a street machine, its need for high revs bogging it down in the slower bits of trail - very few were sold.

Yamaha managed to move their four stroke technology downscale to produce the XT125, which was heavily outsold by the XLI125, both bikes sharing a similar specification. The XT was slow on the road (65mph) and lacked bottom end grunt on the rough, requiring a devil-may care, flat out a roach up steep hills. It could also be a very obstinate starter and had non-adjustable rear suspension. Equally rare and just as poor performing, the Suzuki DR125 thumpette managed to outlive the XT by just one year.

If there was lots of competition at the lower end of the market, in 1984 Honda compounded their domination of the mid-range market by introducing the XL250RE - much suspicion was heaped upon the radial four valve head, but they were just as reliable as the older two valvers.

Kawasaki waited until 1986 until updating their range, but this was to pay off as they were able to assess all the new developments in the market and incorporate them into a super little market beater - smaller, faster, more stable and quieter than all the opposition, the KMX125 was a very civilized yet spirited machine. Whilst water-cooled, the small radiator is far less obtrusive and vulnerable than on other models. It’s an especially interesting machine in de-restricted form as it knocks out 24hp.

It must be said in their favour that all these modern 125 trailsters are particularly vice free and, so long as they are not abused, seem pretty robust. As well as great pose machines they were fitted with usable 12V electrics, something sorely lacking on older trail bikes.

The Italians were never able to make much impression on the UK market. Cagiva made a brief appearance on the trail bike scene in ’84 with two new models - the 350 four stroke Alla Rossa and two stroke 125 Alletta Rossa. The 350 was too heavy for off road fun, but the 225 was a different matter - given better advertising and promotion, the Alletta Rosa could have been a successful machine.

Marketed as learner legal, when I tested one of these superbly engineered machines back in 1984 no-one would give me any conclusive evidence as to how/if the 125 was restricted. However, with a top speed approaching 85mph and more bottom end grunt than any 125 has a right to, I think the facts speak for themselves. The 125 was then priced at £899, on a par with the Jap trailsters; but far better made. Sadly, within 12 months these bikes were no longer imported - rare on the secondhand circuit, certainly worth chasing after if one comes up.

Most of the other Italian bikes were either too expensive or very rare. Such a machine as the Morini K1 125 was praised as having excellent quality when imported in 1985, but at £1395 was too expensive. Likewise, the Gilera RX125 Arizona, which in 1986 was the only non Jap trail bike in its class - whose main problem was both rareness of machines and parts.

Many other European manufacturers made 600cc plus bikes which were not imported and even of those that have been, none has been a viable green lane proposition, despite the attempts to shoehorn V-twin motors into new frames. They all looked very aggressive but such machines as the Sahara and V65TT are really more in the street poseur class than serious green lane machinery; not the least of the problems being expensive repairs to these near road machines. BMW now have the pleasure of producing the largest capacity - 1000cc - trail bike, they can’t be serious, can they?

With the two stroke market devolving into into an endless supply of trick learner machines, the four stroke market all but deserting the smaller capacities, it was left to evolve into larger and more sand racing type trail bikes. Probably only because Honda didn’t change their 500, Yamaha uprated their XT500 to the XT550 in 1982. A machine with very similar styling to the 125 it proved an unpopular model and certainly no successor to the highly popular and near classic status XT500. In its day, it was somewhat complicated with twin carbs, a four valve head and mono- shock suspension. It was far too high geared for trail work, the bike able to hit 37mph in first. Like the 500, it could be a real pig to start.

Two seasons later in 1984 this became the XT600 which was also available in Tenere dress, thanks to sand racing successes. By this time Honda had retaliated with the XL600, Suzuki with the DR600 and Kawasaki with the KLR600 - which sensibly featured an electric start.

The first KLRs were a little troublesome, with owners reporting such problems as shot main bearings, missing thrust washers from the balance shafts, electric problems, leaks from the cam cover, with sheared balance shafts through to a persistent loss of compression. However, Kawasaki stated that they had no widespread problems with the model as a whole.

Out of such thumpers came the Paris Dakar replicas; generally a stock machine with a large tank and even more aggressive styling, which in Honda’s XL600M meant a bright red engine! The main grumble regarding this machine being the same as any dry sump engine - having to run the engine for a few minutes before being able to check the oil - thereby doing even more damage should you be unlucky to be low on engine lube. However, it was the first trail bike to sport tubeless tyres.

I would say that the best of the large thumper bunch was the no nonsense V-twin 750 Honda, which not only looked the part of a desert racer, was a robust tool as well. Generally, though, whilst all very impressive, it was not such machines that the British market hankered for; more the inoffensive, four stroke, smaller machines that make the most suitable trail bikes. But the marketing men know what we want, don’t they? So bigger and more garish P-D replicas are the order of the day.

A sense of normality returned to trail bikes in 1985 with the launch of the XT350. As with the earlier Honda XL185, Yamaha had finally produced a bike with the power of the larger XT in a chassis no bigger than a 250, weighing in at 280lbs on the road. It proved an instant success in trail riding circles, but was not without fault. The sealed O-ring chain being of a size unique to that model not only means you HAVE to buy the Yamaha item but also that you can’t play around with different sprockets to change gearing. However, it’s possible to convert the XT350 to a 520 chain, giving greater gearing flexibility by using XT550/ 600 gearbox sprockets. Folk have also voiced complaint about the narrow swinging arm which restricts the size of tyre you can fit.

Virtually nothing green lane sensible came out of the mid-eighties. The Big Four had the learner market sewn up with large, bright, water-cooled two stroke 125s. These amazingly resilient machines seem to have more reliability than the older strokers of the Seventies - the new moan being how to de-restrict 125 easily, for all these machines are restricted in a similar manner - basically by & washer welded into the exhaust. In the case of the TS125 that’s it! For the DT125LC it is also necessary to raise the gearing and richen the carburation. The KMX requires different shims in the KIPS linkages; for the MTX rejetting.

And of the recent stuff? A hotch potch of machines that still manage to miss the point. Yamahas TDR250 will undoubtedly be a successful street poseur (though at a price - £2400), but I shouldn’t think many of these street scramblers will ever eat dirt. Indeed, one look at the complex engine is enough to keep anyone street bound. Even the XT350, which started life as a good sized four stroke trail iron, is beginning to grow in dimensions and pose value. The DT125 has been through a metamorphosis to become the 26hp DT125R, ousting Kawasaki from the most powerful 125 position.

Honda still believe big is beautiful and have nothing between 125 and 600cc. Suzuki have all but forsaken the trail rider, with no new updates to their 125 - 250 two strokes or DR600 four stroke. Kawasaki have the new KMX200 and have dumped their old lineage KE125. The BSA, DT175 engined, trailster may be available soon. Prices? It’s really difficult to pigeon-hole trail bikes into price brackets as their use and abuse is so widely varied. Some trail bikes never see dirt but are thrashed unmercifully on tarmac; some are trailed but carefully maintained; whilst some of the 200-350 machines are often used in enduros. A dead giveaway as to whether a machine has been used off road is to look at the side panels and/or frame tubes by the footrests - the paint is always worn away from the rider standing on the pegs.

I would, however, say that for any of the pre-learner machines I would hesitate to pay more than £200 for an up to 200cc bike or more than £400 for an up to 350cc bike. For the newer 125 machines, you can generally reckon on losing around £300 in the first year, then a steady decrease of approximately £100 a year. However, these prices really only relate to clean, sound models.

Rosie Marston

The British Bike Guide

Are there any good British bikes left? As this is a magazine devoted to old bikes which doesn’t have classic in the title and an editor who gets more than a little annoyed when he sees some old classic heap fetching more than a grand, that question ought really be redefined as are there any good British bikes left that are good value for money?

The answer is, of course, yes. And, er, no. My last British bike was a Norton 850 Commando tuned beyond reason, with the isolastics tightened up and a few non essentials junked at next door’s feline. The result was a bike that growled out torque and power like nothing else on earth and would shatter the wet dreams of even the latest high tech Jap multi riders in street races up to the ton. It was a sort of four stroke equivalent of a Yam DTR250 and it provided hours and hours of fun. It was eventually sold because I got fed up with the bi-weekly rebuilds and began to run out of money. I currently ride a Honda CBR1000, which if it is both very civilised and very fast, lacks the character of the old Norton. I’m still wracked with chronic longings for British bikes and even as I write this am negotiating purchase of a Royal Oilfield 750.

If you have never ridden a British bike your reaction is likely to be either sudden, almost inexplicable, conversion to the breed or total horror at the paucity of civilization inherent in old British motorcycles. Even on something as plain nasty as a sprung hub Triumph there’s such a direct communication between rider and road, and rider and engine, that he’s aware of every ounce of power and inch of rubber fighting their way through the elements, that all defects are overwhelmed in the sheer buzz of hustling the bike along the road.

But to get back to good British motorcycles - such is the state of the market that it’s almost impossible to name any particular make or model as being particularly good, because bikes that were once good may have been ruined by poor assembly, inferior quality pattern parts and neglectful maintenance, whilst machines that were once regarded as dubious may equally well have been re-engineered, fitted with better quality parts and lovingly cared for confused? Don’t blame me, we're talking about machines that are thirty, forty years old and in that time just about anything could happen.

Having said that, a quick and general history lesson of the British vertical twin will reveal that most of them were upped to 600, 650, 700, 750 and (god help us) 850cc from moderately tuned 500 twins, that if they never breached the ton were at least relatively free of the vibes and reliability problems of their bigger brothers. As these often look pretty much the same as the 650 and 750s, if you're not too concerned with speed, you can get all the street credibility of a British bike with little of the usual nastiness. If you want a good British bike, then buy one that is lowly tuned. If you're into serious speed then buy Japanese.

If you're going to buy a Brit bike as an investment then you're reading the wrong magazine, if you want one to ride and enjoy, don’t worry over originality, often the more that’s been replaced and updated, the more practical the bike becomes. Conversely, the more a bike is changed from original spec, the less collectable it becomes and the less money it can fetch. There is a certain poetic justice in this.

Unfortunately, the cost of British biking continues to rise, with both the cost of machinery and parts going almost as crazy as London house prices. There are still plenty of 70s British bikes well below the grand mark and often below £500. It’s the sixties and fifties stuff that has really taken off, with anything that’s really classic going way out of reach of the average punter - six grand for a Vincent, four grand for a Gold Star, etc, etc. Not funny. The other side of the coin is that you can buy a bike for a year, rebuild the engine, ride it and then sell it off at a profit. Almost as good as buying a Jap 550, thrashing and neglecting it for a year and selling it off at a profit just before it explodes.

The only flaw with that kind of argument is that British bikes tend to get to you and it becomes easier to get rid of the wife and kids than finish with the motorcycle. Take that as a warning and ignore it at your peril. What follows is a somewhat idiosyncratic (well, this is the UMG) guide to what I think are the best bargains around in the British bike market; naturally it avoids all the expensive classics and if it turns out really nasty don’t blame me, blame the times we live in.

BSA  The sixties A65 has been made famous by a certain TV program, and prices are rising fast. The slower, almost sedentary, A50 can still be bought, in running order, for £350 to £450. An A7 or A10 is even better, but more expensive. BSA managed to retain shoddy crankshaft bearings throughout the model range for at least thirty years - SRM do a neat conversion. The sixties A65s were plagued by vibration, but in the seventies they almost got it back down to the levels of the A10. A friend bought a '72 A65 with single carb for £400 a month ago and it’s a surprisingly pleasant bike to ride.

Late sixties Bantams for less than a hundred notes are rare but not impossible -  taut handling and a vaguely reliable two stroke single engine. The odd B31 comes up for a few hundred quid, but this 350cc OHV single is housed in such a nasty chassis that only speed-riding CD175 addicts need apply and the vibes on the bigger B33 are the kind legends are made from. Both bikes, in stock condition, are quite reliable as long as they aren’t thrashed, but finding one in original condition will prove difficult. Spares are generally available but some quality problems on things like valves.

Norton  The nicest Norton is the 500SS, which was as fast as a Daytona, handled properly and didn’t vibrate as badly as their bigger twins. As with anything in a Featherbed frame the prices are moving from the merely amazing to the extortionate, and is merely mentioned in passing. Commandos are beginning to follow suit. Most of the engines have been fitted with Superblends and de-tuned by now, so the normal recommendation of buying one of the last models can be ignored.

I’ve heard of people buying runners for as little as £400 in the past year, so there’s some hope for us all. Electronic ignition is vital as the engines are very sensitive to ignition timing - the crummy contact breakers and vibes don’t mix at all well. Valves, guides and rings all wear at a depressing rate even in lowly tuned, beefy bearing form. You can buy a very nice bike with the right mods for around a grand. An ES2 single is not to be sneezed at, but the cost and performance equation is totally out of court.

Some of the older singles in non-Featherbed frames are available at under £500 but the handling is more than a little weird, and the vibes, on something like a sidevalve 16H rather destructive. An acquaintance recently bought one of these quasi vintage machines for £175 and it actually ran... just. Spares for the singles are difficult, for the smaller twins expensive and/or poor quality, only the Commando has lots of reasonably priced bits available.

Triumph  Like the Norton, the best Triumphs are the 500s, preferably single carbed and lowly tuned. A late sixties T100SS springs to mine as having the quintessential Triumph style and enough go to make life interesting. If the engine is put together with care, it’s both reliable and relatively vibration free. I’ve tried one that’s had the crank dynamically balanced and it could actually cruise at 80mph without any of the nasty vibes on a Bonnie. I’ve seen them as cheap as £300 and as much as £1800, but it’s probably as well to go for the cheaper end of the market as you'll need to do the rebuild just for peace of mind. A Daytona is a good second choice, but the engine falls apart if you use the top end of the rev range. Fifties and sixties Bonnies are too expensive.

There are loads of seventies Triumphs around. The single carb 650 is the best option, but somewhat rare. Whilst the oil-in-the-frame design produced the best handling of all the Triumphs, the early version had a very tall seat height, the oil bearing saddle tube can split depositing oil over the back wheel and some frame tubes have snapped on very high mileage machines. Prices go right down to £200 for something in need of much loving care, but four hundred notes can still buy a 750 in good running order.

Often overlooked, the sixties T90 is quite useful as a working hack - it’s no faster than a CD175, but this 350 looks and sounds more or less like the 650 so impresses the gullible. Something rideable can be picked up for around £350. And, of course, there’s the Tiger Cub. Even when it was introduced, its OHV single cylinder design was pretty antiquated but it does return 100 plus mpg and is easy to work on if you have a big enough hammer. Some collectors demand a grand or more for these devices, but there are still runners around for under a hundred notes.

Ariel  I know a chap who had an Ariel 500 who used to burn up inside because he was continually burnt off by a Honda CD175. He was petrified of giving his bike some real stick because the engine had a reputation for collapsing under such treatment. Luckily, the 500’s very rare. The 650s were similar to the A10 in many ways, save for the frame. You may find the odd Huntmaster for around £300 to £400, and they’re quite usable beasts within legal speed limits. The singles are much more common, but somewhat fragile unless you go for the more exotic which, naturally. turn out to be too expensive. Spares are difficult, the range as a whole best avoided unless you can find a real bargain.

Royal Enfield  The Bullet is the most famous, and prices vary enormously depending on originality and condition. The cheapest deal I’ve heard of was £225 for something that had been practically modified and was about to blow up. It’s much easier to pay a grand than that kind of price, but there are still bargains around. The Indian version is worth a look if you haven’t become racially vindictive after suffering Asian landlords in Shit City. Performance is negligible but they can be incredibly cheap to run. Bullets reached a climax of design and usefulness at the end of the fifties in 350 rather than 500 form. The twins were always ignored by most of the motorcycling populace, but that very rareness makes them an expensive proposition, both to buy and run.

The Meteor Minor 500 was the smoothest of all the twins, and even the last, very powerful 750 twin in Rickman frame, was relatively free of vibes, thanks to those dynamically balanced, hefty cranks. Like all Enfields they throw out as much oil as they consume. I’m currently trying to buy an example of the latter the price started off at £1500 and so far I’ve got it down to £1150 and I wouldn’t be happy paying more than a grand. Even at that price it’s not going to be the bargain of the century.

Matchless  Matchless, along with AJS, were unique in using a three bearing crank - unfortunately the engineering techniques employed to produced such a feature were so imperfect that the engine became as famous for splitting its crankshaft as the Enfield motor was for dropping its oil. Along with chronic (and I mean chronic) cam wear, these twins are amongst the least reliable that British engineering managed to produce. They were also the most vibratory, even Triumph Owners can enjoy a laugh at their expense (which is saying something). Unfortunately, a paucity of engineering talent does not mean it’s bargain time in the used market.

Something like the G12CSR, Matchless’ rival to the Bonnie, can command over a grand. Given that tuning this type of motor has the same kind of engineering integrity as tuning a Combat motor, that kind of price is quite insane. An old 500 in shoddy condition might just be picked up for three hundred notes, the somewhat rare 600 for £500 and the quite rapid 650 for £550, but given the weaknesses of the motor these prices are about double what they ought to be. And the prices of the singles are bad enough to make me wish I’d stacked a garage full of them back in the sixties when people were practically’ giving them away.

The Rest  There are some nice bargains around in the special market. A Triumph engine in a Norton frame is always worth a look. The quality of construction of Tritons does vary enormously and there are still some very scruffy examples running around - if the frame’s straight and the engine sound, it’s relatively easy and cheap to get the cosmetics right. Go for the Slimline frame unless you’re very tall, the differences in handling between it and the Wideline frame are nothing compared with the differences between suspension and tyres. Really nice Tritons fetch two grand, the dross goes down to around £300. So desperate were fifties Triumph owners, that they also placed their engines in BSA and Royal Enfield frames. The latter is rare and rather wobbly at 110mph, whilst the former is okay if matched with decent suspension and non-BSA brakes.

The overall picture of British motorcycling is a little depressing, so many machines have just become expensive relics used on sunny Sunday afternoons, although there is still quite a large base of dedicated users who just won’t accept anything other than British motorcycles - but even amongst these I keep meeting an increasing number of people who are being forced out of the game by the high cost and low quality of spare parts.

If I had to choose one bike that was going to be used hard, as my only machine, then I’d have to go for a Triumph twin. Not least because, of all the Brits, spares are still readily available and relatively cheap. The exact model would depend on the amount of money available. On a really low budget, I’d go for a single carb, seventies, 650/750 in ratty condition for around £300. I’d strip the engine down immediately, fit low compression pistons, mild camshafts and have the crankshaft dynamically balanced. Fitted with a decent oil pump and rebuilt “with a deal of care, the engine should be useful up to about 80mph, economical and reliable. The chassis I’d strip down, throw away all the non-essential junk and hopefully emerge with something that mirrors the fifties lean and graceful Speed Twin without any of its nastiness.

If you just want some fun, a sort of amusing second bike to play around with, just about anything will do, from a Norman Nippy to a Vincent V-twin, depending on your taste and pocket. The experience will be very different to anything from the Orient or the Continent - even if you find you dislike it intensely, it’s worth having a go, if only to have something to bore your grandchildren with in fifty years time.

What follows is the usual miscellany of readers experiences with British bikes, ranging from vitriolic hatred, never ending tolerance to outright love. As with most things, you pay your money, take your choice and end up enjoying or hating the effects. Such is life.

Johnny Malone