The brutality of the combustion process was so evident in the Goldie that high revs threw all my senses into overload. Not that the venerable single could ever be said to vibrate. Lord no! The pegs and bars jumping about were merely a manifestation of the engine working out.
Who needs tachos when each and every pulse of power is all too apparent in the chassis? Such an outlook is just as well as the rev counter kept breaking down with such monotonous regularity that I eventually dumped it and blanked off the gear drive in the engine. The speedo went the same way but that was more important because despite its age the Goldie would still thud along at the ton.
When it wasn’t stalling at junctions. The problem with a dead motor was getting it to fire up again. The kickstart was geared for gorillas and humping the motor over compression was in itself hard work. The variable timing syndrome that could affect Goldies made for vile kickbacks that could shoot the unwary rider high in the air. Alternatives to this painful demise were a fireball out of the carb or a loud detonation that caused OAPs to keel over and canines to go berserk. After a while, after a few bruised limbs, these character building defects become part of the motorcycling experience and a perfect first kick start akin to the holy grail. But rarely achieved.
The Goldie still looks butch, when stalled at junctions a large crowd gathers, all the encouragement it needs to refuse to start. Starting from the saddle is difficult, it's usually best to put her on the stand. A huge queue of cars often forms, adding further chaos to the traffic congestion. Few are willing to help push the heap into life. Perhaps fearing the fireballs and loud farting.
Just as exhaustion sets in it usually roars into life. Awkward in bad weather as the protective clothing generates quite a sweat. Stock Goldies run incredibly tall gearing but my own bike has been modded so that city riding is relatively easy. The clutch is still heavy and violent, also short-lived as it owes its inspiration to the B31... watch out when buying used Gold Stars, it’s not unknown for owners to bodge in weaker parts from the B31/33 range. They can explode or crack up under the much more powerful regime from what's basically a refugee from the race track.
The Goldie won many races in its time. The reflected glory of riding one on the road is often submerged beneath the plain hard work of keeping it running. As well as stalled engines, the thing often oils up its spark plug, giving performance like an aged stroker. The series of resulting lurches are near spine dislocating. The tremors running through the chassis providing interesting moments, like when the seat fell off and the headlamp exploded.
The latter happened at night down some wondrously curving country lanes. The light was an upgraded 12V halogen conversion, worth its weight in gold up to 80mph, whereafter it failed from the vibes. One time I was plodding along at 75mph when the sudden darkness fell and the Goldie ran right off the road. For the time, the forks were beefy but not strong enough to take a battering through a rutted field. As an example of the forces involved, the front brake lever snapped off and several spokes broke up. The superb alloy rim was mangled way out of shape. The RAC did the rescue quite rapidly, for once.
A steel rimmed wheel was fitted for a while, which meant vintage events had to be avoided. The old chaps were enraged by any sign of non-standard issue, giving me the same kind of hassle as I got for not cutting my lawn every week in good old suburbia. The old dears babbled on but I just turned up my Walkman and nodded regally at them. Most of the Goldies at classic meetings were taken there on a trailer, so valuable had they become.
Understandable, but a bit of pity because once on the pace, on a nice bit of fast A-road, the bike became fun. The kind of fun that took some time and effort to fully appreciate, but well worth taking the minor irritants. Power flows in hard from 3000 revs up, the end of the surge not really known as the clocks begin wobble into oblivion as the revs go past 6000, and by seven grand, when it’s still accelerating hard, it's difficult to hold on to the clip-ons.
The bike feels better under acceleration than at a constant cruising speed. The thrust forward taking my mind off the riding position, which is straight off a race-track. Town riding is as thrilling as being kicked in the kidneys by a skinhead. The bars making the clutch and throttle seem even heavier and more difficult than they are in reality. Too much town work turns me into a hunchback until after 15 minutes of muttering, I’ve managed to snap my muscles back into an upright position. Many modern replicas are just as bad, so the answer seems to be to buy a BSA Bantam for town work.
One of the great deals with the Goldie is going on a run with my mates. The big thumper holds it own against 500 and 650 twins, though no-one tried to do more than the ton in deference to the bike's age and sometimes indifferent rebuilds. There are usually some minor problems that call for a roadside stop and thinking session but we've never had to call for the rescue services. What a glorious noise the bikes make when they thunder through the countryside or brick villages, where the sound reverberates off the stone walls. Heads turn in fury but when they see it’s a pack of British bikes inevitably some old guys give us the thumbs up. It’s nice to be liked!
The engine, rather than the chassis, gives the most cause for disliking the Goldie. Everything or anything can blow if it’s thrashed but because mine ain't it’s mostly down to the primary chain (I’m tempted by a belt conversion), the valves burning away (poorer quality replacements, maybe), leaking cylinder head gasket (just bad design), quick wear rockers (er.....?). and a piston/bore life of no more than 10000 miles.
The points aren't crap but give some moments of diversion, usually when I’m running late. The engine often cuts in and out in the wet, a large thump of torque twitching the rear tyre in a death dance - change of underwear time. The clutch is crap and the gearbox as primitive as that in a Ural but probably a touch less likely to disintegrate.
I’ve done 18000 miles on a 95000 mile engine that’d been comprehensively rebuilt by a genuine character who lounged around in an ancient Barbour jacket that had an inch layer of grease, grime and oil. Useful for taking palm prints. The most onerous task I had to do was rip the top end apart for a rebore. The engine was easy to work on but spares are heart breaking in their expense. I had to lie to the wife (lucky that she considers the UMG as undesirable as my skin mags).
The Goldie looks like a classic, except for the third world seat (it’s long enough to take an extended family) and the quick rust silencer (a pattern item, admittedly). It certainly sounds like a classic, with the kind of blat that bounces windows in their frames and had people looking for the runaway road roller. Performance is what you'd expect from a tuned thumper and handling just about matches it, more than likely due to low mass and good geometry than any particular attributes of the somewhat basic tubular frame.
The overall experience is somehow rather more than the mere sum of the parts, rather more exciting than the litany of complaints I've felt that have been my duty to pass on. The Goldie isn’t an easy ride but the daily challenge of getting the better of the swine is rather invigorating, blasts away the cobwebs and gets the blood flowing.
It all depends on where you're coming from and where you're going. Many will find the Goldie a device straight from hell and laugh at the prices demanded for the ancient classic but to me it’s well worth the money. I’d buy two if I could afford it.
Martin Alington