These days their prices are even more ridiculous than most Brits; few left out and about on the road, most owned by porcine collectors waiting hopefully for the next big rise in prices. After a bit of phoning around old mates trying to relive their youth I came across someone who owned a 1960 350 Velo. He didn’t normally read the UMG, didn’t therefore realise the insanity of his generosity until he’d managed to read through half a dozen issues. By then I'd done 800 miles on the Viper, my only passing moment of guilt to agree to his anonymity. The anger of the owner’s club could be a terrible thing...
The first moment of note came with the starting. Big thumpers notorious for their whims. The Velo came with an automatic advance/retard mechanism, which should have made things a cinch. It took me a while to work out that the vicious kickbacks were a result of this sticking fully open. I limped around looking for a hammer whilst the owner fiddled, chortling away happily to himself. You've got to get the engine way past compression before lunging with the throttle dead. Five or six teeth rattling kicks sufficed - all this on supposedly new ignition components! I was a sweaty mess by then.
Engagement of first gear proved the next hurdle. An eccentric combination of clutch slip, throttle abuse and footwork finally made the gear crunch home. The owner winced as if someone had kicked him between the legs. Someone high on funny fags had fitted the Velo with the world’s tallest first gear and the nastiest clutch action this side of an ancient CZ. That was my excuse for stalling the bastard. Before the owner could pull me off I'd started the beast and roared off at max revs, with clutch abuse that would've been the envy of a TZR rider. The bugger had too much weight over the front wheel and too conservative geometry to do a 100 yard wheelie, but the thudding power had presence if not magnitude until the valves began to bounce at about 50mph. By then I was out of sight of the owner but not hearing, the weirdly shaped silencer, like something out of Star Trek, was as raucous and intrusive as a losing football side.
Initial impressions were of a ride as firm as intimated by its vintage throwback appearance but directional stability superior to a majority of eighties Japs and big drum brakes that tried to pull the forks out of their yokes and twisted the swinging arm in its minimal mountings. The Velo had pared down its metal to a minimum in the chassis, although the hilariously antiquated motor more than made up for that, with some vast structures and enigmatic clutch.
All up mass was around 370lbs and top speed little more than 90mph. 70mpg’s impressive for 1995 but back in the days of yore there were any number of faster bikes that were more economical, even big tuned twins could manage 60mpg. When viewed from the right-hand side the Viper looks quite butch, with its alloy casings, amusingly mounted magneto under the carb (drip, drip... big boom time) and cute fish-tail exhaust. The left-hand side is a terrible mess, with cheap and nasty steel pressings housing the primary and dynamo drives, very little of the butch looks that a long stroke single should emanate.
The engine revved quite well for a thumper, a lot more fluid than a BSA B31 or Norton ES2. If top speed turned out to be a bit derisory in these days of derestricted 125s hitting the ton, cruising speeds of up to 80mph were OK with little of the vibes associated with such excesses. The mudguards gave fine protection through a protracted wet spell that tested the potentially lethal old style Dunlops, but relative slowness of reaction of the big nineteen inch loops saved the plot from skidding off the road. In fact, the Velo felt safer on wet roads than most modern Japs.
Having just ruined a set of Battleaxs in 4000 miles on the Speed Triple it set me to wondering if we aren't all being ripped off. 17 and 16 inch wheels run through tyres at an incredible rate. A trait well know to anyone unfortunate enough to own an Ariel Leader (which had 16 inch wheels). The only reason for these small wheels is to compensate for the hefty masses of most fours, which compound problems with their high centre of gravities. Despite some bikes shedding lots of weight they have remained stuck with small wheels. Old British bikes had low centre of gravities and low mass, got away with slow turning nineteen inch wheels shod with thin tyres of relatively mediocre quality.
The Velo held its line, banked over easily without trauma and if it would slide a little over very greasy and wet road surfaces it could be pulled back with just a twitch of the bum muscles. Over a 100 mile run of favourite roads, invariably infested with pottering cages, my time was hardly down compared to the Speed Triple (which admittedly was barely able to get into its stride). All that on tyres, according to the owner, that last for over 15000 miles. Work out the benefits of progress for yourself!
The Velo was more or less stock but had been rebuilt a couple of times. There was 36000 miles on the clock but as the clock wasn’t original it meant sod all. The owner reckoned on at least 10000 miles with regular 500 mile fettling before something major went wrong and about 30000 miles for a major rebuild. Given the variable quality of modern parts this seems not unreasonable.
Weak points include the Miller dynamo (but the magneto keeps the engine running), the clutch and some of the top end assembly. The crankshaft quite sturdy, being supported by taper rollers and running a roller big-end bearing. The primary drive’s the usual half inch junk chain running in an oil bath that leaves the expected oil slick on enemies’ drives.
These primitive elements never intruded into my consciousness. The power flowed, the gearbox worked after the first crunch of the day (a sort of spiritual awakening for those suffering from hangovers and a cure for curious neighbours who act as if they’ve been shot) and the bike braked and handled much better than expected from any 35 year old machine. After the initial impression of being astride an old hag (something best left to transvestite editors of glossy mags) the Viper proceeded to charm me with its wilful ways.
At one point in my travels, while thudding up the crest of a steep hill, the whole road was blocked off by a bloody great van. With 40mph on the clock it seemed like a good time to say my prayers, but spying a track to the side of the road, I spun the Velo on to the gravel and shaved by the van. The front wheel threw up a spray of gravel, slid a little, but didn't lose it all. After my heart had recovered I was quite impressed with the ease with which it escaped injury without losing its composure. On the Speed Triple I would've been doing over the ton and flying through the air.
I know that bike’s brilliant in almost every way but even for someone not as mean as the Editor paying out for consumables all the time soon becomes a pain. The Velo owner reckons his bike doubles in value every five years, is fun to ride and doesn't cost much to renovate. Sob!
Johnny Malone