BSA A10 Golden Flash Definitely not just a flash in the pan
‘The Golden Flash’s main attractions were its softly tuned engine, reliability, and comfort ― all of which help make it an attractive bike for a spot of modernday classic riding’
FEW BIKES CAN HAVE HAD A LESS APPROPRIATE NAME than BSA's A10 Golden Flash. Think of the word “flash” and what comes to mind? A sudden burst of light or, maybe, high speed, as in “quick as a flash”. If you're looking for synonyms, how about gaudy, ostentatious, pretentious or superficial...?
With its handsome styling and the famous BSA star set into the shiny chrome panels of its petrol tank, you could argue that this 1960-model Flash at least lives up to its name with a certain amount of gleam and sparkle. But if any bike is the opposite of flash, it's this one. Behind the cosmetics is a much more down-to-earth character.
Far from being a racy sportster, the 650-cc Golden Flash was a dependable all-rounder that was at its best when lugging a sidecar. While BSA's sportier Gold Star and A10 Road Rocket fought for the high-speed headlines with the Bonnevilles and Dominators, the Golden Flash's main attractions were its softly tuned engine, reliability, and comfort ― all of which help make it an attractive bike for a spot of modern-day classic riding.
Even the “Golden” part of the bike's name was not always accurate. The Golden Flash could be bought with black-and-chrome finish as well as this bike's distinctive golden-beige colour and, in later years, was also available in blue. But all that didn't prevent the BSA twin from being one of the most popular bikes on the roads, from its launch in 1950 all the way into the early '60s.
The A10 series began in 1950 with the original Golden Flash, quickly followed by the very similar 500-cc A7 that was introduced a year later. The A10's design was shaped by three of the greatest characters of the British industry: Edward Turner and Val Page, both of whom worked on a prototype parallel twin for BSA, and Bert Hopwood, who joined the firm from Norton in 1949 and immediately developed the twin for production, to compete with Triumph's recently announced 650 Thunderbird.
In typical British style the 646-cc engine was air-cooled, had pushrod-operated overhead valves, and a 360-degree crankshaft (pistons rising and falling together). It was similar to Triumph's unit in many ways, but differed notably in having a single, four-lobe camshaft instead of the Triumph's twin cams. Hopwood worked frantically to complete the design in just four weeks in May 1950. BSA tested the prototypes in record time (three riders did round-the-clock testing, covering 6,500 km per week on each of three machines) and the Golden Flash was in production by November the same year.
Despite the hurried development, the Flash was an instant and lasting success. Its engine produced a maximum of 35 hp at 5,500 rpm and was reasonably smooth, torquey, and reliable. The chassis originally incorporated plunger rear suspension, with the option of a rigid frame for sidecar use. The more modern system of swing-arm and twin shock-absorbers was introduced in 1954, when other changes included revised front forks and a new gearbox that was still separate from the engine unit.
By 1960, when this bike was built, the Golden Flash had a slightly smaller fuel-tank (complete with distinctive chromed panels) and had gained dual seat and pillion foot-rests as standard fitment. The result
was, maybe, not quite such a lean and stylish bike as Triumph's recently released 650-cc Bonneville, but the BSA had a certain style then and it still looks good today, even if that distinctive golden paint is difficult to match ― as a few patches of not-quite-correct colour on this otherwise very well-preserved bike demonstrated.
One advantage of the softly tuned motor was that it made the Flash easy to start and that was certainly true of the test bike. There was no ignition switch, so I just ticked the single Amal carburettor and gave a gentle kick to bring the low-compression twin into life. The air-cooled motor made a certain amount of rattle but the A10 unit was always less noisy than Triumph's twin with its extra cam and other gears. At low speed, the BSA's main sound was the pleasant and fairly muted drone from its exhausts.
After stepping straight off a modern bike I'd expected the Golden Flash to require a little acclimatisation, but I hadn't expected to make such a mess of almost my first traffic manoeuvre. Attempting to turn right less than a kilometre down the road, I remembered there were no indicators, briefly stuck out my arm to indicate to the following traffic, then tried to slow by squeezing the front brake lever ― only to find that operating the single-leading-shoe drum had almost no effect on the BSA's speed.
Nor, as you might expect, did pressing my right foot down on what turned out to be the gear lever do any good. (In traditional BSA style, the Flash had a right-foot, one-up-three-down change.) But, fortunately, the rear brake was reasonably powerful when, finally, I found it and I managed to wobble round the turn, glad of the BSA's reasonably light weight (just over 200 kg) and neutral steering. This Flash's drum front brake was improved over earlier models, but was regarded as mediocre in 1960 ― and is utterly hopeless by modern standards.
Not so the faithful parallel twin engine, which chugged along very happily with 60 mph (96 km/h) indicated in the black-faced speedo set into the headlamp nacelle. At such speeds the Flash felt smooth, relaxed, and unburstable, which helped explain the bike's popularity with sidecar owners. (In the late 1950s, one Flash in every three was fitted with a “chair” ― some of them enormous devices capable of carrying two adults in reasonable comfort.) The strong and torquey Golden Flash was better suited than most big twins to maintaining a reasonable cruising speed regardless of hills and headwinds.
Sportier solo performance was less impressive, although the BSA was just about capable of topping the ton (100 mph or 161 km/h). Acceleration from 90 km/h was hardly dramatic and, at 110 km/h, the Flash began vibrating in typical parallel twin fashion. High revs were not something that the A10 unit, with its soft tune and fairly long-stroke dimensions (70 x 84 mm), was suited to. Peak power of 34 hp ― one horsepower down on the figure of a decade earlier ― arrived at 5,750 rpm and going any higher risked damaging an engine which, if used as intended, was stronger and longer-lasting than most of its rivals.
Sadly, this bike also suffered from the other great British parallel twin vice: a tendency to leak oil ― in this case a steady drip that left spots on the ground and eventually found its way on to the left side
of the rear tyre. That reduced my enthusiasm for hard cornering, although, in other respects, the BSA's chassis worked pretty well. Although the narrow, 19-inch Dunlop tyres didn't have much grip even when dry, the bike was stable and steered well. It could be thrown around aggressively enough to make it good fun, aided by its recently fitted and well-damped Hagon rear shocks.
So, the A10 Golden Flash was solid, dependable, popular, and enjoyable ― if not particularly exciting. Riders who bought one in 1960 were putting common sense and cruising comfort ahead of outright speed. Those who wanted greater performance and glamour could opt for BSA's own 650-cc Super Rocket, with its hotted-up engine, or, from 1962, the famous Rocket Gold Star which combined the Super Rocket motor with the frame and cycle parts from the legendary Gold Star single.
That year, though, was the last for the Golden Flash itself, as the A10 made way for BSA's new A65 unit-construction parallel twin. (The A7 was replaced by the 500-cc A50.) Though some A65 models were good bikes, many were not and BSA's best days were already over. Quality of production at the factory in Small Heath, near Birmingham, was falling and the company's attempts to extract more performance from the parallel twin engine format added vibration and reduced reliability.
By the end of the 1960s, BSA was making almost no profit and was heading for financial collapse, which eventually arrived in 1973. It had been a dramatic fall. Not that many years earlier, the A10 Golden Flash had been advertised with the slogan “the most popular motorcycle in the world” ― and it had truly been a fine and successful machine. One of BSA's fatal mistakes was failing to develop a good enough bike to replace it.