CURIOUS CAT
The Gollner Cheetah is a rare beast with feline agility, built in an attempt to claw back trials glory from Spanish top cats in the ’60s
The Gollner Cheetah – our Jez discovers the story of the last great British trials iron, then gets to sample one for himself
This bright nickel and gloss black delight doesn’t just look a million dollars, it rides fabulously, too. Aiming at a jumble of jagged concrete, I can roll on the throttle and let the capable suspension and balanced chassis sort itself out. The low first gear suits tight going, and second would be ideal on climbs, while the drums are as competent as any other 1960s brakes. There’s no doubt this Gollner Cheetah is a fine trials tool.
Both Gollner and Cheetah might be unfamiliar names. Bob Gollner was a Hampshirebased motorcycle dealer with dreams of a British bike for the rapidly-changing world of mid-’60s trials. Traditional, big British four-strokes were on the way out, chased first by lightweights like the BSA C15 and Triumph Tiger Cub, then a rising tide of two-strokes. First British strokers from Francis-barnetts and James became the choice for the serious competitor, then the Spanish arrived. Sammy Miller – who’d kept a big Ariel thumper competitive by rigorous development and a crash diet – signed to develop a new bike for Bultaco at the end of ’64. Almost overnight, production versions of Miller’s new Sherpa T made average riders into winners, and a proven rider like Miller himself into a virtually unstoppable force. With fellow Spanish firms Montesa and Ossa snapping at Bultaco’s heels, it was the end of an era.
Bob Gollner saw potential for a British bike to take on the new lightweights, however. His business majored on competition machinery and he was a talented trials rider who knew what worked in the sections. Teamed up with frame builder (and another fine rider) Mick Whitlock, they produced what they hoped could be the ultimate British two-stroke trials iron. Initially, they built two bikes – one for Bob and one for local ace Arthur Dovey – but the interest from other riders when the two machines got out and about at local trials prompted them to think about producing bikes commercially.
The plan was to supply a complete rolling-chassis kit that could be finished to suit either a new Villiers 37A or a refurbished Triumph Tiger Cub engine. Competition would come not only from the Spanish factories, but also a host of small-scale British manufacturers like Sprite, Butler and Firefly, who shared Gollner’s vision. To keep prices competitive, Gollner and the rest of the British challengers elected to exploit a loophole in the purchase tax regime that exempted vehicles supplied in ‘kit form’. But Gollner and Whitlock’s machine was anything but a bargain basement offering. Instead, they planned to offer a top quality product using the best materials, engineering and craftsmen available.
The pair enrolled Robin Humphries, whose REH concern manufactured the forks for the new bike, and glassfibre specialist Jimmy Coles to produce tanks and seat bases. Local trials aces Paul Dunkley and Arthur Dovey were signed up as development riders and Gollner and his team were in business. The name of the new machine would be the Cheetah.
Beautifully constructed in Reynold 531 chrome-molybdenum tubing with Whitlock’s renowned craftsmanship (he’d later build frames for Beamish Suzuki and Majesty Yamaha), the Cheetah frame was a work of art. REH forks were as good as the Betors on contemporary Bultacos and the Villiers 37A engine worked well – especially when fitted with the optional alloy top-end developed by Whitlock, or a Greeves alloy top-end. It looked good for the Cheetah, with Whitlock claiming a first class award in the 1967 Scottish Six Days Trial and Paul Dunkley finishing runner-up in the Best Newcomer category. As more bikes sold, more good results followed, and it seemed as if Gollner and Whitlock had achieved exactly what they set out to do; they even developed an effective disc front brake for the bike.
But the dream was soon to end. The first blow was Villiers’ decision to stop supplying engines, doubtless down to their parent company wishing to stimulate demand for their own 37A-powered trials offering, the AJS 37AT. That was bad enough, but the release of the five-speed Bultaco Sherpa was to prove decisive. Especially when news of the imminent fivespeeder meant the price of existing fourspeed Sherpas was cut to just £225 while the Cheetah cost £249 for a complete kit including engine. Production of the Cheetah continued into 1968-69 with some great competition results – including a win in the Hoad Trophies Trial for Paul Dunkley – but the writing was on the
‘IT WAS A TOP QUALITY PRODUCT USING THE BEST MATERIALS’
wall. Bob Gollner went on to produce more innovative frame kits under the Cheetah banner – including frames for Kawasaki and Ossa – but the all-british dream died.
The relatively short production life of the original Cheetah means there are relatively few survivors. This 1967 example was restored at the Sammy Miller Museum. “The bike was donated to the museum by original owner, Len Ashley, on the condition we restored it,” Sammy explains. “He bought it as a kit for £149 and provided the Villiers engine himself. It’s taken 15 years to get round to it, but it’s finally on display in the off-road section.” Sammy’s workshop guru, Bob Stanley, takes up the story: “The bike was in one piece, but was looking a little tired. The engine had supposedly been rebuilt, though there was a hole in the clutch case and the exhaust was missing, so we went for a full strip down. We’ve rebuilt the engine, vapour blasting the cases, and we got Ted’s Shed (tedsshed.co.uk) in Hedge End, near Southampton, to polish all the alloy. The gearbox would only select first and second gears, a common fault on the 37A, so we’ve rebuilt the selector mechanism.
“The plating on the frame was in poor condition, so it was replated at Key Plating in Gosport (023 9250 4987). We’ve rebuilt the wheels with stainless steel spokes, but retained the original rims. We had to get the fork stanchions replated, too, along with all the original fasteners. We’ve fitted new alloy mudguards and fabricated an
exhaust using some Bultaco pressings as a basis – they’re actually very similar to the originals. Other than that, it was a fairly straightforward restoration – there’s not too much to do on a trials bike.”
Bob’s modesty belies a superb job and I’m surprised Sammy suggests bouncing the Cheetah around on his ‘test section’. But I’m not about to turn him down and I’m soon watching the master at work, warming up the Villiers for me. Sammy’s still got it, but I’ve never had it, so I’m relieved when he hands me the bike and heads back to the museum rather than staying to watch...
It’s physically large, but at a claimed weight of 192lb (87kg) with the alloy head and barrel option it’s really no heavyweight. Standing on the non-folding footrests they feel high up by modern standards, and the flattish ’bars clamp well forward on the top yoke to give precise steering. I find the steering fairly slow, but the trade-off is stability – ideal for highgear blasts and the long, steep climbs that were favoured in trials back in its competition heyday.
The REH forks work well and I’m soon confident enough to tackle the concrete. The Cheetah feels a pretty good package; my only gripe is that the exhaust singes my leg when I sit down to ride back to the museum. As Sammy says: “Stand up...”
Only 96 Gollner Cheetahs were ever built, but that’s no reflection on the quality or performance. It’s more a consequence of the declining influence of (and interest from) the British industry in the off-road world at the time, along with rapidly developing competition from abroad. But, thanks to Sammy and Bob, this one has been saved. The kit-bike tax loophole may be a distant memory, but this fine example of the genre still impresses after 40 years.
‘THE ’BARS CLAMP WELL FORWARD ON THE TOP YOKE TO GIVE PRECISE STEERING’