Chris Fisher enjoys working from home
Chris Fisher loves vintage motorcycles. Working on them pays for his collecting habit – and his house is full of them. His engineering ability and a technical understanding way beyond his years means there’s a waiting list for his services
When you knock on someone’s front door and he can’t even prise it open because there’s a flat-tank AJS right parked behind it in the hallway, it’s obvious you’re at the home of an obsessive. We’re at Chris Fisher’s place to talk about his love of old bikes. Chris is just 27, but has already carved himself a name among the vintage motorcycle cognoscenti for two reasons. Firstly, for his brilliant engineering skills, which he employs in making new parts to keep 1920s/’30s machines running. And secondly for his in-depth understanding of how to rebuild engines, gearboxes and clutches for these old bikes to the highest standard.
When we finally gain entry to the lounge, we’re met with some rather unorthodox ‘ornaments’. The room is more like a garage – there’s a 1915 293cc Allon (built by Alldays and Onions Motorcycles) that’s been in the family since new, and a 1927 Cotton 350cc by the fireplace, with a Douglas and a Sunbeam parked under the front window. Boxes upon boxes of spares make it very difficult to actually sit on the sofa. In the dining room are his own Rex Acme and an AJS 1927 Big Port, along with a rare 1926 Parallel Model 8 Sunbeam that belongs to a customer.
Chris is beside himself: “I’m really, really sorry about the mess,” he apologises. “It’s hardly the image of someone who does precision engineering work, is it? I’ve got a prefab workshop ready to build across the back garden... at least I’ve dug the footings. We even had to take the door of the garage off to get the mini-digger through. But thanks to the miserable weather this winter I’ve had no time to do it, so everything has been dumped in the house.”
It’s partly our fault for dumping this visit on Chris. It’s been arranged at short notice because we’ve been so taken with what we’ve heard about the specialist work he does on vintage bikes. It’s work that puts him right up there with the vastly experienced old hands in the vintage scene. The poor bloke hasn’t had time to think about tidying up.
Chris has been surround by vintage bikes all his life. His great grandfather owned a Douglas (which Chris still has) and his dad rides one, too. But the difference is, Chris’ entire life revolves around them. “My dad has a couple of vintage bikes, but he’s more into his classics. He loves Bantams and has about 15 of the bloody things. But I must admit, I do also like them...
“I’m 27 now, but this all started for me when I was 14,” he continues. “A friend of the family called John gave me a Model X34-0 BSA as a box of bits. It’s a 1934 150cc bike and he said something like: ‘If you can restore this, you can keep it’. So I did! Then, when I’d finished it, I went back to him and asked him if he’d mind me selling it to fund buying a Sunbeam. He told me to go ahead and do it. And that’s what I continue do – buy projects, do them up and sell them. I’m not into shiny restorations.”
Although Chris does carry out work on bikes for other vintage enthusiasts, it’s not his day job. “I’m a CNC machinist,”
he states. “At school I wanted to do law. Then I realised I didn’t want to go to university, partly because of family circumstances at the time but also because of the debt going to university would involve. I liked the idea of being out in the workplace, ‘learning and earning’. I thought: ‘Get out, get a job and get on with life!’ I chose engineering.
“I did an apprenticeship of sorts at South Cerney Engineering. They do classic and vintage car work. I left there and ended up at Fiennes Restoration, a pre-war Rollsroyce and Bentley specialist firm; I had a go on their CNC machines. They work on things like the 7.6-litre Phantoms and produce things like brand new heads and cylinders.
“Now, though, I work for a company called Metalite in Swindon, who make tooling for injection moulding. We work in microns; accuracy is paramount. The boss there is really good to me and lets me use the machines at weekends, so what I can’t do in my own shed I can do on their machinery.”
“I’m lucky enough to earn something doing vintage bike stuff to pay for my hobby. I’ve always wanted to keep this as a hobby, so I’ll never taken on complete bike builds or restorations, except for myself. I’ll do engines, gearboxes and clutches for other people , but at the moment I have to tell people there is a waiting list – I’ve got that much on.”
His garage is rammed with more bikes, which all share space with a Bridgeport mill, lathe and surface grinder – and plenty of specialist tools. Chris sits on one of his bikes – and his comments are revealing: “It’s a 1928 AJS K7. I’ve not owned it long – just two months, actually. It’s period-correct but not matching numbers, although that’s not something that bothers me. The bike is still the bike, so it doesn’t matter. In 1927 AJS entered the TT with their first cammy engine; for 1928 they went back with their overhead cam and built
‘LUCKILY, MY VINTAGE BIKE WORK PAYS FOR MY HOBBY’
an overhead-cam proddie racer too – this is one of them. It’s the only overhead-cam flat-tanker they did. In 1929 they went to a bulbous saddle tank design. I think there was only 20 of this K7 model in the world... but don’t quote me. It’s rated at 2¾ horsepower, with a power output of 15bhp. It’s got a top speed of 70-75mph. The bike is as I bought it, but it’s got a gearbox problem and jumps out of second gear. There are some new wheel bearings on the way for it, too.”
So has Chris inherited all the machines and tools in the garage? “No, I bought all of my machines from a chap near Wantage. They’re all very similar to those I used during my apprenticeship.” He has some work lined up on the Bridgeport during our visit: “I made some of these mainshafts [for Sunbeam crankshaft assemblies] on the CNC at work but now need to mill the keyway.”
We also spot a new replacement wheel spindle that Chris has produced. “Set up correctly, a cup-and-cone wheel spindle can last a lifetime – but the set-up is the key,” he says. “With the ones I make, the bearings are sealed to keep the grease in. Originality is one thing, but making the bike useable is what it’s all about for me. Thing is, if you try to fit new balls to the old spindle with damaged bearing faces, it’s never going to run well. My spindles allow the wheel to spin freely, so they are more efficient than the worn old spindles. I reverse-engineered this new one – I took measurements off the old spindle, then created a new one using 15mm bearings. Where are you going to find new Imperial bearings? You can find metric bearings anywhere.
“I’ve welded crankcases and re-machined them. I’ve machined cases from solid billet, too – there’s a lot of swarf,
but it’s a far easier and more cost-effective way of creating a crankcase than having a casting specially made. I was quoted £250 for a casting, but £2500 for the pattern. It costs £250 for the lump of metal to put in a CNC, but of course you still have the costs of the machining itself to take into account. It’s probably two days to machine a set of cases, so it it’s difficult to put a price on that.”
His customers, he says, tend to be the kind of elder gentleman you would expect to own vintage iron – but that’s not always the case. “I think I’ve one guy in his early forties, but otherwise that’s it. However, my dad does bits and pieces for other people and he’s got some young lads with Bantams that he helps out. It would be great to get more younger people into vintage bikes, though.”
There’s a Scott propping the garage door open and Chris gives us a little history lesson: “The original works 600 finished third in the 1928 TT. This is the 1929 Scott TT Replica – a 600cc liquid-cooled two-stroke. I’ve owned it for five years. It needed an engine rebuild when I bought it. I’ve done a couple for customers, too – they are very simple engines, but they’re time-consuming because they take so much setting up. Scotts are so fussy, but they’re brilliant when you have them set up right. There were only 250 Replicas made and they produced 16bhp as they came out of the factory. Mine produces 40bhp, so it’s a rapid bit of kit. Very few of my bikes are standard, as they would have come out of the factory. This one needs a gearbox putting back in it. And it needs a new magneto. I bought it because my other Scott needed the correct engine. I’ll sell this one at some stage.”
The question is, though, why the passion for owning, riding and fettling vintage bikes – especially as there’s a modern Triumph here, among a gaggle bikes of that are almost 100 years old? He replies: “I’ve got one modern bike, this Triumph Tiger. It’s a fantastic bike. Much as I love vintage motorcycles, I do to like to get out on this and ride it with purpose – especially if I’m riding with friends. But vintage bikes, to me, are proper motorcycles. They are light, nimble and go well for what they are – especially when you remember that in the 1920s they had just shrugged off the bicycle. These bikes have no pedals and tend to have overheadvalve engines; it’s like they’re the first fully-developed motorcycles – and they look fast standing still!
“They are brilliant to ride. Take my Douglas for example. I’ve got the footpegs on the floor all the time when I ride it. The one in the hallway with no engine – it needs a rebuild – is a 1928 SW5, and was my great grandad’s. He bought it in the early 1950s. He was actually a Douglas-sponsored rider – not a full works rider, but one of the privateers that they helped in reliability trials.
“Vintage bikes can be a pain, of course they can – but it all depends on what you ride and where you ride. If I intend to ride in Scotland on the fast, open roads there, then I take my Douglas. If it’s a slower run, I’ll take my overhead-cam AJS. You pick the appropriate bike. People who organise runs tend to pick the right roads anyway. But I also tend to ride a fair bit on my own locally or with friends, so I ride whatever that suits. I do Sunbeam-registered rides, too – I’m not a member of the club yet, but I intend to join. I just love the sort of events they organise where it’s all pre-war bikes.”
Another one of the bikes living in Chris’ workshop during our visit is a 500cc Sunbeam 1931 Model 9. “It’s just a good old Model 9,” he says. “The Model 9 is a very popular bike within the Sunbeam club. They never made any bikes in massive numbers. Where BSA were making thousands
‘MAKING THE BIKE USEABLE IS WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT’
a week in the 1920s, Sunbeam were making maybe 20 a week, but production was so focused on quality. People knew that and were prepared to pay for it.”
The other bike is a 1927 Douglas 600EW. “This is the 600cc engine; Douglas did a 350 version, too. The 600 was primarily for sidecar work. I’ve owned this one for 18 months and it’s fantastic bike to ride. It’s not that fast; it’s not that kind of bike. It does about 55mph tops, but it’ll go anywhere. Get to a hill, wind it on and it just keeps going. They handle well anyway, thanks to the duplex frames and all that weight being low down. “I’m a Douglas man. I love ’em, especially the racer I own [the previously mentioned one, sat under the front living room window]. It’s an SW6 600cc – originally a 600 speedway model, but I put road tyres on it. Why Douglas? Partly because of the family connection; as I said, my dad has one and my great grandfather had one. They go like the clappers, are built well and handle well. Plus they are relatively rare.”
We go back into the house. Chris has some work to do on a customer’s Sunbeam that’s housed in what was originally built as a utility room off the kitchen, but is currently an overflow space for more bikes until the new workshop is built. Girlfriend Heidi brings him a cuppa. “She’s brilliant,” says Chris. “She puts up with a lot, for sure.”
It turns out that Heidi is mad keen on bikes, too. She’s got eyes on her dad’s Guzzi for herself. She was due to take her bike test the week after our visit and hopes to get a chance to ride one of Chris’ flat-tankers. However, she’s also into modern bike sport and one of her prized possessions is a Valentino Rossi replica helmet.
The customer’s bikes in the utility room are both Sunbeams – there’s a 1932 500cc Model 9 flat-tanker and a 1937 600cc Model 9A in there. Chris says one has to be delivered back to its owner in London later that afternoon – and he insists that it will be finished as soon as we’ve left. So is there any work that Chris can’t or won’t do on a bike? “I don’t do magnetos or paint. And I won’t do restorations. I’m not interested. I’m unofficially ‘Chris Fisher Engineering’. I’m not even into fabrication.”
There’s a timing case lying on the side of the workbench. “That’s a Sunbeam 9A timing cover,” he explains. “I’ve machined the casing and fitted new bearings. The crank bush includes an oil supply to the big-end. I refaced the cam followers, welded them up and reprofiled them. I also welded up the cams, but sent them to a friend up in Scotland to get them reprofiled. I could even recreate the original timing case on a CNC machine if need be...
“When I do an engine, I don’t think the people realise the effort that’s gone into it. It’s not just machining. You have to shim everything to get the end-float right. It’s a process of getting every tolerance just so, to get the engine running as efficiently as possible. That’s the fun with these vintage machines – getting them to run properly. Only then are you able to enjoy the full potential of the bike.”
‘TWO CUSTOMER’S BIKES ARE IN THE UTILITY ROOM’