Project Excelsior Universal Getting down to the nitty gritty
Progress on Young Lewis’ bike continues... There usually comes a time in any restoration when the loose ends start to wear you down. This month Rick decided to take them in hand...
You can summarise a ‘restoration’ as a collection of problems to be solved, with just how resolvable they are depending upon your resources and the level of project you choose.
My first restoration, a BSA B40WD, was easy. Although it seemed like an old bike, it was only nine years old and roadworthy, only really needing paint, wiring, new rims and an exhaust.
Forty years on, Lewis’ Excelsior is very different; nearly 70 years old, it has suffered by being left outdoors for years. I recognised it as an achievable project, but it threw Lewis in at the deep end and although I wanted him to undertake as much of the work as possible himself, it occurs to me that maybe I’m trying to teach him too much for a first job. He’s put in a lot of effort for little reward so far, because bringing a bike back from the dead doesn’t really make sense until the end.
So this month I decided to look at some of the jobs we’ve been avoiding and, if necessary, take over and sort them myself. Thing is, there’s so much to do in a restoration that there’s no shame in setting aside anything you’re not sure how to approach and doing something else. But these problems can steadily accumulate until they cast a shadow over the whole job...
For example, drilling the new mudguards is not difficult, but it takes patience and time if you want a decent fit. I prefer to drill the holes one at a time, fitting the ’guard in between to check and mark the next hole. So after deciding together on the position and length of the rear mudguard and its numberplate, Lewis went home, leaving me to do the tedious bit.
After that, it was ‘faffy’ things like drilling the hardened speedo drive spindle to secure its gear. Fortunately, a kiss from a grinding disc broke through the surface enough to drill – but I had to grind the exit side, too.
I also managed to strip and repair the seized original Villiers light switch, and grinding the heads off the seized taillight screws safely freed the lens. But I sensed I was avoiding something... The broken seal holder on the forks annoyed me – it’s not that important, just a dust seal, but it looked awful with its rubber ring burst from a broken lip. The fork is Excelsior’s own and there are no spares. So the best thing was to stop dithering and try making one – and it came out OK.
The new saddle was another problem. It didn’t fit, but there wasn’t much left of the original and even the new springs were not compatible. Still, we worked on it together for three hours and modified parts from the new one to reuse the original. “Simply fit the new saddle!” I grinned at Lewis, but it was satisfying to get it right.
And that’s the point – when you tackle these headaches it builds you up to get on with the next thing. Once they are sorted, everything seems to flow better – and as he sat on his saddle Lewis said he could feel we’re really getting somewhere now.
That’s good, because the British Two Stroke Club has not only given Lewis a year’s free membership, they have also offered him £100 towards the project, so he’ll need to start going on BTSC runs before too long...
1
Mudguards supplied by Renovation Spares are usefully long for cutting down to size. Often, narrow width universal blades are intended for front fitting and too short. 2
Having cut the mudguard to the correct length, the next step was to fit all the brackets salvaged from the original guard to the frame. 3
That enabled us to position the mudguard on the brackets and line it up straight with the frame and wheel; first hole is the bottom frame attachment. 4
Then onto the bridge at the saddle mounting. That will support the guard sufficiently so that we can fit the wheel and check mudguard to chain clearance. 5
Factory press-tools made the original chain-clearance indents; in my workshop I keep it neat by making an angled cut where I want the indent to end... 6
... then hammer the area below flat – especially the rolled edge-bead to give tyre clearance. Finally I weld in a triangular piece of steel to fill the gap. 7
After that it was a matter of marking, checking, double checking and drilling the rest of the holes before the mudguard was finally fitted up. 8
Original chainguard had rotted where it contacted a long-decayed toolbox. Welding a patch behind and bodyfiller is the simplest solution. 9
Final job here was to drill the holes for the rear numberplate. I gave Lewis a bit of wood to go underneath, saving any risk of drilling into the tyre.
10
Odds are against finding a replacement for the broken fork seal holder so I decided to try to make one from aluminium round bar.
11
After turning the outside diameters and drilling out a bore, I used a knurling tool to imprint the outside to match the original.
12
Next job was to bore the internal groove that holds the rubber seal. I allowed a bit of extra material around the area where it broke before.
13
The hexagon is milled using an indexing head; 60 turns of a handle rotates the chuck once; ten times for each machining operation gives a hexagon.
14
Back to the lathe to machine the thread in the other end. Four-jaw chuck lets you centralise the work with already machined end; tape protects finish.
15
That’ll do. I love being able to overcome a lack of spares by making my own replacements. Wish I could make myself a new knee...
16
Burring off the heads of the seized ‘Roadmaster’ tail lens screws got the lamp apart safely – but there’s not much of the lamp base left inside!
17
Worn pivots and shaft made the centre stand wobbly, but I was able to drill and ream out to the next size and fit a larger diameter spindle.
18
I freed off the headlight switch and supplied a knob, then bent a spring into a new hairpin and turned a brass pivot to get the switch rockers working.
19
Thanks to Venhill for supplying a kit for making Lewis’ control cables – although the Excelsior’s original levers use an unusual nipple size...
20
... but luckily I had a couple. There was a similarly unusual cable stop missing from the clutch lever but Lewis turned up a replacement on my lathe.
21
Lewis was well impressed with Venhill’s ‘bird-caging’ tool that forms the inner cable into a wire ball. Once soldered it makes the nipple secure.
22
If you use gas to solder nipples, keep the wire clear of the flame – it can weaken it. A pencil torch flame can be accurately directed at the nipple.
23
Annoying! Lewis’ new ‘pattern’ throttle wouldn’t accept Venhill’s correctly-sized nipple; we had to ream the hole with a ¼in cutter.
24
With the forks finally sorted and the light switch fixed, it was now possible to fit the headlight brackets and headlamp shell.
25
New aftermarket saddle didn’t fit, but all we had of the original was the bare frame. The new springs were too long and had the wrong ends...
26
... but between us we reshaped the springs to fit and cannibalised the cover and mattress springs from the repro so it all worked out!