THE FIVE-BSA PROJECT THAT TOOK SIX YEARS
Rick’s flat-tankers finally finished Many moons ago, Rick claimed he had enough parts to build five mid-1920s 350cc BSAS. It may have taken a pandemic to finish them, but he reckons he’s finally just about done it...
Rick comes to end of a long road after a quintet of rebuilds
Last month I updated the story of the three fire-devastated Rudges I collected from the National Motorcycle Museum last year, so it seems timely to report the conclusion of another long-term bulk build – the quintet of flat-tank BSAS I started back in February 2014. With the first three – a 1928 350cc ohv L28, a 1924 L24 350 side-valve and a 1924 L24 side-valve – all dealt with, I only had two left to finish, heading into lockdown. The fourth of them, Perry Barwick’s 1925 model (pictured above left and overleaf), has now gone. That leaves just one more, which I’ve decided to build as a Blackburne Special, along with a basket case of remains that I’m passing on to my young mate Will Coleman as an affordable start to building his own flat tanker. Will’s metalworking skills are increasing all the time and I’m delighted by his enthusiasm – you’ll have seen his freshly-finished Triumph Tiger 100 (last seen in the March issue of CB) on page 76, so I want to keep him busy! Whatever type of classic bike you are into, one thing tends to be the same – it’s costly, making the idea of building one up cheaply from a basket case very attractive – but is it really that simple? Well, no. Logically, it might seem that, as buying a restored bike means paying the cost of a bike and restoration plus a profit for the seller, surely doing it yourself must be cheaper. But not necessarily; most amateur restorers don’t factor their labour into the cost of the job and any profit will usually be the bare minimum to make it seem worthwhile. There are also huge pitfalls like buying the wrong bits, or even buying a project made up from the wrong bits. You’re better off buying a complete bike – however corroded and derelict – than a pile of parts because: a) you know what’s there and what isn’t, b) even a ruined part is useful as a pattern and c) you can see where everything goes. To succeed with a project in boxes you have to know the bike well enough to proceed without such assurances – but
research is vital, starting before you buy. Internet forums are a good way to find warnings of possible disasters that await builders of particular bikes. Often a project for sale will be missing the most difficult or costly part or have the most unfixable fault, so it pays to know that before buying. Having built a BSA from bits years previously, I can spot the right parts at 100 paces – and, unusually for the period, BSA produced accurately illustrated parts lists, making it much easier.
The next thing is priorities. Save your budget for the missing parts, don’t blow it all on tank paintwork and wheelbuilding. These ‘feelgood’ jobs look like progress – but they’re costly and can be done anytime. You need money to buy rare parts when they turn up. You may not see another for years... and the tank will get chipped and the rims rusty while you wait. I bought all the useful BSA parts I could find, because I knew I could sell them on if they weren’t needed – but they’d be hard to find if they were. The priority is to get the project complete and dry-built, the rest is easy.
But there are other reasons you may or may not be successful. Time is a big one; I don’t have kids and I work from home with an understanding partner who expects me to be in the workshop 90% of the time. Also, my workshop is at home; having a lock-up miles away with no electricity makes life difficult.
This was Perry Barwick’s problem. Originally, the plan was to build his bike between us – Perry is a volunteer with the motorcycle team at the excellent Brooklands Museum, maintaining some of the bikes there as well as building a replica Triumph racer with the team’s help for display in the collection. But he doesn’t have workspace at
Will Coleman plans to use the remnants of Rick’s five-bsa project to start building his own flat-tanker. He’s flanked by Perry Barwick’s newly finished BSA (left) and Rick’s BSA Blackburne special home and is too far away to come here regularly, so his role was mainly obtaining parts and doing the paintwork. Generally, the more space and equipment you have, the more you can tackle yourself and the cheaper the job becomes, but if you can find room where you live for an 8ft x 10ft shed with power, good lighting, a work bench and a bike bench (a home-made timber one with a ramp is fine) it will make life much easier as long as you’re only doing one bike at a time.
My five-bsa project probably sounded stupidly ambitious, but I think it worked for me. Not being into shiny builds, my restorations cost time rather than money, leaving me more to spend on projects and parts to make the job easier while also giving me more bikes to sell to recoup expenses. There was definitely an economy of scale, not least because buying bits like tyres or mudguards in bulk often attracted a discount.
The plan was that the profit on each bike sold would mean that the bike I wanted cost me nothing... well, except hundreds of hours’ work. But this is a hobby not a business. The sensible option would have been to amass enough parts to build my bike and several projects and sell them that way – but I enjoy building bikes, especially turning derelict ruins back into living, rideable motorcycles. Besides, the job taught me loads more skills and techniques – bikes this age present far more varied challenges than more recent classics, because you have to make or repair parts rather than buy them.
I’ve learned a lot, ended up with bikes I wanted for nothing and managed to put others back on the road for new owners in the process. I think that’s a success story, don’t you?
The biggest problem I had with this build was the rear brake. We had the original wheel, but decided to fit ‘modern’ rims and tyres for convenience. A neat mechanism presses the fibre shoe squarely and firmly into a vee rim spoked to the wheel. It’s effective – but I couldn’t line the shoe up with the rim. The brake rim is supported on the wheel spokes; where on the original rims the spokes are widely spaced, on modern rims they aim for the centre. This shifted the brake rim inboard by about half an inch and when I tried moving the brake mechanism it fouled the wheel rim.
We needed a wider brake rim, but at the time they were unobtainable. It took a year of asking around before I found a secondhand one and even then the brake was uncomfortably close to the wheel rim. Lockdown gave me the chance to have another go. Spoke adjustment pulled the rim over a little – but took the brake rim with it, so I made some steel packings to space it back. But something still wasn’t right – the wheels were in line, but why was the rear sprocket rubbing the frame?
One look and my partner Judy said: “The frames’ bent”. Impossible, I’d checked it with parallel bars! But she was adamant and has a good eye. Within an hour the ‘finished’ bike was in pieces again. Turns out we were both right – the frame is straight, but the rear engine plates were not, with a slight bend causing a much greater problem at the rear wheel. Luckily, I had a spare set of plates and after fitting them and adjusting the wheel rim offset again, everything worked properly. All thanks to Judy!
The next problem was starting; once running it seemed fine, but sometimes it wouldn’t even bump start. Fuel was getting through – it was wetting the plug, suggesting magneto trouble. The mag’s one Perry picked up; I got it sparking
and the bike ran without misfiring – but a spark gap test showed it was weak at kick speeds. I fitted one of my rebuilt mags, but the problem persisted. Admittedly, the carb – the only one I had that fitted – was bigger than standard, but surely an old side-valve isn’t that fussy?
Wrong again; I made an adapter to take a smaller carb on the lathe and the bike was transformed. Oversize carbs slow down air speed, causing weak mixture and poor vaporisation – especially at low speeds. The wet plug fooled me, but I suspect the mixture was initially too lean to fire and tickling the carb just caused neat fuel to wet the plug. I will apply this interesting information to my Gold Star – another bike with a big carb and poor starting record...
All the bother with Perry’s bike was forgotten as soon as I started riding it. The Alden Exhausts stainless open pipe sounds great, what you might call authoritative rather than noisy – it’s got a deep boom that sounds more like a 500 than a 350 and the performance is excellent, too. Alden’s (07595 448713) also made the handlebars, copied from original 1925 Sports ’bars I supplied. They also measured a 1927/8 type, so if you need ’bars for a 1923-28 350 BSA give them a call, they have the details on file. The saddle was Perry’s lucky autojumble find; it needed a bit of repair to the leather, but he’s made a nice job of it and it really suits the sympathetic restoration of the rest.
• Turn over for the last of Rick’s five B-A projects
‘THE ALDEN EXHAUSTS STAINLESS OPEN PIPE SOUNDS GREAT, WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL AUTHORITATIVE RATHER THAN NOISY’