NORTON MODEL 50
Pierpaolo Cavallo has been bewitched by British bikes. To return the favour, he introduces us to some of Italy’s finest riding country in the company of Norton’s 350 featherbed single…
Pierpaolo Cavallo has been bewitched by British bikes. To return the favour, he introduces us to some of Italy’s finest riding country in the company of Norton’s 350 featherbed single…
I’m Italian. Nobody is perfect, so I have accepted this limitation. Anyway, as a mitigating circumstance, I affirm that I have always loved motorbikes. One day when I was around 40 years old, I realised firstly that I was around 40 years old, and secondly that the motorbikes I always loved were the motorbikes of my youth, and thirdly that those bikes had become as old as I had. Thus I began loving OLD bikes. After some study, I discovered that ‘old’ bikes are classified in classic, vintage and other groups which I quickly forgot.
My passion turned from motorbikes to classic motorbikes, and I have started collecting classic motorbikes, beginning with Ducatis (nobody’s perfect, remember) of the 1980s and then going on to other decades and nationalities: Honda of the 1970s, Guzzi of the 1960s, and so on. But a curse had placed its spell on me. Eventually I became completely mad about British bikes of the 1950s.
Not exactly a spell, but rather a physiological, natural evolutionary process: here’s how. The President of the Classic Cars & Bikes Club of which I am a member, told me one day (read it with an Albus Dumbledore voice for the best effect): ‘Pierpaolo, thou shall become mad about British bikes.’ ( Thunder and flashes in the background would be of great help.) Dino actually told that ‘as your collector’s passion and experience grow, you will probably become more interested in British bikes. Soon you’ll find them in your garage, notwithstanding your wife’s curses for your shoes being completely covered in oil.’
The spell hit me a few years ago when I discovered the story of the Vincent-HRD, and became a VOC member, or a Vincenteer as someone says. My very first Brit bike was a 1950 Vincent Comet, bought from a renowned member of my club from the Netherlands (thanks Peter and Tiny Volkers!). But that’s another story.
Gradually I discovered other British classics, leading to the renowned brand known as Norton. And that’s the beginning of the present story, because a few months ago I found a 1958 Norton Model 50, in a beautiful British Green (Brit bikes are green; Italians are red: even I know that), up for sale in the UK. As probably all of you know better than me, the Model 50 had the same wideline featherbed as Norton’s other models which came with more powerful engines than the 350 single. As a result, many of these 350s became innocent victims, sacrificed to the god Triton, being used as donor bikes for their frames and forks. (Incidentally I am
looking for a Triton as well if anyone has one to sell?)
I made my offer on the Model 50, it was accepted, I made a bank transfer and Chas Mortimer carried the bike to Italy in one of his vans, leaving it in Milan at the Collezione
Motociclistica Milanese of Giovanni Cabassi (who happens to be another member of the VOC Italia section. I am the secretary because I am able to write the minutes in English once a year). For many reasons, I was not able to ride the Norton for several months, and Giò kindly took it for a test ride of about half a mile. He discovered that it had some braking problems – in fact he told me this in unrepeatable words, but that you get the picture.
Notwithstanding this problem, which I had no time to fix anyway, I decided to ride the bike at the seventh NBB; an Italian rally devoted to classic British bikes: Nothing But British. It’s run by Alberto Bonzi who is a renowned Italian collector equally famed for his patience and friendship to everybody (even someone who would not deserve it, like me). For 2016 about 100 British bikes and their riders would meet in the Langhe area on the last weekend of June. The Langhe are the part of Piedmont that lies more or less between Turin and Genoa, and are full of hills, vines, wine, roads, wine, food, nice towns and high spirits, which all give their contribution to keep the riders in high spirits. Usually we all meet up at the end of the day and can affirm that everyone drinks responsibly (or even have a good set of alcohol enzymes in their livers! As a medical doctor, I have good knowledge of enzymes, especially the alcohol-specific ones).
So I arrived at NBB with my bike in Giovanni’s van (thanks Giò). We unloaded his magnificent 1955 Rapide D, tuned by John Renwick (a masterpiece restored by a maestro), and my bad-braking but full of goodwill 1958 Norton Model 50. I finally could take it for a test ride. And in fact Giovanni was complete correct: the Norton had really poor braking, especially at the front where the lever behaved more like a clutch. On the other side, the clutch itself engaged in the last thousandth of inch of the lever – behaving more like a front brake. None of them had a screw register, so I had very little to work with at the handlebars.
But my Fifty from the Fifties rode really well. It doesn’t have much power but does provide really nice roadholding. That’s what I look for in a bike because I live in Salerno, more or less the instep of Italy if you remember the map. We are at the beginning of the Costiera Amalfitana, and I am used to regularly riding the nearly
1000 bends which lie in the 40km between Salerno and Positano (after which begins the Costiera Sorrentina and that region is NOT beautiful as ours – you are advised!). So I fired up the bike, which started at the third kick, and went for a ride through the Langhe hills. I needed some fuel: there is only one fuel tap and it’s the type with two positions only, so no reserve. But my ride lasted less than a quarter of mile (luckily). Leaving the hotel car parking it suddenly died with an unpromising CLUNK from the engine.
So I pushed the bike back (God bless, it was just a quarter of mile, even if uphill), called for help (God bless mobile phones, when they work) and in a few minutes my bike was looked after by Giò, Alberto and Tony (God bless them all). Tony – whose official name is Antonio Ventura, nickname Tony Daytona – is a close friend of Alberto and helps him to manage the NBB event. I am green with envy about these guys not simply because Alberto and Tony and other chaps from Turin can meet and go riding their old bikes, British and not, nearly every weekend. They also have the Langhe hills, nice country roads, a lot of mountain passes nearby, can easily reach Suisse, France or Austria and I am green with envy of them because I live ‘just’ 560 miles to the south of them…
Tony removed the timing cover and found that the lower magdyno sprocket’s bolt had jumped off, probably because it had been assembled without a washer and the vibration unscrewed it. Tony promptly added a washer and a generous dose of thread lock, reassembled the bike, and it fired first kick, because it was still warm. In the meanwhile dinner time had arrived so we all went to eat, drink, make clever conversation, glance at the Brough Superior SS100 belonging to Alberto which was on ‘gate guardian’ duty at the hotel entrance, and smoke a Toscano cigar (me only: it’s my professional duty. I have to warn my patients and show them the bad example of what NOT to do. This is true for food also).
Early the next morning, Tony called me to go out together for a short fuelling ride. Everything went well, we rode just four or five miles and the Fifty behaved well. No strange noises from the engine, braking acceptable, good roadholding, not so much power in acceleration, but good torque to ride bends and slopes, and it would always fire up after one or two kicks. So that meant we were good to join everyone else later that morning. The group of about a hundred British classic bikes set off: Triumph, Norton, Ariel, Vincent, AJS, Matchless, Moto Guzzi… Hey! Who are you! An infiltrator?
‘No, I’m the guy who provides all the alcoholic beverages.’ ‘Oh. Welcome on board!’ The route was really beautiful, but after five or six miles of the planned fifty mile ride, on an uphill slope, I experienced a progressive loss of power. There was a change in the tone
of the engine, as if the bike was very near to seizure. I immediately stopped and decided not to risk going any further, and I called Mimmo, who was driving the sweeper van right behind the group. Mimmo, officially Domenico Bucci, is simply a fantastic guy. He is one of Alberto’s friends, and owns a precision mechanics workshop where they make a lot of steel stuff, including custom bits for the research laboratories of the school of mechanics engineering at Turin Polytechnic. Mimmo arrived ten minutes later – he had stopped to load another bike – and we quickly stowed the Norton and its rider in the van. So I swapped from the role of being the ‘rider-in-the-group-following-someone-whoknows-the-course’ to the role of ‘human-GPSinto-Mimmo’s-van’, with a map on my knees (no girls named Susannah around, and I can’t play a banjo).
Needless to say, during the journey we started talking and we became good friends. Better yet I was able to actually SEE the nice roads, hills, vines, farms, woods and brooks which I would not have been able to see if I’d been riding my motorbike. Being Mimmo’s human GPS, I had to study the map on my knees (a banjo would have been useless), locate the reference points on the map and give Mimmo the information about the road to follow. So I needed to look the landscape around me, and not just at the back of the rider in front!
Despite the Norton’s breakdown it was still a fine ride. I made a new friend, admired the beautiful landscape on the Langhe hills, had a delicious lunch with an excessive quantity of food and wine (as usually happens), and passed a very beautiful day. Moreover, that evening we enjoyed a special show just for us. One of the most renowned dancers in Italy, Luciana Savignano, former etoile (it should be ‘principal dancer’ in English) at the Scala Theatre in Milan presented her new dance show, named Tango di Luna (Moon Tango). As the name suggests, it was not an austere classic dance show but something more fit for a group of old hooligans (thanks to Frank Westworth for coining this term).
And what about the Norton? Giò took it back in Milan and, after careful discussion, entrusted it to the capable hands of Domenico Pettinari, who owns probably the best and oldest British bike workshop in Italy. A couple of weeks later I had a call from Giò who gave me good news. The ignition had simply gone out of phase, probably for the similar reasons to the earlier problem; some nut unscrewed from vibration. A simple check with the addition of washers and thread-lock had fixed it all.
Now the Norton has finally arrived in my barn – I don’t call it a ‘garage’ anymore, too Italian (or French) for my taste. The Fifty fires in two or three kicks and rides well for a ‘little’ 350cc bike. I have done a few rides in Costiera Amalfitana, lots of bends as I mentioned earlier, but also on the Cilento roads, the other side. If you look at a map of Salerno and its surroundings, you will see that Cilento is a vast area south of Salerno between the mountains and the Tyrrhenian sea, with a larger choice of roads to ride which are much less crooked then Costiera.
Riding the Model 50 is a pleasure: the position is comfortable, and I have no problem with the width of the wideline Featherbed frame even if it may be a bit short for me in terms of distance from the saddle to the footrests. All the controls are in the right place, the acceleration is good (provided you don’t expect the impossible), and the gear change lever has no false neutrals or imprecision. The clutch remains ‘long’ but once you get used to it everything goes well.
Power delivery is nice. I have no idea of revs as there is no tachometer, but the torque is very good. You can manage it with the throttle and the gears. Coming out from hairpins, the second or third (depending on the steepness of the road) gear almost becomes an automatic transmission. In summary, the Model 50 is nice to ride in Costiera Amalfitana, but absolutely amazing into Cilento!
Roadholding is at the best level: you have only to think of entering a bend, provided you’re in the right gear, and the Fifty gently turns. It’s most satisfying on gentle bends, while on switchback, twisty roads it could certainly benefit from a bit more horsepower, especially when carrying a (ahem…) heavy rider. The cruising speed on straight roads is about 50mph, absolutely acceptable for a bike that is still running-in but it’s still best to avoid motorways.
When you stop there is no sidestand, but pulling the bike onto the centrest and is not difficult. The petrol tank has a more than acceptable capacity, and the only thing you have to do is to visually check the level from time to time. The only problem back in the barn is the presence of oil on the ground under the bike but, all in all, which predator doesn’t want to mark its territory?
One last note: the bike still brakes poorly so maybe I will fix this problem myself. Or maybe not. All in all, I’m Italian.