Norton ES2 restoration, part 1
You can't keep a bike in production from 1927 until 1964 down, even when you're trying to restore it during a worldwide pandemic. Stuart Urquhart takes us on his journey of this lovely real-world restoration
Classic Bike Guide regular, Stuart Urquhart, starts a restoration of Norton’s famously long-lived single, the ES2. Then the world closes down…
While I’ve been following the ups and downs of Matt's Project Norton, a similar ES2 rescue project landed abruptly on my own lap. My good friend Robbie, the proprietor of Abernethy Motor Cycles (AMC), called me about a customer's ES2 he wished my help with to rewire. However, much as with Matt's own project, I would later learn that acceptance would mean having my resolve thoroughly tested by this popular postwar motorcycle.
I arrived at AMC armed with my first aid box of classic wiring, butane torch, solder reels, brass bullets and one archaic but trusted multimeter. An inkjet-printed ES2 wiring diagram was neatly folded and stuffed inside my jacket pocket. Robbie met me at the door and placed a welcome cuppa in my outstretched hand.
After our usual catch-up chat, I was led towards a dark corner of AMC's premises where a rusted and forlorn-looking ES2 engine lay, crudely bolted to what I could only describe as a skeletal rolling chassis. The Norton was hemmed in by several large boxes, which I assumed held its many missing parts. As we sipped our teas and gazed
pitifully at the wreck, I learned that the
ES2 once belonged to a local grandfather whose bereaved family wished it restored in his memory. My job today was to simply rewire her... or so I thought. The Abernethy crew had made a fair attempt at building her up but had become well and truly stuck. “Would I consider completing the rebuild for a handsome remuneration?” Robbie asked.
We shook hands, and just several months after road testing ‘A trio of Nortons' (CBG June 20), I became committed to rebuilding one. When I shared my exciting news with our Matt, all that greeted me was hysterical laughter!
Several weeks later the rolling chassis and its pile of associated boxes were dumped in my garage to chill through a long and bitter Scottish winter. One mild day in early February I half-heartedly studied the wreck before indulging in a quick fumble through the surrounding boxes of mixed parts. My rummage produced no less than four seat springs, two headlamps, an oil tank and toolbox, three dead batteries and a rat's nest of decaying wiring harnesses... and what appeared to be a lightweight Japanese timing chain!!! Identifying two other boxes of less familiar parts would await the arrival of a Norton parts list.
I decided my best objective would be to get the engine running before undertaking any further work. However, a growing list of missing parts stood in the way of achieving this very simple goal. But one item stood out – a reconditioned mag/ dynamo unit... in this regard, I was already one step ahead of Project Norton. It was my turn to bask in smugness.
A FEW HEADACHES
Of real concern was a missing primary inner chaincase and I informed Rob so he might conduct a search of his premises. Meanwhile, Matt kindly ran an advert for a spare case in April's editorial, but sadly without result. Other problems were the discovery of a loosely-bolted rocker box and cylinder head, both of which appeared to be missing their vital gaskets – so any plan of an immediate start-up was bouncing off into the future.
For peace of mind I decided to remove and inspect the valve gear, then to lift the barrel and assess the bottom end for wear. It would also be wise to remove the mag/dyno unit and inspect the engine oil return pipe that lurks below. This hidden pipe has a rubber T-junction that routes oil to the rocker box. Given the T-junction's inaccessibility between the gearbox and rear engine plates, it is often ignored – despite the fact that it can be an irritating source of oil leaks. And sure enough, once I'd accessed the rubber section, I discovered a cavernous split.
I removed the oil tank for a flush and clean, then removed and stripped the
Amal 276 carburettor in preparation for a long soak in AMC's ultrasonic bath. The inner jets and mixing chamber were filthy, no doubt from years of neglect. The float chamber cap refused to unscrew and I had to apply heat to remove it. This is a risky operation as early Amals are made from a composite alloy, and excessive heat can flash melt the castings without warning – so tread warily, friends!
Several days later the cylinder head and rocker box were removed and much as expected there were no rocker gaskets present. The cylinder head did, however, have an alloy gasket fitted – although it turned out to be in such poor condition that it didn't have a gnat's chance of sealing a carton of milk, never mind 500 cubic inches of highly charged gas!
I lifted the barrel next, removed the piston and confirmed that, true to legend, the ES2's unbreakable bottom end was as good as the day it had left Bracebridge.
However, given the high odds that the Easytwo's piston probably hadn't stroked its bore for several decades, I thought it prudent to have both piston and barrel checked by a local auto engineering specialist.
Unbeknown to me, my plans were about to be well and truly scuppered by a global pandemic!
CUTTING AND WELDING
A thorough search of AMC's premises and the owner's shed didn't come up with the missing primary case. I became quite concerned.
Following a somewhat anxious call to Norvil Motorcycles, I was duly dispatched to my garage to supply some all-important measurements between the drive and clutch sprocket centres and the footrest mount that passes through both the inner and outer primary casings. Thus equipped, they could then unearth a matching used casing from Norvil's deep and not entirely explored catacombs.
Several weeks later a reasonably priced inner chaincase dropped onto my doorstep, to be met with whoops of sheer joy.
Unfortunately, Norvil's chaincase did not line up with the Norton's protruding footrest mount. As Norvil was unable to supply a better match, the only option was some remedial work by Wormit's respected biker/blacksmith, Brian Don. The ES2 and its ill-fitting casing were rapidly transported to Brian's workshop before the emerging Covid-19 virus could force a UK-wide lockdown. Following some deft cutting and welding, Brian had created a snug-fitting inner chaincase that would nudge our project back on track.
Feeling rejuvenated, I pinged off a large order for spares. This was probably around the time that Classic Bike Guide reader Owen Howells and his R100RS were in an endurance sprint to catch the SaintMalo ferry before Europe was forced into lockdown by the growing pandemic.
Back in pre-Covid Fife, the unfortunate lads at AMC appeared to have missed out the gearbox adjuster when they had assembled the ES2's back end, rear wheel and mudguard. This important device consists of a long threaded bolt, cam adjuster and plate that attaches to the gearbox end casing, providing crucial adjustment of the primary chain. I soon discovered there is not enough room to reinstate the device with the chainguard and rear mudguard in place. The only option is to remove both items to access the gearbox end by hand. A frustrating hours saw this oversight sorted.
A period-style saddle found in one large box had no fixing brackets. It did, however, have six randomly drilled holes that could not possibly dock with a Norton plunger frame. With the saddle held in position, it was obvious that the six botched holes would also require to be welded up before two further holes could be drilled to permit the seat to fit correctly behind the petrol tank. So my pro-mechanic friend and ‘third hand', Dave, offered to weld up the holes and fabricate a set of suitable mounting brackets, the nice and obliging chap that he is.
While the seat was away with Dave, I turned my attention to the cylinder head and removed both valves for a thorough inspection. Both guides proved to be serviceable, however, the valve seats looked ‘glassy' and much in need of a regrind. Once valves and seats were reground to an acceptable flat grey, the cylinder head was reassembled and pronounced fit for action.
A FEW MORE SETBACKS
By now (April 20), the UK was entering a second three-week lockdown and my auto engineers of choice were showing no appetite for a return to work. Poor Matt was already struggling with Project Norton's crankshaft bearings, and I was about to leap ahead with my own engine rebuild.
The lockdown of local engineering firms pressed me into borrowing a quick-fix DIY honing tool – one I'm sure readers are familiar with and operates by use of an electric drill. It's a device that performs very well, provided the operator keeps the spinning arms well-oiled and located centrally within the cylinder bore, otherwise the flailing arms have a tendency to unwind and detach from the drill in quite a spectacular and explosive fashion... as I discovered during one inattentive moment!
Next job was to refit the piston and gudgeon pin, then drop on the newlyhoned barrel. Ingenious scalloped cups and a bevelled rim cut into the cylinder base made slipping the barrel over the delicate piston rings a piece of cake – there's no need for fidgety ring clamps when gravity can do the job for you.
The cast iron cylinder head was carefully torqued down onto its new alloy gasket, followed by the rocker box, pushrods, pushrod tunnels (plus seals top and bottom) and the eight fixing head bolts – a job requiring extreme dexterity.
The engine is also best set at TDC so both valves remain closed with absolutely no pressure on the pushrods, after which one should reset the tappets with nil clearance BUT so that both rods can spin freely (phew!). Try all of the above without a third hand! And due to extremely limited hand room, didn't mounting the oil tank with its breather, feed and return pipes turn out to be yet another expletive task!
“It turned out to be in such poor condition that it didn’t have a gnat’s chance of sealing a carton of milk, never mind 500 cubic inches of highly charged gas!”
YET MORE HEAD SCRATCHING
Prior to building up the clutch and primary drive, I decided first to test-fit the rewelded inner chaincase with its outer primary cover. Unfortunately, with both covers assembled, the footrest's tubular mounting bracket didn't extend far enough from the outer cover to attach its retaining nut, special washer and the footrest itself. This was an unexpected setback.
Did the new rubber sealing band force the primary covers too far apart or, unlikely, was the footrest mounting bracket too short for the job? I was stumped and consulted Third Hand
Dave for his professional opinion.
Dave's simple solution was to have the footrest mounting tube extended by our able blacksmith. Dave also came up with the ingenious solution of using his commercial garage's outside loo as a pick-up and drop-off point during the pandemic's two-metre social distancing rule.
While the bracket was away, Robbie dropped off the ultrasonically-cleaned carb in my carport. Thereafter, lockdown conditions were imposed by the peaking pandemic and ‘ingenuity and parts preservation' became the brief – although this project was always intended to be more of a sympathetic rebuild, rather than a bells and whistles restoration. However, a close inspection of the primary drive suggested that the original clutch was unfit for service and a new set of friction plates and clutch springs were duly ordered. I submitted to another long wait.
PAINT AND GLITTER
Prior to the emerging pandemic, many cycle parts had been painted black, and a superb paint job by local maestros Bikepaints of Cupar had resulted in a beautifully restored petrol tank. Not looking so pretty were the many original chrome parts, spoiled by rust and flaking chrome. Sadly, the pushrod covers, handlebar levers, gear lever and kickstart were in a similar state. All were sanded back to bare metal before being sprayed silver – an interim finish until the chrome plating industry returned to duty.
Through a glorious April I concentrated on the build and pushed aside the nagging temptation of a life-enhancing ride on one of my thumping singles. I'm sure the ‘stay at home' advice was torture for most motorcyclists, especially as the best spring weather for decades tormented the UK. Next job was to reassemble the carb and fit new control cables, although the Amal twist grip put up a splendid fight in rejecting the cable nipple, requiring some shrewd work with a needle file. Frustratingly, none of my ES2 manuals quoted factory pilot air screw settings, so I guess this would come down to trial and error when firing up the engine for the first time.
Previous work on the saddle and petrol tank mountings meant both items simply fell into line, as did the toolbox. The piggyback Lucas magdyno unit, its two timing sprockets and timing chain were all fitted loose to await the intricate job of timing the ignition. I then attached the new chrome front exhaust pipe using the appropriate exhaust rose tool and a new copper sealing washer.
The ES2 was really beginning to take shape, and I took a step back to admire its handsome lines.
Although I'd rewired the ES2 several months earlier at Abernethy Motor Cycles, I now concentrated on the job of hiding the harness out of sight of the Classic
Car Park Critique Brigade (you all know the sort!). The battery box was added and, much like the chain guard, required patience and dexterity in attaching to its two lower and inaccessible mounting studs. Suddenly I had run out of jobs and faced a long finger-drumming wait for the clutch parts to arrive...
Will the ES2 come together? Will it run after languishing for more than 50 years in boxes? Find out in Part 2.
“The engine is also best set at TDC so both valves remain closed with absolutely no pressure on the pushrods, after which one should reset the tappets with nil clearance BUT so that both rods can spin freely (phew)!”