OUR CLASSICS
The Enfield gets painted, powder coated and plated – and the engine fires for the first time in 52 years. But the snagging list refuses to get any shorter
Rupert’s Royal Enfield moves on – it’s still very nearly finished
In the last instalment, I distinctly remember saying my eight-year Enfield project was nearly finished. Since then I’ve thrown a grand and seven precious days at it. Honestly, I’ve never worked so hard on a bike. Physically, financially and spiritually I am knackered. And yet the end feels as far away as ever.
I’ve built dozens of standard motorcycles, but I can’t tell you how different a special is. Everything, from the most obscure screw to the whole frame, has had to be thought about, designed and made. It has to function, look good and not interfere with anything else. In short, a job you think will take two hours takes 14. Take the front brake, for example. I got the right banjos and a hose of the correct length – but it rubbed the mudguard. So it needed two round hose guides, like a production bike. I thought about it and came up with a design. My friend Simon Martin made the rings to suit some grommets he had, and posted them over. Another friend, Rupe Farnsworth, TIG welded the rings onto the mudguard and indicator brackets made by Scott Campbell a few months ago. So there’s a couple of hours
right there, spent on something no one will ever notice, but which the bike needs to work properly. Nevertheless, this has been the month of gigantic steps forward. The most dramatic of these involved firing the motor up for the first time in 52 years. Last month I reported that the oil filler neck had sprung a leak through a casting pinhole – but once the oil got below the level of the hole it stopped, so problem solved. I’d set the timing on the Electrexworld CDI ignition at 30° below top dead centre, sloshed some fuel in the tank and, with no kickstart, braced myself for hours of pushing. It actually fired in about three yards. Words cannot express the joy you feel when a longdormant engine bursts into life. The sound was utterly gorgeous, and as I pootled around the yard in first gear the torque and willingness to rev were better than I’d dared hope. What was less fun was the clutch. It dragged so badly I couldn’t change gear – or even find neutral. So I couldn’t stop. Help!
I got the bike back on the bench and asked Hitchcocks and the VMCC about the clutch. They had good advice, but couldn’t suggest anything my mate Dave Bent and I hadn’t already thought of. Next day we screwed out the adjuster until the lever had no slack at all, then screwed it some more. The result was good enough to get all four gears and at least
‘A COUPLE OF HOURS WERE SPENT ON SOMETHING THAT NO ONE WILL EVER NOTICE’
two neutrals, but the lever action was hideous. Against Allan Hitchcock’s advice, I ordered some soft clutch springs. My theory is that the old, worn clutch has so much lost movement it won’t lift enough.
The head bearings weren’t much cop, either. I made a note to order new ones while I stripped the bike down to send it off for plating, painting and powder coating. A cool £1000 and two weeks later, everything was back.
I used Triple S in Bradford for the powder coating because they have the best reputation, and I wasn’t disappointed. The finish couldn’t be better, and the service was excellent, too. Almost all the threads had been masked off and the bearing surfaces were left bare, exactly as you’d wish. It was £500 plus carriage and insurance for satin black yokes and handlebar levers, and metallic charcoal frame, swingarm, sidestand, footrest plates and engine plates.
The paint job was done by my local shop, Nene Valley
Body Repairs. The logos and stripes, designed by my son Freddie, are cut vinyl, lacquered over. Again, a superb finish, and very reasonable at £450. Add £45 for zinc and nickel plating at Pro Tech in Northampton, and we were more or less in four figures.
So after a dry build you’d think all I had to do was screw it all together again and have a cup of tea. It actually took three days. During that time I also felt the need to get a numberplate, green transparent fuel hoses, a clear engine breather hose, two fork dust seals, various special fasteners and some aluminium sheet to make a breather box out of.
I kind of knew I’d need a breather box, but had run out of time to make one. So just before I packed the frame off, I’d spent a couple of hours designing a triangular cardboard model which, I reckoned, would mount securely via the battery shelf and rear shock mount.
Having just done a TIG course, I could have made the box (sort of), but Simon Martin would do it properly. How lucky am I to have a mate who’s an expert fabricator? He came over on his day off, starting work at 10am. I’d designed the shape and turned up the spigots for the hose and puffer filter. Simon did the real work. By 4pm the box was on the bike, rubber mounted for good measure. I had a plan to engrave the side of the box with the name of everyone who has helped over the last eight years, but I didn’t get round to it. And it’s a long list.
‘YOU’D THINK ALL I HAD TO DO WAS SCREW IT ALL TOGETHER’