I’ve improved my Rex appeal
Last month Rick dealt with the engine of his latest project, but the big issue remained – it needed to look good. A distinct sense of style meant that turned into a big job, too. Well, it’s a matter of taste, after all...
Yeah, OK, I bit off more than I expected here – but I think it’s worked out pretty well. Thing is, there were three problems with my new Rex Acme. First: originality – it had gone from sports ohv to a side-valve, from primitive belt-rim brakes to drums, it had the wrong forks and just about everything else apart from the bare bones. Secondly: it had been restored to display – it ran, but no way was it fit for the road. Finally: it looked awful.
That’s the big one, really. I mean, I wouldn’t have bought it if I hadn’t got the main bits required to put it right – and, let’s be honest, making your new bike work properly is a regrettably common part of classic buying. No, to want a bike it has to appeal to the same neurons as are fired by the curves of your loved one. Call me shallow, but I can’t love an ugly bike – this one needed cosmetic surgery.
I’d already sorted the engine and to replace the heavy forks fitted, I had a suitable set of lightweight Bramptons left over from my lockdown rebuilds. They were incomplete, missing the top springs, with a damaged stem and a grotty home-made top clip – but the Rex type didn’t use top springs. It used conventional links that I found I had available on a scrap yoke. The stem needed to be replaced with a different size and the top clip needed modification to suit the bike, so really it couldn’t be better.
But the doubts started after painting the new fork. My shoddy brush paintwork looked weird alongside the powder coated frame. I could send the forks for coating, but the Rex had been done in the early ’80s and powder coating has come a long way since then. You see, vintage bikes were stove enamelled – basically dipped into a paint vat and then dangled, still dripping, in an oven. It’s a cheap, thin finish without primer – just like my ‘exterior metalwork’ paint which, being satin, blends pitted and smooth surfaces unobtrusively together.
The Rex had that typical 1980s horrible, gloopy finish that blurs any texture the steel might possess, leaving it
looking like a piece of moulded garden furniture. I wanted to ignore it and just get the bike working, but alongside the brushed forks it looked too plasticky to bear. I tore the whole bike apart, wire-wheeled the wretched stuff off, repainted it my way and never looked back.
Brakes next. The front was too big; yes, yes I know, big brakes are safer – but not this time. Early forks weren’t designed for much more than cycle brakes; the tiny four-inch Webb drum I’ve built into the wheel is right for the era and shouldn’t overstress the tubes – and besides, the bike weighs no more than a sports moped.
At the rear, the frame had been brutally bent apart to take a drum brake. I needed to straighten the D-section tubes and go back to a plain hub and a dummy-belt rim brake. None of this stuff is easy to find – but luck smiled again. The drum unbolts, and without it the hub became the correct width. For the rim brake, I wanted to use a spare BSA shoe mechanism – because I had one and they work well – but I only had badly corroded BSA rims and they didn’t fit anyway. The only useable rim I had was some mystery one I was planning to sell – guess what, correct offset, correct diameter, glad I kept it now!
If you’re my age and into ’80s classics, you probably think I’m barmy messing about with all this ancient stuff, but surely, whatever your passion, restoration is a sort of quest – whether it’s tracking down NOS Kawasaki parts in America or finding the perfect brake rim hanging on a nail in your shed. I just find the thrill of the chase is all the more intense when the bikes are so old that there’s no parts lists or specialists – and bikes like this are brilliant fun to ride. I’ve been stupidly lucky with this bike, and most of the bikes I‘ve built over the years; that’s what pushes me to leap into the next nightmare.
Under the surgeon’s knife, I think the Rex has regained its style. There’s still a few jobs to do – and I’m not fully fixed for riding it myself yet, but I love looking at it. This first-year Rex Acme TT makes a great companion to my beloved 1927 model and I can’t believe my luck – in owning it and how easily it came together. Barmy I may be, but at least it looks like the Gods of Motorcycling are on my side...
‘CALL ME SHALLOW, BUT I CAN’T LOVE AN UGLY BIKE – THIS ONE NEEDED COSMETIC SURGERY’
1
Of course, there’s a reason these forks are ‘spare’ – they’re pretty bent and missing several parts, but they’re roughly the correct pattern and can be fixed.
2
Lightweight parts like this aren’t too hard to straighten if you can bolt them down to something solid – but beware of crushing tubes or putting too much stress though cast lugs.
3
For bends in short tubes, support either end and press the middle. A V-block prevents denting the tube; mark the high spot of the bend, it can be hard to spot in the press.
4
Fabricated replacement top clip (yoke) wasn’t too pretty, but suited my purpose as I needed to modify it for handlebar clamps. Tidied up and painted, it’s done the job
5
Next job was the steering stem. The Rex frame and bearings called for a smaller diameter, so I was able to bore out the old one and still leave some material behind.
6
I turned up a mandrel to fit the bored diameter and turned the stem around, supported on a rotating centre, to turn the outside diameter for the lower steering bearing.
7
Top and bottom links on girders should be parallel; I needed to make a top bearing holder, so I sized it to space the two yokes apart to suit top and bottom fork spindles.
8
The new stem is made from cold drawn seamless tubing. Here’s the full kit of bits, along with the handlebar brackets that clamp onto the modified top clip.
9
The stem is a light press-fit, so I could assemble everything and check length. Originally it was brazed, but it was easier for me to weld the stem in place, as on Japanese bikes.
10
Look how far the rear frame has been bent to take the drum brake wheel; the tubes are old-fashioned ‘D section’ (like a bicycle) and should be parallel.
11
I bolted the frame section to my boxsection stand; with it clamped down one end and propped where you want it to bend, you can use the frame itself as a lever.
12
I don’t like 1980s powder coating! Frames were originally enamel dipped; this stuff is so gloopy it makes metal stampings look like bits of plastic.
13
In 1923 many frames were built using proprietary lug sets. Since Brampton forks were fitted, it’s likely they made the frame lugs, too.
14
Unbolting brake drum assembly left the hub narrow enough to fit inside the straightened fork ends. I needed one of these brakes for another project – result!
15
Rex used an inefficient pivoting shoe carrier. BSA mechanism is far better; scissor action moves shoe square to rim – these brakes can squeal the tyre.
16
But a BSA rim wouldn’t work – too big and too narrow. Believe it or not, though, I had just one random rim – and it turned out to be a perfect fit!
17
After wire-wheeling off the powder coat, maybe it’s my imagination but everything felt much lighter! I brush-painted everything with exterior metal paint to match the forks.
18
I let universal ‘guards (from Renovation Spares, 07968 168215) get a coat of rust to help key the paint. Original ’guard must have been indented here.
19
By making a couple of cuts in the mudguard, I was able to dent the mudguard neatly to clear the lug projections before welding up the cuts again.
20
It’s important to get a good fit with ’guards. The ones the bike came with were wider and deep, ’50s style; ’20s sports bike should look light and athletic.
21
Brush paint would look odd against the shiny tank, so I sprayed the ’guards with black gloss. I cut the rear short as the stand still needs to reach its clip.
22
Please don’t laugh at my exhaust! I had a few odd stainless bends and started cutting and shutting; it was looking pretty good but there was a problem...
23
I don’t like the droopy way the original pipe dropped below the footrest – the kickstart obstructs it going over. So I decided to cut ’n’ shut my way around it... and ended up with this crazy sculpture. It’s a bit Mad Max, but it’ll get the gases to the back for now!
24
The tank caps were missing. Jiri Horice (vintage-replica.com) makes fantastic repros of these, but on my budget I decided to make my own.
25
The hand oil pump had gone; it’s unusual, but my friend Simon turned one out. I’ll use this instead of the mechanical pump, which I’ve blanked off.
26
To replace the ’50s throttle lever, I dug out this suitably early-looking one. Checking in the Amac book, it’s their 1923 type – exactly right for the bike!