The car-bike revisited

There were always those who wanted more from motoring than steady, reliable motion to a destination

I’ve just finished reading James Sheldon’s ‘The Veteran & Vintage Motor Cycle’, which reviews the evolution of the motorcycle through 1930, first published in 1961. The author makes it clear that he feels the motorcycle ought to have been better able to hang on to its extreme popularity in England, enjoyed during the years when pedestrians were first becoming motorists. In England at that time, the number of motorcycle registrations often exceeded that of cars. Sheldon refers often to such features as larger, more enveloping front fenders giving increased protection against weather as keys to greater motorcycle acceptance – opportunities lost!

His perspective allowed him to compare the motorcycle with such minima of comfort as the cyclecar (motorcycle engine plus rudimentary auto enclosure). From my present perspective, the comparison should be with a 15-year-old Toyota with 300,000km on the clock and all the comforts of home. In my view, wider fenders and soft ‘mattress-style’ seats and windscreens would have to have provided comforts I cannot imagine in order to compete as basic transport with today’s comfy lower-priced used cars.

I was once besieged by an internet correspondent who was sure the future of the motorcycle must be those Swiss or German ‘cabin cruiser’ totally enclosed bikes, costing every bit as much as mediumpriced cars, and featuring all their comforts plus retractable ‘landing gear’ for low-speed operation and parking. This helped me to what I think is a better understanding of why some people still elect to ride motorcycles.

In the US, the coming of the bicycle and the internal combustion engine had the usual effect – the production of motorised bicycles as the lowest price of admission to the new world of motoring. Very quickly their power and structure evolved to a higher standard, and three-wheeled commercial versions appeared as well. Then suddenly, Henry Ford’s achievement of mass-producing a cheap but serviceable automobile was achieved in 1913, taking most of the motorcycle’s share of the basic transportation market. After that year, motorcyclists were either policemen or young athletic adventure-seekers. Whereas previously the motorcycle had a practical aspect, after 1913 it took on the character of those who rode it – persons with a rebellious streak and a taste for the unforeseen. Because that share of the market was small, American motorcycles remained a long time as they had been in 1913 – heavily built to survive primitive roads, with big, slow-turning engines, rolling on large-section tyres that acted as supplementary suspension.

In England, motorcycling and motorcycle sport grew at a fabulous rate between the wars, benefiting from the persistently high price of autos and the British devotion to contests. The prospect of a Great Depression could be seen in motorcycle yearly sales figures, Sheldon argues. Total sales continued to increase, but at a steadily decreasing rate. That had been the warning heeded by General Motors in the US, who from 1925 began to run down inventories and employment.

Sheldon seems to argue that had the British bike industry responded by offering car-like comforts and weather protection, it could have avoided the severe economic pruning of manufacturers that occurred in the early 1930s. That would have included such things as leg shields, windscreens, total enclosure of engines and particularly of chains.

I see the data differently. I believe that the public’s view of the motorcycle was determined by how they were used (and by whom) between the wars. ‘Sensible’ persons chose to buy automobiles and close out the weather entirely. Those who wanted more from motoring than steady, reliable motion to a destination chose the motorcycle. Indeed, a kind of unspoken covenant was made by the motorcyclist. In return for the thrilling and tireless long legs of the machine I will accept – even embrace - the possibility of being cold and wet, of having ineradicable black ‘chain-stains’ on my clothing, and of tipping over. My clothing will evolve to reveal my locomotion.

Because this bargain appeared contrary to good sense in most people’s minds, motorcycling gave off a whiff of social rebellion. Being considered a breed apart by others has its attractions.

Today the arguments in favour of the car-bike (windshield wipers!) have lost whatever force they may once have had (1924?), because the comforts of the automobile are easily available to all who can afford to own a motorcycle. In western nations few people now ride motorcycles out of financial considerations.

Much of this was already in place when World

War Two ended. Manufacturers were willing to have another try with the car-bike, but who would (other than in a perverse dream) enclose an otherwise perfectly good Vincent V-twin in a squeaking fiberglass case? (The Black Prince.) Who would actively say, staring, hypnotised, at one of the ‘bathtub’ Triumphs, partially enclosed in reverberating tinware... ‘That’s the bike for me!’

Our covenant with the tireless long legs of the machine remains.