A fallen star
How long does it take to restore a motorcycle? Six months? A year? Three years? How about, in David Dixon’s case, 47 years?
This story starts in 1956 when an old friend of mine was teaching driving in West London. Passing through Kensington he saw a tired old bike leaning against the kerb. Interest aroused, he nipped back after the lesson ended and “made enquiries” (he was an ex-cop). It turned out that after years of neglect the bike had been left at the roadside for collection by the local scrapman.
The classic 1960s TV comedy series Steptoe and Son shows the two main characters with their rickety cart, pulled by the horse Hercules, engaged in nefarious scrap salvaging activities; known at the time as “totting”. And so it would have been for the Blue Star – up on the cart and away to be melted down. Before such a tragedy could occur money changed hands and my friend became owner of the wreck which proved to be a 1933 350cc BSA Blue Star, an ancestor of the famous Gold Star models.
The Blue Star range of 250, 350 and 500cc machines had been introduced by BSA in 1932.
These were bikes with a sporty performance for their capacity and developed into the Val Page-designed Empire Star series for 1937. A tuned 500cc version in the hands of Wal Handley achieved a 100mph lap of Brooklands in the same year. For this heroic feat he won the Gold Star award and it led to introduction of the famous Gold Star series which continued in production all the way to 1963.
A short time after finding the first Blue Star my friend spotted another. This example was less than complete and had been discarded on a weed-covered bomb site. Surprise! That one was also acquired and so my friend was now possessor of maybe one and a half rusted wrecks. What to do? Having a history of working with bikes he decided that a restoration to as new would be the way to go.
Maybe the culture of recommissioning old machines was different in the mid-1950s? This was around the time when Prime Minister Harold Macmillan told us that we “had never had it so good”. There was plenty of employment; wages were rising and so were living standards. Work and modern hire purchase schemes meant that good used machines or even brand new models were more attainable. Anybody contemplating restoration of a genuine rusted and bent ‘no hoper’ would need to be quite passionate and the result often was a glittering as-new example. The aim of a concours restoration would not have been as contentious as it sometimes is today. ‘Patina’ was never mentioned. (Well, not in a good way at any event.) The phrase “they are only original once” was unheard.
In between teaching driving my friend would have been able to stand in gloom in his lock-up and survey the remains of a once desirable bike, perhaps seeing in his imagination a showroom-fresh example? Being a perfectionist, the work was predictably going to take a while.
To begin with, the machine was completely dismantled. Prior to chrome plating, corrosion was removed from all the nuts, bolts and fittings by filing and rubbing down with emery cloth. This explains why it was that, whenever I visited my friend’s garage, there were spanners all over the floor. I would tidy them up, putting BSW, BSF, AF, Metric all in their right places for, until the Blue Star arrived in my own garage, I failed to understand that the rubbing-down process had rendered nut and bolt head size ‘indeterminate.’ Even now, working on the bike requires trial and error with spanner size! All the plated parts were stored in a goldfish tank which contained a few inches of engine oil. Chrome is porous and this method would protect against any further rust onslaught.
By the time I met my friend in 1961 the engine, upper frame and the forks had been restored. They sat in pristine glory, wrapped in a blanket in the airing cupboard of his flat. During those early years not much seemed to happen. Other machines and events came and went. There was always the day job to contend with so the restored parts just were … in the cupboard.
By 1968 no more progress had been made. Well, that’s only 12 years later. The bike had been relocated to Guernsey where it sat in an empty barn. Events weren’t helped much when my Hounslow garage burned down during that hot summer of 1976. The Blue Star gearbox had been within and was reduced to an indistinct lump of alloy and steel.
While working on my own machines I often visited Russell Motors in Clapham Junction. To my surprise there was a suitable gearbox on display in Russell’s shop window. For a modest sum I bought the ‘box and was able to give it to my friend – with grovelling apologies that I had melted his original.
Having married in 1970, my new wife and I were able to visit our friend in Guernsey fairly often. The Blue Star was hardly ever even mentioned but we all knew it was simply biding its time. I had the wheels rebuilt by Jack Nice in Walthamstow. He also painted the fuel tank and wheel centres. A pair of Ceat vintage pattern tyres were fitted. That was in 1973 and we were due to visit our old friend in the island. It was snowing when we walked over the footbridge to Terminal One at Heathrow Airport. I had the wheels with me and took great pleasure making tyre tracks through the snow on the bridge. “People will think somebody’s ridden a bike across,” I was thinking… Hand luggage? Well, you will guess what mine was. It probably wouldn’t be permitted now, but at that time - motorbike wheels in the cabin? “No problem, sir!”
The Blue Star now had wheels and a gearbox. At some point between 1973 and 1998 the remainder of the frame had been stripped and re-enamelled. A rolling chassis had been achieved. No need to rush…
Over the next five years I would often visit Guernsey with my wife and two young sons who had arrived on the scene in 1979 and 1983.
While the family wasted time on the adjacent beaches I would most often be found in my friend’s garage. He always had a number of bikes on which he would be working with his stepson Martyn. Of course, among these various machines was the old Blue Star, still not finished but I would make various brackets and minor fitments, including the design for mounting the rear brake pedal/linkage.
With companionship and assistance from Martyn the pace of work speeded up a little and, by 2003, the bike was complete enough to be roadworthy. Still no charging circuit but close enough. Over the next 10 years or so the bike was used for gentle rides round Guernsey and at some point a voltage regulator was fitted so that the dynamo could charge the battery. Even now, only 180 miles are recorded on the restored speedometer.
My old friend had bequeathed his machines to Martyn, who also died just a couple of years ago. You will imagine my shock on learning that his widow would like me to take over the Blue Star, although I certainly feel that I have known the bike for an awfully long time – in fact, since 1961.
The pandemic delayed things for a year or so but late in 2021 my son John and I were able to go to the island to collect the bike and bring it back to join an array of slightly less ancient machinery in t’shed. Even though I knew that this machine had been the subject of a meticulous reconstruction the first task was to put it on the bench for a detailed check over.
Changing oils and greasing where required was obvious. It would also be a good idea to change those 48-year-old Ceat tyres.
Overall, the bike really was pretty good. The dynamo had been converted for two-brush operation and a regulator attached to the saddle frame. This was unsightly so I hid it in a Lucas housing and relocated it to a post-vintage position on the back mudguard. An incorrect hooter and bracket were changed because I had the right parts in a box. A missing thrust washer on the exhaust rocker spindle allowed it to rotate when the engine was running. The gearbox had a sheared-off stud. There was a puncture and the back light didn’t work. But all easily fixed.
Even the DVLA process to register the bike in the UK went without difficulty. In this case the machine needed to be inspected before final allocation of a registration number. It was surprising that the examiner was able to attend just two days after my phone call and his only comment as he looked around the garage? “Do you ride all these?” Had to think about that one a bit…
In 1933 registration numbers would have been painted on to the plate and a degree of artistic licence would have been quite commonplace. My own research showed that ‘Charles Wright 1935 font number’ would be suitable for the Blue Star. Charles Wright had been born in 1842 and he founded a metal pressing plant in Clerkenwell in 1867. In time the company progressed to the pressing of number plates using its own font which led to the revised form which is universally used in the UK today. (The Government had adopted this as a standard format in 1935.) Although it is the typeface which became mandatory in 2001 the motorcycle characters are smaller than the car version. Unable to find a suitable signwriter I contacted Classic Transfers and was impressed to find that precut vinyl digits in the correct style and size are available – as are templates for those brave enough to try painting their own.
The question from the DVLA inspector turned out to be strangely appropriate: several months after arriving here, the bike is still unridden. Supply of a few parts, UK registration, Christmas and weather all got in the way. Not to worry. After all, one mustn’t hurry these things!