AJS SILVER STREAK ......................................
When Associated Motorcycles wanted to catch the eye of the discerning 1930s customer, they jazzed up their ohv AJS singles with dazzling coats of chrome. Ace Tester Miles rides the result, wearing shades…
When Associated Motorcycles wanted to catch the eye of the discerning 1930s customer, they jazzed up their ohv AJS singles with dazzling coats of chrome. Ace Tester Miles rides the result, wearing shades…
Announced in 1937 for the following season, the Silver Streaks represented a concerted effort by the Plumstead factory to move motorcycling forward into the new, post-austerity age. Cars were becoming sleeker, more integrated designs and the two-wheeled competition had to move with the times as well. The 1938 line-up comprised of standard models, the old-fashioned big V-twin model 2, the R7 racer and trials-type ‘ T’ series. The new Silver Streaks were closely related to the latter.
Utilising the trials frame with good ground clearance and employing a similar upswept high exhaust, they were available in three capacities, 250, 350 and 500. Each individually tuned engine was hand-built from selected components and mated to a close-ratio four-speed gearbox. The prospective new owner of this 350cc example could choose from a variety of compression ratios, with a choice from 6.6:1 (standard) 8.18:1 or even a terrifying 11:1 for the speed-crazed pilot with ankles of oak. Bore and stroke remained the same at 69mm x 93mm.
What else was different? Well, they came complete with a full lighting rig and continued with magneto ignition, unlike some of the standard range which had changed to coil ignition by then. Apart from that, the new single-port 350 SS closely matched the standard model 26. Why then call it the Silver Streak? The eagle-eyed reader might have spotted the answer already. Pretty much every component of the motorcycle, other than the frame, was chrome plated, resulting in a dazzling coruscation of motorcycling excellence.
Your 57 guineas (66 for the 500) bought you a lithe, punchy 350 single with chromium plating replacing dowdy black enamel on the mudguards, headlamp, chaincases, fork links, oil tank, toolbox, seat springs and, of course, the magnificent petrol tank.
Parked next to machines of similar vintage, the Streak succeeds at a stroke in making them all look dowdy, grubby and just a bit downmarket. Chrome might not get you home, but it certainly gets you noticed. The overwhelming sparkle literally stops people in their tracks when they first see it. Nonmotorcyclists generally loved the appearance and often asked whether I minded if they took a picture of them standing by it. The reaction from riders differed slightly. Although universally admired, a general level of scepticism arose when told that this had been restored to standard specification and that it had, indeed, left the factory with all that chrome plate.
At the time, the factory made a great deal about the durability of their superior plating facility, reasoning that it would prove at least as durable as a stock enamel finish, requiring little more than a dry polish with a soft cloth to retain the lustre.
Restoring this machine from boxes of parts, back in the early 1990s, might have been more of a challenge. Unlike slightly corroded
metal, which can be smoothed, filled and treated to lashings of nice thick paint, chromium plating requires a perfect substrate in order to achieve a fine finish; any flaws are amplified when chromed. But the restorer’s perseverance has certainly paid off, the entire machine is virtually unblemished despite nearly 25 years of sitting in a collection being barely used. Which is a shame, because motorcycles are made to be ridden and this one is a delight.
The spring-up rear stand is easily operated by one person and starting is simply a matter of flooding the pre-Monobloc carb, retarding the ignition and taking a long, swinging kick. As we all know, resistance is futile and I suspect the ease of which this springs into
life is due to a piston at the lower end of the compression spectrum being fitted. It even idles, crikey, the engine proving whisper quiet, even when hot. The clutch is light and the gearchange slick, the ratios perfectly chosen for lively B-road fun. The lighting is every bit as good as you’d expect 6 Volt, 80 year-old electrics to be, but the pretty centre panel on the tank has one of those fantastic pull-out inspection lamps fitted, so it’s all forgiven.
Most pre-war bikes I’ve ridden are undoubtedly rewarding to ride, but can represent a challenge on modern roads. The unreliability of ancient engines, especially in traffic, coupled with poor braking performance, often reduce these two-wheeled antiques to special outings
usage only. But the Streak, with its 350cc fully enclosed ohv motor, four-speed box and excellent brakes made it almost ideally suited for use as an urban commuter, not just for sunny Sunday mornings. Instant starting, hot or cold, with an all-day cruising speed of 45-50mph mean that it’s almost a practical classic. As long as you like cleaning your bike – often and well.
The major obstacle to this being an eminently sensible choice as an everyday ride is the Streak’s relative inability to deal with poor road surfaces and urban street bumps. As you might expect from a sprung saddle and rigid frame, the front forks are expected to do a lot of work, and these failed to deal with the sleeping policepeople and road ‘repairs’ we have to contend with now. Leaving the finger adjusters loose on the girders resulted in a bouncy, lively ride with lots of clunking and crashing. Tightening them sufficiently to reduce the effects of the poor road surface resulted in a motorcycle seemingly without steering. They were vastly inferior to a Rudge of similar vintage I’ve recently been riding. I looked for play in the linkages but found none, and the head races seemed OK, too. I suspect that the factory fitted the lightest style of girders they had to match the svelteness of the rest of the bike, it really is tiny, after all. Or, it may just be that I was dazzled by the opulence of the Rudge, of course!
The post-war singles utilised a telerigid setup that would undoubtedly be dynamically superior to the machine you see here, albeit without the benefit of the tuned engine and lacking the decadent 1930s glamour of the chrome beauty you see on these pages; such were the constraints in post-conflict Britain. Silver Streak or Black Stain, you decide.