VEE VARIATIONS.........................................
Over the years, John Waltham has owned a succession of big V-twins: pre- and post-war Vincents, Harley and Hesketh heavyweights. Which machine does he rate as the best of the bunch? The answer may surprise you…
Over the years, John Waltham has owned a succession of big V-twins: pre- and post-war Vincents, Harley and Hesketh heavyweights. Which machine does he rate as the best of the bunch? The answer may surprise you…
It struck me recently that I’ve had my Hesketh V1000 for rather more than a decade, and that this was roughly the same period of time that I had previously owned a 1340 Harley Low Rider Sport. Before that, I’d had a 1938 Series A Rapide Vincent, again for ten years. That had been preceded by ten years of post-war Vincent ownership. It seems I engage in ten year bouts of – what? Masochism? Pleasure? Addiction?
I bought my first Vincent, a D Rapide, in 1968 when I was a 17 year-old student. They were cheaper then and I paid its first owner, a local farmer, £129 for it. That was a ludicrously high amount, given that my previous 500 Triumph had set me back only £60 and was three years younger. I was mechanically inept and the Vincent had received no use or maintenance for some years. I kept it for three months and was glad to see the back of it when I sold it for £149. I swore I’d never have another one, consoling myself with a Norton-engined 750cc AJS 33 CS followed by a BSA A7SS.
But a few years later I needed a sidecar tug and couldn’t locate my preferred choice of a Mk2 Royal Enfield Interceptor. So I made do with a Series C Rapide and Watsonian Monosport, part of a collection which hadn’t run for about five years. By then I knew enough to be able to look after the bike’s mechanicals, and really enjoyed the V-twin’s
power delivery, both with and without the chair. The acceleration when used solo but on sidecar gearing was a real adrenalin rush! I really didn’t regret not getting that Enfield…
The only problem I had with the Series C Rapide was with the big end, following an attempt to keep up with a 750 Honda on a sidecar-equipped (and geared) Vincent; not a good idea. I still have the conrod, and you can pass an egg through the misshapen big end eye. The redoubtable Bob Dunn rebuilt the crank assembly for me, and thereafter we did many thousands of miles, sidecar and solo, with remarkably little bother. I was very glad to be able to use the various Vincent features that made attachment and detachment of a sidecar such an easy job; the adjustable bottom fork links for altering the trail, and the reversible rear wheel (plus a couple of extra chain links) that gave almost instant sidecar gearing. I used to pull in to a layby before getting on the motorway, change the gearing to solo in a couple of minutes, and set off up the motorway with the chair on solo gearing; wonderful! And fuel consumption back up to around 50mpg, rather than the outfit’s 40 or so.
The only other change I made to the bike was to paint the petrol tank green because I had no black paint left. This was in the late 1970s when ‘originality’ was all the rage, so there was much non-positive murmuring about this around the VOC. To my surprise, I received a letter from Phil Vincent himself telling me to keep my chin up – the very first machine he’d made had been sold with a green tank. So a little strip of Dymo tape (remember that?) went on the tank, saying ‘Approved by PC Vincent’.
Sometime around 1975, I saw something which entirely stole my heart away. It was long, low, covered in oil pipes (and oil) and exposed hairpin valve springs, and it went up the road like a scalded cat. It was, of course, a ‘plumber’s nightmare’, the Series A Vincent twin, and I was in love. I started hunting for one, especially after I blagged a couple of rides on two examples belonging to friends. I kept a dossier so I’d know where they all were, and eventually, in 1981, this bore fruit. Although I felt like a heel, I sold the Series C and, without a backward glance, headed off to Wigan pier. Long-term VOC member Bill Hancock (a man for whom I had great respect) had an A Rapide, 1938 vintage, for sale in pieces. Knowing of my search he had, after long deliberation, decided that I could have the bike – a decision for which I have never ceased to be grateful.