DMW DOLOMITE
Something borrowed, something blue. Rob Davies learns a little about DMW, a largely unsung hero…
Something borrowed, something blue. Rob Davies learns a little about DMW, a largely unsung hero from the past…
In this month’s magazine I am turning our attention to a rather delectable and superbly finished example of a twin 2-stroke 250cc DMW. A DM-what, I hear you say! And rightly too, for indeed I had never heard of one either before this encounter. So let me introduce the name Dawson’s Motorcycles Works – or it could equally be Wolverhampton – and it’s probably best at this point to take a peek at a how this company came about.
DMW, A Potted Visit
DMW Motorcycles of Wolverhampton was the result of a meeting between Leslie Dawson and Harold Nock during the latter years of World War Two. Dawson was a fairly successful grass track rider during the 1920s and 30s, and ran a small garage in Heswall, near Birkenhead. He was fond of building his own machines, many of which he termed ‘bitzas’ – bitsa this and bitsa that. During WW2 he helped train RAF mechanics and also did some specialist welding for Frank Whittle, who was developing the first jet engine. As a sideline he built and sold some DMW bike kits, which were bolton improvements – so at this time DMW stood for Dawson Motorcycle Works. In the same period he moved and opened a small garage in Bell Place, Wolverhampton, and this was where he launched the Dawson Telematic forks.
A year later, in 1943, Dawson started to produce an improved rear suspension kit, and then went into racing, where he used 350 and 500cc JAP engines. Desiring to expand with his innovative products, he decided to team up with Sedgley businessman Harold Nock, who owned Metal Profiles. Nock was at that time keen to expand into the motorcycle business, so the pairing of the two men was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Metal Profiles telescopic forks sold well and went to several motorcycle builders including Ambassador, DOT and Sun. In 1952, DMW as a manufacturer appeared for the first time at the Earls Court Motorcycle Show and paraded six machines; three road and three racing types. It is also important to note that DMW, in common with other manufacturers like Ambassador and James, decided to use engines made by another Wolverhampton firm; Villiers. I guess that this is because their strengths lay in making frames and other components, but neither had the capital or time to invest in the research and development that it requires to make a half decent engine.
If you are interested in finding out more about DMW, then The Motorcycle Museum has one example, and there is a very informative website giving a lot more of the company’s history.
A Fine Specimen
I came across this well restored example when I was following the story of Mick Holmes’ 1961 Bonneville – that appeared in RC178. Mick has a small but highly desirable collection of classic motorcycles that he has restored over a period of some thirty years. Once I had taken the photos of the freshly completed Bonny, Mick took me along to his inner sanctum – his garage. He then proceeded to cast off the multi coloured blanket to reveal a wondrously painted sky blue machine. And this is where the power of nostalgia comes in…
Nostalgia hits us all as we grow older. It’s that wonderful rose-tinted look back at the years of our youth, when we recall our first bike, our first job and, if we are lucky, our first kiss. Well Mick’s first motorcycle in 1963 was indeed a secondhand DMW Dolomite for £85. He had recently sold his first push bike, and had then looked longingly into the window of a Velo dealer on the outskirts of Wolverhampton … where he espied the two-fifty twin. He managed to get his father
to take out an HP arrangement – remember those? – and this bike taught him how to use a throttle, clutch and gears, all the important stuff. The bike served him well for eighteen months or so, until he moved on to more powerful bikes such as a BSA Super Rocket and DBD34 Gold Star.
Fast forward some thirty years to 1993. Mick was now keen to perform a serious restoration, and he wanted desperately to get hold of a copy of his first machine. In hindsight, this may have been his first mistake, for there were never many of these bikes made in the first place – possibly around 7000 altogether – and therefore they would be both thin on the ground and as a consequence very expensive. So scouring the ads in the papers – no internet then – Mick came across a certain Paul Gollins who had purchased the rights to the Villiers engines, and Paul who was also on the lookout for a DMW.
Months passed, until eventually, after contacting Paul, twisting his arm and offering a large sum of cash, some £600, Mick finally achieved his goal of obtaining a DMW Dolomite. Unfortunately – there is always an ‘unfortunately’ in these stories – the bike was in a bad way. ‘Junk’ was the word that Mick actually used. It was also missing several important parts, which included the seat, exhausts, downpipes, and headlight, all of which he had to obtain separately. This too quite a considerable time. If all this is putting you off restoring a DMW, that’s probably a good thing, for they – and their bits – are
super-rare.
The Villiers 250 engine when removed was handed back to Paul’s Villiers Services for a complete rebuild, which gave Mick the opportunity to start chasing, or indeed making those missing parts, stripping the frame, and getting that repainted. The first item on his list was the seat. Fortunately he had one to copy, so being a bit of a metal basher – skills from his own background – Mick set about cutting the steel sheet to size and then planishing it into the correct shape. I know nothing of this skill, but Mick explains that this is where one obtains a collection of hammers, both wood and metal, and bashes the sheet metal into shape over a leather cushion or shaped surface. I can only imagine the skill involved! The metal can also be shaped by putting it through rollers, apparently – ain’t the internet useful? The metal base was then correctly upholstered with the right coloured vinyl by Aldridge Trimmers, who specialise in classic car stuff.
The downpipes and exhausts had been made for other Villiers engined bikes, so they were purchased for £70. The Smiths speedo was also as fitted to other machines, so a secondhand item was bought and sent away for restoration. However, the paint for the frame and ancillary items like the headlight cowl and brake lever was going to be a tricky one. Fortunately – and there is always a ‘fortunately’ in these stories to offset the ‘unfortunates’, Mick had many years previously, while he had owned the original DMW, he had painted the knobs on his work box with the correct touch up paint. Who would have thought of that, eh? And so, his paint eye matched up those little blobs of colour with a more modern Datsun Sky Blue and hey presto – a very glossy and pretty finish. Then all the old chrome parts were re-done, including the handlebars which are fitted with the brackets for the clutch and front brake.
The DMW has some interesting features. The frame is essentially in two parts. The rear subframe is made from pressed steel sheeting, which helps to form the battery box under the seat, while the front part is made from square steel tubing. The two parts are welded together.
Instead of taking out the slack of an ever-stretching chain by the usual method, the DMW has snail cams fitted at the pivot point of the swinging arm. The engine is mounted on rubber coated bolts to take out some of the vibrations, while the ignition switch is fitted into the top of the timing case – but it seems to work OK despite the heat and vibration. Oh, and the rear wheel is quickly detachable with a neatly hinged rear mudguard that swings nicely out of the way. Good design for a 1950s bike. It makes it easy to understand the enthusiasm of those who choose to ride and restore unusual machines like this, no?