BSA A10 and Watsonian sidecar
Want to pilot a vehicle that makes children stop, stare and point, plus raises a smile on even the grumpiest of lockdown-wearied faces? Then you need a sidecar outfit!
Once upon a time, the motorcycle and sidecar was a common sight on our roads but, as the years have passed, so they have become less and less frequently spotted. Now, the only reason a child of 10 knows what a sidecar is, is because of Wallace and Gromit, and not that they go on holiday in one. Think about it? When did you actually last see a sidecar out on the road?
Even when I was a child 35-odd years ago and we’d go places by sidecar, there would often be other ones there, too. If we went on a motorbike club run, there’d be at least three or four other outfits, ranging from vintage V-twins to 1950s and 1960s AMC and Triumph offerings, both of which come easily to my mind. Nowadays, I can’t remember the last time I actually saw on outfit on a club run (apart from Banbury or the Pioneer, or one of the
‘big ones’ – I mean just a usual, local Sunday run out), now I think of it. Why have they so fallen from favour?
The common misconception is that, say, a Vincent V-twin or a Brough Superior was bought new by thrusting young bucks, eager to impress with the latest roadburner. Sure, a few were to find such clients – but by far the majority were pressed into service as part of a sidecar combination, a cut above the usual hordes of Triumphs, Panthers, and yes, BSAs, which were laden with parents, children, suitcases and buckets and spades; the overloaded, hard-working machines being utilitarian in the extreme.
There was more than one halcyon period for the sidecar. The first was in the 1920s, when pretty much every motorcycle maker made and marketed a combination – generally a big V-twin with matching sidecar, supplied as a going concern, with the maker of the motorcycle manufacturing the sidecar too. Then, there was another glory era after the Second World War, although by then nobody was supplying or cataloguing a complete outfit, made in house. Manufacturers would supply you with a machine and included sidecar gearing if so specified, but the chair itself came from one of the specialist constructors. Through the 1950s, this was the way things were, with chairs from sporty single-seaters to double adult offerings all available.
This machine was registered in June 1960 by its original owner, Leonard Arthur Cox, of Sutton, Surrey. Mr Cox’s deal to buy it from George Clarke (Motors) Ltd of Brixton Hill, London, included a £50 trade allowance for Leonard’s 1952 Ariel Square Four. In November 1960, TC Munday & Co. Ltd fitted a Watsonian sidecar to the BSA at a cost of £43-10s. In September 1965, Munday’s replaced this with the current Watsonian Ascot singleseat saloon, priced, with fitting charge, at £125-10s, and then allowed Mr Cox £40 for his old sidecar.
Leonard Cox was a lifelong motorcyclist who never owned a car. Having covered just over 10,000 miles with his Beesa, he gave up riding in 1988 aged 87, selling it to then Metropolitan police officer and now journalist and our occasional contributor, Ian Kerr. The Kerrs – Ian and his father – covered more than 5000 miles with the outfit before selling it (through Peter Rosenthal’s Pete’s Bikes business) to Malcolm Clark, of Rutland. The Clark family used the Nutley Blue BSA combination for carnivals, local shows and the odd pleasure jaunt for more than a decade before selling it back to Peter Rosenthal, the current and fourth custodian.
Other than general maintenance and repairs, the combination and all its fittings are untouched and its recorded mileage is genuine. In Peter’s ownership, the BSA is given occasional use, its appearance offering a true vision of times gone by, from the days when a sidecar was a common sight indeed.
“The combination and all its fittings are untouched and its mileage is genuine.”
History of the sidecar
For those with an interest in all things sidecar, the book to get hold of is Geoff Brazendale’s The Sidecar – A History, in which the author explores every facet of design and development, as well as an A-Z of sidecars, detailing what was made by who and when.
In the prologue, Geoff explains: “By the 1900s, the four-wheel motor carriage and the two-wheeled motor bicycle were established as road transport for the
20th century. Between these two types of vehicles lay a vast area for inventiveness in the quest for carrying a passenger.
“Forecars, trailers, tricycles and cyclecars would all have their devotees over the years.
“It was the Graham brother of Parade Motor Works, Enfield Town, London, who came up with a suitable economical and safe solution.
“On January 21, 1903, they lodged their patent number 1447/03 for a ‘one wheeled sidecarriage to attach to a bicycle or motorbicycle’.”
The sidecar was born. Ariel, in Birmingham were early adopters and obtained manufacturing rights from the Grahams. Soon, sidecar manufacturers were appearing all over the country, though, naturally, the Midlands and London were the epicentres, as this was where the industry and the people mainly were.
Watsonian starts
Founded in 1911 and still going 110 years later, Watsonian was founded by Fred Watson, a joiner and builder from Birmingham. The business grew rapidly, with Fred producing ambulance sidecars during the First World War and, following the cessation of hostilities and the subsequent boom in demand for transportation, Watsonian went from strength to strength.
There were setbacks, though, including a disastrous fire and subsequent necessity to relocate in 1930, and the tough economic times of the early 1930s. Fred Watson – who was nothing if not resourceful, making things as diverse as pedal cars and first aid boxes – kept the business afloat before handing control to his son Ron in 1944.
In his father’s spirit, Ron again looked beyond the obvious to keep Watsonian going (including supplying parts to Land Rover) and even built a prototype complete motorcycle with JAP V-twin engine, although it never entered production.
In 1956, Watsonian assumed control of its great rival, Swallow, while gradually coach-built sidecars were replaced by glass fibre offerings.
The Ascot
As described in Watsonian’s 1966 sales brochure, “special features of this most popular single-seater are the very wide full-length door allowing ease of entry and exit and the non-rust ‘Spelterfast’ steel fixed head. The frontal design allows a comfortable seating position and clear vision through the front windscreen for the passenger.
“A very pleasing modern two-tone colour styling cellulosed over the special non-rust ‘Spelterfast’ steel, and an outside opening rear locker of capacious size are pleasing features of this model.
“Heavy ‘Cobex’ windows, which will not discolour or crack, are provided. The front Perspex light is hinged to give varied openings and a separate roll-top hood to the canopy is provided.
“Every effort has been made to make the sidecar waterproof and completely draught-proof, and the rear deeply-sprung squab has been increased in height to give more shoulder support, and the seat is also upholstered in best quality leathercloth. The locker is fitted with a lock and Yale-type key.
“Luggage carriers and bumper bar are fitted as standard equipment, and the Ascot, finished in one of the various dual colour schemes, is illustrated upon our S V Mark IV chassis, but can also be fitted upon the Mark II chassis.
BSA and sidecars
There are some famous BSA sidecar outfits, hugely different in design and application. The most memorable is the side-valve M20 (500cc) and M21 (600cc) models, supplied in their thousands to the AA (Automobile Association) and paired with a yellowfinished sidecar (they were used from the 1930s right through until 1968), to be used as patrol outfits, the
BSA sidecar taxi – which teamed a huge, almost square sidecar with a V-twin side-valve model. And then, last but not least, the Chris Vincent-headed BSA sidecar racing boys, with Vincent’s 1962 Sidecar TT win seeing him pilot his A7 to a memorable victory, with Eric Bliss on board the Watsonian sidecar platform; for more details on this event, see elsewhere in this issue.
The traditional BSA one would associate with a sidecar is the tough, sturdy single-cylinder side-valve M21, which pretty much stayed in production simply owing to its suitability for that role. By 1960 – when Mr Cox plumped for the rather more racy twin-cylinder 646cc A10 – the old 21 only had three more seasons in the BSA range (where it had been listed since 1946), and the M21, like the sidecar outfit, was on its way out.
The days of the 1950s, when a motorcycle and sidecar was common transport and thus a common spectacle on the roads, were gone. When Leonard plumped for his new sidecar in 1965, he was in the minority.
Peter Rosenthal had brought the A10 round for me to have a go on and wasn’t letting it go until I tried a gentle ride on the outfit. Now, I’ve ridden/driven our family’s 1928 V-twin Royal Enfield combination many times (albeit not for some years), but that is a totally different animal to something like this BSA; the Enfield is more like driving an old car, with no special technique required... or perhaps better described as a completely different technique. It feels un-motorcycle like, anyway.
Clambering on board the BSA, it’s unquestionably a motorcycle, and a familiar feeling one at that. Though there’s an extra brake pedal down by the rider’s left foot – which needs daintier feet than my boot-clad attempts, I think, it’s all just standard A10. Apart from, of course, it can’t be leaned to go round corners.
There was no way I was tackling traffic on this one, so I contented myself with a few laps around the housing estate, which was enough to amuse me and secondly realise that it is an art requiring some practice.
Maybe I’ll get another chance, ideally on a great big, empty car park, for instance… It’s the unlearning of that which comes naturally to many who’ve ridden for years, but a bit of perseverance and practice and, I think, it could be fun.
Peter and his wife Rowena do use the combo, albeit sparingly, but it’s more what it represents that appealed to Peter; representative of a time and a place and still a wonderfully evocative sight, which brings a smile to people’s faces, be it either remembering trips to
Great Yarmouth, Blackpool or Weston-Super-Mare in their own childhood, or thanks to its association and evocation of a well-known and much loved claymation comedy.
Either way, the response is overwhelmingly positive. Perhaps we should encourage more outfits back onto the road?