Closer look – Granville Bradshaw part IV
Even into old age, Granville Bradshaw (inset) remained a whirlwind of creative activity. Only a small percentage of his output entered production, but he did enjoy success and is remembered for the earlier-covered ABC 3HP and Skootamota, oil-cooled Bradshaw engines, and yes, the Bond Minicar.
To date, this series has looked at Granville Bradshaw’s motorcycles and engines which entered production. Outside motorcycling and cars, he was involved in the design of much more, from amusement machines to aero development, and screws to marine components. Again, some went into production, others were patented but got no further – and lots remained as sketches. Alongside this work, lecturing and writing, he was called upon by makers to improve and/or modernise existing designs.
In this final part, we look at some of Bradshaw’s often advanced designs which never progressed, and an example of his design improvement work.
The GB Radial
In his correspondence to the motorcycle press readers’ letters pages and commissioned irregular technical columns, Mr Bradshaw regularly expressed the notion that motorcycle designers and development engineers should forget the needs of racing, sporting and competition riders and design machines for the everyday rider. His ideal motorcycle needed to be light, durable, easily maintained and comfortable. He was convinced such would sell in huge numbers, providing cheap transport to the masses and huge incomes for makers.
Although Granville Bradshaw’s work elsewhere took him progressively away from the motorcycle and automotive worlds, he continued to fill motorcycle press column inches with his flow of letters, ranging from praise to ridicule, and other offerings including his thoughts on engine cooling, lubrication, and both car and motorcycle ideal weights. Along with occasional contributions to Autocar, he supplied irregular features to The Motor
Cycle’s Technical Topics column.
Despite his stated levels of work, he continued to think of and sketch motorcycle designs, from a powerful 1100cc speedster weighing 250lb to ultra-cheap but quality built durable lightweights for Everyman. Later, he was to scheme similarly for the car world with his post-Second World War Peoples’ Car which, in appearance, has similarities with the modern Nissan Cube.
Another of Bradshaw’s fascinations and involvements was in the development of rotary aero engines. Alongside this, it seems likely he followed the design work of Welshman Charles Benjamin Redrup (1878-1961). Living in Barry, Glamorgan, Redrup established the Barry Motor Company in partnership with Alban Richards and, in 1905, unveiled the Barry motorcycle powered by a supercharged two-cylinder rotary engine, predating aero rotary engine designs by some years. After the First World War, Redrup designed a 309cc three-cylinder radial motorcycle engine.
A partnership with Monty Beaumont was established (plus other partnerships too) and up to 150 Redrup
Radial motorcycles were built 1919-1922. It is thought that larger capacities of this engine were made and as well as motorcycle applications, the 309cc engine was supplied for industrial purposes. The design not only worked but was smooth, as much later confirmed by the late Ken Blake, who rode his recreated example in the 1986 VMCC Banbury Run.
One can confidently imagine during the early 1920s that Granville had been fascinated by Redrup’s work and may have met him on occasion; they would have had much in common regarding motorcycle design. During the early years of the Second World War, Bradshaw sketched his idea of a ‘new age’ rear engined car with an air
cooled five-cylinder radial engine. Although never built, Granville published and discussed the idea in Autocar. Possibly linked and towards the end of the war, Monty Beaumont (with, probably, his son) built a prototype Peoples’ Car with three-cylinder radial engine.
Circa 1942, Mr Bradshaw sketched an update, The
GB, of his earlier ABC motorcycle, with a twin-cylinder flat-twin engine, shaft drive, swinging arm rear suspension controlled by torsion bar and damped spring, interchangeable wheels, long footboards for rider and pillion feet and leading link front fork. Rather than employ an update of the smart ohv ABC engine, Bradshaw suggested a compact, supercharged side-valve unit.
It is believed Bradshaw’s Second World War military work included industrial engine development of light, even-running units, and for this some imply Granville favoured the three-cylinder, 120-degree radial design.
Alongside this, he found time to sketch another GB motorcycle with transverse side-valve three-cylinder radial engine of unknown capacity, housed in a similar chassis to that of the 1942 proposed transverse twin. Seemingly, neither got beyond the sketch book.
In-line four
At intervals from the mid to late 1920s onward, Granville Bradshaw sketched updates of his ideal motorcycle. The backbone of these was an in-line, high-speed 300cc engine built in unit with a four-speed gearbox mounted in a long wheelbase chassis, with pressed steel frame and front fork blades, full suspension to both ends and deep padded seats for rider and pillion comfort. The machine would be inexpensive (£20 was quoted in the late 1930s), capable of 60-70mph and offer miserly fuel consumption.
Bizarrely, he also claimed in the 1930s that the extensive use of aluminium in motorcycle construction would halve its weight, compared with using predominantly steel and cast iron, and therefore half its production cost. As aluminium and many aluminium alloys have always been more expensive, weight for weight, than cast iron and common steel alloys, this seems strange reasoning. He claimed to save money with these designs by advocating aluminium alloys for engine block, casings and other components to save weight, and therefore production costs, but then favoured cast iron cylinder heads because, he claimed (citing his aero industry
research work) there was no heat dissipation advantage in using aluminium alloy cylinder head castings over cheaper iron. These stances flied – and fly – in the face of accepted understanding.
The Panther 200
In the autumn of 1937, Edward Turner and Triumph unveiled their new Speed Twin, an attractive, fast 500cc ohv parallel twin. Models were furnished to the Green Un and Blue Un, with Motor Cycling’s road test of CKV
59, which hit 90mph, published first. A day later, The Motor Cycle stated with a tail wind and prone rider, their tester reached 107mph. Combine these speeds with a test average of 65mpg, fast acceleration of the point and squirt variety and high speeds in the intermediate gears, it is easy to see why Turner’s Triumph became world-famous and left the rest of the motorcycle world floundering.
Rivals hesitated before joining the tide of parallel twin development – probably board decisions bolstered by the thoughts of engineers brought up on singles, who were claiming the Speed Twins would blow up in moments. They didn’t, nor did they wear out any faster than the singles of the period. And while not a bargain basement buy at £77-15s (dropping within months to £74), the Speed Twin compared favourably price-wise with Internationals Nortons, Scotts and the BSA M24 Gold Star.
Edward Turner was a man of style as well as a production line expert who minimised costs for volume manufacture. While the latter was important to rivals, the former was all that mattered to many Triumph buyers. Imagine yourself for a moment as a 20-year-old enthusiast with the capability to raise £77-15s. As you fired up with a single kick your new machine, finished in stunning Armaranth Red with lashings of chrome plate and Triumph’s distinctive tank badges, all backed up by enthusiastic Press reports, you’d become top dog. And on the road Speed Twin riders knew there was little except the expensive or special which could pass them.
A year later, Turner delivered his next body blow by unveiling the 100mph Tiger 100, in effect a developed Speed Twin delivering 34bhp at 7000rpm, distinctively finished with black chassis, again lashings of chrome plate, silver mudguards lined in black and silver sheen panels to the chrome-plated tank lined in blue. Priced at £80 (£8210s with speedometer), it again stunned.
In late 1938, Triumph were presented with the Maudes Trophy for officially observed exploits with a Speed Twin and Tiger 100 which lapped Brooklands at up to 84.41mph and 88.46 respectively. And with supercharger and engine development by his friend Marius Winslow, Ivan Wickstead upped his Brooklands Outer Circuit lap time progressively until he set a flying lap of 118.02mph, which stands for all time for the 500cc class at the Weybridge track. While Turner wasn’t keen on racing for promotional purposes, he wasted no time in publicising Winslow and Wickstead’s exploits.
Now the world wasn’t only floundering – it was stationary in the catch-up stakes. BSA soon took up the challenge in the design office, and educated observation confirms they had an ohv parallel twin up and running as
a prototype before the outbreak of the Second World War. It is known that BSA worked on its parallel twin designs during the later war years and were next (September 1946) to launch an ohv parallel twin, the 90mph A7.
What has all this to do with Bradshaw? Everything, because this background explains why two unexpected players, Bradshaw and Panther, entered the parallel twin arena. Unsurprisingly, they were soon tearing up the form book to set their offering in-line rather than transversely. What is surprising (considering their ‘troubled’ history with the Panthette a decade earlier) is they should want to jump back into bed together for this project. After all, the Panthette helped in no small way to bring them within a cigarette paper of the UK bankruptcy court.
Known as the Panther 200 or 500cc vertical/parallel in-line twin, the motorcycle’s engine was a case of it was and it wasn’t. If the war hadn’t started, P&M would have pitched this machine into Triumph’s ohv parallel twin marketplace. Arguably its engine doesn’t fulfil our ideas of a vertical twin engine because the power plant of the Panther 200 can be regarded as two 250cc ohv single engines with their crankshafts coupled, rather than using a common crankshaft. Even the precise method of coupling is unclear – was it chain and gears, or just gears? This apart, the Panther 200 ohv engine had separate barrels with a common cylinder head and rockerbox.
Despite the thoughts of Panther and Bradshaw as uncomfortable bedfellows, circa 1937 Granville worked on a bi-flex leaf spring frame for P&M using 500cc singlecylinder Model 90 engine for factory tester Joe Mortimer to put through its paces. It is claimed he broke a leaf spring bracket at a railway level crossing – these brackets weren’t Bradshaw’s handiwork. And it’s into one of these sprung Model 90 frames that the parallel twin engine was installed. On the road, the inlet manifold (fed by a forward mounted Amal carburettor) was blamed for uneven running; on one occasion the uneven running caused the transmission chain to snap, locking the rear wheel and pitching the hapless Mortimer on his ear again. Before the manifold problem was resolved, the world was again at war and the Panther 200 was forgotten.
The Bond Minicar
During his career, Bradshaw designed or was involved with a vast array of projects, including pulsation motors, the Omega engine with its doughnut-shaped cylinder, and tiny, 100cc side-valve V-twin Bumble Bee engines, which he described as “the engine of a thousand uses.” Some got no further than sketches, while others (including the Bumble Bee) made it to the prototype stage. He also offered himself, and was on occasions called upon to improve existing designs, including the work of his older brother Ewart for the Bond Minicar.
This was one of Granville’s more lucrative projects, but one he seemed ashamed of because he wasn’t a fan of the Villiers engines powering the Minicars. The project brought him to a crossroads; on one hand, he thought the Bond needed a better engine, but the Minicar ticked many of his boxes for the ideal Peoples’ Car. It was successful, and that Ewart had bailed him out financially on more than one occasion twisted his arm.
Lawrie Bond, founder during the closing years of the Second World War of the Bond Engineering Company, based near Blackpool, was ever inventive after the conflict. Soon his company was hand-making JAP speedway engine-powered 500cc racing cars. Then, in quick succession came a tiny car and a lightweight commercial truck. By 1948, the prototype Bond Minicar, powered by a 122cc Villiers three-speed motorcycle engine, was running – and Bond had orders for more Minicars than he could manufacture. He approached Ewart Bradshaw and his Sharps Commercials business to make them, but Ewart was reluctant. It appears Bond knew Granville in the
1920s and persuaded him to work on Ewart; Granville was over a barrel, as he’d long postulated the need for a car for the masses, and the Minicar was a big step in the right direction – albeit, in his opinion, with the wrong engine.
Somehow, the Minicar slithered into production at Sharps Commercials during early 1949, using Lawrie Bond’s prototype jigs and help from local engineering workshops. From the off they struggled to keep up with demand for the initial 310lb Minicar, powered by the 122cc 10D engine or, more often, 197cc Villiers engine. Caught unawares, Ewart knew he had to scale up production and improve the design, and the best way to do this was to buy all Minicar rights.
After some squirming, Lawrie Bond sold the Minicar lock, stock and barrel to Sharps Commercials. It is claimed that early models suffered problems including fractured axles, fatigue cracks to the body, and broken cast alloy engine mounts – even, it’s stated, engines falling
out… but only occasionally! Then the first Minicars had no front brake, cable and bobbin steering. A 40mph top speed was ambitiously claimed for the 122cc model and 50mph for the 197cc version, and despite promising sales, improvements to the Mk.A (hindsight model identification) were required.
During the first production runs, Sharps improved the Mk.A, then Granville and his partner Francesca Beavan King moved to near Crewe, renting houses. Granville set up a drawing office at Sharps but also worked from home on Minicar improvements, other non-associated ideas and writing columns under his own name and pseudonyms including Technicus. Apart from design rectifications, his progressive improvements included revising suspension, body design/strength, braking and steering at the expense of the Minicar putting on evermore weight. This and other work led to the Mk.B (1951-2), Mk.C (1952-6) and formed the basis design for all later models. While many of us overlook the Bond Minicar, it was in production from 1949 to 1966, during which almost 25,000, including light commercials, were built.
The Press
Variously, the Press was either friend or foe to Bradshaw. His long-time friendship with Ixion, (Canon Basil H Davies of The Motor Cycle) was cemented during and after the First World War. The clergyman, a keen motorcyclist, began admiring Granville’s design improvements to the fore-and-aft ABCs and then liked the transverse 3HP twin launched in 1919.
Other Press favouring Bradshaw’s work included Torrens, Cyclops, Erwin Tragatsch and some editors, although some may have been swayed by the controversy he fuelled, which filled many column inches.
Granville Bradshaw had many critics, probably at least one for every admirer of his work, and these included renowned automotive engineer Laurence Pomeroy (1883-1941), variously of Vauxhall, Daimler, De Havilland, ‘Slide Rule’ and TCM writer until his death, the late Brian Woolley. Taken out of context, Brian’s three-part feature (TCM, November 1990 to January 1991) offended some Bradshaw admirers.
Mr Woolley’s mission was to tell the Granville Bradshaw story as he saw it from a motorcycle engineer and technical author’s viewpoint. The TCM headline/standfirst ‘Persuasive Mister Bradshaw – Innovator, engineer or plausible rogue…’ was the work of the editorial team rather than Brian. This four-part series set out to relate some of Granville Bradshaw’s involvement in motorcycling.
Certainly, the imagination and poetic licence Bradshaw employed during his later lectures and writings bore little or no relationship with past reality, but without his imagination, he wouldn’t have achieved much as an inventor and development engineer. To avoid further rubbing salt into historical wounds, it is best to finish with the thoughts of his friend Ixion, who wrote in a 1932 column: “Granville Bradshaw was a brilliant genius with hosts of original ideas… but he needed reining in.” Or to put it another way, he needed a sense of grounding – sentiments not excusive to Bradshaw, and which could be applied to many innovators, inventors and free thinkers, from Galileo to Elon Musk, and plenty more.
Love them or loathe them, the world is more interesting thanks to their flights of fancy.