New CB recruit Julie Diplock on the Pioneer Run
Julie Diplock joins the CB ‘Our Classics’ team with tales from the 2019 Pioneer Run on her 1914 Triumph Model C Roadster
JULIE DIPLOCK
Julie’s an active participant in the classic bike scene, organising and participating in various events. We welcome her as contributor to CB.
I STARTED DESPATCHING on a Honda CB400N Superdream, the newest vehicle I’ve ever owned, and I’ve been working backwards ever since. I got my first British bike, a 1960 BSA Super Rocket, in 1985 and my oldest bike is now a 1914 Triumph 550cc Model C Roadster, while the newest is a ’91 Ducati 900SS. I like a contrast!
I’m an independent organiser of the South of England classic bike events at Ardingly, and Ashford and Romney Marsh in Kent (elk-promotions.co.uk). I’m also a member of the Sunbeam MCC (sunbeam-mcc.co.uk) which was founded in 1924, but the club opened up to all makes of machine from 1925 and is now the club for all makes of PRE-WWII bikes; it also maintains the Pioneer Register of pre-1915 machines.
The Sunbeam MCC has organised the Pioneer Run since 1930, at which time the newest machines on the run were just 15 years old. However, motorcycle design had advanced so much in such a short space of time that the ‘old crocks’ taking part in the run were practically unrecognisable from the current bikes of 1930.
The original starting point was Croydon Aerodrome, and it was so popular that crowds of spectators blocked the roads around Croydon and Purley to watch the bikes
‘THE BIKE HAS TO BE PEDAL-STARTED ON ITS STAND. IT ENTAILS USING THE VALVE-DECOMPRESSOR AND PEDALLING WILDLY’
setting off for Brighton. The event now starts at Epsom and has become something of an annual pilgrimage for vintage bike enthusiasts.
This year I opted to ride my 1914 Triumph on the Pioneer Run for the first time. It’s belt-driven with a Sturmey-archer three-speed hub and clutch, and is actually quite civilised for the year. It was purchased from a fellow Sunbeam MCC club member, but shortly afterwards needed a new piston which kept it off the road for a year while a replacement was sourced and fitted.
Arriving at Epsom after a pre-dawn start, with the Triumph stowed in the trusty Transit, we unloaded early. I always enjoy the racecourse – it’s a fantastic open space, and on a clear morning with a throng of excited riders, helpers and spectators clustered around several hundred pre-world War I machines the atmosphere is just superb, with a tingle of anticipation in the air.
Riding the veteran Triumph is always a bit of a challenge, including the starting procedure. For a cold start, you first prime the engine with fuel using the petrol dripper which delivers fuel straight into the cylinder head. Don’t forget to close the primer valve, then turn on the petrol and lift the tickler to prime the carburettor with petrol; it needs a lot of fuel to start. Then set the ignition to full, the air lever to closed and the fuel one-third open, at which point the Triumph has to be pedal-started on its stand. This entails using the valve-decompressor to reduce compression and pedalling wildly before dropping the valve-lifter and hopefully firing into life.
Once started, there’s always a bit of juggling around to keep the engine ticking over as the fuel level in the carburettor changes while getting the bike off the rear stand. While stationary, fuel evaporating from the carb body can lead to it icing up, even though the air temperature is well above zero, so it’s good to get going quickly. Off to the start – I always find this rather fraught, as the noise of the other bikes means I can’t hear my engine, and I dread stalling the bike in front of the big audience gathered to watch. This time, in my excitement I attempted to use the decompressor as a clutch, and stalled it. Luckily I got restarted fairly sharply, and got off to a good start.
On the road, the Triumph is a very comfortable machine, with a relaxed riding position once you get accustomed to the feet-forward footrests. Like many of these older bikes, it’s quite tall but light and narrow. For its age, the engine is responsive, so it’s easy to find your
own space on the road. Leaving a sensible gap means that the primitive brakes aren’t so much of a problem when a situation arises.
The bike has its gearchange lever mounted on the petrol tank, and there’s a foot-clutch where the rear brake lever should be, which is on the right-hand side. Most importantly, the manually-operated oil pump needs to be pumped every four miles, to deliver a shot of oil directly into the front the crankcase. Together with the three levers (which adjust ignition, fuel and air) the rider fulfils the role of a modern ECU and the oil circulation system.
So, in common with most veteran bikes it’s certainly not an easy ride, though it is truly satisfying when you get all the levers right and it’s purring along through the English countryside.
A stop for a breather and some socialising at Verralls Motorcycle Shop at Handcross revealed that I had lost a pedal somewhere along the route. The pedals aren’t needed for LPA (the manufacturer’s euphemistically-termed ‘light pedal assistance’) as I doubt you could ever pedal fast enough keep up with the engine, but I do find it difficult to start the bike unaided without them. Luckily, the proprietor Ian Hatton arrived shortly
‘LEAVING A SENSIBLE GAP MEANS THAT THE PRIMITIVE BRAKES AREN’T SO MUCH OF A PROBLEM WHEN A SITUATION ARISES’
afterwards, as he was riding his 1911 Fafnir. He quickly located and fitted a right-hand-thread pedal; I’d probably stopped at the only place in the universe still offering this level of service to a veteran.
The level of concentration necessary to ride the Triumph in modern traffic is huge; when this bike was new there were no traffic lights or roundabouts, and it was the fastest vehicle on the road. By contrast, it’s now among the slowest, and the minimal braking and ponderous controls make dealing with modern traffic and dodging potholes a challenge.
By the time I got to the seafront at Shoreham leading into Brighton, heavy traffic was building up and I was flagging. A slight amount of belt slip was slowing me down and I rode gingerly to avoid having to stop, adjust the belt and restart. Multiple sets of traffic lights demanded careful filtering and complete awareness of the many cars and bikes to navigate through. Luckily, I wasn’t baulked by jaywalking pedestrians or cut up by modern bikes filtering past me.
Finally, Brighton Pier appeared and, with a quick cutand-thrust over a gridlocked roundabout, I was over the finishing line along Madeira Drive, with a warm glow of satisfaction at finishing the run. Time for a cuppa!