store cupboard special
The end of the road is nearing for the Velocette born in lockdown.
After two months where Dave Manning has kindly taken the weight off me with these features – thanks Dave – and where we’ve enlisted some specialists to add gloss to our (well, dad’s) endeavours, it’s back to me to present what should, if all goes to plan, be the last couple of episodes in the tale of this Velocette’s rebirth – or arguably birth, as it has been built largely from parts.
While the seat and petrol tank were away, there was a bit of fettling going on in the meantime. After we’d published the pictures of the project ‘dressed up’ it was apparent and obvious that the punched-on-the-snout appearance of the front mudguard was going to prove bothersome, so dad set about improving the situation. Longer stays were the decided upon solution, so he set about making some from tube, with the ends flattened and drilled to suit. These were duly painted black and fitted – it looks much improved.
Really, though, there wasn’t an awful lot left to do, so while I got on with the job of moving house, the Viper stayed at dad’s, until I was finally able to transfer it – and goodness knows how many other waifs and strays that have been billeted here, there and everywhere – to my new abode. Which, happily, has a decent-sized garage. The premises are still a work in progress, but it’s nice to be able to welcome home some old friends, and one or two foes… As with all these things, I seem to have increased the numbers further, with dad saying he’s not really too bothered about keeping his Bantam (see TCM, November 2020) so that’s come to live with me, while a friend on the move was selling something which he was keen for me to have… But we’ll come to that in a bit.
First things first. With the seat posted back to me from the kindly folk at Bespoke AutoWorks and John at Vale Paints having done his fabulous work, it was left to me to have a day trip up to the other side of Mansfield to collect the gleaming black and gold (I’d toyed with other colours but I’m now pleased we went black and gold) item from him. After a cuppa and a natter, I was heading home, the carefully wrapped petrol tank nestled on the back seat, and strapped in…
As soon as I got back, I couldn’t resist a mock ‘fitting up’ session – see picture – and that showed we were on the right lines. Dad was concerned about the apparent lack of secure mounting, so had come up with a bracket that attaches to the back of the petrol tank. He’d done
all this before the tank went off to John for painting; we didn’t think to photograph how it all worked. You’d think we’d learn.
Anyway, on a baking hot day, dad popped round and we spent far longer than is desirable getting the flipping tank to fit.
Dad had made a bracket which is rubber mounted and picks up on the end of the bolt that is for the head steady. Of course, it all looked obvious when we took it off and apart, but now it was anything but obvious – while every time we offered it up, I winced as the tank was put on, underneath the handlebar clamps. Luckily we eventually got the whole thing to fit, with no damage to the top of the tank. Phew.
Petrol tank in place and secured – I’d bought new bolts and rubbers for the front of the tank ages ago – it was time to fit the new petrol taps, which, again had been bought ages ago. Confusingly they don’t have an on position, just off and reserve. I don’t really understand, but as there’s one either side, it will mean it will run with just one on (in the reserve position) while the other will act as a true reserve. They also seem to work the other way up to what one would logically expect, insomuch as vibration would cause them to move to the ‘off ’ position, rather than ‘on’ which I’d always thought was the norm. Still, as long as they don’t leak, it’ll be fine.
The left side one went on without issue – then it was time to fit the right side one and, of course, the oil pipe was slap bang in the way. Taking the tap apart so it would fit, I promptly dropped one of the tiny little screws, so another few minutes scrabbling around trying to find that. Why is nothing ever simple?
Anyhow, we got there in the end and without further ado. The front under tank fixing was easily secured and the Velo now had a petrol tank in position, with the fuel pipes all connected up and, I must say, very smart it looked too.
Next, it was time to fit the seat, which has been on and off a few times, though never properly secured with the petrol tank in place. It has a nose fixing as well as behind where the rear shock absorbers are fitted. It takes a little bit of springing to fix in place, but it goes on. I’ve always been a little concerned about its line and do think it perhaps sits a bit high. From the saddle, it feels pretty comfortable but I reckon I’ll drop the nose a bit, and also perhaps the rear, just to try and get the line a bit better and nestle it further into the frame. The problem this creates, though, is that the voltage regular is under the nose of the seat, although this can fairly easily be moved. However, all in all, I’m pretty pleased with how it’s starting to look.
One thing about its appearance which has always bothered me, is the unsightly gap where, on a Thruxton, the Amal GP would imposingly sit. To get the carb into that space, the oil tank needs to be mounted lower, while I’ve no real need to do such an operation. But the gap just annoys me a bit. To the extent, that I’ve started coming up with ways to possibly fill it – the latest ingenious idea being an air filter. I bought one for about £6.99 off eBay, just as an
experiment and to see if it’d work. It won’t quite fit as we are, but I have a large heatreducing space between the head and the carb, so perhaps swapping that might mean there’ll be just enough room for the filter to go in; although it’ll not fill the gap completely, it’ll perhaps look a bit better.
Looking at the bike as a whole, there are odds and ends that need doing and improving – I’ve still yet to sort out a
speedo and bracket, though I may just put a cheap cycling one from Halfords on to get me on the road – while I need provision for carrying tools, too. A standard Velocette toolbox is probably the answer, but I like the look without that gap filled in, so am considering other options. With hindsight, the space under the seat hump could’ve maybe been ‘repurposed’ while I’ve also been half devising a way to use that space for carrying a few bits and bobs.
Still, the end of the road is nearing. There are bits to do and improvements to make –
I’d love a twin leading shoe front brake, for example, while I also think I’ll swap to flat ‘Vincent’ bars, as it’s nice to be able to see over the hedges. The awkward gear lever is, well, awkward, but they all seem to be like that, although we may have to investigate. We shall see. Longer term, I’d also like a twin clock set-up, so add a rev counter, again mainly for aesthetic purposes. Then even longer term, as this is a bike with no provenance or history, we might go down the road of some more extreme modifications – but that’s all for another distant day. Because in the meantime, we’ve welcomed a few new projects to the fold…
My pal Jim is in the process of moving house and for that and various other reasons, he’s having to get rid of some of his stuff. I’d wanted his B44 initially, but he didn’t want me to have that – he had another plan. Why not buy his Bonnie? Well, it’s twice the price of the B44 was my retort, but he’s a kindly soul and so we agreed a ‘payment plan’ which sees me having taken delivery of the 1966 Bonneville. It’s in lots of bits and there’s a bit to do, but he’s done quite a bit already, including the tank being painted and the cycle parts, too. I’m excited though – I’ve never owned a Bonneville and it’ll be fun to get stuck in. Hopefully.
The Bonnie was collected on the Sunday, while the Saturday my brother Simon and I had been down to see another pal, Ian, to collect two bikes from him that Simon has bought – again, in bits. These are a 1937 250cc Velocette MOV and a 1931 Model 9 Sunbeam, both mainly there but dissembled years ago. Now that we – dad, Simon and I – all live within a few minutes of each other, we do tend to egg each other on more than before; well, Simon and I do, dad just quietly despairs as we wheel another barrow full of bits round to his for him to get stuck into; he loves it really…