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Newsletter of the British Motorcycle Owner’s Club, B.C. CANADA
Good Vibrations
Tiger under a strange sky near Enterprise NWT. All but stock
except for a hastily constructed oil cooler guard.
MAY 2015
Our gracious Ride ʻn Tune hosts Jim and Liz Bush. Thanks to Robert Smith and Alan
Comfort for the Ride ʻn Tune photos
The top photo is Garth Clareʼs meticulously restored 1957 Ariel Cyclone and below
is Geoff Mayʼs fabulous little Ariel single that ran for the first time in perhaps decades.
Both bikes made their first club outing at this yearʼs Ride ʻn Tune.
Ron Moropito sent in these random scenes from a successful Cloverdale
gathering. Well done Todd, yet another great swap meet.
CLUB INFO_____________
2014/5 EXECUTIVE
PRESIDENT
Nigel Spaxman
VICE-PRESIDENT
Bernd Behr
SECRETARY
Ian Bardsley
TREASURER
Patrick Jaune
REVIEW COMMITTEE
Wayne Dowler
Alan Comfort
Bill Sarjeant
Bruce Davidson
Rick Freestone
RIDES CAPTAIN
Bernd Behr
GOOD VIBRATIONS
Peter Dent
Ian Bardsley
Dates: June 26, 27 28 2015
Scenario: This will be a BBQ, food supplied, BUT the steaks will be
cooked by you.
Food: Strip loin steaks or 1/2 chicken, salad, potato, salad buns and
condiments. All food will be pre-ordered, paid will have preference,
there will be some surplus for drop-in people; ﬁrst come ﬁrst served
(about 10 meals)
Fees: Camping $10 (both nights if you come Friday) Meal, $15 (choice
of steak or chicken) If you come Friday I will do a supper of either
steak or South African farmer’s sausage ; not sure yet but I will need
to know from you. Cost, $10.
604 273 7736
604 930 7848
[email protected]
[email protected]
604 941 8164
[email protected]
604 563 0391
[email protected]
604 921 9788
604 431 0553
604 944 6200
604 462 8624
778 889 4855
[email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
[email protected]
604 930 7848
[email protected]
604 946 3132
604 941 8164
[email protected]
[email protected]
Fine Print
The West Coast British Motorcycle Ownerʼs Club (aka BMOC) is a registered not
for profit society dedicated to the preservation, restoration and use of British
motorcycles. Our newsletter, Good Vibrations, is published sporadically and is
intended to inform and entertain our members. Articles appearing in this newsletter
do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the BMOC. Technical and other
information contained in this newsletter should be treated with a measure of
common sense, as we cannot vouch for every word written.
We welcome all contributions from our members; ʻwantʼ ads and ʻfor saleʼ ads are
free to members and non-members. They must be limited to motorcycles or related
items. ʻFor Saleʻ ads are printed with the good faith that the sellerʼs description of
the goods is fair and accurate. The BMOC assumes no responsibility for the
accuracy of the advertisements.
Articles, reports, photographs and ads may be Emailed to: [email protected]
Visit the BMOC website, BMOC.ca for a full colour version of the Good Vibrations
and the latest event calender.
Help us keep in touch. If you have changed your mailing address, phone number
or Email address please email your current info [email protected]
For others that come: if you have friends that plan to attend please let
them know the arrangement.
Contact: Geoﬀ May 604 574 1605 [email protected]
membership rates:- Canada - $25, USA - $30
International - $40
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Cover photo: Geoff Mayʼs Ariel at the Rideʼn Tune gathering at Jim and Lizʼs house
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RIDE ‘N TUNE 2015
Peter Dent
This year’s Ride ‘n Tune was one of the best attended in recent memory. Not only
a healthy participation in terms of numbers but in terms of member input as well.
No random tyre kicking this year, no indeed, this was all about get stuff done and
my goodness, what a facility we had to play in.
Stepping into Jim and Liz’s shop is a bit like visiting Aladdin’s Cave; motorcycling
exotica abounds. Numerous projects are on the go, all in various states of
advancement. Curious nuggets of part machined metal intrigue the imagination
as to what their final form will take.........
But it all started off, as our events so often do, at the Big 6 greasy spoon diner. In
ones and twos they shuffled in, finally overflowing onto other tables. A big crowd
it was to be and just about everyone arrived on some classic British steel - an
encouraging trend of late we note.
Then the Ride; ah yes the Ride. Well, in spite of Bernd’s well laid plans it wasn’t
as any one of us had hoped for and in some cases, dressed for. A few miles in
and we were assailed by a freak hail storm that covered the road in slush before
waning into heavy, persistent rain.
This was not going well. The group pretty much fragmented as we all scattered
for shelter. The lure of coffee and doughnuts when weighed against the prospect
of teetering precariously around on slippery roads had us recalculating for the
general direction of Jim and Liz’s pad out in Langley and the assuredly warm
welcome that awaited us there. The weather was equally assuredly warmer by the
time we got there and the unprepared could dry out.
So much for the
Ride then. The Tune
on the other hand
was a Tune like no
o t h e r. S t u f f g o t
tuned for one thing,
lots of stuff, exotic
stuff, stuff that
hadn’t breathed fire
for 40 odd years.
Right there in front
of us Geoff May’s
1950
Ariel was
brought back to life.
There it was, merrily
chuffing away like a
good’n just as it
must have once
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done in Selly Oak way back in the day. It was born again and we rejoiced. Geoff
has done some great work with this glorious little single - persistent work too, as
he had to round up a good
few errant components or
rebuild some sadly
dilapidated, wor n out
pieces for this long term
project, but it is looking
good and well on its way
to completion.
Funnily enough, it wasn’t
the only debut Ariel there,
no, Garth Clare brought
along his recently
completed Ariel Cyclone
restoration. A rare machine
even when new, his ’57
version was nothing short
of spectacular. He worked
with Ariel expert and club
member Lyle Whitter and
between them they were
able to regenerate missing
or rusted and crumpled tin
wear - so often the bane
of a quality restoration along with the trim
that is often
specific to only a
few model years or just one indeed
- and impossible
to buy and very
tricky
to
reproduce. They
did it though, and
the more I
listened to the list
of parts that they
had recreated the
more impressive
the build became.
Both machines
glittered with
e x c e l l e n t
workmanship that
was clearly
painstakingly
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performed.
Brilliant.
Our own electrical wizard, Ian Bardsley is always in high demand on these
occasions. He has mastered the intricacies of the Lucas mag/dyno and other such
wonders of the age that confound the rest of us mortals to a state of despair. He
brought at least four of the tricky little things back from the dead which is pretty
darn impressive by any standard.
At one point I saw Alan Comfort firing great blue arcs of electricity with a TIG
welder at some tin wear that was showing its age. A bit of a clean up and a rattle
can paint job and it will be good for another half century of loyal service.
And that was how the day went; stuff was being done by so many people all over
the place - and how about that chili of Liz’s? There was a veggie compilation and a
Texas style version. I’m guessing the veggie version was good but I can say with
certainty that the bean-free stuff was nothing short of spectacular. (Just by the
way, I peddled over the Alex Fraser bridge twice on the following Monday to try to
offset all that calorie intake - a futile gesture no doubt, Tim Horton’s sticky fingers
are not so easily wrested loose).
Our thanks to Bernd Behr for putting the ride together and also to Jim and Liz for
being such perfect hosts. They allowed us into their inner sanctum and let us use
their quality equipment as though it were our own. In return we left oil spots on the
driveway and sticky doughnut finger prints on their tools. We all agreed, it was a
very good day. Thanks to Alan Comfort and Robert Smith for the photos.
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TIGER IN THE TAIGA
____________________
the meteorological synopsis for that neck of the woods. And there it was on the
Global News one evening: “strong high pressure building in the Mackenzie
region.........10 days of good weather anticipated”. Time to go.
Peter Dent
“Look what they give us” said the Northwest Territoryʼs Inspector of Bridges and
Drainage Culverts, his voice fairly dripping with distain at what he beheld. He
swung a boot at the ground to more adequately demonstrate his disappointment; a
handful of pebbles scurried across the highway, a small pall of dust rose up and, on
a fresh norʼeaster, gamboled off across the taiga - the swampy, coniferous tundra
of northern Canada.
I had an uncomfortable feeling that the ʻtheyʼ of “look what they give us” was
directed at anyone from south of the 60th parallel. Having established the ʻwhoʼ I
was not entirely sure at ʻwhatʼ it was that had so contracted his ire.
ʻDirt roadsʼ he clarified, rather uncannily answering the unasked question. ʻWe give
them diamonds, we give them gold and look what we get in return, dirt roadsʼ. The
last two words were issued like an insult.
You can get to Yellowknife entirely on well surfaced roads but to stay on the good
stuff it means you have to backtrack on the same road for a good few days when
you return.
The map showed a gravel alternative however, running from Fort Providence to
Fort Simpson and then down to Fort Nelson on the Alaska Highway that offered an
inviting change of scenery. Fuel looked marginal so I crammed a Canadian Tire
plastic can of the golden fluid into the saddle bags as reserve and, when the
junction revealed itself, took off on what suddenly began to feel like an adventure.
There is feeling of both apprehension and excitement that you get when the
pavement turns to sand - a certain hastening of the pulses as the wheels start to
twitch around under you on the loose surface; your mouth feels a little dry at first
and a question gets asked of yourself - is this a good idea? You are all alone,
behind you there is a well plied blacktop highway all the way home........ and yet
you donʼt take it...............
A little while ago I had taken my trusty 1050 Triumph Tiger for a swift spin up to
Yellowknife, NWT. No special reason, I was just out for a ride free from the cloying
restraints of traffic. A little camping, enjoying some smokey alfresco cuisine, the
open road and adventures new - you know the sort of thing........... . I had the bike
and camping gear pretty much ready to go and then I just kept myself appraised of
About to be redundant ferry approaches under the shadow of the impressive
Deh Cho bridge
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going to be an impressive new bridge that will give year round access to the
booming city of Yellowknife.
ʻOh yes!ʼ said the Inspector of Bridges and Drainage Culverts enthusiastically,
ʻindeed, that will help a lotʼ.
He began to warm to the subject; I could sense that he wanted to expound further
on it as he fumbled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and I stepped
gratefully into the exhaled stream of smoke as the wind whipped it away - the
morningʼs dousing of insect repellent was clearly wearing off and even the
briefest of respites from this annoyance was welcome.
ʻYes, the bridgeʼ, he reminded me incase I had forgotten the subject, ʻthat will
improve thingsʼ.
ʻTake for exampleʼ, and here he paused as he rummaged about in his mind for a
suitable one, ʻtake cauliflowerʼ - why not, itʼs as good a perishable as any. ʻIn
Ontario that will cost you about 99 cents, in Yellowknife that same cauliflower will
cost you $4 but at the end of the time when we are isolated, that very same
cauliflower can cost as much as $7. Itʼs the struggle we have to attract jobs too,
itʼs just so expensive to operate up here; we used to cut the diamonds we mine
right here but now we just export them uncut............
The Territoryʼs Inspector of Bridges and Drainage Culverts pounds his government
issued F150 down this very track on a regular basis. About halfway between Forts
is a picnic pullout. There was a water pump and an upturned cable drum to serve
as a table. It was a beautiful spring day and it was tempting to brew up a cup of tea
but a swiftly gathering squadron of insects had me thinking better of it. Only
movement can save you. That was when the F150 had pulled up and the Inspector
had subsequently expressed his disappointment over what he felt was an
inequitable distribution of wealth between Ottawa and the NWT. This is not an
uncommon theme and I was unsure how to answer the fellow.
“The new bridge will help?ʼ I tentatively offered up, a tad defensively, for his
appraisal.
The road to Yellowknife goes over the mighty Mackenzie River. In the summer itʼs a
ferry crossing and in the winter itʼs an ice road but there is period of about four
weeks between the thawing and the freezing when this sizable town gets cut off by
road altogether. However, rising up dramatically out of the tundra when I
approached the crossing point was the steel framework of what was obviously
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The Deh Cho bridge was opened a few months latter and the old ferry was finally
retired. The name, by the
way, is the Dene (say
Den-ay) First Nation word
for the river we call the
Mackenzie.
It was late afternoon
when I reached the banks
of the Liard river. Itʼs a
huge, murky and fast
running body of water,
Fort Simpson is just 30
kms away on the other
side. There was a ferry
but not much in the way
of a dock. They just seem
to bulldoze loose earth in
to replace that which has
been washed away by
the river. A few sheets of
much warped 8x4
plywood are donated
towards traction
assistance on what is a
long, steep climb up to
the road ahead; this is
4x4 country.
The ferry operator slams
Yellowknife city hall
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the vessel into the soft earth of the river bank and guns the motors to pin it there
against river flow; muddy water swirls violently around on the lee side. The ferryʼs
ramp drops amidst much clattering of chains and you are on your own.
The bike is the first off so at least I get to set the pace; momentum is key. Launch
off the steel deck and hit the plywood with decent pace, fishtail and roost when that
runs out..................
At the gas pumps in Fort Simpson the Tiger showed a meagre 17 kms left in the
tank - I still had my reserve can in the saddle bag mind you. They have a fine
supermarket stocked with a wide variety of fresh fruit and veggies. I was both
heartened and impressed; we hear of ʻnutrition desertsʻ in many parts of North
America where they live on canned and processed foods to the detriment of their
health, but as remote as Fort Simpson is, itʼs not forgotten.
The camping is excellent in the NWT. The sites are well situated and run by the
Territory. They are well appointed and scrupulously clean. I mention this at Fort
Simpson because the sign on the washroom door rather ambitiously requests that
patrons remove their shoes before entering. Whilst Iʼm sure we all strive loyally to
be model citizens and follow both the letter and the spirit of our laws, that might be
an unreasonable demand: itʼs still a public restroom after all, but it gives a fair
measure of the standards they have set themselves.
In northern Alberta I had to ride through a forest fire at one point. With flames on
either side it was a bit disconcerting but not as disconcerting as the herd of Wood
Bison that had commandeered the highway further up. These things are singularly
bad tempered and have been known to charge Kenworths. Note to self: fit very loud
horn before venturing out again.
Having shared an
adventure together the
1050 Tiger and I were
now firm friends; the
whole bike glittered
with the wings of
dragonflies and the
wheels, proudly caked
in the dust of the taiga
as they were, no longer
twitched nervously on
the dirt as they had
once done: no, now
they danced.
At the end of the next day I would join the cavalcade of motorhomes that ply the
Alaska Highway every summer, my little detour into the taiga complete. Overall it
was a fine trip and the all important weather was delivered just as advertised.
ROB BORDON
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FANNY B AND ME The story of two Canadian friends and their
European adventure in 1953 by Bevan Gore-Langton
.......their story continues ..............
OH IT’S GOOD TO GET UP IN THE MORNING
BIT IT’S NICER TO STAY IN BED.
I used to sing this song as a boy and related to the words and music. Dave and I
often disagreed on how early to get rolling, so he devised various means to get me
out of bed in the morning. The most effective one was to turn on the headlight and
tell me the battery was running down. This would make me furious and I remember
throwing my boots at him the first time. After that I had carefully selected rocks at
the ready but the cagey sod was either out of range or he would stand in front of
my motorcycle. It always got me going but there were few words exchanged
during breakfast
After leaving Hanover our plan was to explore Germany then carry on to
Switzerland, Austria, Italy and France. You were lucky if you owned a motor vehicle
in 1953 Europe and the few motorcycles we did see were mostly small capacity
machines like NSU , DKW, Hores or BMW. The last thing we expected was the
unmistakable sound of a large capacity V twin overtaking us. In a moment we were
flanked by this large growling monster bearing two US servicemen. They seemed
to be intrigued with our rig and rode with us for a few miles where we pulled over
to talk to them. The rider was a tall lanky southerner who lazily climbed off before
his passenger swinging his leg over the windshield. He had a large smile on his
face and his first words were “What the hail is that you’re ridin?” I told him it was a
British built Francis-Barnett. You sure got a load on that thang and it really
boogies, what’s its cubes? I did not know much about cubic inches so I took a
wild guess and
said maybe
pushing ten. He
looked thoughtful
and said “Holy
Jeez you guys got
guts!” I asked
where they were
heading and they
told me the
closest bar, and
asked us if we
wanted to join
them for a beer.
They knew their
way around and in
a few minutes we
were drinking the
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very best German beer in pleasant surroundings. Having come from Victoria
where it was necessary to be 21 years old to enter a bar and people had to drive
out of town to the Halfway House for a drink, this to me was my idea of civilized
living. The atmosphere and company was good so it was probably a couple of
hours when Dave reminded me we had better leave and find a place to stay. The
two fellows decided to ride with us a bit but they were better partners than riding
ones. They were constantly passing us and sometimes their engine would cut out
and emit a series of unsophisticated and incredibly loud backfires that would lift
Dave and me out of our socks. It became worse and finally after rounding a
corner we found them pulled over looking at a smoking engine. “Is everything
OK?” I asked. “Yep,” one replied, “we just stopped for a smoke and will catch up
with you guys later.” It was time to find a camping spot and we found a great on
about ten miles down the road. Before dinner I rode back and the two fellows
were gone so I guess they had sorted things out. I think it was the next day we
had another experience I won’t forget. It was very hot and we were riding the side
roads. Coming out of a corner I saw some cars in the ditch, one of them upside
down. On our right was a sloping bank with people sitting on it as if they were
having a picnic. In an instant it felt like both my wheels had come loose and it felt
like being on ice but it turned out to be a road repair and the oil had come to the
surface! I managed to work my way over to the side of the road and come to a
stop. We received a big round of applause from our audience on the bank and I
realized they were watching the show. Another car came around the corner just
missing another one in the ditch then went up the bank forcing some people to
scramble out of the way. Dave ran back to the corner to warn people but before
he got there a motorcycle came around and then the sickening sound of a bike
going down. It slid off the road into the ditch but unfortunately the passenger’s
leg was trapped under the machine and the poor girl was suffering.. Dave and
some people ran to help them and I stayed at the corner shortly to be joined by
people that saw the seriousness of the situation. As we left an ambulance arrived
and Dave told me it was an English couple on a BSA twin. It was a sad end to
their holiday but it
could have been
worse.
Dave
brought me this letter
written to his mother
that she had kept all
these years. It
includes details I
would not have
remembered
Left Dover
on Monday June 29th
bound for Ostend.
We met two RAF
chaps on the ferry
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with whom we travelled as far as Amsterdam. We spent our first night on the
continent under a railway bridge near Ghent. By noon the following day we had
arrived at Brussels. We took in the Royal residence and the Palais de Justice and
spent the latter part of the day and evening in Antwerp. It got rather damp that
night as we were sleeping in the open and there was quite heavy dew. Belgium is
frightfully expensive and people did not appear that happy. The next day we made
tracks for Rotterdam and found the people very friendly. We spent the night under
a railway bridge on a concrete footpath by a canal. The rebuilding in Rotterdam is
unbelievable and everything has been done in such a pleasing way. The next day
we met an Italian chap also going our way so now there were five of us, one
Italian, two British and ourselves. We rode to Amsterdam via Den Haag. That
evening being wet the five of us slept in the RAF chaps pup tent. The next day we
said goodbye to our companions and Bev had his flying club medical at the local
Aerodrome. In the afternoon we took in Arnheim and slept in the bushes near
Derventer. The eastern part of Holland is much nicer than the lowlands. We went
through the Dutch customs and unconsciously rode right past the German
customs whose gateway was up. We were quite surprised when we encountered
a roadblock put up just for us about ten miles inside Germany. We were taken into
custody and placed under arrest. Fortunately the commanding officer had a
brother in Abbotsford and he straightened things up for us. Quite something to
crash the German frontier! They really made a fuss over us.
When we got to Bremen that evening we got a hotel room for about a
dollar each. It is really an eye opener to see the damage done to Germany’s two
largest seaports, just nothing left. After a terrific sleep we headed to Hamburg on
the Autobahn. These roads are terrific, a four lane ribbon of concrete that runs in a
straight line as far as one can see. Entering Hamburg is one of the most disturbing
sights I have ever seen. For literally miles there is nothing standing except the odd
gutted building. We spent the night in a pine forest..............
To All Motorcycle enthusiasts.
Riondel campout for 2015 will be July 10, 11,& 12.
Roindel is on the East shore of Kootenay lake, 10km North of Kootenay Bay
Ferry terminal. http://www.campriondel.ca/
We have booked camp sites 1 to 9 and 38 & 39. The camp cost is $10.00 per
tent per night, there is plenty of room for the 40 to 50 of us that are there each
year.
Smitty is putting together a T shirt with a rendition of the 1915 James Motor
Cycle that is ridden around the campsite each year. Email your order to Mark
Smith at Duckyss99@Hotmail. Com ([email protected])
Saturday night supper will be a provided at the camp site, probably Pizza and
Trifle, at a reasonable amount to cover cost.
This event is a not a club sanctioned event, everyone is welcome, just show up
and look after yourself.
Pass this on to all Motor Cycle enthusiasts.
Mark Bird.
250-863-3980.
BOOK REVIEW
“Greeves - The Complete Story”
Author: Colin Sparrow
Published by The Crowood Press, The Stable Block, Crowood Lane, Ramsbury,
Marlborough, Wilts SN8 2HR Tel.: 01672 520320
Email: [email protected]
HYPERLINK "http://www.crowood.com" www.crowood.com
Hardback, 260 x 215mm, 224 pages, with 299 colour and black and white
photographs.
ISBN 978 1 84797 7410
£29.95
In 25 years, Greeves produced around 25,000-30,000 machines – a number
considered relatively modest when compared with some of their contemporaries,
such as Triumph.
However, Greeves were not small in ambition, or indeed
achievement, which is resoundingly illustrated in Greeves – The Complete Story.
From a tentative start in the early 1950s, Greeves expanded through the 1960s,
producing scrambles, trials, road racing and road bikes. Founders Bert Greeves
and his cousin, Derek (Derry) Preston Cobb, produced machines from their factory
at Thundersley in Essex, establishing a world-wide reputation in motorcycle sport,
particularly in off-road competition.
Greeves-mounted Dave Bickers won the
European Motocross Championship in 1960 and 1961 and numerous ACU
Scrambles Stars. The trials bikes were consistent front-runners in competition and
were a leading influence in the move from big four-stroke to lighter two-stroke
machines in competition use. Greeves bikes, ridden by Don Smith, won the
European Trials Championship in 1964 and 1967, and in 1969 Bill Wilkinson rode to
victory in the Scottish Six Days Trial – the last British bike to achieve that honour.
With an ever-increasing reputation for success, Greeves machines were to be seen
in high numbers in the International Six Days Trial (ISDT). Works machines were
included in one or more of the British International Trophy or Silver Vase teams in
every year of the 1960s. In all, 41 ISDT Gold Medals were won on Greeves
machines. In 1963 Greeves put a 250cc
road racing machine, the “Silverstone,” into
production. Intended as an inexpensive
clubmanʼs mount, it nonetheless succeeded
in winning the lightweight Manx Grand Prix
in 1964 and 1965, and numerous shortcircuit races. Greeves also made some
very attractive, top quality lightweight
roadsters with superb roadholding, utilising
technology developed in competition. A
detailed history of Greeves motorcycles
from the early 1950s to the 1970s, which
includes production histories and
specification details for all the main models
plus world-wide motorcycle sport success
and hundreds of photographs throughout,
this is an ideal resource for anyone with an
interest in these classic British sporting
motorcycles.
Book reviewed by Jonathan Hill
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