Samurai Code: Fuller Moto's 'Shogun'

[Originally published in Cycle World, Nov.16 2016]

There’s a lot of loose talk about ‘motorcycles as art’ in this red-hot Custom bike moment, but sometimes, the shoe fits. That seems a function of time invested as much as styling or fabrication chops; with dozens of talented builders vying for global attention, some great, near-great, and not great motorcycles are delivered to your inbox daily. The best have tremendous artistry applied, and a very few – usually with years and thousands of hours invested – transcend the motorcycle genre, rising to the realm of art, where function no longer seems to matter.

Looking amazing from any angle, the humble Honda has evolved into a custom for the ages. [Michael Lichter]

Bryan Fuller thinks he’s finished with his ‘Shogun’, but after 8 years collaboration between 3 artisans at the top of their game, perhaps (like DaVinci’s dictum about art) the trio have merely abandoned the Honda CB550 in an exceptionally beautiful state. Fuller won’t add up the hours involved, nor the expense of working with a top-tier commercial graffitist (Totem) and master engraver (Tay Herrera) for so long; he only claims ‘This is the most expensive CB Honda ever.’ Even the handgrips, each thread woven then plaited by a traditional Samurai sword maker, took 2 years of patience from Japan. We haven’t seen this level of attention to 2 wheels since Ian Barry’s Falcons.

Compact, sweetly butch, and covered in tattoos, just how you'd like to meet someone at a bar. [Michael Lichter]

Like Barry’s outrageous creations, the Shogun’s shape is not the point; squint your eyes and it’s another well-done CB café racer. Zoom in on the details, though, and you’ll have a pleasant sequence of ‘oh s**t’ moments. I don’t recall seeing dragons carved – not cast or painted - on wheel rims before, nor any kind of engraving on the actual hubs. Those were the first parts Fuller sent to Tay Herrera, which he promptly refused; ‘Nope, can’t reach it, can’t be done’, says Fuller, ‘we argued cross-country for 3 weeks, and he still says carving the hubs was near impossible.’

The taillight is a mind-blower, and nicely incorporates Fuller's logo badge. [Michael Lichter]

The imagery Herrera carved was Sharpie’d onto metal by Totem, as Fuller finished parts and handed them to his fellow Atlanta artist. ‘The Kanji is all about the art of metal’, explains Fuller, ‘on the forks legs, one side is ‘art of’, the other side is ‘steel’. The headlamp says ‘illumination’, the ignition cover is ‘speed’, the clutch cover is ‘power’; the seat says ‘the god of wind’ - a little joke. The Samurai on the tank is fabricating in metal; on one side he’s cutting, on the other he’s welding up a Koi fish; portraying the 4 things you can do with metal, beat/cut/bend/join, that’s the usual metalworking theory.’ The story might be Metalwork 101, but the execution makes the Shogun itself a totem to the art of creation.

Dragon rims, anyone? [Michael Lichter]

The bones of the Shogun are pure Fuller Moto and built for speed, using his own custom chromoly frame and swingarm, and hand-formed tanks. The formerly plastic Honda head- and tail-lamp buckets were cast in aluminum by Fuller so they, too, could be carved up. The motor was pumped to 600cc and flowed by John Kaase Racing, and Honda supplied racing CR controls and brakes, so the machine is Sho and Go, and when the project has been complete enough to ride, Fuller has ridden it as a work in progress. ‘I rode it to Sturgis 8 years ago as a café racer, before that was common – I was worried the Harley guys would beat me up.’

The obsessive detail is what separates Fuller's work from ordinary neo-customs. [Michael Lichter]

Four years later, when the tank and seat were finished, he returned to Sturgis for the ‘Ton Up!’ café racers exhibit I co-curated with Michael Lichter, and the Honda was already impressive. It took a further four years to make the Shogun a masterpiece. That’s hardly a viable production schedule, but to Fuller, that wasn’t the point; ‘The essence of building something really great is the time – how long does it take to write a great novel? If it took 20 years it didn’t matter.’

A Daimyo, a traditional Japanese figure, hammered into the aluminum fuel tank. [Michael Lichter]

The Shogun is now for sale, but it was never about the money for Fuller, it was the remarkable collaboration with Totem and Herrera. ‘All 3 of us are in our mid-40s - we’ve apprenticed, we’ve been trained, the bike is a combination of 3 mature artists, which is really unusual. But it’s still really raw; there are a lot of flaws, but people aren’t perfect, and art isn’t perfect.’ But those wavy hand-carved lines, hammer dings, and scratches give the Shogun a wabi-sabi perfection, and make it irresistible to the eye. It was 8 years well spent.

Hand controls treated like samurai sword hilts. Outstanding. [Michael Lichter]
The leatherwork is as good as the metalwork. [Michael Lichter]
Breathtakingly beautiful metalwork. [Michael Lichter]
 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

John Player Norton - My First Motorcycle

By Steven D. Black

I used to think that Nortons were mythical motorcycles—that they existed only as a pretend brand name in Dan O’Neill’s Odd Bodkins cartoon strip, run in the San Francisco Chronicle. When I was in high school, I lived in Sonoma, which is in the valley just east of Petaluma. Back then Petaluma was crammed with chickens, chicken coops, and chicken processors, so it was especially funny to see a cartoon Norton break down and strand our heroes in the Chicken Capital of the World. These days the coops are gone or (rarely) renovated as workshops and outbuildings that have absolutely no function related to chicken husbandry. I was also stimulated by O’Neill’s concept of the Magic Cookie in the gas tank—such a Cookie could actually send a Norton to Mars, even if Nortons were mythical beasts.

Steve Black taking his motorcycle license driving test on a borrowed BSA A50 Cyclone in 1973. [Steven D. Black]
So, although I liked motorcycles and in high school learned to ride on a BSA A50, I hadn’t actually realized that Nortons were real. Years later I was driving home to Sonoma and a perfect green Norton Commando Fastback rumbled by my rolled-down window. I was incredulous; Nortons were real! I knew I had to have one, but money remained an obstacle for some time. By 1978, though, I was a graduate student at Berkeley making a heady $325 a month. Then I had a chance to be a teaching assistant for extra money, lots: $1700 for three months’ work. At the time none of this was taxable, so here was a stash in the making. My friend Henry and I spent many hours discussing the merits of Triumphs vs. Nortons, but each of us was already convinced. Henry wanted a new vehicle for once in his life, and that meant a Bonneville [still available new in '78 - ed]. I wanted a Norton.

John Galavan, owner of TT Motors in Berkeley, an emporium with a rich history, a cultural center of sorts for moto-heads. [John Galavan]
At that time in Berkeley there was a wonderful British and Italian bike shop, T. T. Motors. It had a friendly, almost club-like atmosphere, and Henry and I obsessively checked out their offerings. One night we got stoned and walked down to T.T. to ogle the bikes through the display window. A yellow Ducati 750 Sport was up on the plinth, and it was like seeing God. To this day I believe the 750 Sport to be the most visually perfect motorcycle ever made. Henry and I since have owned four Ducati 750s between us, and a couple of 250s. At the time, Ducatis were like things from another planet—unobtainable—but we knew we could buy Big British. I rode one of T.T.’s used Nortons, a $1400 black roadster with open 34 mm Mikuni carbs, and almost bought it, but it just wasn’t the bike. I remember wondering what I had gotten myself in for when I tried to start it. I kicked down and the lever didn’t move. I tried again. It moved a little bit. The salesman wasn’t impressed, but he gave me a dollar to buy gas. It was great to finally ride a Norton. Sometime later I saw an ad in the Chronicle’s Motorcycle Classified Ads, mis-listed under the letter 'J.'

The actual ad for a 'John Player Norton' in the San Francisco Chronicle. [Steven D. Black]
Five million miles did seem like a lot, but I was intrigued. When the garage door lifted and I saw the bike from a 3/4 rear view (its best angle), I wanted it instantly. I was 24, it was a ’74, and only had 4K miles...but I had no idea of what to look out for, nor just how much damage can be done in 4000 miles by a cocksure mechanic.

A 1974 Cycle World full-page ad for the John Player Special. Its superb bodywork mimicked the factory Norton racing team livery, with distinctive twin headlamps. It was criticized for being 'just' an ordinary Commando beneath that skin, but remains an iconic factory cafe racer. [The Vintagent Archive]
Lots of people were looking at the bike, as genuine John Player Special Norton Commandos are rare, so I arranged to buy it for $1700 through the seller’s friend and agent, Victor Gozella. Victor, I do remember your name, because of all the little “Gozella tuned” stickers festooned on the bike. I don’t remember the name of the actual owner, poor guy, who'd been paralyzed in a dirt bike accident and was sad to sell his Norton. As is so common with bike deals, it was hard to consummate. The bike was at Victor’s garage, the owner in bed some 30 miles away, and the San Rafael branch of Great Western Savings wouldn’t honor a Great Western money order. We had to drive 50 miles back to Napa, cash the money order that I had purchased a few hours earlier, and return to San Rafael. Finally Victor, Henry and I went to collect the bike, which stayed put for a while as all of us tried to start it. A push-start worked and I was off, one Dunstall Decibel Silencer bobbing up and down because Victor hadn’t gotten around to fastening it properly. I just wanted to get out of there. I do recall that Victor had “checked the oil,” and, finding the oil tank empty, had poured in three quarts. Of course the crankcase already had three quarts, so at least I could be vaguely satisfied that Victor had to clean up the redundant volume that was vomited out the breather.

'The Wall', a parking spot in the Berkeley hills on Grizzly Peak Blvd, as famous among local motorcyclists as Mulholland Blvd in LA. From The Wall facebook page. [Steve Louis]
That night Henry and I went for our first ride together in the Berkeley hills, and the exhaust pipes fell out of the head. Victor hadn’t quite gotten around to tightening the exhaust nuts and I hadn’t understood that they needed to be checked. Despite the darkness and my complete naïveté, it was clear from the incredible machine gun-like sound that there was a problem. The threads in the exhaust ports were buggered, so we ended up loosely wiring the collars on and the next day I took it to T. T. Motors. Dan Batchellor, whom I will always think of as “Mr. Norton,” chased the threads with a set of enormous taps and remounted the exhaust system. When he started the bike, he told me that the kickstart lever needed replacing and—from the vicious kickback—that the auto advance unit had probably been welded on full advance, “a foolish thing to do, but people do it.” This first week of Norton ownership was getting expensive! I have since learned this is not unique to Nortons, particularly if one has a tendency to buy absurd motorcycles such as Velocettes.

Despite the learning curve, she's a keeper. Steven D Black's John Player Special in 2015, still looking amazing. [Steven D Black]
Until I had the money for a new kickstart lever, which cost a fifth of my monthly salary, Dan told me to be careful starting the bike. Poor Henry was the designated pusher. If we didn’t stop on a hill, Henry had to push the bike with me on it, then jog back to his Triumph and kick-start that. Since this wasn’t always a sure thing, sometimes it took quite a while for the two of us to get going. We also discovered that the two bikes had rather different niches—the Triumph favored winding roads with tight corners whereas the John Player Special came into its own at higher speeds. Highway 1 along the coast was an incredible rush on the Norton, but the sustained high speeds were not as much fun on the Triumph because of its punishing vibration. Henry had replaced the rubber handlebar mounts with steel ones for better steering response, and the vibes were fierce. I could never keep up on tighter roads. In part this was because I knew nothing about countersteering at the time—how I actually steered the bike I really don’t know, but it was not a fast process. Sometime later Henry and I read about countersteering and we tried it. What a revelation! But he still left me for dead on tight roads.

The original John Player Specials: a set of factory racers, some with monocoque chassis construction, at the National Motorcycle Museum in Birmingham UK. [Paul d'Orléans]
Now it was time to ride the bike up to Sonoma to show my parents, who were so far unaware of my adventures. The next Sunday morning I set off from Berkeley. All went well until I got to Vallejo, where I got stuck in a Veterans’ parade! The Norton quit while I was creeping along behind a high school band. It was surreal watching them walk away from me. I spent three hours, off and on, trying to start it, until finally I accepted that the battery was stone dead—idling in the parade had drained what little juice the corroded thing possessed. I called my father, who was just sitting down to lunch. He had opposed my buying a motorcycle, and I remember wincing as I told him that my jewel had died and that I hoped he would bring the truck and rescue me. If ever there were a time for a father to say “I told you so,” this was it.

The inspiration behind it all, one of Dan O'Neill's Odd Bodkins comic strips, when Norton was clearly an Atlas or 650SS model. [The Vintagent Archive]
I still admire his tact and forbearance, for he merely said that he was sorry and that he would stop by the Parks’ Yamaha shop and pick up some kind of ramp. In the meantime, to my surprise (since I had assumed I looked threatening by virtue of the motorcycle), the little old lady in front of whose house the Norton had settled invited me in for pastries and tea! When my father arrived, he noted that the Parks had displayed much mirth over my choice of motorcycle. Their tune changed, however, once they saw the bike. They and their next-door neighbor Charlie, who at age 70 still rode his son’s hopped-up Bonneville, put in many hours showing me how to care for my Norton. One of Charlie’s points was that “Limeys are very particular about their timing.”

Baby-faced Steve when he first purchased his '74 John Player Special Norton Commando, circa 1978. [Steven D Black]
How right he was, especially if you time your Norton at exactly 28° BTDC on the exhaust stroke, as I did while replacing the auto-advance unit. The wiring was funky and there were all manner of cross-threaded fasteners (a stripped drain hole in one of the forks is still problematic). Literally everything that had been touched had been screwed up in some way. The clutch center nut had been removed and replaced using the punch method and was so knackered that I had to walk it around with a chisel. The oil filter was so tight that my dad and I had to hoist the entire bike into the air to get enough room to pierce the filter with a giant screwdriver and lever it off. All gasket surfaces had been liberally smeared with silicone sealer, and it always amazed me that a cover could leak so much oil and yet be so hard to remove. The outer gearbox cover took an entire morning. I had to use razor blades to saw through the gasket around the entire perimeter. The “Gozella tuned” stickers were also hard to remove, but careful work with a hair drier got them. It’s funny, now I wish I had one of those stickers to put in my Shrine of Horrible Motorcycle Catastrophes. This is a large shelf in my garage.

Steve's 'Shrine of Horrible Motorcycle Catastrophes' sounds very much like Burt Munro's shelves of 'Offerings to the God of Speed.' [The Vintagent Archive]
Some hardships were my own making. The first time I changed the fork oil, I didn’t have a centerstand (the previous owner had thrown it away when he mounted the Dunstall exhaust), and so the bike was leaned over on its side stand. The instant that I got the second fork nut unscrewed –bang– the front end dropped and the bike landed on top of me. I didn’t want to screw up the fairing any more than it already was, and I knew my mother was inside the house, so I turned on the key and signaled S.O.S. on the horn. Henry also got to see me protecting the fairing in this special way. One night in the Berkeley hills, I heard a scraping noise, looked down, and saw that the sidestand was down. As I pulled over to the gravel shoulder I locked the front wheel, and –bang– I was under the bike instantly. Henry, as usual, was far ahead, but he eventually turned around and figured out the scene when he saw the headlights stacked vertically instead of side-by-side. The cumulative damage to the fairing meant it was repair time. The T.T. Motors boys had a good laugh about the costs of sidestand springs and referred me to a fiberglass expert. He did such a good job on the original Avon fairing that I decided to buy an aftermarket copy and run that. The Parks got it for me at dealer cost and Charlie made it fit. He did a perfect job and wouldn’t take any money, but he did finally accept a bottle of cognac.

Steve eventually found his own Ducati 750 Sport: on the left when purchased, on the right today. [Steven D Black]
I know that knowledgeable people dismiss the production JPN as a sheep in wolf’s clothing, just a Commando carrying some extra weight. The steel 19” rims and the clipons do make for a singularly heavy-steering motorcycle. It is a real reach to the controls and the position of the rearsets causes one’s hips to rotate so that one's testicles are on the line, more so than any other bike I’ve ridden. However, it is also a fact that the JPN is absolutely fantastic at high speed. Peter Williams developed the fairing to compensate for the JPN racers’ power deficit, and even the shortie version on my bike slips through the air and gives the rider a very calm airspace. Because it was my only motorcycle for many years, I naturally favored high-speed roads such as Bear Creek Road on the east side of the Berkeley hills. My rule was that I had to exceed 100 mph every time I rode the bike, and in the day, there were no houses on Bear Creek and the pavement was wide and smooth. I am not a particularly fast rider, but I learned all the corners and established baseline speeds through each. I then pushed myself by incrementally increasing speeds a few mph each time. Once I got the isolastics shimmed to .006” and put Konis on, I was able to go through corners at speeds at which I could feel the front and rear wheels oscillating in and out of alignment. A Norvil head steady was a pain to get adjusted right, but it did increase my terror threshold by 5 mph. A fork brace added another 5 mph (the JPN has only a fiberglass fender). In order to go faster, I had to buy a 1974 Ducati 750 Sport, which I did in 1982. But it was only good for an additional 5 mph of terror abatement, so the Norton wasn’t bad, and the fairing means that you don’t have to hang on as you do with the Ducati. The speedo and tach needles are calmer as well.

The start of it all: Odd Bodkins and the Snortin' Norton. [Dan O'Neill]
My God, all this was a long time ago on the human scale of things. I had to leave Berkeley in 1986 as part of the process of getting an academic job. I was forced to the Outer Reaches = Durham, North Carolina. I took a normal Norton with me and that helped ease the pain. After 26 months I got lucky and got a job at Reed College in Portland, Oregon. One of the downsides of Portland is that I don’t have easy access to fast roads, and the JPN and Sport don’t get out much. The local roads favor smaller motorcycles. But that is why God created Moto Morinis, BSA Goldstars, and Velocettes. Or are these the Devil’s work?

 

Steven D. Black is a professor of biology at Reed College in Portland OR, and a lifelong motorcycle enthusiast.

Tehuelche! A History, Part 2

by Vladimir Nekola

Tehuelche in Motormovil

At the beginning of 1960 Tehuelche was on its way to be manufactured in the Motormovil factory. This same factory imported “spare parts” of Legnano, Bicicletas Legnano, DEMM and Garelli. Tehuelche was the only bike that was completely created in Argentina, and that was the attraction point for Natalio Cortes, the owner of Motormovil. With the Tehuelche, he showed the government that he had a local product. By this time the government had become aware of the trickery with the importation of “spare parts” and was beginning to put an end to it by imposing various regulations. Cortes continued fighting this development with little success.

The 1960 Tehuelche, restored by Vladimir Nekola. [Vladimir Nekola]
By 1961, Raffaldi and Fattorini, tired of dealing with the careless approach to production of the Tehuelche as well as failures to receive payments, left the factory. They settled back in the original workshop that they had in San Martin where they had repaired motorcycles, and Raffaldi had produced the first prototype that became the Tehuelche. Meanwhile, Motormovil continued making Tehuelches, paying royalties to the two Italian partners.

[Vladimir Nekola]
Basically, the model stayed the same over the years with some minor aesthetic changes. Sport and Super Sport models appeared in 1962, with the only difference between the two being the color scheme and the inclusion of a speedometer that the Sport model lacked. By 1963, a Tehuelche-Legnano model was introduced. Again, the differences were minor: a different color scheme and a different shaped gas tank. In 1964, and for the first time, the engine was modified: the overhead cam was controlled by a chain instead of the regular gears in the original model.  Also, a multidisc clutch was introduced instead of the original single disc. This model lasted only six months because Motormovil closed and that was the end of the Tehuelche production.

With a new cam chain, multi-disc clutch, and new oil pump, the 1964 Tehuelche was up to date, barring its 3-speed gearbox. [Vladimir Nekola]
The demise of Motormovil

When the government passed legislation in 1962 stopping the importation of “spare parts”, there were still containers full of these parts sitting in the Buenos Aires port. So, foreign bikes continued to appear on the market resulting in tough competition for the Tehuelche. Eventually, foreign bikes disappeared from the market and this could have provided an advantage for the factory that produced a totally local motorcycle, and there was no marketing reason to stop production. It could have been one of the few bikes available. However, production was not profitable enough for Motormovil. The bike became obsolete - the engine was outdated; customers wanted something more durable and easier to fix, like the two-stroke engines found in the Puma Cuarta Serie (with a 125 Sachs engine). The Tehuelche was no more.

The competition from inexpensive two-strokes like the Puma was simply too much for Tehuelche to survive. [Vladimir Nekola]
The number of Tehuelches produced in the seven years of its lifetime is just an estimate because factory records do not exist. The lack of continuity in production in both factories makes the estimate even more imprecise. Based on interviews with surviving factory employees 50 years later, it is estimated that 1,200 to 1,300 Tehuelches were produced in the original refrigerator company, 3,000 to 4,000 units came from the Motormovil phase. In contrast, 11,000 motorcycles were imported as “spare parts” in 1960 alone. These numbers explain why so few Tehuelches exist today.

The Racing Competition

As mentioned, the Tehuelche prototype was born as a racing motorcycle; so when the bike hit the market later as a utilitarian machine, many customers immediately tuned their bikes for racing. The first recorded participation of a Tehuelche in a race was in November 1957 at the Buenos Aires racetrack. This was an international race for the 125 cc class. No record can be found about the performance of the Tehuelche in this race.

Tehuelches where they excelled: racing. [Vladimir Nekola]
Tehuelches participated in many other races around the country, mainly on dirt circuits. According to personal accounts Tehuelche outperformed the competition in other classes besides 75cc. Riders who were aiming to become racers quickly realized that the Tehuelche was the motorcycle to have. The next racing record appears for a race in June 1958 for the Premio de la Industria (Industry Award).  The particularity of this race was that only strictly standard motorcycles were allowed. Tehuelche won first, second and fourth place. The winner’s average of 74.826 km/h showed that this little machine could reach a remarkable maximum speed of more than 80 km/h.

Roberto Fattorini modified Tehuelches for racing, with great success. [Vladimir Nekola]
The next milestone was in April 1959 in the First Open South American Motorcycle Championship in Rio Negro province including local and international participants from five countries, with more than a hundred motorcycles in different categories. Tehuelche won in the 75, 100 and 125 cc categories! These motorcycles were tuned by none other than Raffaldi and Fattorini. The Tehuelche factory took notice of that and decided to add a sticker on the gas tank commemorating such a feat.

Tehuelche #116, winner of two national championships and two runner-ups. [Vladimir Nekola]
After this well publicized achievement, another pair of tuners, the Segatto brothers, made their mark with the Tehuelche #116 that in over eight years won many races, two national championships and two runners-up. By this time the displacement of the racing Tehuelches had reached 100 cc; the 75 cc category having been discontinued.

The racing special Tehuelche, fully kitted with a 100cc barrel and cylinder head by Juan Raffaldi. [Vladimir Nekola]
This new displacement became available thanks to a racing kit created by Juan Raffaldi that was offered to Tehuelche owners who were interested in racing. This kit consisted of 100 cc piston and cylinder, an oversized cylinder head, a much-needed external oil pump and a multidisc clutch. The rest of the engine remained the same. Raffaldi thought about adding a fourth gear but didn’t, due to the excessive cost as well as the fact that in order to be homologated as a racing engine a minimum of 50 units had to have been produced. And that was way over the two partners’ modest capabilities.

The Tehuelche in its happy racing days. [Vladimir Nekola]
By 1967, at the end of the Tehuelche’s racing career, the bikes reached a maximum speed of 132 km/h and 11,200 rpms, a significant improvement from the original 75 km/h and 6,500 rpms.  But this level of performance was not enough to compete against the more efficient two-stroke engines that had started winning races in Argentina as well as around the world. The four-stroke engine was quickly becoming obsolete for racing. This marked the end of the Tehuelche which remained dormant until I started researching the story of this motorcycle, and after 20 years finally produced a book that covers the history, racing performance, and characteristics of the bike, plus interviews with people who worked at the factory, racers and bike owners.

The Tehuelche transfer touting its achievements in the South American championship in 75cc, 100cc, and 125cc categories. [Vladimir Nekola]
The Tehuelche Goes to Motogiro d’Italia 2024!  

In 2024, 75 years after its first predecessor appeared, a motorcycle called Tehuelche stood out in one of the most important motorcycle events in Europe, the Motogiro d’Italia. This event consists of six stages covering 1600 kms. Three Tehuelches participated in this grueling event. They didn’t win any prizes or arrive first in any of the stages, but they did finish. In fact, they finished the race in admirable working state, something that cannot be said of many of the other bikes that participated, all of which were bigger, and many more modern than the Tehuelche. At 75cc it was the smallest displacement engine among the 180 participating bikes. Because the Tehuelche was from 1957, it entered the event in the most prestigious category, Rievocazione Storica (Historic Reenactment).

Will it fit in a bicycle box? Shipping internationally is always a game... [Vladimir Nekola]
Reviving the Tehuelche by writing a book about it, restoring the bikes that appear in that book and showing what it can achieve to an international crowd in its creators’ birthplace was a dream come true. What else could one ask? Only one thing: that a Tehuelche is exhibited in a public museum outside of Argentine. I’m working on it!

[Vladimir Nekola]
[Vladimir Nekola]
[Vladimir Nekola]
[Vladimir Nekola]
[Vladimir Nekola]
For 2025, Vladimir Nekola's daughter Ludmilla rode one of his Tehuelches in the Moto Giro d'Italia. [Vladimire Nekola]
For more information, see:

Tehuelche Book

Tehuelche Motorcycle Website

Vladimir Nekola is a motorcycle historian and collector living in Cordoba Argentina, and the sole authority on the Tehuelche marque. You can find his website and purchase his book here.

A Fine Line, Part 3: Underground Artists

I'm sitting at my early 1900s wooden desk in my basement listengin to KZAP, an original sixties FM radio station that's still going here in Sacramento, looking up at a poster made - and signed - by Dave Mann. It's one of his rare non-'biker' paintings, showing an early rider on a pre-sixteen motorcycle crossing an old wooden bridge in a forest. It was given to me by an old friend, a motorcycle rider - and an exceptional artist in his own right - called Bob Wise. He does a lot of motorcycle and old car art.

One of the original Dave Mann paintings from the early 1970s: 'Kingdom of Kicks', based on a friend of Mann's, Angelo, quoted in 1958. [Easyriders Archive]
My good friend Chuck Wesholski - owner and operator of the original Kick Start Motorcycle Parts and provider of a lot of my reference material - wanted me to write this piece on the late '50s to early '70s 'underground' artists as they relate to motorcycles.  Perhaps you've not heard all these names or read their back stories. The most outrageous of this group was probably S. Clay Wilson, though Robert Williams came a close second. He was born in 1941 and moved to San Francisco in '68.  A lot of his 'Checkered Demon' biker characters happened to be influenced by people he knew in Kansas, although he hung out with many of the drinkers at Dick's Bar, "At the Beach", a favorite haunt of the Frisco Hells Angels, Gypsy jokers, and Satans's Slaves in the late sixties.

A Checkered Demon comic strip, from Zap Comix. [Rich Ostrander]
A year or two down the road he teamed up with R. Crumb, Robert Williams, Rick Griffin, Gilbert Shelton, and a couple of other artists to create the infamous Zap Comix.  His Checkered Demon, the Hog Riding Fool, the Gypsy Bandits and other classic works are laced through and through with outlaw motorcycle related story lines and characters.  S. Clay suffered a major head injury in 2008, and died in 2021, after years living in a diminished capacity. He still gets his mail at Dick's Bar.  R. Crumb said of him, 'He blew the doors off of the church!"

Robert L. Williams in the mid-1960s. [Roth Family Archive]
You may have read about Robert L Williams in my piece about Ed Roth [A Fine Line, Part 2].  Williams was hired by Ed to produce the magazine ads that sold his biker-related products and Weirdo shirts.  Born in 1943, Robert was riding Indian Chief and Scouts by the time he was 14.  He was, by his own admission, a delinquent youth and though he still loves motorcycles, a series of nasty accidents early on convinced him that he'd be killed if he kept riding.

The original layout by Robert L. Williams for an Ed Roth sticker. [Rich Ostrander]
Williams showed his artistic talent very early on; after his time as an art director with Roth, he moved to San Francisco in 1970 and joined the other artists on Zap Comix.  It wasn't until the fourth issue that they were charged with obscenity.  Zap was a reflection of the San Fransisco culture in the late '60s with drugs, free love, hippies, resistance to the Viet Nam war...you get the picture.  It ran hard up against the morals and virtues of the fifties, like a bug against a windshield.

One of Robert L. Williams' later paintings, featuring a disastrous hot rod street race. [Auction photo]
Robert is still quite active today, some of his art has had an abstract bent and a lot of it has been labelled 'feral Art' or 'Lowbrow'.  In the 1980s he even joined the Punk Rock movement.

S. Clay Wilson with his Harley-Davidson bagger. [Rich Ostrander]
Rick Griffin was born in Palos Verdes in 1944 and spent his youth surfing in the South Bay area; Redondo Beach, Hermosa Beach, and Manhattan Beach. He created his iconic 'Murphy' for Surfer magazine in the early sixties.  In 1966 he moved north to San Francisco where and when the revolution was being televised.  There he joined Stanley 'Mouse' Miller who had been a heavy influence on Rick's artistic endeavors.  Along with alton Kelly they created some of the best psychedelic rock posters for bands playing at the Avalon Ballroom and Fillmore West theaters. Stanley Mouse, as he liked to be called, was one of the first to mass market 'weirdo' characters on shirts, staring around 1958. A couple of years before Ed Roth.

An example of Rick Griffin's psychedelic art on the cover of Zap Comix #3. [The Vintagent Archive]
Rick joined Zap Comix about 1970s; soon after that he became a born again Christian and his art took on a whole different slant.  In 1991 while riding his Harley-Davidson just west of Petaluma and north of San Francisco a van cut him off and he passed away at the young age of 47.  A huge talent lost.

Rick Griffin with his Harley-Davidson ca.1990. [Bill Graham Presents]
If you haven't heard of any of these artists - or Zap comix - I wouldn't be surprised.  Not your generation.  I do strongly suggest you search them out though.  The work may surprise you; but you had to be there to fully realize what an impact they all had on the changing culture of the late sixties and early seventies - and on my generation.

The 'Snortin' Norton' of Dan O'Neill's Odd Bodkins comic, as serialized in the San Francisco Chronicle. [The Vintagent Archive]
[Editor's addition:  There was another -slightly less underground - comic artist in 1960s San Francisco with a motorcycle connection: Dan O'Neill.  His comic strip Odd Bodkins ran in the San Francisco Chronicle from 1964-70, although they cancelled it a few times during that stretch for its political content and obvious drug references.  Odd Bodkins featured two main characters, Hugh and Fred Bird, and their intelligent motorcycle 'Norton', based on O'Neill's Norton Atlas.  Norton conversed with the characters via snorts, and could be fed 'magic cookies' to take them on rides out of Earth's orbit.  As a youngster, I read the Chronicle daily, especially the comic pages, and Odd Bodkins was a surreal counterpoint to the more abjectly political Doonesbury, and the gay soap opera Tales of the City.  Newspapers used to be cool.

A full strip from the daily comic of Dan O'Neill, Odd Bodkins. [The Vintagent Archive]
Odd Bodkins comic strips can be found in scarce copies of The Collective Unconscious of Odd Bodkins, a book I've treasured for decades, as hey, it features a talking Norton. You can't get that kind of publicity today.  Dan O'Neill was part of a second comic artist collective, a rival to the Zap Comix group in San Francisco, called the Air Pirates.  Zap Comix featured far more sex than the Air Pirates (sadly, it was my own perverse sexual education - R. Crumb strips could be Pornhub plots), while the Pirates were more politically oriented, and O'Neill gained notoriety for leading a copyright battle against Disney for the Pirates' use of Mickey, Pluto, and other characters as part of a 'Mouse Liberation Front' in their parody strips, mostly proving that Disney, like all capitalist behemoths, has no sense of humor.

Dan O'Neill's Penny Ante Republican documented political struggles in Northern Ireland and Wounded Knee, South Dakota. While it predated the Pulitzer Prize-winning Maus by 17 years, its subject was too directly political to earn such accolades, criticizing present-day repression on two continents. This sketch is from Issue #1 (1973), discussing in satirical terms the British prison housing Irish independence activists, Long Kesh, also known as The Maze, where Irish prisoners staged hunger strikes in 1981. [The Vintagent Archive]
In 1974, long before Art Speigelman won a Pulitzer Prize for his Maus graphic novels (1992), O'Neill drew up Penny Ante Republican, a pioneering work of comic journalism.  PAR recounted his experiences visiting Wounded Knee SD and his time with the American Indian Movement (AIM), and in Northern Ireland with the Irish Republican Army (IRA), finding commonality in the struggles of minorities fighting colonial oppression under difficult circumstances.  This work was recognized as significant, and acknowledged by the International Congress of Cartoonists and Animators. - pd'o]

 

 

Rich Ostrander, better known as 'Dr Sprocket', is a lifelong motorcycle enthusiast, sculptor, and custom motorcycle historian. Read more about Rich here.

2025 Quail MotoFest

I don't care much about prizes and awards. I've never been a trophy guy (or even a trophy girl), and while I've been awarded a few plaques over the years, only one award sits in my home today; a Jaeger 8-day clock restored by Dennis Quinlan, presented on the occasion of my first tenure as President of the Velocette Club. That was 30 years ago, and the clock was a symbol of support, as I'd shifted my priorities, evolving from flamboyant participant and entertaining pain in the ass, to someone who made an effort, ensuring wankers just like me could carry on enjoying motorcycles in a fun context.

Best in Show! How cool is Clyde Crouch's 1924 A-61 Indian OHV racer once used for land speed racing? And how cool that we covered the story many years ago - the Indian Arrow. [Corey Levenson]
For those reasons, I'm happy to emcee and award the prizes at the Quail motorcycle concours (now called MotoFest) every year; to support people making an effort. The staff of the Quail, the judges, the owners of the bikes, and the attendees; they all showed up.  And as any self-help guru will tell you, showing up is 90% of success, in any endeavor. So, for those who showed up in whatever form to the MotoFest - thank you.

The start of it all, lined up at Laguna Seca raceway, ready for some hot laps. Just try to catch the CHP escorts! [Paul d'Orléans]
This year was vintage Quail.  Friday's Quail Ride started at Laguna Seca raceway rather than at the Lodge, which confused some folks, who then sadly missed their laps of this historic track.  I was riding my '65 Triumph T120, and did two sessions on the track, first with the 'fast' group of mostly newer sporting bikes, then with the 'touring' group of mostly vintage machines.  Much as I love the Bonnie and its rep as the fastest motorcycle in production in 1965 (Vincents having expired ten years prior), it is not a racing machine, nor was I riding it at the limits of tire adhesion...although I may have been at the limits of its feeble brakes.  I had a blast, especially on the Corkscrew.  Nobody crashed, nobody's bike blew up, nobody came in on the sag wagon: a good day on a great track.

Yes, that's me dropping into the Corkscrew while filming another rider. Want to see what its like to ride Laguna Seca on a Triumph? Click here.

We then commenced an 80-mile loop through Salinas Valley south to Carmel Valley Road, with a pit stop at Wrath winery.  I made bad jokes about 'trampling out the vintage', since the grapes of Wrath were stored there.  The winery was beautiful, and Northern California was showing off after some late Spring rains, draping herself in velvety green hills, with abundant wildflowers in her hair.  After 5 months in the far far south California desert, NorCal looked lush and delicious, and I drank it in, burbling along in the middle of the 80-strong pack.  Cruising speed, Scotty.

Beauty in the vines: a 1966 Velocette Thruxton.  Brave Jesse had just finished his restoration the day before the Quail Ride! [Paul d'Orléans]
Until, that is, Laney Thornton appeared at Wrath.  He'd missed Laguna, but caught us up at the winery.  He'd contacted me a few weeks prior announcing his completetion a 35-year project to his satisfaction: he's been emending his 1950 Vincent Series C Rapide the entire time I've known him, mostly with changes to the suspension, but the engine got a bump too, at 1150cc.  He felt he'd finally sorted it, and wanted me to give her a test ride.  I suggested the Quail, so he signed up for the Ride, and it was time to swap bikes for the remainder of the morning, into the heart of all that's best and worst about NorCal pavement, on Carmel Valley Road.  Fantastic scenery under overarching oaks, lots of twists and climbs along creekbeds and over hills, but a consistently awful road surface.  An excellent place to test suspension, in other words.

A better look at Laney's Vincent: Series C Rapide with a Series D monoshock swingarm and seat support, Works Performance remote-reservoir shocks, four twin-leading shoe brakes, 1150cc motor with Tony Prince heads, etc etc. A roaring lion. [Paul d'Orléans]
The Quail Ride has two rules: don't crash, and don't pass Gordon McCall, who rides at the head of the pack, behind a swift CHP on a new 180hp BMW.  Gordon was also BMW mounted, on his GS, which he considers the perfect bike for the area, for the reasons above. The Ride was escorted by eight CHP riders, who blocked side roads, stop signs, and lights along the way, giving us the lovely privilege of never stopping. Once passed, our escorts leap-frogged ahead of the group, showing off their skills at handling 900lb BMWs on tight, bumpy twisties.

Escort service? Or something like that. Laney Thornton's much-modified Vincent Rapide about to fly... [Paul d'Orléans]
I wasn't going to get much of a Road Test following the pack, so pulled over to let everyone pass while I snapped a couple of photos.  The backmarker CHP pulled up to check if all was good, so I briefly explained the need to stretch the legs of this special machine I was road testing as a professional journalist.  He looked me and the bike over, gestured behind him with his thumb, and gunned it.  An ordinary Vincent would have left me on the ground within the first mile at our rate of hustle, the road being so lousy, but Laney's bike hugged the tail of the rapid cop bike, passing the whole Ride lineup over the course of about six miles, feeling every bump but never getting bent out of shape, and leaping forward with a roar at every twist of the throttle.  It was glorious.  No, I didn't pass Gordon, and I'll post a Road Test soon.

The second most vintage bike on the Quail Ride (the oldest being Kim Young's 1930 Velocette KSS), a 1940 Indian Sport Scout. Lovely! [Paul d'Orléans]
If you Ride, your presence is requested at a banquet that evening.  It's where Gordon gets to thank his team, and give his featured guests a spot at the podium.  This year's honorees included the Yoshimura family, legend of the sport Steve Baker (first American F750 World Champ), and Troy Lee, whose turn from motocrosser to motogear manufacturer built him an empire.  I don't consider myself a legend of the sport, but Gordon likes me to speak about the state of motorcycling at the banquet.  This year I related my culture shock at returning to San Francisco after 5 months in Baja, from dirt roads to streets choc-a-bloc with self-driving cars.  I was reminded of my friend Dana Smith's theory, that most of the new tech we're surrounded with is designed by people 'on the spectrum'; cars with no drivers to interact.  Apps that simulate community but replace face-to-face communication. Etc. I stated my opinion that motorcycles - especially ridden in groups - are an antidote to the robot takeover, requiring physical and interpersonal skills, and exposing riders to the Real. I finished with, "Ride a bike. Don't let the robots win."

Team Vintagent: Neil and Debbie Macdonald, Kim Young, et moi.

Saturday dawned foggy and cool for the MotoFest, which is par for the course in Carmel Valley.  A full complement of volunteer judges swarmed the field at 9am, when owners and journalists were allowed on the field.  That was the time to take photos, though I only shot a few this year - too many hands to shake and hugs to share: thanks to Corey Levenson for once again being a pro and providing his excellent photos for this story.  By 10am the public was on the field, which never felt crowded.  Participation was down a bit this year, with fewer bikes on the field than 2023 (the previous dry year), although there seemed to be about as many attendees as usual.  The vibe was, as always, excellent; relaxed and friendly.  There was great food (taco trucks!  Ice cream!), and good music all day.  It's about the most pleasant motorcycle gathering imaginable, and it's a wonder more folks don't make the effort - tickets were as cheap as $50 this year, and there were so many super cool bikes to see, most of which had great stories, if you chatted with their owners, and in the case of race bikes, that included some of the legends who rode them to glory.

Ridden to glory: Steve Baker was the first American to take an FIM World Championship title, on this very Yamaha YZR 759 racer, in the 1977 F1 champtionship. He won the AMA Motorcycle Hall of Fame Heritage award. [Paul d'Orléans]
Spotlight features this year included Yoshimura, with the family taking a tent to display Pops Yoshimura's very first racer, a Honda CB72 that won the Suzuka 18-hour race and launched the brand, still in remarkable original condition.  They also displayed a Yamaha R7 racer with paint by Troy Lee, a nice tie-in with this year's Legend of the Sport.  As Bimota was a featured marque, 18 were displayed on the lawn, following the whole range of the company's history, from its first Honda racers to the latest carbon-fiber Tesi specials.   The BMW GS turns 45 this year, so that made the third featured category this year, and quite a few historic adventure bikes showed up, including Robb Talbott's RTW GS wearing its amazing history on its bodywork, and won the class.

Robb Talbott with the 1981 BMW R80G/S ridden around the world in the 1980s, as they were supposed to be. [Corey Levenson]
The winners of the various categories were wheeled to the stage at 2:30 for the awards presentation, and the final hour and a half - for me - was spent on the stage with Gordon and Chief Judge Somer Hooker, plus the winners of course.  It was a superb batch of bikes this year, and I was 'in the room were it happened' when Best in Show was chosen with judges; there really wasn't a competition in that regard, as the 1937 Indian A-61 'Arrow' was a mind blowing preservation machine, and America's first-ever motorcycle land speed racing streamliner.

Author Rachel Kushner's father Peter won the British 1st place award this year, with his 1955 Vincent Series D Rapide and Watsonian sidecar. [Corey Levenson]
The c.1925 1000cc OHV Indian factory racer was was pulled out of the race department for dealer Hap Alzina's attempt to counter Ernst Henne's record in teh BMW 'egg'.  Alzina commissioned a home-built streamlined shell, called the Arrow.  It was built like an airplane, with thin wooden slats forming the body, all covered with 'dope' like a WW1 biplane.  To get going, the rider straddled the bike, then the body (in two halves) was pushed over him, while a wrench and bolts were handed in through a hatch.  The rider bolted himself into the machine, handed the wrench back, and prayed for a successful run.  In the meantime, the shell filled with alcohol and exhaust fumes, and a lot of noise from the open exhaust, before the rider even shifted into gear and let out the clutch.  It was quickly found that the bike was faster without the crude shell.  But not fast enough to challenge Ernst Henne's streamliner record of 1937 [read our history of land speed racing - 'Absolute Speed, Absolute Power']. So the whole plot was put away in a box, where it remained for decades.  One heck of a piece of history, right there to poke your head in at the Quail.

The 1925 Indian a-61 with 1937 Arrow streamlining. Not a rig I'd care to be bolted into! But pure badass. [Corey Levenson]
Team Yoshimura with Pops' first racer, a Honda CB72 that won the Suzuka 18-hour race, beating Honda's factory bikes. [Corey Levenson]
There's always an outrageous custom or two at the Quail. This beast was eye catching! [Corey Levenson]
Steve Huntizinger's personal 1913 Sears Dreadnaught V-twin, with lovely Spacke motor, which won the Antique prize. Yes, Sears sold motorcycles, starting in 1911, and ending in the early 1970s. [Corey Levenson]
Star power! Juno Temple from 'Ted Lasso' accompanied her boyfriend Michael Szymanski, who won the Spirit of the Quail award for his customized Yamaha Virago, on which he'd taught himself every skill to make it beautiful. [Corey Levenson]
I was given the honor of choosing the Arlen Ness award, and chose Corey Mauck of Aero Precision Metalworks' Medusa. Some judges objected to their displaying a 'for sale' sign beside the bike, which is against the rules yes, but showed a young builder trying to make a living, just like Arlen started out. [Corey Levenson]
On the other hand, sometimes a bike has just stayed in the family, like Russel Harmon's 1913 Indian single speed Big Twin, with full suspension. Never sell! [Corey Levenson]
Mecum Auctions took a spot to highlight a couple of bikes coming to their Monterey auction in August: a first-year Suzuki Katana and sweet Triton. [Paul d'Orléans]
Among the unusual: a 6-cylinder Corvair powered chopper built by Richard Jones that made a noise like a swarm of atomic bees. [Corey Levenson]
Bryan Thompson with his lovely Triumph Blackbird custom, done up like a pre-war Clubman model with girders and high pipes. [Paul d'Orléans]
A crafty ruse, which we'll cover soon in a Vintagent article. A made-up BMW R75/5 'spezial modell' the judges missed! [Paul d'Orléans]
As modern as anything on the field: an extraordinary Bimota Tesi in all-carbon bodywork, looking like the future. [Corey Levenson]
Two NSUs! A Maxi, and a 1200TTS Prinz; many of these donated their motors to become Münch Mammuts. [Corey Levenson]
Thanks to the show judges for showing up for the Quail. It doesn't work without you. [Corey Levenson]
Header pic of myself and Dustin Kott: photo by Abshi Eswarappa of Bike-Urious.

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

 


Tehuelche! A History, Part 1

Tehuelche, an obscure Argentine motorcycle

By Vladimir Nekola

The Tehuelche dominated small-capacity circuit racing in Argentina in the 1960s. [Vladimir Nekola]
In the 1960s, an obscure motorcycle brand called Tehuelche dominated weekend races on dirt and paved circuits in Argentina. Despite fierce competition from larger manufacturers (Rumi 125, Ducati 100, Honda Benly Super Sport 125, Mondial, Sterzi, Puch and Zanella 100), the Tehuelche won the South American Championship in three categories: 75, 100 and 125 cc.

A Tehuelche catalog of their unique 75cc OHC roadster: the name is from an indigenous tribe of Argentina. [Vladimir Nekola]
It had no real competition in South America until the more efficient two-stroke engines started appearing on the circuits. The challenge that the Tehuelche faced was the same as the one that eventually led to Honda pulling out of factory racing in the rest of the world, around the same time.

The Tehuelche had a simple chassis, with a sophisticated motor. the forks are 'upside down', while the frame uses a single spine and downtube, with twin shocks at the rear. The fuel tank is inspired by Italian lightweights. [Vladimir Nekola]
Tehuelche, the Argentine motorcycle par excellence 

The Tehuelche was a lovely machine with plenty of mechanical interest. [Vladimir Nekola]
The architecture of the Tehuelche engine was different from any other engines manufactured in Argentina at that time. At the heart of the minimalist four-stroke all aluminum engine was a gear-driven overhead camshaft. This feature distinguished it from the rest of the motorcycles being made in Argentina. Another feature that makes it special is the lack of an oil pump.

An exploded view of the Tehuelche timing case, with gear-driven SOHC head. [Vladimir Nekola]
Instead, it has a “spoon” at the tip of the connecting rod that lifted the oil and splashes it on the gear train and up to the camshaft. With it three-speed gearbox, the engine could rev up to 6500 rpm and a maximum of 75 km (46 miles) an hour. A well-tuned 100 cc racing engine, with an added external oil pump could easily reach 11,000 rpms and a speed of 132 kms (82 miles) per hour.

The Tehuelche cam drive cover and primary case. [Vladimir Nekola]
Prehistory of the Tehuelche

At the end of the second World War, Argentina welcomed immigrants whose countries were suffering from economic and physical destruction. Many of these immigrants were also worried about a possible third World War, and Argentina was looking to populate a vast land full of resources. The Argentine government was especially keen to facilitate emigration from Spain and Italy. Three Italians with technical knowledge and skills to design and build motorcycle engines saw a unique opportunity to start a new life in the new world.

Raffaldi, Preda, and Fattorini, fresh off the boat from Italy in the great wave of Italian migration to Argentina post-WW2. [Vladimir Nekola]
Giovanni Raffaldi, Carlo Preda and Roberto Fattorini left Piacenza in Northern Italy and arrived in Buenos Aires in April of 1948. Their first goal was to complete a prototype engine that they had started to design and build in Italy. Upon arrival, they rushed to finish a motorcycle which consisted of a four-stroke engine of 250 cc, overhead cam, with a separate gearbox, in the style of British motorcycles of the time. They intended to look for investors to support mass production.

The prototype RPF twin-cylinder OHC engine of 1949. [Vladimir Nekola]
The prototype, called RPF (for Raffaldi, Preda and Fattorini) was presented officially to the government and the public in October of 1949 at the Argentine Industrial Metallurgical Exhibition in Bahia Blanca. The press and the public were enthusiastic about this new bike. Laudatory articles appeared in Argentine newspapers as well as in Piacenza showing the accomplishment of these three paisanos.

The press was enthusiastic about the new prototype from the recent Italian immigrants. [Vladimir Nekola]
Juan Péron, president of Argentina at that time, was present at this event. The governor of Buenos Aires gave the Italians the Gold Medal and the Stimulus Award for having produced a motorcycle that was 100% Argentine. Peron was impressed with the three Italians’ endeavor and personally invited Preda to write a proposal to mass-produce the bike. A proposal was submitted but it was eventually rejected.

An all-Argentinian 250cc OHC twin-cylinder motorcycle with 'mag' wheels - very advanced specification for 1949. [Vladimir Nekola]
Four reasons may stand behind the refusal for financial support. First, none of the three partners had any connections inside the government. In addition, their political tendencies were not compatible with that of the government. The second reason was due to corruption; as the proposal moved from one ministry or department to another, the budget was increased to benefit individuals. As a result, the total cost of the project got so inflated that it became impracticable. Third, the gearbox and magneto had to be imported from Italy or England, which also complicated matters. Finally, the proposal was submitted for the production of only 30 bikes a month! Quite naïve thinking by the partners, especially when there was a need for thousands of bikes a month.

When the project came to a standstill and the partners realized that the prototype, RPF, had no future, the partnership was dissolved. Raffaldi and Fattorini moved to Rosario in the province of Santa Fe, where they had friends. There, Raffaldi started to design and manufacture another engine, this time a 125 cc two-stroke. This engine would be more practical for a utilitarian motorcycle. However, this project also came up short, again for lack of financial support. As had been the economic state of many Italian immigrants before them, Raffaldi and Fattorini were financially ruined.

Tehuelche!

Not having lost their motivation, the two Italians moved once again and settled in San Martin, Buenos Aires, an area that had a substantial community of Italian immigrants. They found work in different factories in order to support their families since they were almost bankrupt from their previous projects. In their scarce free time, in 1954, Raffaldi and Fattorini started fixing motorcycles for the neighborhood. At the same time, Raffaldi began working at a new project that was realistically closer to what the country needed for utilitarian transportation. It was a 50 cc four-stroke, all aluminum engine, with a single overhead cam.

The next project by our Italian heroes: the prototype that became the Tehuelche. [Vladimir Nekola]
The engine was mounted on a minimalist chassis and started participating in local races as a way of advertising and attracting potential investors. After two years, the owner of a refrigerator manufacturing company was interested in this little motorcycle as a way of diversifying his business. It was his way of dealing with aggressive competition from numerous producers of refrigerators. In contrast, there were very few motorcycle factories, all of which produced bikes under license from Italy and Germany. This refrigerator company was called Tehuelche, an indigenous group from Patagonia, and thus the motorcycle by that name was born. In 1956, Raffaldi, along with Ollero, owner of the factory, agreed to convert the bike from a racing to a street utilitarian motorcycle that would allow two people to ride with sufficient and reliable power. This required an increase in displacement to 75 cc, easily resolved by enlarging the cylinder bore.

Initial advertising for the new Tehuelche motorcycle. [Vladimir Nekola]
The process involved tooling, searching for suppliers, planning of assembly and eventual production. By February of 1957 a completed Tehuelche motorcycle was presented to the public, again at the Argentine Industrial and Metallurgical Exhibition, this time in Palermo, Buenos Aires. The brand-new bike was met with great enthusiasm for its design and look. But people also recognized it with pride as a fully Argentine bike, designed and created locally unlike the other popular motorcycles that were manufactured in the country, but all under license from other countries, including DKW, Gilera, Puma and Siambretta.

The market competition

Gilera was a huge name in Argentina in the 1960s, and a primary export target for the Italian brand. [Vladimir Nekola]
In 1957, among the four factories that were producing motorcycles under license, the most important ones were Puma from Germany and Gilera from Italy.  The Puma was a licensed copy of the 2-stroke 98 cc Göricke that began manufacturing in Argentina in 1952 and continued until the beginning of 1960. Puma was the chosen name for this licensed motorcycle after the South American feline. More than 110,000 hit the market in less than 10 years. The Gilera, with the same name as its 4-stroke 150 cc original in Italy, was also readily available; in 1957 when the first Tehuelches were sold, there were already 10,000 Gileras on the road.

Puma was the name chosen for the 98 cc Göricke built under license in Argentina. [Vladimir Nekola]
The production of Tehuelches in the refrigerator factory lasted only two years. One reason for this short life was the competition from the bikes made under license that had support from abroad. The huge annual inflation of 200%, with no support either from the local government nor from foreign licensing factories, became a major challenge for Tehuelche. To add to the financial challenge, Ollero, the owner of the refrigerator factory, had racked up a significant debt to a private industrial bank.

The blessing and curse of investor funding; a Board of Directors with its own agenda. [Vladimir Nekola]
A government policy that prohibited the importation of motorcycles could have helped the Tehuelche production and sales. But a few devious businessmen figured out how to cheat the system that allowed spare parts to be imported and started to bring in entire motorcycles that were dismantled and declared as spare parts! This gave these importers a tremendous advantage over local industries that were in difficulty because of the lack of raw materials, strikes, inflation, etc. With much desired foreign bikes being available on the market, the Tehuelche once again was in deep trouble.

Motormovil took control of Tehuelche as a way to settle debts. [Vladimir Nekola]
One of the biggest importers of these “spare parts” was Motormovil, owned by Natalio Cortes who happened to also be the owner of the bank that carried Ollero’s debt. In addition, he was the president of the newly formed Chamber of Motorcycle and Related Industries that protected their interests. The easiest way to settle the debt that Ollero could not pay back was by handing over the Tehuelche section of his factory to Cortes! Raffaldi and Fattorini became part of Motormovil.

Next week, Part 2 of the Tehuelche story.

 

Vladimir Nekola is a motorcycle historian and collector living in Cordoba Argentina, and the sole authority on the Tehuelche marque. You can find his website and purchase his book here.

 


The Eternal LIFE of Betty Drafton

It’s the original ‘who is she?’ scenario; a hot blonde on a motorcycle wearing a tight sweater over a bullet bra and turned-up dungarees.  Specifically, she’s riding a 1947 Velocette MAC bob-job, photographed while cruising through Griffith Park.  Photographer Loomis Dean’s unpublished ‘LA motorcycle women’ photo series from 1949 is Insta-famous, but little effort has been made to discover the back story on the ladies.  Luckily, their identity is now known, as the women were photographed riding (and even racing) at other times and places. There might be a sexist assumption that Betty Drafton and the other lady riders pictured in 1949 are riding ‘their boyfriend’s bikes’, but the LA ladies captured by Dean were rough riders indeed, who competed – as they could – in off-road competitions, and knew their way around a motorcycle.

Betty Drafton at speed on her Velocette. [Loomis Dean]
In 1949 Loomis Dean was assigned by LIFE magazine to capture women motorcycle riders in Los Angeles.  Dean had joined LIFE only a year prior, after a stint shooting for Barnum & Bailey circus, and for the US Army Air Force in the Pacific in WW2.  Dean found an interesting group of women who regularly competed in SoCal events: the previous year they had each participated in an ‘All-Girl Trials’, as documented in the May 1948 issue of Cycle magazine.  The Royal Riders MC of Monterey Park organized the English-style trials, and 30 women showed up, which the article notes was a larger entry than the ‘All-Male Trials’ that were then the rule. This was an AMA-sanctioned event, and the women came from various riding clubs from all over Southern California.  While Cecilia Adams won the race on her special ‘Royal Indianfield’ – a Sport Scout motor in a Bullet chassis with a swingarm conversion – two women rode Velocettes in the event: Pattie Harker took 5th place on her standard 1948 MAC, and Betty Grafton took 9th on her bob-job MAC.  The rest of the riders used a real mix of machines: 8 Harley-Davidsons, 6 Triumphs, 3 Matchless, 3 BSA, 2 each Velocette/Ariel/Indian/Royal Enfield.

Lucille Meeker, Betty Drafton, and Cecilia Adams messing around in the dirt of Griffith Park. [Loomis Dean]
The most famous of Loomis Dean’s photos show Betty Drafton, Cecilia Adams (AJS), and Lucille Meeker (Triumph) riding through Griffith Park in LA, with their boyfriends in tow astride their own bikes. A few shots show Betty riding pillion on her MAC’s tiny Buco P-pad: she was young, looked sensational, and clearly enjoyed the attention.  Dean caught her pal Cecilia Adams doing donuts in the dirt, while Betty and Mackie watched; she was clearly a kickass rider, as evidenced by her win in the trials.  In 1953 Cecilia made the cover of Cycle magazine (Jan 1953) on an updated version of her Royal Indianfield, with the caption ‘Mama’s Day Off.’  Legend.

Striking a pose, and giving us a good look at Betty Drafton's 1947 Velocette MAC bob-job: The front fender is removed, the rear bobbed, Flanders handlebars and risers, no generator or lights, white painted rim centers and flash on the red fuel tank. [Loomis Dean]
I’ve been digging but haven’t found much further about Betty Drafton, whose bike is modified in typical SoCal fashion as a bob-job: no front fender, shortened rear, license plate wrapped around the back fender, no electrics at all, Flanders handlebars and risers, solo saddle and P-pad, a flashy red/white paint job with matching white-center wheel rims, plus a ‘cocktail shaker’ muffler – a megaphone with removable end cap, as sold by Triumph in the race kit for their T100.  The front-wheel driven speedo remained.  Betty’s bike is very, very cool, and I’m tempted to build a replica just because HER.  As a contrast, Betty’s pal Pattie Harker’s 1948 MAC with Dowty forks is bog standard, as seen one the starting line of a women’s race.  Both MACs would presumably have been sold by West Coast Velocette importer Ernie Pico in LA.  Both bikes are probably still in a SoCal garage: where are they now?  A new generation of lady Velocette riders is looking for them…

Riders enjoying a Sunday afternoon jaunt in Griffith Park: (1st row l-r): Lucille Meeker (Triumph 3TA), Betty Drafton (Velocette MAC) and Cecilia Adams (AJS Model 16); (2nd row l-r): Frank Cooper, Chuck Parkyns, Dr. William Eschrich and Frank Erling, riding in Griffith Park LA. [Loomis Dean for LIFE]
Betty Drafton was ok riding the P-pad on her Velocette with boyfriend Chuck Parkins, but normally, the bike was all hers. [Loomis Dean]
The All-Girl Trials, an AMA sanctioned event, won by Ceclia Adams. [Loomis Dean]
A second shot of the same group in Griffith Park. [Loomis Dean]
Cecilia Adams on her 'Royal Indianfield', a Royal Enfield chassis with an Indian Sport Scout motor, on which she rode and raced. Specials and customs were all the rage in SoCal in 1947, at the leading edge of the coming Kustom Kulture movement. [Loomis Dean]
 

 

 

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

An Imposter in Veloland

By Mark Lapriore

The first annual East Coast Velocette Owners Club rally: An Imposter’s Take

I thought it would be fitting, as a first time participant in any motorcycle rally, to write about my experience bringing a mid-1950s BMW motorcycle to a Velocette rally in Massachusetts. Or, how to make friends by bringing a mid-50s BMW with a camera strapped to the side to a British bike ride.  Either way, the cold and rainy weekend in Sturbridge Mass is not one I’ll soon forget. A short introduction: my name is Mark Lapriore. I was involved in high-end aircooled German vehicle restoration work for 30+ years, mostly out on the West coast. Now I’m in Rhode Island.

Unloading at the rally: Mark Lapriore and Dave Roper unloading his Moto Guzzi Airone 250cc, which was ridden by John Romano. [Paul d'Orléans]
I have a bunch of old BMW motorcycles: don’t hate me for it, it was the logical choice, as I understand them mechanically - a boxer engine is just something I 'get'. But I digress...I had been keeping tabs on Paul’s Instagram posts, ever since he announced 6 months ago about a Velocette rally in Vermont. Ohhhhhhhh, I wanna ride old motorcycles in Vermont!! What’s a Velocette? Finally, I saw an official announcement 2 days before the rally was set to begin - plenty enough time to prepare for a rally. I mean, I ride this particular 1956 BMW R50 just about every day....and how fast are these riders actually gonna go? Pfffftttt...I’ve got this.

Mark Lapriore's clever Nikon rig with remote shutter control, used to photograph other riders on the road. [Paul d'Orléans]
Jump ahead to Saturday morning. A lovely wet, drizzly New England Fall morning if there ever was one. Did I bring rain gear? Rain gear...who needs rain gear? I doubt we’ll ride if it’s raining. I’m sure we’ll just hang around the lounge in the hotel and tell halftruths and woulda coulda shouldas. Oh wait...everyone is in the lot..bikes are started..it’s raining...aaaaaaand we’re off! Hey, there’s a huge group of folks just hanging back riding leisurely....but Paul just shot off behind that frenetic Peter Voorhees on his 1948 rigid MAC and some white-haired man on what looks like a rusty pile of parts from behind the shed. That’s who?! Dave Roper? The only American to win the Isle of Man TT? Does he think we’re on the race course in England?! Whoop, no time to think, we’re off.

Dave Roper, Paul d'Orléans, and Dave's Horexs: a Regina and 450S Citation OHC twin. [Bill Burke]
And that my friends, is how Saturday went. A three-man, flat-out, rain-soaked, leaf-covered TT through the hills and backroads of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. There were a couple of stops: minor fixes, breakdowns, and lunch eventually. But the day was mostly me looking at the back of Paul d’Orleans looking at the back of Dave Roper, racing through the wet New England back roads...and it was absolute bliss.

What's more lovely than a New England autumn day? A Fall day on an old motorcycle! [Paul d'Orléans]
That is, until the rain really started. It rained on and off throughout the morning. Nothing crazy, until about mid-afternoon. Then the rain hit, hard. And we got lost. Wait...are we in Rhode Island? Boy; boots, jeans, and a leather jacket aren’t doing the best job of keeping me dry, how far am I from home? I’m pretty sure I’m closer to home than I am to wherever we’re trying to go, so maaaaybe I’ll just peel off here. Nope. I stayed with ‘em. It was a day. An amazing day. Nobody went down. We probably did 200 miles, rain or shine. No shine though. Just rain.

A 1948 Velocette MAC 350cc and Dowty air forks, with a Venom with disc brake conversion behind. [Mark Lapriore]
Arriving back at the hotel that night, with my clothing laid out around the heater on the wall, that was one of, if not the best showers I’ve ever experienced. I was cold to my core, but after 20 minutes of blasting full hot water, I felt human again. Then dinner with the crew...and goodnight. By this point, I’d made friends with the 20 or so folks that showed up. I wasn’t sure how I would be received, I didn’t know any of these folks. I’d really only met Paul once (in Las Vegas, briefly), but we had spoken online.

The riders begin...shot on Mark Lapriore's Rolieflex twin reflex medium format camera. [Mark Lapriore]
I wasn’t even showing up with a Velocette! I’m an imposter bringing a BMW to a Velocette rally! The folks couldn’t have been more inviting, curious, and happy to talk about their bikes, or yours. I was having a blast. Rain or not, what I realized was, that we’re all just a bunch of outsiders on weird old motorcycles [or weird old outsiders - ed.]. No judgment was passed. But Sunday, unlike the wet cold day prior, was glorious. It was what makes New England an amazing place to ride. Beautiful sunrays arcing through the tree canopy as we chased Dave Roper through leaf-covered backroads. Paul at one point remarked how wonderful it was watching Dave cut through the hills with leaves flying about. It was truly, truly beautiful.

Mark chatting with esteemed photographer Bill Burke about his Rollieflex twin-lens reflex, at the Sturbridge Hotel. [Paul d'Orléans]
Then...my beemer shat the bed. A bike I ride pretty much every day, died. Oof. Here we go. Here comes the harassment. Here comes the ‘that’s what you get for bringing a BMW to a Velocette rally.’ But there was none of that [confession; I did mention 'it's always BMWs that crap out on vintage rides' - ed.] The decision was made to push the bike into the driveway of a local house (thank you again to whoever you folks were) and I rode 2-up with Paul to grab my truck. Wow. I haven’t been on the back of a bike since I was like, oh, maybe 10 years old. Paul made it seem normal though. I climbed on, one hand holding the camera rig I had brought for the weekend, one hand grasping a bracket at the side of his Horex’s fender. A reassuring pat on the leg from Paul before we took off...one that I took to mean “Don’t worry about it...we got this”.

Peter Voorhees on his '48 Velo MAC with Dowty air forks and rigid rear end. [Paul d'Orléans]
Nope. What that was, was Paul saying, “Hold on...because we still need to try to keep up with the only American to win the Isle of Man TT.” And off we went. Pegs scraping in the corners, and Dave Roper not far ahead. We made it back ok. First a stop at a local lunch spot, where everyone else was already enjoying a bite to eat. This, I wasn’t expecting...but fully deserved. “Hey! Mr. BMW! What happened?! That’s what you get for not riding a Velocette!” My first rally is one I’ll never forget. Thank you to Paul and the crew in Sturbridge for making me feel welcome amongst a bunch of strangers. See you next year...maybe out West...?

Dave Roper on his Horex Regina taken from Mark's bike-mounted Nikon. [Mark Lapriore]
Mix n match: Moto Guzzi, Horex, BMW, all welcome at a Velo rally. [Mark Lapriore]
Sayre Anthony of Nova Motorcycles in Turners Falls MA, with his special 'Velocettee' hand knit sweater. [Paul d'Orléans]

A very wet Moto Guzzi Airone cockpit... [Paul d'Orléans]
Interested in joining the next East Coast or West Coast Velocette rally?  The best fun you can have with your clothes on! Check for info with the Velocette Owners Club, and ride along!

 

Mark Lapriore is a photographer and former car restorer. Follow him on Instagram here.

 


My Motorcycle History, Part 3: 'Evel'

It's 1968, and I’m sitting in the Parts Department office at Bill Brownell Honda–Triumph, ordering parts, when in walks Evil Knievel. He starts ranting on about how someone has stolen his car and kidnapped his wife! He needs a ride to the Police Station, but first he calls the Enterprise Record to let them know what’s happening. I take a Honda CB750 off the showroom floor, Evel jumps on the back, and off we go to Chico City Hall. He tells the dispatcher that he was visiting his bone specialist and when he came out to leave, his car, along with his wife who was waiting in it, was gone! By then the reporter arrives and asks what all the fuss is about, and Evel repeats his diatribe.

The man himself, Evel Knievel, in the 1973 film 'Not So Easy', by Cliff Vaughs. [The Vintagent Archive]
In 1968 not many people have heard of Evel Knievel, but he has his ways of drumming up publicity. In reality, Evel did go to the doctor, but after the appointment slipped out the back door, called a cab and showed up at Brownell’s. His car and his wife were still parked in front of the doctor’s office. Evel got a blurb in the local paper...and he just happened to have a planned a jump over 12 cars at the Orland Fair a couple of days afterwards. Bingo; a few more folks attend the event. Cool.

Evel Knievel in San Francisco riding a Triumph TT Special in San Franciso's Civic Center on Nov. 26, 1967 [The Vintagent Archive]
We rode back to the shop, and soon after the police found the car and wife still parked at the doctor’s office.  Then Evel gets on the phone and calls talk show host Merv Griffin, telling Merv about the kidnapping, and how he wants to get a spot on his show. Now that is some true hustling. Evel would stop by the shop when he was passing through town and bring his Rolls Royce, 18-wheelers with ramps, bikes and roadies, and take over the shop. First he brought Triumphs, then American Eagles, and then Harley-Davidsons, as he always had a new sponsor.

Evel's actual 1967 San Francisco jump. [The Vintagent Archive]
In fact, when he was at the shop, all those phone calls, working on the bikes, putting up with the roadies and whatever else he could beat out of Brownell, he never mentioned or paid for any of it. Evel was a hustler of the first magnitude. I bet he got someone to sponsor his underwear.  This guy truly has an ego the size of Montana, but also the cojones to back it up.  And he never failed to put on a show, even when the conditions were far from perfect.

A poster from Evel's jumps in San Francisco, in front of Civic Center Plaza and behind it, City Hall. [The Vintagent Archive]
One of those far-from-perfect times was at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. It was storming badly that night, and there was an indoor AMA short track race going, and the pits were full of motorcycle racers. The deal was, Evil would go outside to the parking lot, gas his bike up to speed in the driving rain, enter the arena through the front doors, go down a ramp and onto the main floor then up the jump ramp over some fire trucks, on to a ramp and into the pits, and pitch it sideways to stop! Piece of cake.

Cliff Vaughs (L) assisting Evel Knievel at LA Colosseum in preparation for his jump, during filming of 'Not So Easy' (watch it here) in 1972. [The Vintagent Archive[
Well there was one more factor. The Hells Angels had showed up, and were heckling Evel. They sat right over the entrance where Evel was to make his approach. As Eviel began his pre-jump warm-up runs, he and the Angels exchanged hand gestures. When Evel made his final run through the door at full speed, one of the Angels threw a Coke cup at him.  Amazingly, Evel made the jump and the landing in one piece.  Then he circled back to the entrance, jumped off his bike and started shaking his fist at the Angels to come down and get it on.  The Angels obliged, jumping down to the main floor, and suddenly it’s a fuckin' war.

Evel Knievel jumping the Los Angeles Colosseum in the 1973 film 'Not So Easy', by Cliff Vaughs, on his modified Harley-Davidson Sportster XLCH. [The Vintagent Archive]
There were about 12 Angels, but the crowd was with Evel, and suddenly 200 racers and pit crews jumped in.  It was ugly and took 15 minutes to break up. It looked to me like most of the Angels were removed on stretchers, and some looked real bad. Anyway, back to the point: t his guy (Evel) was doing this back before Super Cross triple jumps, 12” suspension, and specialized techniques were in place.  No computers to figure out how fast to ride to make the distance, just 'Let’s see, go x-miles per hour up the center of the ramp and hold on till it lands on the other ramp'. Wow! No knowledge of using brake and throttle to control motorcycle attitude. Only 4” of suspension on most of the bikes he rode. And had no practice or training, just balls to the wall. Truly amazing. Every time I saw him (he made 4 or 5 trips to Chico) it was always a show. At the time I didn’t think much of it - 'B.F.D. some egomaniac with a stunt'. I’ve looked through my stuff and I don’t even have a picture or an autograph to show you. Oh well. I may be one of the few people on earth who ever gave him a ride on the back of their bike!

Ron Peck is a former motorcycle dealer and restorer, with a lot of great stories to tell. He's now retired, so can hone his stories! See all of Ron's stories for The Vintagent here.

Montlhéry 2011: A New Event?

It appears that motorsports activity hasn't entirely died at the Circuit du Linas Montlhéry, just south of Paris. This is the most historic banked racetrack in the world, which is still intact and functional (Brooklands is too far gone, Daytona is too new, and Indianapolis only had ONE motorcycle race in the 20th Century - 1909). Finished in October 1924, the fully banked oval is 2.5km long, and two longer 'road courses' using only one end of the banking were also laid out, although the much longer circuit through the adjoining forest is no longer in use.

Steep! A dawn scramble to near the top of the banking, when one could still camp in the forest at the center of Monthléry autodrome. - in 2001. [Paul d'Orléans]
While Brooklands was built 'the old fashioned way', by piling up earthen mounds and digging out the track near the river Wye at Weybridge (see some historic photos here), Montlhéry was designed and built as a modern piece of engineering, using a lattice of reinforced concrete beams and pillars to support the high banking. The near-vertical top section of the track was designed to withstand use by racing cars up to 1,000 kilos (2,200lbs) moving at 140mph (220km/h).  Motorcycles present no such hazard to the infrastructure!

The engineering marvel of Montlhéry speed bowl, with its steel and concrete substructure. [Paul d'Orléans]
Having walked the complete circuit and raced on the track,  I encourage anyone with a passport and an appreciation of racing history to make a pilgrimage next May 8/9, 2011, and see the place for yourself.  The facilities are a bit crude, but it's possible to camp in the forest inside the circuit, which has a grubby charm, as many of the competitors are camped as well, with their vehicles - a relaxed opportunity for a conversation.

Days long gone: as the French military now controls the site, camping is impossible. This is Rob Drury's equipe. [Paul d'Orléans]
If you have the opportunity to enter a racing motorcycle, I can imagine few opportunities to sample an extant Vintage track, on which an incredible legacy of speed events was laid.  Every long-distance speed event, from 1, 12, or 24 hours, was held post-war at Montlhéry, from the Velocette 24hr/100mph record, to the less successful attempts by Vincent at 24hrs, Norton's streamliners, plus a host of European factory attempts.  (For a video of several ex-record breakers on the banking, click here)

Full throttle on Rob Drury's 1938 Velocette MkVIII KTT in the chicanes. [Coupes Moto Legende]
My own experience of the circuit is sadly limited to one weekend in 2000, where I was invited to ride a '49 MkVIII Velocette KTT by my friend Rob Drury.  While camping conditions were primitive, my personal hygiene was forgotten once I was underway in a pack of racers in my class.  The Velo seemed perfectly matched with a Mondial 250cc racer with full dustbin fairings, and we always seemed to round the hairpin on the 'road' section at the same time, his lithe machine undercutting the much heavier Velo every time!  Frustratingly fun.

Most older motorcycles can't - or their riders won't - ride fast enough to reach the top line; 100mph is required. [Paul d'Orléans]
Riding the banked track is an acquired taste, and most riders preferred to keep fairly low on the track and their speed down.  You won't get up above the top white line at less than 100mph, at which point you're literally perpendicular to the slower riders below.  I've passed other motorcycles from every vantage point - inside, outside, crossways - but never while looking at the top of their helmet!  Disorienting at first, but after a few laps it became really enjoyable and the chicane set up to slow riders down mid-bank was ignored by the lustiest riders, without censure from the organizers I might add.

A wonderful atmosphere of vintage machinery, at the 2001 Coupe Moto Legende, before it moved to the Dijon circuit. [Paul d'Orléans]
The surface of the track brings to mind the many descriptions of Brooklands in the 1920s onward, as the plates of concrete paving began to settle and shift.  Bumpy!  But still better than most California backroads... although I imagine riders took quite a pounding after a few hours at full chat.

Montlhéry as originally built in 1924, with several optional circuits available. [Wikipedia]
The future of the Montlhéry track always seems uncertain; the Coupes Moto Legende hasn't been held there for almost 10 years, so a weekend at the track will be welcome in 2011.  There are consistent rumors that the track will be torn down, as the proximity of this large plot of acreage to Paris makes the land worth billions.  But, what price history?

ADDENDUM:  Below is a note from the organizers of Vintage Revival Montlhéry:

“VINTAGE REVIVAL” AT MONTLHERY

Plans are well advanced for a vintage gathering next year at Montlhéry, the dates being 7th and 8thMay 2011. Many will remember the tremendous atmosphere of the events a decade ago and it is hoped to recreate this spirit in 2011. Organisation is in the hands of two French clubs, “Vintage Revival” (of which Mrs. Jacqueline Potherat is honorary chairman) and “Patrimoine Sportif et Mécanique”.

A lineup of racers in front of the simple grandstands. [Paul d'Orléans]
Pre-1940 sports and racing cars and sporting motorcycles will be able to circulate on the famous banked circuit, as will racing bicycles with vintage motorcycle pacers. The less sporting vehicles of the same era will be equally welcome to attend and will be able to drive the circuit at their own pace at the end of the weekend. There will be provision for commercial and club stands. Enthusiasts, clubs and businesses wishing to be kept informed are encouraged to register their interest by e-mail to Vincent Chamon at vintage-revival@voila.fr.

The website is at http://vintage.revival.free.fr

 

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

Anonymous said...

One other historic race track could be mentioned, Indianapolis. Twelve years old when Montlhery opened, and twice the corners.

JUNE 30, 2010 

 

murderdromecycles said...

Hi Paul,

my friends and me are loving Montlhéry. We raced there from ´99 to 2005 and had a lot of fun. Good news for May 2011! Look my Blog

JUNE 30, 2010 

 

Dave said...

I must dispute the contention that Montlhery is the most historic race track in the world that is still intact and functional. The Milwaukee Mile race track has been stages race every year since 1903 and is in the same location and configuration as it was in 1902 EXCEPT that it was paved in 1954. pretty much every American racer of note has raced here from Barney Oldfield up to Danica Patrick and everyone in between. The first win for the Lotus Ford Indy cars was here. Several races are held here each year although the Indy cars will not appear here in 2010.

Almost as old is the hill climb at Shelsley Walsh. They are still holding hill climb events here although it is perhaps technically not a race track.

Great Blog BTW

JUNE 30, 2010 

 

J Kraus said...

This sounds like a fantastic event and I may have to make room on my calendar. Montlhéry is indeed a wonderful circuit, and I had the pleasure of sampling it first-hand in a vintage Porsche at the 2000 Rallye de Paris. That was the era prior to the mid-bank (East) chicane. The highlight of every lap was coming off the high bank at speed and diving into the exit chicane.

The track was closed shortly thereafter and was thought to (as you mention) be headed for extinction, yet once again it has successfully defied “progress.”

JULY 02, 2010 

 

WooleyBugger said...

I enjoyed the heck out of this article. I can't get enough of history of this sort. Thanks

JULY 04, 2010 

 

Bob said...

It's possible to maintain the track if vintage events could be scheduled there more frequently. Seems the track became outdated in the early 1960s as the prevailing speeds were unsuitable. But it could be fun with Morgan Super Sports, Norton Manx, etc.

MAY 07, 2011 

 

Anonymous said...

Hi ,does anyone know what A.G.A.C.I

means that was on the outside of the banking wall ?

Thanks

APRIL 11, 2012 

 

 

 


Grossglockner Hillclimb, Austria: 2010

The Grossglockner Hillclimb was founded in August 1935, with the brilliant idea of timed races up a newly opened, spectacular pass up the eastern Austrian Alps.  The Grossglockner High Alpine Road, had only opened one day prior to the first race, which featured both cars and motorcycles; while the motorcycle entries were light, it's interesting to note the fastest motorcycle time (Martin Schneeweiss on an Austro-Omego JAP 600cc) was only two seconds slower than the fastest car - Carlo Pintacuda in a Scuderia Ferrari Alfa Romeo 8C.

The Grossglockner pass in Austria's Alps is a complicated road to race, with a short season. [Wikipedia]
While the 'real' Grossglockner hillclimb was only held in 1935, '38, and '39,  but was revived occasionally postwar, especially at the 50th anniversary of the road in 1985, and several events in the 2000s meant to honor Dr. Helmut Krakowizer, the grandaddy of Austrian motorcycle racing.  The 75th anniversary of the road begged for a reunion event, and a consortium of vintage motorcycle enthusiasts organized an all-moto event in 2010, which I was lucky to attend as the guest of Walo Bertschinger, whose 1950 Vincent Black Lightning 'Enigma' I'd helped broker the previous year.  Lucky me - he even let me ride the glorious beast, which became a legendary event for reasons laid out below.

The poster for the 2010 run of the Grossglockner Hillclimb. [Paul d'Orléans]
The top photo gives a pretty good idea why someone would choose this location for a timed race; lots of hairpins and bends, a constant climb, and spectacular scenery (well, when the clouds part). It's a 15k run to the top from a toll booth entrance, and to be honest, most of the corners have low stone walls which wouldn't do much to catch a rider should things get out of hand.  In other words, better wear your parachute, as it's a looong way down in some spots. But to give cliff-divers mercy, atop the stone walls are sharp vertical  rocks embedded every 5 meters, certain to knock one senseless before a fall.

Conditions at the top of the mountain were sub optimal, and very cold for June. [Paul d'Orléans]
Conditions the morning of the race were dry roads at the start and grey skies, with thick fog for the last 3km towards the summit, visibility about 10 meters.  Lousy for taking race photos, but I stationed myself at the finish line before the 'roads closed' time, and climbed down the mountain for the best vantage points, of which there was endless opportunity.  While moderate in the gorge below, the temperature up top was around 4degC, so I climbed around a lot!

With my host, Walo Bertschinger, en route from his Zurich home. [Michael Bachmeier]
One could hear the riders from 10km away, like angry bees and bears making their way up.  Making films in such conditions was mostly a long shot of white with noise, followed by 3 seconds of flashing motorcycle, then more noisy whiteness.  Pointless in other words, unless making an art film. The weather gods smiled wanly mid-pack, and the spot I chose suddenly grew a full km of view, and I was able to photograph my Swiss hosts ('Team Greaser') as they sped past on their Vincents and Harley WR (Beat of Bixe.ch two shots up on the Harley WR,  Michael Bachmeier of Kraftstoffe on the Black Shadow above, Walo on the Black Lightning).   The wet ground and low visibility meant dampened race speeds, but it looked like big fun anyway, and some riders were down on the tank the whole way up, throttle wide.

Walo Bertschinger and Michael Bachmeier outside the tech inspection area on Walo's original 1950 Vincent Black Lightning, and a Lightning-ized Black Shadow. [Paul d'Orléans]
Walo was really giving the Lightning some stick, and it sounded better than good, it was awesome. While the fog slowed things down, it made for some great spooky ('geistlich') atmosphere shots at the summit.  The Moto Guzzi Condor below dates from '37, sounded great, looked stunning.

At the top, a lovely 1937 Moto Guzzi Condor production racer. [Paul d'Orléans]
A gorgeous Standard racer of the mid-30s with a Motosacoche OHV engine. [Paul d'Orléans]
The tech inspection garage, full of cool vintage machinery. [Paul d'Orléans]
A glorious Brough Superior SS100 with Matchless engine chuntered up the hill. [Paul d'Orléans]
A lovely period-correct BMW R69s racing sidecar, with extra large Hoske tank. [Paul d'Orléans]
Racers with road registration were allowed to 'parade' into the village of Bruck, which looked and sounded more like an invasion with all the unsilenced machinery, narrow streets, and high stone buildings. The locals seemed to enjoy the thrum of visitors, and some brought out their own bikes to join us for a light lunch and drinks.

Racing for lunch! In the small village of [Paul d'Orléans]
Back at the bottom of the hill, and only 10 o'clock, the next race began at 5pm, so what to do?  Walo insisted I take the Black Lightning out on dry roads and up the pass.  So, a little gas, and she fired right up as always on the run-and-bump.  I offered to pay the ranger-frau at the tollgate, but it was 'no way no how no racing bike until 5pm!', or the German equivalent, complete with scowl and plugged ears (the BL is loud).

Filling up the genuine 1950 Vincent Black Lightning nicknamed 'Enigma' for its strange back story of over-stamped VIN numbers. [Michael Bachmeier]
So, we turned around, and went the other way, as it was miles down a beautiful river gorge to the next village, the road was dry, we had encouragement from the owner to give the Lightning a good test run, the bike was raring to go, and so was I.

Oh, the glory!  A fantastic and magical motorcycle, fast as all getout and the raucous bang reverberated down the stone walls of the road banks.  With the throttle twisted hard, she lunged forward with mountainous torque, and kept going faster.  Nobody not nothing was getting in my way, the bike shot past every car and bike on that twisty road, mad quick and handling impeccably, even the very short bars didn't slow cranking over into the turns.  Bumps didn't deflect the bike at all, it never got out of shape, even with a full handful of throttle while banked over in third gear.  This was by far the fastest Vincent I've ever ridden, and the best handling, no comparison, somebody did something right on this baby, it's pure magic, and we got along great.  The ride up the gorge was even better of course, and the sound of that engine wound out in second and third gear made me want to keep going all day, up and down that little road, lack of plates and lights be damned.

Organizer Thomas chides Walo: "Austrians are pussies." - Michael Bachmeier makes his opinion known in the YouTube video.

But of course, I wasn't in freewheeling California, and one of the race organizers greeted my return with a frown, as it seemed my 100mph antics were 'endangering the whole event'; he gave Walo a talking to as well!  Gee, I thought this was a race meeting, my bad.  Strange that racers were flying up and down the gorge all day, but there was only one dressing-down... there is a deeper story here which I'll reveal only if you buy me a beer...

Later in the day, the lineup in a light rain... [Michael Bachmeier]
As the afternoon wore on, a light sprinkle became a shower, and I was offered a ride up the mountain on the racing Black Shadow, which of course I agreed to!  A borrowed rain suit, a pair of too-small boots, and a helmet, meant I was ready for anything, which included the rumor of snow at the summit.  Hey, I've never raced in snow, so let's give it a shot. With race number 131, a half hour would pass before my turn at the starting gate, as riders were flagged off every 30 seconds.  Some of the lucky ones had umbrellas, I just sat like a duck and got soaked to the skin.  Didn't mind a bit.

With rain gear, anything is possible...[Michael Bachmeier]
Six riders from my turn, the starter waved his flag frantically, calling off racing for the day, as the snow was accumulating quickly, and 6 inches were soon coating the ground.  The first riders had their own chance to experience snow technique...as apparently it isn't the getting up which was the problem, it was coming back down in icy conditions which was treacherous.  As far as I know, everybody got back ok.

Snow stops play in late June...but we were in the Alps, and had our fun, so - no regrets. [Michael Bachmeier]
A 1920s Douglas SW5, long and low as a ferret, and very quick. [Paul d'Orléans]
A long way from Daytona beach...a very rare BSA Gold Star Daytona racer. [Paul d'Orléans]
A pre-war Triumph Tiger 100 with a rare bronze cylinder head. Looks like a Velocette KTT front brake. [Paul d'Orléans]
Tech inspection of a lovely c.1930 Norton ES2 racer. [Paul d'Orléans]
Harry Hacker with one of his amazing OHV Harley-Davidson specials, this one with a sidecar. [Paul d'Orléans]
A pair of production racing DKW two-strokes. [Paul d'Orléans]
Gorgeous colors and details on these DKWs. [Paul d'Orléans]
Beat with his Harley-Davidson WR racer. [Paul d'Orléans]
In tech with 'Enigma': who doesn't like manhandling a Vincent Black Lightning? [Paul d'Orléans]
Lady racer with an early 1930s Sunbeam Model 9. [Paul d'Orléans]
A second Harry Hacker Harley OHV JD racer; this one solo. The cylinder heads are from a H-D 8-Valve racer. [Paul d'Orléans]
A Morgan beetle back racer with JAP KTOR engine. Fierce! [Paul d'Orléans]
A lovely Motosacoche racer; rare Swiss machinery. [Paul d'Orléans]
A lovely c.1936 Norton Inter racer with plunger rear suspension - the 'Garden Gate' frame.  Full race 'Manx Grand Prix' fuel and oil tanks. [Paul d'Orléans]
My fave shot of the weekend! Obviously enjoying the hell out of 'Enigma'. [Michael Bachmeier]
 


Carlo Mollino and 'The Australian Wall'

Carlo Mollino was a legendarily idiosyncratic architect, furniture and interior designer, writer and photographer, who dipped a toe into automobile design just once, for a unique 'bisiluro' car that competed at LeMans in 1955. I recently wrote an article about Mollino for The Automobile magazine, my favorite print mag about old vehicles, which is not averse to motorcycle content. The article took deep research, because little has been written about his LeMans racer in context of Mollino's whole career and life: he was stylish and secretive, absurdly gifted yet unmotivated by success, built only a baker's dozen buildings and a few hundred pieces of furniture (which now sells for $Millions), and never showed the extraordinary photographs he took of women between 1950-1973, that are now inextricably linked with his overall legacy.

Carlo Mollino in a 1938 self-portrait in Casa Miller, the first of his self-decorated garçonnieres. [Wikipedia]
In the course of my research, I came across Mollino's only overlap with motorcycles: a 1933 fictional story with accompanying illustrations for Casabella magazine (that's House Beautiful in Italian, but oh so different than the American version), called 'The Life of Oberon.'  Oberon was a fictional architect who died young, and is clearly a fantasy alter ego for Mollino: Oberon is the son of a wealthy merchant, just as Mollino was the son of a wealthy engineer/architect: "Well-to-do from his father's trading business, Oberon could have pursued the untouchable splendor of a crown prince." ('The Life of Oberon, Part II', Casabella Aug/Sep 1933).  Mollino's own father called him a 'feckless good for nothing', as he never established a real architecture or design business, instead keeping a desk at his father's firm his entire life, with a small brass plaque announcing his own limited practice.  And Oberon's first work of architecture was an 'Australian Wall', or Wall of Death, built for an acrobat in Sydney, Australia.

The interior of Teatro Regio Turin, showing its fascination with geometry mixed with organic shapes for dramatic effect. [Paul d'Orléans]
And yet, Carlo Mollino is a legend today, and his buildings, like the recently renovated Teatro Regio Opera House in Turin, stand as unique and beloved stand-ins for the charming man himself.  In my article for The Automobile, I call him 'an Italian Batman': a rich bon vivant renowned for his modernistic work and love for the ladies, who kept enormous secrets, like his series of garçonniers (bachelor pads) that he never slept in, but decorated in his own inscrutable style, in which he photographed Turinese streetwalkers (fetched by his chauffer) semi-nude, draped around his erotic hypermodern furniture, in costumes Mollino collected for the purpose.

One of Carlo Mollino's pre-Polaroid photos of Torinese streetwalkers inside his apartment, here sitting on one of his extraordinary chairs. [Salon 94]
From 1960-73 Mollino used only Polaroids for his photographs, and his final 1300 images are stunning, rivaling the idiosyncratic work of fashion photographers working in a similar genre decades later, like Helmut Newton. Unlike his other work, Carlo Mollino was too far ahead of the curve with his photography, hence his decision not to share or publish it.  In the 1960s, photos of semi-nude women in powerful poses, staring down the camera, were still considered pornography in many countries.  Mollino preferred his legacy remain in the realm of Art, so hid his photos from judgemental eyes: they only appeared in the 1980s, long after his death, when the world was actually ready to see them as the extraordinary body of work they are.

Another of Mollino's extraordinary furniture designs, which I describe as 'cunnilingual' in The Automobile: "If that seems outrageous, imagine the obnoxious trucker from ‘Thelma & Louise’ waving a photo of a Mollino chair at the heroines, instead of his crude gestures; they would have got the message." [Wikipedia]
Carlo Mollino was hooked by the Wall of Death around 1930, when he took photographs of the traveling Troupe Mater, working a carnival in one of Turin's many plazas.  Naturally, Mollino's principal subject was Wall rider 'Miss Eitel' (so attributed in Mollino's files - actually her name was Lina Zavatta), who can be seen balancing her Indian 101 Scout on the bally in front of the Wall.  With her smoky gaze, zaggy striped sweater, and deaths-head gauntlet gloves, she cut quite a figure: a woman perfumed by danger, and a rebel entertainer in the age of Fascism: think Christopher Isherwood's autobiographical novel Goodbye to Berlin, or its popular film derivative Cabaret.  The other thrills of the Wall of Death act were not lost on Mollino, who was inspired by the Wall's astonishing gravity-defying drama and its associated surround-sound to make it the subject of the first chapter of his first novel, 'The Life of Oberon', published in Casabella magazine in four parts, between July to November 1933.

The interior of Mollino's final garconniere, which is preserved as the Museo Casa Mollino. The curators consider it his Pharaonic tomb, intended for his afterlife, with everything he might need for the next world - women, art, and design. [Paul d'Orléans]
The story begins with a note from Casabella that is something of an obituary, explaining 'the architect Mollino was a dear friend of Ettore Lavazza (Oberon) in his final years.'  What part of Mollino died with Oberon?  We can only guess, but simultaneous with the story's publication, Mollino took his first architectural commission, designing the offices of the Provincial Fascist Union of Farmers, in a style reminiscent of Erich Mendelsohn, for whom Mollino interned in Berlin in 1931.  Mollino, it should be noted, never shared a political opinion, joined any party, or supported any war effort: a luxury available only to the very wealthy in Mussolini's Italy.

Mollino's lover in the early 1950s, the charming Mimi Schiagno in her Nardi 750LM sports racer. Schiagno seems to have been an inspiration for Mollino's sudden interest in sports cars. ['Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973']
For your enjoyment, and courtesy the Museo Carlo Mollino in Turin, in whose book 'Carlo Mollino: Architect and Storyteller' (2022) we find the first-ever English translation of The Life of Oberon, reproduced here with illustrations from the book, as well as images from 'Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973' (2018, Sylvana Editoriale):

Italo Cremona’s 1928 painting ‘Wall of Death’. Cremona was a great friend of Carlo Mollino, and likely visited traveling Walls of Death as they passed through Turin. Apparently this painting now hangs in the home of a 'Lucky Daredevil' Wall rider in Holland. ['Carlo Mollino: Architect and Storyteller' (2022), Ferrari and Sabatino]
'The Life of Oberon: the Australian Wall', by Carlo Mollino (Casabella, July 1933)

It came into being on a summer sea crossing, and was so named by Oberon, to whom terse words came easily to clothe thoughts and brainwaves. On warm evenings, the acrobats thought up acts bound by a hair's breadth to the laws of physics governing our arduous earthly movements. They are always trying to cheat these grievous laws and, upon making a discovery, work for months in great secrecy to fabricate a sensational demonstration congenial to the unfocused bourgeois spectator.
Ciro Beck was a formidable inventor who had already outdone his Japanese master, who professed the mystique of acrobats and sold his breakthroughs for fabulous prices. All this was in the glory days of the circus. Oberon met Ciro Beck on a return trip from Europe in 1925. Few circuses still survived there, struggling and united in four huge convoys around that monstrous degeneration that is the three-ring circus. Ciro Beck was returning home laid off; his circus had gone down the drain and sold everything, down to the last lion cub. A disenchanted audience was no longer interested, and - lightheaded on gasoline - laughed mercilessly at the pink jersey of the female rider and her white horses bowing to schmaltzy Strauss waltzes. Real horses, not racing ones, were about to become prehistoric beasts, only to be reborn idealized in the lights of the myth; crazed among ruins against the desperate skylines of early De Chirico paintings.

The scattered acrobats, gripped by hunger and swallowing their caste pride, submitted to the abjection of theirs derided act, stuck between the refined speaker and a brazen ditty in the sleaziest of variety theaters. Gone were the days when any self-respecting acrobat travelled in a sleeping car and had a valet. Now they roll about in 3rd class with un-initialed travelling cases, and carry their own fiber suitcases, panting. At the thought of such decadence (which placed him behind the chalky and stigmatized thighs of the now countless roving sisters), Ciro Beck turned mean, and it was in this indignant mood beneath the tropical sky that he thought up a challenge: a wall of danger regaining the hope of celebrity, with a flash of genius.

Carlo Mollino's 'fevered sketch' of Oberon's Australian Wall. Note the motorcycle at the bottom. ['Carlo Mollino: Architect and Storyteller' (2022), Ferrari and Sabatino]
Oberon understood, and saw architecture. We do not know what words he used to describe his vision to Ciro Beck that evening. The star players share an unfathomable ability to communicate, by virtue of which they recognize, understand, and even hate each other. The third party present - another acrobat - was the ‘Club Man’, and grasped nothing of the prodigy born that evening in Ciro Beck's burning brain, and become Art in Oberon’s vision. Moaning - he was always slightly drunk - he started blaming utopia, and bringing up crowd psychology as counterproof to a psychology he no longer understood. The elegant old man, mindful of the heydays, remained stubborn a circus purist. All he had done for 40 years was juggle clubs before a docile and stunned audience. He had reached the maximum number possible - 9 clubs - and he had grown old with the illusion that the audience was always the same good kid. Slowly he become an alcoholic, having lost his sure hand, and miserably scaled down a club a month. Even on board, he insisted on juggling the clubs, and had he been allowed, would have reduced himself to just one club before a jeering audience, or perhaps no clubs - just photographs - an aggravated example of a living dreamer of unforgotten fame.

Behind an eager client lies always, like a shadow, a devil Incarnate in the form of a servant, lover, or wife's man-friend, and so 'one of the family'. They take it upon themselves to adopt delaying tactics simply for the fun of it: they speak of ridiculous, crazy, fashionable, of things that look good on paper but then... and profess their aesthetics even if they trade in stock, even if they are gentlemen. When an architect is sure that he has 'turned' his client and sees him departing filled with the al- modern dream, he may tremble because the client may return the next time gloomy and evasive, and all is gone to rack and ruin. Then, the intelligent architect must remember the devil Incarnate and immediately take radical steps, just as Oberon did. The angel of evil also appeared in the distant tropics, alongside a dreamy Ciro Beck, in the guise of Old Club Man. Oberon instantly recognized him, thanks to a secret sense, and straightaway heard him lying with the prose of a stylish old man. There was no time to lose, and he jumped up and whispered in his ear. What was Oberon's spell? We know not, but perhaps with calm conviction he asked him to jump into the sea: Oberon never threatened. The Old Club Man asked the 'right time', slowly stood up and, gibbering - he was always slightly drunk - about some odd appointment, disappeared forever into the darkness. That was Oberon's first crime.

Mollino's full rendering of the Australian Wall; note the plan layout in the bottom corner. ['Carlo Mollino: Architect and Storyteller' (2022), Ferrari and Sabatino]
There, that same night in his cabin, and before the idea rotted, he drew the first sketch of the Australian Wall before Ciro Beck's shining eyes.  It was one of those dreadful and renowned 'madman sketches' that made his professors feel sorry for him, the type of sketch only grasped by children and savages, those who know nothing of layouts and elevations, those who by gift of God do not even see perspective.

There was nothing thrilling before the Australian Wall; paid-for thrills, I mean. The inner surface of a cylinder 10 meters in diameter and 15 high was a frightening vertical track where, suspended in midair, horizontal and clinging to a motorcycle launched at top speed, Ciro Beckett launched the most captivating maneuvers, before the eyes avid for disaster of the common people, crowded on high around the edge of the scary and thundering pit. Something pure and prodigious, the acrobatic masterpiece.

The model for Ciro Beck? Bertino Mattera (owner of the Troupe Mater, and Lina Matter-Zavatti's father) balancing on a yellow Indian 101 Scout, just as Ciro Beck rode, but without Beck's immaculate gray suit. ['Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973']
At the top of the cylinder, on a white balcony, a noisy crowd smoked as they spat chewing gum and pumpkin seeds into the huge dark pit. When full to capacity, a small unseen door at the rear opened quickly and Ciro Beck emerged straddling a large lemon-colored machine with red-brown patching. His face sanguine and calm, he was wearing an immaculate iron gray lounge suit.  Alone, as if in the lion's den, his hand requested silence, and he instructed people to extinguish their cigarettes. Then the silence was broken by the sudden explosive roar of the motorcycle. Hunched over, Ciro Beck brought it to life with a powerful and unceremonious forward thrust, as if wrestling with a bull's horns.  With never previously seen precision, he traced a circle around the vertical track: just one, then he suddenly accelerated and the motorcycle, and with no warning, canted it away from the vertical, released as if by magic from the force of gravity.  Then horizontal, it climbed in fast spirals up the inner surface of the large cylinder, giving the unhuman impression of an airplane flying upside down. They gigantic pit magnified the scream of the engine, which became excruciating. Ciro Beck continued to circle at a crazy speed as he gained height, his face was calm, as if embalmed on the yellow and red-brown beast. It was insane. Ciro Beck seemed to hold his irascible machine in the air as though under a spell. The air became acrid and, at every passage, people were struck by a blast of smoke and a wallop of air. The light filtering through the yellow purple canopy turned faces a sickly blue.

Then came the final act of daring: the crowd stupefied by the noise, as if in a dream, saw Ciro Beck - invested by blue smoke from the exhaust and flashes of chrome - released the handlebars, raised his yellow palms (boar-skin gloves) high in the air and stretched them out as if in defiance.  Only his knees controlled the raging motorcycle that fell several times in vast precise and vertiginous elipses into the misty abyss, before reascending each time with sure impetus into the light, almost invoking freedom. A moment's lapse and the screaming monster and its meticulous magician would have been flung from the track as if by a monstrous catapult, only to be smashed far away on the paving of the square.

The smoldering 'Miss Eitel' (Lina Zavatta) on the bally of the traveling Wall of Death Troupe Mater, owned by the Mattera family. With her smoky gaze, zaggy striped sweater, and deaths-head gauntlet gloves, she cut quite a figure: a woman perfumed by danger, and a rebel entertainer in the age of Fascism. ['Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973']
Eventually, the white circle around the top of the track seemed to provide rails for the now-tamed machine as it revolved crazily and hypnotically a meter from the crowd leaning over the large pit.  Ciro Beck loosened his pincer knee grip, climbed slowly over the fuel tank and sat side saddle, his face now resembling that of an unscrupulous witch doctor, hands in his pockets and face turned first towards the pale sun and then to the bottom of the abyss.  He was indifferent to the screaming monster that carried him as he climbed slowly back toward the handlebars and sat there like the prophets on clouds and cathedral frescoes. Then to the stifled shouts of the crowd, with a sudden and laugh-like twist he was standing triumphantly on the saddle, his arms raised high and stretched out as if to invoke a supreme spell, and impassive Angel riding thunderously on the storm. Time to end and, seized by a sudden determination, Ciro Beck gripped the exhausted machine between his knees again and forced it round in the frenzy of a vertiginous revolution, almost as if precipitating, wounded, toward the bottom of the track where it landed with the engine off, as lightly as a seagull.

Lina Zavatti balancing her Indian 101 Scout on the bally of Troupe Mater.  She later had her very own Wall of Death, under the 'Miss Eitel' banner. ['Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973']
When that impeccable gray suit - so out of place - brought us back to the mundane world in everyday matters, we felt an undefined sense of malaise, as he we had when amidst all the commotion we spied the slender and graceful young female cashier perched on her high back chair viewing all that danger unmoved. Stunned for a moment, the dumbfounded crowd had no time to shout before Ciro Beck disappeared like a shadow through a small door, opened to a silent order, simply giving a sweeping wave and not the customary servile 'voila' gesture of the acrobat of old  ('thank you for letting me risk my life for you'). The motorcycle lay dead in the middle of the track; they would come for it but no one cared about it now.

Ciro Beck did all these simple and terrible things. Style-perfect and ceremoniously, he executed all the street tricks of bullish suburban bikers. Suspended in midair he made the hair of Sydney's sharp dressers stand on end, amazed the coy half-caste girls, and prompted the butchers to cry 'stop it!' -  the acme of true emotion. The crowd expected Cyro Beck to kill himself from one day to the next but, in five years, he never even spoiled the crease in his trousers, and made a fortune.

An interior shot from the Fox Family Wall of Death in the UK, from the Goodwood Revival in 2005. [Paul d'Orleans]
At first, Oberon's creation looked like an imperious monument, tumbled from another planet onto Assumption Square, surrounded as it was by the decrepit Baroque constructions of Sydney's early Jesuits. At its feet, the other side shows, carousels, and shooting galleries - so unattractive and unrefined Down Under - resembled abandoned encampments, rank and in ruin.  From afar everyone spied a conical canopy with harsh reds and yellows in radiating pattern, like a huge upturned skirt suspended in midair and fluttering in the breeze, almost alive. It too, like the crowd, looked down to the bottom of the cylinder below, but was ready to rise in a neapolitan sky, as light as a hot air balloon.

The narrating construction created for the delirium was animated from above by the crowd crammed into three rows around a circular balcony on high: white along the parapet and as shiny as black shoe polish below, it overhung the top of the large purple-red cylinder. Oberon had also created that feverish red, toiling for a week before Ciro Beck's anxious eyes, he too shocked by the labored delivery of such a lethal red. Oberon pursued that very red, perhaps like Poe's 'Masque of the Red Death', that violent death threat of certain roses from his homeland, tinged at the tips with velvety black and stirring fear and curiosity both. There is nothing arcane in all this, he was familiar with the great power of color to create and move space, and govern sentiments, and he painted architecture and statues with specific colors; brash to the brainless and sophisticated both. So, with sure intuition, he painted the large cylinder that indigestible red, producing a vibrant, shiny, and rugose surface. Above it he traced in precise positions four bright trajectories in yellow which, close to the vitreous red, blinded like neon lights.

In front of the cylinder was a luminous frame painted in tragic magnesium white, not shiny; the entrance. It was like a frame that, after a previously happy life, had suddenly been struck by lightning, incinerated in that position for life and condemned by the architect to remain thus for all eternity. This is how the unschooled Oberon described the Wall to us, with effective images and an ambassador's tongue.

Our Curator for Film, Corinna Mantlo, during her time working the American Wall of Death. [Heidi Zumbrun]
Most annoying people only believe in an architect's knowledge only when he can reel off the modules of the columns of the Temple of Ceres, and the ratio between the bottom and shoulders of any Venus.  Like Oberon and Ictinus, we shall never take the trouble to know these things, and say they are nonsense. But we, who know it is just such bull that gives Art a capital A, beg these cantankerous beings to cast an eye at the drawing, where they will see an honest image of the Australian Wall, Oberon's first work: a fairground attraction.

If at all possible, they should look beyond those 'indispensable' proportions - which here too are faultless - and try to see architecture. In the left hand corner there is a pen drawing, one of Oberon's renowned primitive drawings, which along with others helped us paint a picture of that attraction that our minds could grasp. Oberon came to us as a novice, learning to draw properly much later, as required by schools of architecture. He almost learned after producing his finest architecture. For a long time he was happily ignorant of Mongo's method of projection, which is now in our blood from birth. He saw plans, elevations sections, and perspective as necessary and painful accomplishments. We shall talk of this suffering in due time; suffice for now to see that this vibrant drawing contains all Oberon's construction with precision, and from it and the surviving notes in his notebook on measurement and colors, we effortlessly reconstructed and exactly illustrate the elevation of the Australian wall.

An example of Mollino's late Polaroid photography (1960-73), with his model wearing a Paco Rabanne metal-disc dress, inside his final garconniere, which is now Museo Casa Mollino. These photos were never seen by anyone in his lifetime. ['Carlo Mollino: Photographs 1934-1973']
Being reconstructed faithfully and with no toadyism, we stood stupefied as if before the unexpected outcome of an alchemical process. We had previously only known the Australian Wall through Oberon's flamboyant speech but now, aided by his tetragram, we had drawn it out of the realm of shadows, brought so strangely back to life by his measurements, powerlessly led by his hand from darkness to orderly light. Fortunately for our readers, we are not talking aesthetic criticism. We only ask many of the serious broad-based architects whether they could have produced such a purely beautiful, classical, and powerful work as Oberon. Let them dream their celestial visions while pushing boring boxes for banks, or interior designs for expensively kept women, with a modern fad - that of triangular mirrors. Let them say the theme lent itself and that it is basically a cylinder with a frame in front of it. We know their smug reasoning by heart: when a theme is presented hand in hand with a complete solution, then it seems the only one possible solution, clearly the logical one.  Those are obviously the proportions, and all effort disappears in the face of the ultimate balance. But Oberon's notebooks can speak better than us. For the moment, we shall ask these consumptives of Art whether they have never thought of binding their constructions with such precise ratios, so 'in tension' as in this fairground attraction: whether they have ever thought that architecture might not be a splendid corpse with exactly the right proportions.  But a work that cries out for its raison d'etre, just as this modern and classical pavilion with its unique colors and proportions, cries out the shocked suspense awaiting us at the site of Ciro Beck's very modern acrobatics and the Will of Oberon the architect.

The exquisite 1949 Carlo Mollino table de-accessioned by the Brooklyn Museum in 2020, that fetched $6.2M at auction. [Wikipedia]
You have to imagine this construction lit up by euphoric and harsh floodlights on a festive evening, the shouting crowd gathered before the white frame, the voice of the barker with his megaphone, the obsessive clanging of the gong, and serene Beck in his gray suit at the center of the white rectangle, a floodlight pointing straight at him. He straddles the irascible machine, enveloped in the smoke and din of an engine ‘revved up’ with abrupt bursts of throttle. No artifice could produce such a forceful effect without architecture: a solemn ritual would be missing its temple. The enthralled crowd stares at the extraordinary pavilion and, as if in a daze, all climb, without encountering obstacles, the light steps - lilac-colored like sweets - up the purple-red belly of the cylinder, and without quite knowing how, find themselves on high at balcony level. Only then and not before do they realize they must buy a ticket from the pretty girl wearing Nile green, perched on a lofty bench. Taking their (always wrong) change, they feel without knowing why that they are going to see something very exciting. This, we believe, is true architecture.

Fifty percent of the architecture of all time has had advertising intentions.    - Carlo Mollino, 1933

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

 

 


The Motorcycle Portraits: Jack Penton

The Motorcycle Portraits is a project by photographer/filmmaker David Goldman, who travels the world making documentaries, and takes time out to interview interesting people in the motorcycle scene, wherever he might be.  The result is a single exemplary photo, a geolocation of his subject, and a transcribed interview.  The audio of his interviews can be found on The Motorcycle Portraits website.

The following is a portrait session with Jack Penton, a legend of motocross, the son of John Penton, and an AMA Hall of Fame member. and the youngest person ever to win a Gold Medal at the ISDT, at 15.  He also earned 27 National Enduro titles, lots more Golds at ISDTs, and countless other off-road event.  And he did it himself, preparing and maintaining his own machines. "I always did all of my own set-up and maintenance. For nearly 20 years of national and world competition, I never had a mechanic. That’s how we were taught to operate in our family, and I think it gave us an advantage because we had intimate understanding of our machines and a higher level of self-confidence." David Goldman caught up with Jack in Idaho Springs ID on Aug 20, 2020, and asked him a few questions about motorcycling.  The following are his responses:

Jack Penton by David Goldman

Introduce yourself:

Hi, this is Jack Penton and we're here in Idaho Falls and I'm a lifetime motorcyclist. I was born into motorcycling. My father John Penton had a motorcycle store when I was just born. And my first ride on a motorcycle was actually when I was three months old. He sat me on a gas tank and we took a ride and I've been riding ever since. I've raced around the world, and I'm very fortunate to be in the AMA Hall of Fame. I have a a world of friends here in motorcycling.

Jack Penton as a teenage superstar, flying the family flag: Penton motorcycles. [AMA Hall of Fame]

How did you first get started with motorcycling?

Being born into a motorcycle family, my two older brothers and myself. We naturally gravitated to motorcycles real early. And as we began to race and we raced amongst ourselves in our own family, if you could beat your brother that was what got you a trophy and into races. So as we got a little bit older, we started spreading out and we began to race nationally, and doing well in the nationals. By the time I turned 16, my dad said  I was old enough, and I should be going to the international six days trials, which was the world Olympics in Europe each year. And at 16. I went there and I did real well and I rode that for the American team representing the United States for 12 times in the ISDT. And won a couple of national championships and off road racing, 31 nationals along the way, so I've had a great racing career and then since then, I've been able to do a lot of leisure and casual riding adventure riding with my friends. Some lifelong racer friends and some new friends I make along the way

What is a Great Experiences or story you can share that happened thanks to bikes?

One of the greatest racing experience I've ever had was in 1970 we went to Spain, and it was my brother Tom, my brother, Jeff, myself and my dad. And we all rode the six days together. There were four family members, it was my first six days, my father's last six days. And probably one of the only times in history of the six days that a whole family is ridden together. From the riding side, that's probably the highlight of the racing. But here later, in the last few years, I've been able to travel with my father and we've been able to see him inducted into a number of Hall of Fame's and we made a trip to Austria to the Moto Hall in Austria. And he got accolades for beginning the Penton motorcycle and is permanently enshrined in the Hall of Fame over there are in their moto Hall. And that was quite an honor. And I was so, so happy that my dad at 93 years old and myself could attend that event.

"Crossing southern Vermont on the old Stage Trail, Jack Penton clowns for the camera--1972 Berkshire." [AMA Hall of Fame]

What do motorcycles mean or represent to you?

To me, motorcycling is a way of life and in a way my life has always been in motorcycling it's where all my friends are. All of the greatest experiences in my life revolve around something that had to do with motorcycling, I believe, short of the birth of my children and my marriage. motorcycling has provided me with most of the the most joyous times in my life. And the thousands of friends that I've met along the way. My dad has a saying that every day is an experience and motorcycling provides an experience for everybody that swings a leg over one and I've had so many I'm so fortunate that way.

 

 

David Goldman is photographer and filmmaker who has traveled the world on projects documenting human trafficking, maternal health and marginalized people. He also interviews and photographs motorcyclists in this travels for his series The Motorcycle Portraits. You can follow his website here, his IG here, and his FB here. Explore all his stories for The Vintagent here.

 


'The Kompressor' - Patricio Castelli

By Patricio Castelli. Photos by Juan Paviolo

I was about 12 years old when I found a motorbike encyclopedia in fascicles. As I immersed myself in that world a bike caught my attention: there was a picture without text of the Ernst Henne's BMW WR750 Kompressor with which he beat some speed records in the 1930s. It was an image so strong that 40 years later I'm still looking for the magic that was in that picture .

Perhaps the very photo that inspired Patricio Castelli on his journey to build his own Kompressor: Ernst Henne with the BMW WR750 record breaker in Sept. 1936, one month before the WR750 recorded 169mph for a new World Land Speed Record. [Dennis Quinlan]

The bike I constructed is not intended to be a tribute, nor a replica: it is simply a free reinterpretation of a bike that captivated me and stimulated my imagination and love for design and construction.

[Juan Paviolo]

The path started a few years ago, when I bought with a friend an Italian boxer engine from Secma Limbiante, very similar to a BMW 500. From that starting point I adapted a BMW R50 gearbox and a Japanese Aisim AMR compressor, and also made the particular ‘aerodynamic’ valve covers. I wanted to keep some features from the Henne bike, like the shape of the handlebars and the absence of a front brake. I also took some liberties, like the aluminum fork made of two wing profiles, and the bolt lock with wire: these are all nods to BMW's aeronautic heritage.

[Juan Paviolo]

In the year 2024 the bike was exhibited at Autoclasica 2024 and won the 1st prize in the category ‘Craftsmanship’.

[Juan Paviolo]
[Ed note: Autoclasica is the largest classic car/motorcycle event in South America, with 1100 vehicles on display, and a huge autojumble, all housed in the old polo grounds of Ipodromo San Isidro in Buenos Aires.   The quality of machines on display is staggering, as Argentina has had motor oil in its veins throughout the 20th Century, and for the first half of the Century at least, the money to buy any motor vehicle they desired.   In the 1990s, I found four Brough Superiors in Argentina, and the legendary supercharged land speed racer 'Super Kim', which led to many friendships around the world.

[Juan Paviolo]
We featured one of Patricio Castelli's previous custom motorcycles in The Vintagent - 'Abandon All Hope' - a masterpiece of design and execution.  As you can imagine, Patricio is a regular winner at Autoclasica in the Custom or Craftsmanship categories, as his work is among the best of any artisan motorcycle builder in the world.  I had the good fortune of meeting Patricio in 2024 in Bueno Aires, during a visit to Coventry Motors Limited, which happens to be across the street from the Ipodromo San Isidro, in a neighborhood mixing actual workshop spaces with chic restaurants for the polo set.

Patricio Castelli with his Kompressor. [Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]
[Juan Paviolo]


Million Dollar Babies

With the recent sale in Las Vegas of the first confirmed Million Dollar Motorcycle (at auction), let's have a look at our list of other bikes that have sold for seven figures.  Only one is confirmed, as auctions are generally the only verifiable sale, although of course trickery is always possible, and auction houses have been known to tout sales that didn't actually happen - as with the 'Captain America' chopper a few years back, and a Winchester motorcycle, each of which laid claim to the 'highest price ever paid at auction' in their PR, but both of which proved false on examination [see our 'Money Talks: the Rest Send Press Releases'].   Private parties have claimed big sales, and newspapers have reported them too, so I've kept my list to motorcycle sales that seem legit, and some on this list I've verified personally with the buyers.

There are very likely other private sales of over $1Million, but I have yet to find details to support their inclusion; one of those rumors concerns a Honda RC166 six-cylinder GP racer, possibly sold to the Honda Museum for seven figures.  There are others, with less credibility, but for the following I've been at least able to follow a trail, and ask a few questions.

Does a Million Dollar Baby mean anything to the motorcycle market, or the culture of motorcycling?  No.  But it's fun to watch from the sidelines, as let's face it, you and I were never going to own a 1915 Cyclone or an original-paint 1912 Henderson Four, so let the collectors have at it; a duel of credit cards at 20 paces!  En garde! 

1. 1915 Cyclone: $1.32 Million (Mecum Auctions January 2025, Las Vegas)

[Mecum Auctions]
In the auction business there has been talk of the first Million Dollar Motorcycle for years; since the 2009 sale of a 1915 Cyclone racer at MidAmerica Auctions in Monterey, in fact.  I happened to provide 'color' for that auction, my very first auction gig, and when the Cyclone came up I instructed the whole audience to raise their hands at $100,000, so they could all claim to have made a bid on the bike!  16 years later, it finally happened; from the amazing Urban Hirsch collection, a Cyclone with a 'clean' string of ownership, restored by Stephen Wright, and now apparently headed to the Legends Motorcycle Museum in Springville, Utah.  Worth a visit, I'd say.

The auction action was thrilling: I was working Mecum's TV coverage of the sale, and we had anticipated a big price, but when bidding topped $1Million, I knew we were in for some entertainment.  You can watch the sale on my Instagram channel, as I filmed my monitor screen during the action, with live TV commentary.  You don't get to do that but once in a lifetime.

2. The 'Captain America' Chopper: ~$1.3Million (private sale, 2014)

[Profiles in History]
 Without a doubt, the 'Captain America' chopper from 'Easy Rider' is the most famous and recognizable motorcycle in history.  Unfortunately, three of the choppers used in the film were stolen before the film was finished, including the two 'hero' bikes, and a 'Billy' stunt double.  The machine pictured was the subject of intense media scrutiny in 2014, when it appeared at a Profiles in History auction, complete with an affidavit from 'Grizzly Adams' (Dan Hagerty) that it was built from the remains of the last original movie bike, from wreckage he possessed after the stunt bike was blown up in the film's climactic scene.  The original stunt bike was built by Larry Marcus under the direction of Cliff 'Soney' Vaughs, with (Marcus claimed) a silver spray-painted chassis, and none of the fine details required of the 'hero' bike ridden by Peter Fonda.  Dan Hagerty kept the remains of that chopper for decades, until finally building a replica of the 'hero' chopper from the parts.  But there was a problem; Hagerty had previously sold another 'Captain America' chopper, and given the very same affidavit of authenticity!  That machine was displayed in the Guggenheim Museum's 'Art of the Motorcycle' exhibit during its Chicago iteration.  The owner of the Guggenheim machine called foul, Peter Fonda refused to certify the Profiles in History bike, a story was done in NPR about the whole mess, and although the bike was reported in the LA Times as 'sold' at auction for $1.65M, the bidder backed out, unsatisfied this was the real 'Captain America'.  But, in a secret deal months later, the chopper was sold to a Billionaire memorabilia collector and philanthropist in the Seattle area, for an awful lot of money.  The bike has recently been exhibited - catch it if you can!

3. 1970 'Triple Crown Special' gold-plated Speedway Champion winner - $1,260,700

[Orange County Motorcycle Club]
Ivan Mauger is the widely considered the greatest Speedway racer in history, having won the Speedway Individual World Championship 6 times (and 2nd place 4 times), taken the Long Track World Champion 4 times (and twice runner-up), and the Pairs Championship once (with 5 runner-ups).  On the verge of winning his 3rd World Championship title in in a row in 1970 - nicknamed the 'Triple Crown' - two American arch-fans (George Wenn and Ray Bokelman) promised that if Ivan won his third World Final at Wrocław (Poland), they would have his winning bike gold-plated. Mauger won the race, and the bike was taken to the USA to be gold-plated, and was dubbed 'Triple Crown Special'.  Mauger recently sold all his motorcycles and memorabilia, and in a private sale, the Canterbury Museum in New Zealand purchased the gold-plated Speedway racer (plus assorted memorabilia) on Aug. 4, 2017 for  NZ$1.8M - about $1,260,700 on the day, making it the third most expensive motorcycle sale known to date.

4.  The 1947 'Bathing Suit' Vincent: ~$1.1Million (private sale, 2011)

[Photo by Kevin Hulsey]
Old racing bikes are usually like 'Caesar's Axe'; authentic certainly, but they've had their heads replaced twice, and their handles four times.  The ex-John Edgar Vincent, developed by Rollie Free in 1947 in cooperation with the Vincent factory, is probably the second most famous motorcycle in the world, as the image of Free at the Bonneville salt flats, 'flat out' in his bathing suit at 150mph, is one of the most popular postcards ever reproduced!  The actual machine was retained in a slightly de-tuned, road-going form by Edgar, until he had a minor crash and stopped riding it. The bike kept most of its original parts in the following 60 years, and was restored by Herb Harris back to its Bonneville configuration.  It was eventually sold to a Hong Kong-based banker, who reportedly keeps the machine at his manse in Carmel Valley, CA.  To his great credit, he has allowed the bike to be filmed for History Channel shows with Alan deCadanet aboard at Bonneville, and is shown at motorcycle events on occasion.

5 (tied). 1936 Crocker Big Twin Serial #1: ~$1Million (Private sale)

Al Crocker's V-twin was the fastest production motorcycle in the world in 1936, not that there was much production: it's estimated less than 75 were built between 1936-43.  The Crocker predated the Harley-Davidson Knucklehead as the first OHV V-twin built for the street in the USA, and it was probably 20mph faster than a standard Knuck, especially if the customer ordered the full 100ci engine capacity available (they were usually 61ci - 1000cc).  Al Crocker offered a money-back guarantee to any Crocker owner who was beaten by an Indian or Harley-Davidson, and there was never a need to make such a refund.  Crockers have only grown in demand, with prices topping $600k in 2019.  But Serial #1, the very first Crocker Big Twin, apparently sold to a California collector for a cool $1Million a few years back.  I've heard the rumor from Those Who Know, and the purported owner could certainly afford that - he has quite a few Crockers in his warehouse! (Sorry - no photo available)

5 (tied): 1912 Henderson Four $ 1Million (Private sale)

[Mecum Auctions]
The only known original paint 1912 Henderson Four, this machine set a record for any Henderson back in 2017 at the Mecum Las Vegas auction, where it fetched $539,000.  There is no denying the authenticity of this machine, and while slightly oxidized, the paint and nickel plating are still present, and the pinstriping and logo clearly visible.  A superb motorcycle!   Henderson Fours were rightly known as the 'Duesenberg of Motorcycles' for the quality of their engineering, construction, and finish, and their smooth elegance.  A machine just like this one became the first motorcycle ridden around the world, when Charles Stearns Clancy commenced a journey eastward in 1912, finishing in 1913.  Clancy did write about his journey, but events overtook his story, ie World War 1.  His tale remained unpublished for generations, only appearing in 2010 in the book 'Motorcycle Adventurer.'  I recommend the book, as it is the ONLY pre-WW1 round-the-world travelogue (on a motorcycle - there are earlier books with travel by boat and train), and it was clearly a different world before everything went to hell.  We included a different 1912 Henderson to honor Clancy's achievement in my exhibit 'ADV:Overland' at the Petersen Museum in Los Angeles: check out that story here.

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

 


Thunderbirds are Go!

The success of any group ride depends primarily on the character of its participants, and how they get along.  By that measure, the Thunderbird Ride, organized by Jared Zaugg, was superb, bringing together an interesting mix of folks, from wealthy collectors / museum owners, to world famous artisans, to racers, to journalists and filmmakers, to folks who simply love bikes.  Of course, #2 critical point for a good ride is Location, and the Thunderbird Ride had me at 'Moab Utah', the heart of everything magical in America's canyonlands.  Third on the list would be the mix of bikes, and again, the Thunderbird scored on variety, combining world-class customs by Shinya Kimura and Max Schaaf, several vintage Triumph/BSAs/Moto Guzzi/Harley-Davidsons, a couple of newer/hotted up Harley-Davidsons reserved for long-traveled guests from Austria, and a pair of vintage choppers.  The photos tell the story: this was a mix not found on any other ride, as rallies tend to be all antiques, or all choppers, or all new bikes, with rarely a mix of everything on wheels.

The 2024 Thunderbird Ride blocking (nonexistent) traffic at Forrest Gump lookout near Four Corners. [Jude Zaugg]
A sticking point for group rides is pace: some folks ride fast, some cruise: some bikes will cruise at 75mph, and some bikes feel flogged at over 60mph.  Jared Zaugg addressed the issue in a morning rider's meeting...which I misinterpreted as 'ride flat out'.  The speed differential wasn't really an issue; we all had maps, and are all experienced riders.  It did mean some of us didn't see others except at meal stops or vista overlooks.  But for me, in the hundreds of rides/rallies I've attended, road clumping has never been a priority, although I get that it's important for folks who prefer to ride together.  That makes me a road loner, although when another rider matches my pace and inclinations to stop and take photos, I'm happy for the company.  When I'm riding solo (ie when my pillion buddy Suzie stays home), my pace hots up, and the selection of like-throttled riders narrows.  This year I got lucky, and found a fellow maniac or two who take maximum riding pleasure from tilting at corners and thundering through the landscape.

My riding buddy! Jeff Leighton with his very fast Harley-Davidson Knucklehead with Vard forks (Jeff's business is making new Vards). With a hot cam and ported cylinder heads, his Knuck would cruise at 75-80mph all day. [Paul d'Orléans]
So, what is the Thunderbird Ride?  Jared Zaugg explains:  “The Thunderbird Ride was created as an annual invitational motorcycle ride, limited to less than 20 international participants, with the aim of bringing together diverse professionals from across industries in a uniquely uncommon and highly memorable setting. Each year the route will be different and always awe-inspiring, with a focus on the Rocky Mountain states of the Western US. The route of this year’s inaugural event went through the Canyonlands and Navajolands of southern Utah, also referred to as the Four Corners region of the American Southwest."

Paul and Gary Boulanger arrived early enough to hike to Corona Arch, one of Utah's most famous natural wonders, in a red canyon full of mysterious orifices and hollows. [Paul d'Orléans]
I drove to Utah with Gary Boulanger, a former editor at The Vintagent who moved on to Cycle World, and now is Editor in Chief at the Silicon Valley Business Journal. A real job! Gary parked his lovely blue BMW Toaster Tank R75/5 beside my bitsa 1960s Triumph Tracker in my van, Sic Transit Gloria, and we headed southeast to Utah, stopping for a night on the 'loneliest highway in America' (Hwy 50) at Ely NV.  As Gary intended to ride with his prisoner-stripe denim, it seemed apropos to kip at the Jailbreak Motel, in 'Cell 122'.  Their restaurant had a similar theme, using actual jail cells as dining booths, a gimmick I found strange, given the likely percentage of former inmates as clientele in this remote gambling haven. The food was jail-worthy, too. Joe Bob says give it a miss.

The helmets tell a story - this group had personality in spades. [Jared Zaugg]
Arriving early in Moab the next day, we made a side trip to see Corona Arch - similar to Delicate Arch on the Utah license plate - stopping to admire a wall of petroglyphs en route.  The arch required a 40min hike on a well-marked trail, and was worth the effort, as the whole landscape was wind and water-sculpted red sandstone, and one easily understands the feeling that ancient spirits reside within those canyon walls.  Returning to our motel, our Ride group finally coalesced at dinner nearby, where Jared's son Jude, just returned from a 2-year mission in the Philippines, surprised everyone by conversing fluently in Tagalog with our waitress.  I've known Jude since before he was born, taking up space in his mother Brooke's belly: isn't it great to see them grow up?

Aiden DeCadanet with Jude Zaugg. [Jared Zaugg]
Early Saturday morning we found Gary's BMW was a non-starter,  proving once again my axiom 'it's always BMWs that break on a vintage rally.' Several of us looked the Toaster over, including Shinya Kimura, who shook his head 'No'.  Luckily, Kevin Bradburn hauled five bikes in a huge trailer, including two hotted-up late-model Harley-Davidsons for Attila and Sabina Scheiber, owners of the Top Mountain Museum in Austria, who easily won the Furthest Traveled award.  Kevin's other options included a beautiful Shinya Kimura Moto Guzzi creation, a pre-unit Triumph, a Sportster for Jared to ride, and the 'Black Panther' from Max Schaaf - an exquisite old school 'skinny tire' Panhead custom chopper.   With no bike to ride, Gary looked over the available options, pausing momentarily to examine the Black Panther, as I seconded Shinya's 'No'.  Gary would ride my bitsa Triumph Tracker (1963 frame, 1971 motor / forks / wheels), which I'd only done a few miles on, and I would take the Black Panther.

No complaints here. Riding the Black Panther to Goosenecks overlook: spectacular all the way around. Does this bike make me look ... like a badass mofo? [Jeff Leighton]
I've known Max Schaaf since 2006, after spotting an amazing chopper outside a Mission District restaurant, and waiting until the owner came out, to congratulate the amazing build.  This was 8 years before I wrote 'The Chopper: the Real Story', and I was not especially fond of choppers, but there was no denying Max's bike was very special and built by a master craftsman.  We talked, we conferred about our mutual blogs (he had recently started 4Q Conditioning, and I The Vintagent), and have been amigos ever since.  I had never ridden one of his creations, but had ridden on his 69 Mile Ride, and knew his machines worked.  So, no terrors on helming the Black Panther for 200 miles, but years of yoga definitely helped me ride the animal in question.

Gary Boulanger with my bitsa Triumph Tracker. [Paul d'Orleans]
What I quickly discovered: losing 100lbs and hotting up the motor of a big Harley-Davidson V-twin meant the Black Panther was quick, and fast, and seemed happiest - mechanically - cruising at 75mph or so, despite the beating I took over bumps.  Which meant the rest of the Thunderbird gang were left far behind, barring one Jeff Leighton on his tuned Harley-Davidson Knucklehead, likewise happy to cruise at 75.  So, I had a riding buddy...which proved very useful when I ran out of gas 50 miles in, en route to Needles Overlook.  Jeff found a metal water bottle, so I was back on the road in minutes, after taking in the marvelous desert landscape with piñon trees predominating, and not much else to cover the red dirt.  With the range of the Panther determined, I knew to stop for gas before 50 miles, which worked out fine for the rest of the weekend.   The short version?  Riding the Black Panther made me feel some kinda way.  Fast motoring on a very stylish and very beautiful machine with a perfect exhaust note for 200 miles was apex motorcycling.  It also hurt, and I was glad for gas stops every 45 miles or so. The Panther handled perfectly, with easy feet-up U-turns, a real trick for a bike with 4" extensions on the forks: I was busy texting Max with congratulations and pumping him for details, figuring this was as good a Road Test moment as any.

Shea Sjoburg brought his Evo chopper along, which I had a chance to ride for 75 miles on Sunday. Smooth and fast, with sufficient trail on the front end to make handling light at low speeds. Riding a chopper makes anyone feel like a hero! Something about that stance... [Jared Zaugg]
We stopped for Navajo tacos - unavailable outside the Four Corners region - at Twin Rocks Cafe in Bluff UT.  That enabled catch-up time for the several riders I'd not seen for a while, like Grant Reynolds (riding his 1969 Triumph with 1964 gold bodywork), with whom I'd forever-bonded on a week-long Kiehl's charity ride in 2011 - that's another thing a good ride will do.  Grant has left his TV career in LA ('What Could Possibly Go Wrong' et al) and moved to Weed CA to start a production company...in Salt Lake City.  Grant was one of three SoCal lads who'd moved to SLC in recent years, including Jeff Leighton and Andy Pappas, who rode his grandfather's Harley-Davidson Panhead, which was a totally stock beauty.   Jeff moved his Vard Manufacturing to SLC several years ago for a host of reasons (including infrastructure costs), but Andy was a more recent transplant, leaving San Diego for the mountains of Utah, where he services giant turbines.

Catching up with old friend, and yes, there are bars (ok, one bar) in Moab. Graybeards Grant Reynolds and Paul d'Orléans send a toast to your health. [Paul d'Orléans]
Even our official (Jared Zaugg) and unofficial hosts (the Bradburns) had moved from the SF Bay Area to Utah, a trend made prominent of course by the proximity of all these gents to our Moab venue, but indicative of a demographic trend; the in-and-outs of population to and from California, the leavers fed up with high prices etc being replaced by newcomers attracted to the beauty and culture.   As a 5th-gen San Franciscan, I've found it ultimately impossible to leave, but have watched the tides change as the artists departed in the late 1990s, replaced by job-seekers in the exploding tech industry, which leaves many parts of the City a ghost town in slow times, like now.

Attending the needs of a Triumph: Julian Heppekausen brought a box of Triumph spares, but didn't have rocker inspection caps, so Shinya Kimura used lockwire magic for a stable temporary fix, that I'll probably just keep. [Gary Boulanger]
The shake-down ride for my Triumph bitsa had been just that: 1971 Triumph rocker boxes feature screw-in caps to insert a feeler gauge for valve adjustment, and one had fallen off.  Shinya Kimura sorted it with one of his famous lockwire repair sculptures, which I'm loathe to remove, although the dime he used to cover the hole meant it still leaked oil. No biggie. And, my bike is worth more than the day before, given the Shinya magic.  Gary carried on for the rest of the day: he'd never ridden a Triumph before, so he got the full mix of their charms: the repairable breakdowns, and the excellent ride feel. "It's fun!" But the Triumph wasn't charging properly, so had a total-loss battery ignition, which was totally lost by the end of the day, so we stuck it in the chase trailer.  That gave Gary the opportunity to try other bikes, and by the end of the weekend he'd ridden four, declaring it "an experience to last a lifetime."

Moki Dugway, a stretch in the middle of Utah Hwy 261 that turns to dirt, and turns and turns, climbing 1200' of canyon to a mesa where the landscape turns from desert to forest, and the road becomes a long series of fast sweepers. [Jared Zaugg]
Let's talk roads: the canyonlands are a mix of fairly straight 2-lane desert highways interspersed with delightful twisties as you're 'getting somewhere', like a canyon overlook atop a mountain (Needles Overlook or Goosenecks State Park), or climbing a sheer cliff face on a set of dirt hairpins laid out by miners in the 1950s (Moki Dugway), or stretches of the less canyon-spectacular but more road-fabulous like Hwy 261, especially good with a fast bike.  And by then (Sunday), I was, as the ever-generous Kevin Bradburn and his son Cole (with his 1-year old Sonny in tow) had taken over the Black Panther, and I mounted Shinya Kimura's spectacular Moto Guzzi cafe racer.  That bike, too, will get a full Road Test report in future, but as I've ridden several of Shinya's bikes in 'Kimura Canyon' outside his shop in Azusa, I knew what to expect.  A fast and totally competent sports machine with unique, spectacular bodywork.

Sexy from any angle, Shinya Kimura's Moto Guzzi custom. [Paul d'Orléans]
We spent an 'away' night in Mexican Hat, beside the San Juan River canyon at the San Juan Inn and Trading Post, and those inclined towards Native American jewelry found it good; the Holidays are inevitable so prepare thee well, and I conspired with Sabina Scheiber on some gifting sleight-of-hand, keeping the element of surprise for a certain someone. No comment on my purchases, for now.

Filmmaker Michael Polish and hatmaker Chandler Scott. [Paul d'Orléans]
Dinner at the Inn was uneventful, barring the company, which was excellent, and gave me a chance to get to know filmmaker Michael Polish (riding a hot KTM ADV bike), Andy Pappas, and Cole Bradburn, who builds Porsches (Verve Vintage Motorworks) for events like the Peking to Paris, in which he and his father Kevin won their class this year in a 1969 Porsche 912 built by Cole.  It was good to catch up with hatmaker Chandler Scott, chat with Ayu and Shinya Kimura about the bikes they'd brought (a pre-unit Triumph chopper for Ayu, and a stock Moto Guzzi T3 for Shinya), and get they 'why we left Cali' stories from Shea and Andy.

Aiden DeCadanet - whom I hadn't seen since he was a boy - aboard the Bradburns' pre-unit Triumph TR6. [Paul d'Orléans]
The swap from chopper to cafe racer on Sunday meant turning the dial from 8 to 11, as I explored the performance of Shinya's Moto Guzzi.  We stopped at Goulding's Lodge, where John Wayne's character in 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon' kept a primitive stone cabin, now a museum integrated into the usual canyonland motel/restaurant/gift shop.  I was distracted by Native American jewelry shopping - found a Navajo baby rattle for my grandson Jude - and found myself left behind by the gang...an opportunity for a high-speed test to catch them up.

Attila and Sabina Scheiber, all the way from the Top Mountain Museum in Austria. [Jared Zaugg]
Shinya's Guzzi is basically a LeMans Mk1 with Ceriani race forks and a giant 4LS Yamaha TZ front brake, as good as any disc.  Like all hot Guzzi V-twins, it handled like on rails, so with little traffic and miles of forward visibility on the desert highway, at Ton Up! speeds I soon joined the others for a planned short film of our group passing the Forrest Gump overlook in the 'other' direction.   The next viewpoint was near the top of Moki Dugway, a series of dirt switchbacks rising 1200', built by uranium miners in the 1950s to transport ore between Cedar Mesa and Mexican Hat.

Julian Heppekausen with his original-paint BSA Thunderbolt, that burbled like a champ all weekend. [Paul d'Orléans]
After the obligatory photo stop, and watching Cole Blackburn manage the Black Panther up a rutted dirt canyon(!), we leveled up to the bliss of high-country sweepers on the beautifully paved Hwy 261.  That was 25 miles of cafe racer perfection, with almost no traffic, and evidently no police presence, or likely I'd have spent my last night in Utah in an actual jail.  But no catchee monkey, and satisfied with Shinya's handiwork, I rode the final stretch to lunch at Blanding with my fellows (and ladies - Ayu on her Triumph and Sabina on her wicked H-D Road Glide).

Ayu with her pre-unit Triumph Thunderbird chopper, which seems tailor made to suit her. [Paul d'Orléans]
We'll draw a veil over lunch (in a bowling alley), and circle back to the night before the rally, when Shea Sjoburg showed up riding his H-D Evo chopper, instead of the pickup truck he'd started out from SLC with.  The truck had thrown a fit (and its timing belt) in Monument Valley, where he'd left it after finding a replacement belt that didn't quite fit.  As our route brought us near the spot he'd abandoned his truck, he finished his repairs and retrieved it, but hated to see his chopper miss the last 75 miles of the ride.  I volunteered, curious to experience the Evo genre of Chopperdom.  The photo above gives my Cliff's Notes on handling - surprisingly good - and let's just say those last miles were covered in an hour, again in the good company of Jeff Leighton on his Knuck.

Band photos! Some of the gang hanging out at Dead Horse overlook: Jeff Leighton, Chandler Scott, Jude Zaugg, Gary Boulanger, Grant Reynolds, Aiden DeCadenet, and Jared Zaugg, with hundreds of miles of canyons behind. [Paul d'Orléans]
Our arrival in Moab was not the end of our day, as a sunset ride was planned for Dead Horse State Park, which rivals (and perhaps exceeds) the Grand Canyon for sheer incomprehensible vistas.  We watched the sun paint hundreds of miles of 4500' deep canyons a deeper shade of red, making a wonderful photo opp. It also meant our final 30 mile return to Moab was concluded in darkness, quickly followed by a farewell dinner, from which some of our group departed directly, while Gary and I escaped in the wee hours of the morning, taking the fast route via SLC and US 80 to our Bay Area home, 15 hours away.  It was a lot of driving for a weekend ride, but eminently worth it.  Infinite thanks to our gracious host Jared Zaugg, and especially to Kevin and Cole Bradburn, who sorted so many of us who did or didn't know they'd need a ride!  How cool that Gary and I both got to test out four different bikes in the beautiful landscapes of Utah.  The Thunderbird Ride was a reminder that motorcycling is the best of times, made doubly special in such excellent company.

Kevin Bradburn headed into the sunset aboard the 4Q Engineering 'Black Panther' chopper. [Paul d'Orléans]
Jared Zaugg at Dead Horse overlook with the Bradburns' pre-unit Triumph TR6. [Jude Zaugg]
 

 

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

 


The Legendary Nortons of Paul Adams

Anyone who ever lost a West Coast concours, anyone who raced AHRMA in the good old days, or vintage raced in New Zealand, or rode with the Velocette Club, knows the name Paul Adams. And if you’re really OG, you remember his front-page feature in Classic Bike back in 1986, with a devastating cover shot of the gleaming silver and black tank of a DOHC Daytona Norton Manx. That was one of Paul’s gorgeous restorations - which he happened to also race.  How he came to restore that machine, and many other 'cammy' Norton International and Manx models, is a story in itself.

Paul Adams aboard his 1921 Norton 16H Sports being told he's won the Elvis Presley award at the 2008 Legend of the Motorcycle Concours. [Paul d'Orléans]
A few years after wearing out that Classic Bike issue,  I met Paul Adams at a Velocette Owners Club summer rally, the annual week-long / 1000mile vintage bike adventure, on which Paul typically rode a beautiful 1959 Velocette Venom Clubman, which never broke down, and always looked fresh (unlike my bikes). One year he did ride a gorgeous pre-unit Triumph TR6C TT Trophy... and he’s keeping that bike, for now. As for the others in his remarkable collection - that Velocette Clubman, and all those Nortons - Paul has decided he’d rather see his collection go to new homes while he’s still upright, than wait to pass them on in his will, and make them his wife’s problem.

The 1952 Norton Daytona Manx was Tex Luce's factory ride, part of the effort to win the Daytona beach 200-mile race for the third time in a row, which they accomplished.. The Garden Gate frame was used instead of the Featherbed frame as in 1951 no roadster Norton used it, which the AMA required. Nortons were raced on the beach since the first Daytona 200 in 1937, when Clark Trumbull rode his personal Norton International to second place behind winner Ed Kretz on a factory Indian V-twin.  Billy Matthews was the first on a Norton to win the race, in 1941, riding a 1937 model entered and tuned by Ted Sturgess (Norton dealer in Hamilton Ontario) and J.M. McGill, the Norton importer for North America. [Keith Milne]
I interviewed Paul Adams recently regarding the sale of his garage for Mecum Magazine, as Mecum is selling his collection at this January's huge Las Vegas sale.  Paul is an organized thinker (he had notes!) and is charmingly self-effacing ("Please print only my best lies!"). It was a pleasure to dig in on his history, which I'd never fully known, just heard bits and pieces over the years (and how often do you interview your friends?). A condensed version of this interview will shortly appear in Mecum Magazine, but for now, the following is a lightly edited version our conversation:

Paul Adams racing a 1950s Norton Featherbed Manx. [Paul Adams]
Paul d'Orléans (PDO): But let’s go back to the beginning. How did Paul Adams become such a fixture of the racing and concours scenes?

Paul Adams: “I'll start at the beginning. I owe a lot to my father, who was a millwright, and taught me about handwork and craftsmanship. That’s why I've never considered myself a collector; I considered myself a restorer. I had seen Nortons race when I was in junior high; my dad took us kids to the sports car races at various tracks around Southern California, and they often had a race for motorcycles. These shiny silver tank things with black and red stripes always seemed to win – they were Norton Manxes of course. So I had that in the back of my mind.”

The gorgeous instrumentation of a 1935 Norton International M40, which includes a pocketwatch and holder. [Keith Milne]
Paul d'Orléans (PDO): When I first met you, you were still working as a pilot on a commercial beat, so how did bikes fit in?

Paul Adams: “I was a Navy guy, I’d enlisted when I was 17 and was in the reserves at Los Alamitos, in a P2V squad. Then I went to college for four years and got my degree in electrical engineering, then I went to work for North American and actually got to work on the Apollo program moon lander. But I owed the Navy three years of active duty as my reserve obligation, so I applied for flight training; now I owed them five years! I wasn't exactly smart when it came to managing that. I wound up flying A4 Skyhawks from the USS Kitty Hawk. My first cruise was 10 months in the western Pacific; the mission was to nuke Russia if necessary; this was 1963-64. Toward the end of that cruise Vietnam erupted, so we went down to operate off the coast in the South China Sea off Vietnam. Initially it was a big secret as we worked up in Laos, on the backside of North Vietnam. We lost a couple of guys there. When we were due for rotation after a 10-month cruise we came back home for about 6 months, then went back on my second cruise. That time it was all Vietnam; we did some flying in South Vietnam, but most of it was over the bad area. In North Vietnam we bombed big targets, so it was exciting, but we lost a bunch of guys, some were POW's, good friends of mine. When I got out of the Navy I flew for Continental Airlines. A perk was free flying passes, which came in handy later on as I became a regular traveler to vintage motorcycle swap meets, riding, and racing in England, New Zealand and Australia.”

This 1937 Norton M30 International racer was restored using NOS factory Norton parts, and is correct down to the beveled washers. [Keith Milne]
“Pilots had about the same hours off as firemen - you'd be gone from home for two or three days and then you'll be home for two or three days. So I had a lot of time to get things caught up, and I got bored. I had bought a Honda in Japan when I was on a ship, a 1964, one of the little 50cc, it wasn't the step through, it was a small motorcycle. I was bored with days off and looking at the walls so I thought ‘I'm gonna get another motorcycle to fix up’. I found an old R51 BMW - it wasn't that old at the time but it needed fixing up, so I got it cheap and I got it running and really enjoyed the hell out of it.”

“Then I found a 1962 Norton Model 50 that had been converted into a dirt bike, amazingly enough most of the bolts and everything on it were replaced with titanium! It was a real piece of work, and got me going on the Nortons. While I was restoring the Model 50, a friend of a friend from work, Jim Forrest, was introduced to me because he was a a similar soul, restoring an Ariel Red Hunter. We hit it off and he said ‘You gotta come on the Wednesday night rides.’ It turned out Jim’s dad was Howard Forrest, the guru behind Mustang motorcycles made in Burbank.

This superb 1939 Norton International Model 30 was lovingly and patiently restored by Paul Adams from his extraordinary supply of New Old Stock parts. It is effectively a Norton Daytona Manx, built from importer Tom McGill's factory Norton racing parts. This bike incorporates the remaining parts from the 1941 Daytona 200-winning Norton ridden by Canadian Billy Matthews. Matthew’s Norton was provided and tuned by J.M. McGill (Tom's father), the Canadian Norton importer. [Keith Milne]
PDO: Didn’t Eddie Arnold did work for Mustang? [Eddie built my 1933 Velocette Mk4 KTT – The Mule]

Paul Adams: “Yeah I was just getting to that! Jim Forrest worked there on the assembly line before he went to College, and one of the guys that worked there was Eddie Arnold. Ed organized a ride every Wednesday night out of his house up on Mount Washington and up the Angeles Crest Highway. Jim said, ‘it's really a lot of fun you gotta come along,’ so I did and got introduced to that world. Riding with us were Velocette riders John Munoz and Ron Thomas, so I fell in with a really bad lot! They got me going to the CAMA (California Antique Motorcycle Association) rallies every year, that Frank Conley put on. I got into the world of restoring; all these guys showed up with their restored bikes, and you could ride each other's bikes; we’d ride them around look at them and everything, in those days it was just enthusiasts, it wasn't a money thing at all. Everybody just did their own work and showed up at gatherings. That was my world, I fell in love with it. I'd been a model airplane junkie when I was a kid, and I wound up just doing restoration after restoration after restoration, because I was hooked on it and really enjoyed it. That started me off and I never looked back. Restoring bikes wasn't a money thing then, people didn't do it for money."

March 1948: Bob McKeever sits his brand new Norton Daytona Manx 30M on the beach - note the red rims! He finished 14th after a crash on the sand and a spark plug change. [from 'Norton the Racing Story' by Mick Walker]
"At one of the rallies there was a 1948 Garden Gate Manx for sale, all apart, so I started looking for parts. In the 1960s the original English bike dealers were still around, they still had parts. So people heard I was looking for Norton parts, and someone said ‘the person you need to meet is Bobby Fleckenstein, he has all of Clarence Cysz’ old parts.’ Cysz was hand handled the Garden Gate Manxes for the Daytona 200 races when the Norton factory team was competing. Bobby had all of Clarence's parts he had accumulated from about 10 years of factory-sponsored Norton Manxes , from the plunger-framed Garden Gates to the early Featherbeds. That same restoration led me to Tom McGill; he was in Massachusetts but was from Canada, his father was the Norton importer for North America. There is a picture of Tom as a teenager with his father and legendary Norton race tuner Francis Beart; they were all at Daytona together. McGill’s father imported Nortons, but the factory switched over to Indian for their distribution, and McGill just locked everything up in a warehouse. Tom had all kinds of new old stock parts for Garden Gate Manxes and Internationals. Those were my parts sources."

A page from the 1939 Norton catalog of the Racing International model: "This is a machine specially designed for racing. Every detail of the specification is of the utmost importance. Every engine is built and specially tuned in the Experimental Department." Available in 348cc (M40) and 490cc (M30) versions. [The Vintagent Archive]
"When I bought that International at the CAMA rally it was missing things like the oil tank and stuff, but Bobby Fleckenstein had everything. And when Bobby wanted to move on I acquired all of the parts he had. That was led to me restoring a lot of Garden Gate Manxes, and some of the Featherbeds. I had all that crap laying around! They were no brainers. All the racing Nortons I restored are made with mostly new old stock parts, they are accurate all the way down to the hardware; Norton used beveled-edged washers, and all the nuts and bolts were matte chromed, with a zinc base - nobody does that anymore. All my bikes were restored down to that degree of attention, and the only thing I had a problem with was the cloth braided control cable outers that were shellacked; if you try to bend them they crack. But the original oil lines had wire coils inside and around the outside, so when you bent them they didn't kink and choke off the fuel or oil supply. So my bikes have those kind of correct details, and all the instruments were correct as I had all access to all the data. I had the instruments rebuilt by Dennis Quinlan down in Australia. I paid very close attention to detail, and would stack mine against the Nortons restored in England and mine were better. I just was able to do it right because I had access to all those original parts, thanks to Jim Forrest. And Model Plating was the best chrome plater in the US; NASA used them for special parts on rocket engines. anyway I just fell into all this stuff, and was able to do really good jobs. “

The compelling design of the long-stroke DOHC Norton Manx engine in all magnesium parts, seen here in Paul Adams' 1952 Daytona Manx. The DOHC cylinder head was technically illegal in AMA racing, but Norton produced a catalog that offered it as a racing kit extra for their International model. In reality, you could not order a DOHC cylinder head separately from a standard racing Manx, which was illegal for American racing in 1952, because the Featherbed frame was also a race-only feature in 1951.[Keith Milne]
PDO: I’ll say; your Nortons seemed to win Best in Show at every concours I attended, and took class wins at the Legend of the Motorcycle Concours against worldwide competition. But Nortons aren't your only passion: as mentioned, you're a Velocette man too, and had several KTTs and early KSSs at times. Tell us about your Venom Clubman?

Paul Adams: “The bike I rode on all those Velocette rallies came from a neighbor, Don West in Palos Verdes. It had originally been sold by a San Diego dealer, and later acquired by Steve Tillett. He found it hard to start and traded it to Don for his BMW. Don brought it to a couple of the CAMA rallies but he was getting up in age – if he's still alive he'd be about 105. He sold it to me in the mid-1970s, so I’ve had it for 50 years. My friend Mick Felder, another neighbor on the coast of SoCal, invited me to a Velocette Club Spring Opener. That’s when I really had a purpose for the Velocette, so I started riding it all the time, on the 1000-mile Summer Rallies. I’d retired by then and could ride on the rallies I wanted, always on that Clubman.”

Paul Adams makes impromptu repairs to his 1961 Velocette Venom Clubman tank during a Velocette Summer Rally. [Paul d'Orléans]
PDO: You have three other Velos coming up for sale at Mecum’s 2025 Las Vegas sale; a 1939 MAC, a ’61 Scrambler, and a crazy one-of-one Thruxton Scrambler. What’s the story with that one?

Paul Adams: “My Scrambler is unique, and documented as the only Thruxton-engined Scrambler ever built by Velocette. It was a special order from the factory by one of the ‘canal zone’ guys living in Panama, who all ordered British bikes direct from various factories to ride down there. Bill Hannah wound up with it, and he converted to look like a strandard Thruxton, so the only thing that was still looked like the Scrambler was the frame. That's the way I got it, but luckily Bill saved all the original Scrambler parts and it was all in great shape, so I converted right back to how it came from the factory. Then I used all the Thruxton bodywork and combined it with parts from Yashiko Thomas after Ron died. That used a Scrambler frame too. It looks like a brand new bike, but it's a bitsa.“

PDO: Since you've been at it so long, how do you see the collector motorcycle scene changing over the years?

Clarence Csyz aboard Paul Adams' 1948 Norton Daytona Manx racer. [Paul Adams]
Paul Adams: “The motorcycle scene has developed over the decades especially in California, at some point it stopped being the CAMA rally when the car guys drifted in, or I guess they were wannabe be car guys but were priced out of the market. They brought all these car collector attitudes to the bike scene, like you gotta have matching numbers, provenance, and on and on. The collector bike scene turned it into what it is today, a money game. The first to go were the Vincent owners, and then of course the Brough Superior guys got into it, once everybody figured out that’s where the money was. We had a lot of fun before guys got priced right out of it. Luckily I got all my bikes early, and I've had my fun so it’s time to move on.”

Paul Adams and his Yamaha-powered Norton "Clubman" special. [Jeff Bushnell for Cycle World]
PDO: Are you keeping any bikes?

Paul Adams: “I still have the bike John Munoz left me in his will, a rigid MSS with Swallow sidecar. I’m keeping my ‘Norton 4’ four-cylinder creation, and I can still ride that in my old age, it’s push button with electric start. I also have my Triumph pre-unit TR6C TT, I still ride that and just redid the engine. I was having problems with seizures, and I rebuilt it twice, finding things like worn out cams and stuff. I figured it was a timing problem that was causing it to seize, but the last time I took it apart I was blowing off the cylinder head and noticed bubbles coming up around the valve seats; turns out the head was cracked around both valve seats. I called Bill Getty, he goes all the way back to the early days, and he sorted me out with a new cylinder head, and it’s been no problems since, it runs great.”

A superb, road-going 1937 Norton Model 30 International, complete with lights and muffler, and ready to go on a long, fast ride. They don't come much more handsome than this... [Keith Milne]
PDO: Any further thoughts you'd like to share?

Paul Adams: “One of the highlights of my career as a restorer and sometimes racer was in New Zealand. After Continental Airlines went bankrupt I returned to the the space world and went to work at Hughes Aircraft as a Flight Director of satellite launches. One day at work I got a call from a Ken McIntosh who wanted to talk about Nortons.  It led to him inviting me down to go vintage racing at Pukekohe, near Auckland.  I was a guest of Ken, we became good friends, and I kept going back for over 20 years!  In the course of their events they always brought in noted racers as guests of honor and one of them was John Surtees. I met him at Ken's house on my first trip down there, and we hung around a little bit, and on my second trip down I arrived early and had to stay at a motel; John was there too, just the two of us, and we were eating breakfast and hit it off, not talking about bikes so much, and he offered to loan me one of his Manxes to ride at Goodwood Revival! That that was a highlight of my so-called racing career - to get an offer from a ride from Sir John Surtees. But all I could think of was ‘what if I dropped one of his bikes?’ I couldn't do it! I dropped my Nortons more than once, but that's racing.”

While John Surtees is a hero, there’s room for another in this story, and Paul has always been one of mine, ever since I read that 1986 Classic Bike article, which inspired me to start collecting bikes myself. Have a look at the remarkable Paul Adams Collection coming up for sale, it’s a corker, and if you want some really special, rare machines...call your bank manager.

 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.

 


Honeymoon on Mars, 1928

While it may sound like part of a wedding package circa 2050, after President-for-Life Musk develops his off-world colonies for space tourism, a lovely young German couple had the original Honeymoon on Mars nearly a Century ago.  From a family album in a private collection (very near our lovebirds' home in Heilbronn), comes the anonymous tale that commences in 1925, with a proud young man on a Mars motorcycle.  On this machine he toured, attended rallies with friends, even wooed and won his future bride, with whom he honeymooned after attaching a sidecar to his noble steed.

Our hero in 1925, in Erlangstegen Germany, aboard his fine white steed, a Mars A20, with full Bosch electric lighting and an optional speedometer. [Private Collection]
Yes, in the early days of the German motorcycle industry, there was a Mars, a top-of-the-market machine of special configuration.  The Mars factory had been around since 1873 in Nürnberg, Germany, founded by Paul Reissmann to manufacture stoves, expanding to grinding machines, bicycles, and even small cars.  In 1903 they included motorcycles in their catalogue, using engines by Zedel and Fafnir, and manufactured various models on and off through 1953.  The futuristic Mars in our lovebirds' story was designed by Claus Franzenburg, and was sold as the model A20 from 1920, with a distinctive box-section frame running from the headstock to the rear wheel in a dramatic dash, that made the Mars look far ahead of its time.  The box frame also housed the fuel and oil tanks, plus a 2-speed dual-chain system with no clutch necessary - just crank the big wooden knob atop the frame for Low or High. The 956cc flat-twin sidevalve engine was also designed by Franzenburg, and was mounted below the frame box on a subframe: the engine was actually built by Maybach in Friedrichshafen, the luxury car manufacturer that also built engines for the zeppelins built in the same town (if you're ever there, you must visit the remarkable Zeppelin Museum).

Our happy couple in 1927, dressed in their Winter finery amongst the fir trees. [Private Collection]
A20 was built through 1925, and is likely the model in our photo album.  The Mars A20 (or 'White Mars' as commonly known, although they sold red and green versions) was a true luxury motorcycle, as you might imagine with the Maybach connection, and was finished to a superb standard. They were expensive then and are still highly coveted for their unique, advanced styling and engineering.  But, the Mars is a 1920s motorcycle, built just after WW1, and has charming quirks that bely its modernistic impression: like a Model T, it's started using a hand crank, and the performance, despited the large motor, is very 1920, with a top speed of 55mph, but a cruising speed more like 35mph, according to a former owner (who also happens to own this photo album). "It will cruise at 60kph (36mph), but not for long; to maintain the engine, it's better to keep it to 50kph (30mph), and with a sidecar attached, our friends in 1928 might have averaged 40kph (22mph), or even less when climbing up the Alps."  

Picnic on Mars! On a fine Spring day on the grass in 1927, while our hero courts his lady. [Private Collection]
It's good to remember that in 1925-28, most of the roads through southern Germany were not paved with macadam, but were gravel or simply dirt, especially in the mountains.  And 30mph on a gravel road is plenty fast on a machine with minimal suspension, and most 'street' riders even today don't feel comfortable exceeding this on gravel riding a modern road bike.  In short, our hero was right to be proud of his mount, as a classy piece of machinery with plenty of speed for the conditions at hand, and when he later wooed and wed his lovely bride, and attached a heavy sidecar, her comfort was paramount, and would not be enhanced by tearing around in the dust.  Still, she was game, and looks happy with the situation.

The invevitable: a wedding in white for our young bride, who was very likely pregnant. They do look a bit...rushed. [Private Collection]
Honeymoon on Mars

Our hero purchased his fabulous White Mars A20 in or before 1925, where he poses proudly in the woods near his home in Heilbronn, not far from the Mars factory in Nürnberg: it was the local product, one of many motorcycles manufactured in the region, but surely the finest in the era. He was an enthusiastic Mars man, and a member of the Mars Club, but he was no snob; he had friends who rode a D Rad, and even attended a D Rad rally with them in 1927. At a Mars Club rally in 1927, he proudly notes entering their road trial, where he rode 500km (300 miles!) without a single lost point, keeping his mount immaculate all the while.

Springtime for Germany, honeymooning in Bavaria in 1928. [Private Collection]
1927 was the Year of Courtship, and women being to appear in the group ride and picnic photos with friends.  His future bride looks very happy with her man and his shining white steed, and those quiet picnics on the grass in the woods had their natural consequence: the couple was wed in the Spring of 1928, and had a child the same year, so let's say there was some urgency to the ceremony.   Despite her pregnancy, the couple took an extensive tour of southern Germany and Austria for their unique Honeymoon on Mars.  They hugged the picturesque Alps, still beautifully covered in snow, while in the valleys the trees were all abloom, a perfect bouquet for the newlyweds.

As the Honeymoon on Mars progresses, the couple looks happier, as with here in the Bavarian Alps. [Private Collection]
As mentioned, a child soon arrived, which slowed down their motorcycling activities, and the album ends by the end of 1928, when presumably real life took command, and the realities of raising a family prioritized. We'll never know for certain how the story ended, but it's indicative their grandchildren (presumably) saw fit to sell such a precious family album.  Given events that transpired in Germany in the 1930s, one can imagine all sorts of possibilities, but let's leave our home movie in a slow vignette fade-out, with a happy couple sat with their baby on the Mars, under a blooming magnolia tree with snowy Alps in the distance, after a remarkable Honeymoon on Mars.

Innsbruck Austria, 375 miles from their home, during the Honeymoon on Mars. [Private Collection]
Mountain passes are always a thrill on two wheels, even on a gravel road with no guardrails.  Note the spare wheel mounted beside the Mars' rear wheel: all wheels were presumably interchangeable. [Private Collection]
There was even time for a boat cruise on Starnberger See, but it was still a bit cold in Spring of 1928: she keeps her riding gear on. [Private Collection]
Memories of happy days with friends on another Mars and a D.Rad in their home town of Heilsbronn, in 1927. [Private Collection]
The end, or a new beginning? Our Honeymoon on Mars photo album ends here, with many blank pages following. Life with children is a blur... [Private Collection]
All about Mars

As mentioned, the Mars was a unique and forward-thinking design built in Nurmburg, and was perhaps inspired by the proximity of airship and airplane construction in Friedrichshaven.  The core of the design is the frame, a box-section tube made of bent sheet steel, riveted together. This incorporated the steering head and rear wheel support, as well as the fuel and oil tanks, and the twin-chain two-speed final drive.  The result was an elegant design that looked far more modern than it was; the low power, two-speed drive, and lack of a front brake speak to the typical specifications of the day.

A fine view of a 1925 Mars similar to our hero's machine, but not identical, as it used an acetylene lighting system, while 'our' Mars has electric Bosch lights. Note also the deep fenders front and rear, the long footboards (with toolbox!), and the levers for the two-speed drive (forward) and clutch (rear).  Plus Mars' own front fork, a leading-link girder with central enclosed spring. [Bonhams]
The Mars is extraordinary, and very modern for a 1920 design.  The quality of its construction is legendary, as our photos show: the fit and finish is superb, as is the quality of the castings from Maybach.  It's still a 1920 motorcycle though, and there was plenty about the Mars that belies its antiquity: note the primer tap atop the swan-like intake manifold, necessary for starting up (using the hand crank!) on cold days with the rather crude Pallas carburetor that has no cold-start choke system.

A closeup of the Mars engine, designed by Claus Franzenburg and built by Maybach in Friedrichshaven, incorporating a cooling fan within the flywheel (very clever - I can't think of another external-flywheel motor with this design?), and the single Pallas carburetor with long inlet tracts.  The exhausts share a common 'waffle box' silencer beneath the motor. The motor is carried on a square-tube subframe that curves gracefully from the steering head to the rear wheels. [Bonhams]
The immediate post-war era saw an explosion of new motorcycle design ideas directly influenced by the rapid development of aircraft design during WW1.  Many of the most advanced designs from 1919-1923 were in fact built by former aircraft manufacturers that had lost their market with the cessation of hostilities, or were barred by the Versailles Treaty from making planes.  The most famous of these were of course the 1918 ABC (built by Sopwith), and the BMW R32 (from a former aero-engine builder), but the Mars should also be included, given Maybach's manufacture of advanced aero engines during the war, most notably the Mb.IVa engine, used in both airships and airplanes.

The brass fuel tank is a separate item, housed within a cavity in the frame, with a hinged cover concealing it. Note the lovely machined fuel cap! The oil tank is housed separately outside the frame, as seen here, with another toolbox mirroring it on the right side. Also clearly seen here is the handle for the two-speed twin-chain drive: one simply moves the lever right and left for low and high speeds, without the use of a clutch. [Bonhams]
The 'drive' side of the Mars shows the primary drive cover covering a single chain connected two a twin-chain countershaft. The hand-starter attached directly to the crankshaft via the forward hole in the primary cover: note the starter handle suspended from a leather strap below the frame. [Bonhams]
From the rear, the twin rear sprockets can clearly be seen: the two speeds are activated by a sliding dog that connects either drive sprocket.  Note the lever throttle and air lever on the handlebar, the beautifully articulated saddle mount, and the extravagant rear stand construction, which makes every other such 1920s rear stand look quite crude! [Bonhams]
 

Paul d'Orléans is the founder of TheVintagent.com. He is an author, photographer, filmmaker, museum curator, event organizer, and public speaker. Check out his Author Page, Instagram, and Facebook.