Team Obsolete

It seems that I start many of my postings here, with some sort of apology for it being a while since my previous post. I'll admit that there are websites that I visit, which don't get updated that often, and I'm frustrated by that. Not because I'm angry, but because I'm hungry for good content, compelling stories and inspiring photos. I follow a few people / websites because I find that the things they do with motorbikes, are intriguing to me. I'm always hopeful and forever looking forward to each new post. I'll reflect that same mentality back upon myself, and vow to do a better job in keeping up with fresh material, here in this space. That can be a difficult task at times, because, to be honest, there's not always something great to write about. It takes something special to stir me into putting my thoughts out into the motorcycle ethos, which is already full of white noise. So, while I'll try harder to post more often, I'll also be selective in the material, as to not bore anyone with mundane news.
On a side note, you can also follow along on Instagram, should you choose: @solomotorcycleworks

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get to it. Team Obsolete...
If you haven't heard of them, I'll take this time to welcome you to what is apparently your first day on the planet. Welcome to Earth. Or at least, welcome to vintage motorcycling and a celebration of those who preserve the importance of it's history.

Each year, Team Obsolete hosts a Holiday Party, which is by invite only and quite top secret. As it should be of course. It's honestly a sort of mythical event, which I only hear about each year, after the event has passed, and those that were in attendance, start to share and circulate stories. I wait, with baited breath each December to hear and see, little snippets of photos from what is obviously a shrine to all things which I hold dear and only dream about. The sort of place that I think about in the hours that it takes me to fall asleep each night. Glorious old racing motorcycles in their original, as raced condition. Cared for, preserved, raced, repaired - repeat. How can such a place exist? How can such a small handful of people, have acquired and saved so many historic and important machines? A complex question, with such a simple answer; because they did, because they do.

Before I get too far down my philosophical rabbit hole, lets get back to the Holiday Party. By some stroke of luck, I was invited this year. Yep, me. Can you believe it? Neither could I. But before I started asking why, I decided that I'd just simply enjoy it. I'd seize the chance to attend and push plans aside and rearrange things, to make this happen. And then life happened. As it always does. A personal tragedy and the loss of my very best friend, required that I attend a memorial in California. And as much as the Team Obsolete collection, has drawn my attention for longer than I can recall, my only thoughts, were with my friend and his family, and I wanted and needed to be there. To celebrate his life, and mourn the loss of someone that is unexplainably important to me. And while this certainly isn't the forum to discuss such a thing, it just speaks to the fact that we're all only here for a short time. I thought about it; what would he want me to do? That's an easy question to ask yourself, but a much more difficult one to act upon. So I did what he'd do. What he'd want me to do. And I decided that I'd do both. I'd take pause and be there for him and his family, but I'd also do something for myself, which I had always wanted to do. So I flew from Boston, to California and joined in the celebration of his life. A life well lived. After just 25 hours in California, I hopped a red eye flight back to Boston and then drove straight to New York for the Holiday Party. This was all shaping up to be one Hell of a story. Just as all good things in life, tend to do.

Upon arrival at a very non descript building in New York, I was greeted by a simple sign, printed on a sheet of paper. It read, "If you're here for the Team Obsolete party, call this number XXX-XXX-XXX". So I called the number, announced myself and waited. Standing there, on this random street in New York, where everything and everyone, can be completely anonymous, I was anxious. Taken back by the fact that this building, housed such great treasures. It's like a million other buildings in New York. They're just buildings. Nothing special about them, right? Well, normally that is the answer, but not in this case. A cold night, December, New York city, and the dull, creaking noise of a freight elevator slowing approaching me. The door opens from the center and with all mood setting techniques, is lit only by the glow of a heat lamp. I'm welcomed inside and and up we start upward. It was only a few floors, but certainly the slowest elevator ride I've ever taken. Partly due to my nervous anxiety and partly due to the fact that the elevator was older than the motorbikes I was about to see. And then, after all that, the door opens to a bustling group of people, all circling round a well lit and perfectly displayed collection of motorcycles. Pure glory...

Thank you for hanging in there so far, and reading these words. I hope you enjoy the photos:

Giacomo Agostini raced this fine machine:

Peg board, cluttered with treasures:

Honda RC165:

A Matchless G50 roller, that also had a tail light:

This is a terrible, zoomed in photo of a very special Manx Norton tank. It's housed on this shelf, way up in the rafters. I simply must have it. It needs a real life, back on a featherbed framed Norton, and not on this shelf.

A machine that I never even knew existed. Built by John Surtees, but sold to the Arter brothers due to a conflict that made it so Surtees couldn't campaign it. Raced by Peter Williams. Does it get any better than that?:

Spare G50 motor on display:

Details - While most in attendance, socialized, ate and drank, I was that guy on the floor, studying every detail and snapping these photos. So many neat details, like the yellow nylon covered clutch cable:

The 3 Arter Matchless':

 Three Matchless G50's that were all ridden by Dick Mann:

The very machine that Dave Roper raced to 1st place at the Isle of Man:

Hand painted stripes on the G50 petrol tank:

If you look close, you'll see that this Amal matchbox float, was cast, and the boss for the fuel line outlet on this side, was never machined. Obviously, it was made only for a single cylinder machine with the need for only one carburetor:

Cooling fins:

I'd like to wrap up this post by expressing my gratitude and thanks to Team Obsolete for their generous invitation. I'll certainly never forget this evening. And I'd be remiss if I didn't also say Thank You for everything that you've done to preserve all these important and glorious machines. The world of motorcycles, needs more people like you.

Fully Realized Vision

I don't even really know how to truly tell this story, and I've labored over this post for three days now. I'm worried that I won't be able to describe the journey of this machine, in a way that does it the justice that it deserves. I'm emotionally attached to this motorbike, in a way that's simply beyond words. I can only hope that the following couple of paragraphs and photos, can somehow hold a candle to how amazing it is. And perhaps, inspire some intrigue into Norton motorbikes, and the relationship that you can have with an old machine.

This 1966 Norton Atlas, is quite literally one of my dream bikes (I'm allowed to have several dream bikes, aren't I?). And after a lot of years of slow evolution, it's finally complete, as my fully realized vision of it. But it most certainly didn't start the way that you see it here. The story actually began quite a long time ago, with the aborted purchase attempt of another Atlas. I had gone about a year and a half without a bike, after very regrettably selling my Commando, and I had always wanted a featherbed Norton special, built up as an original / period correct cafe racer (please note that the term "cafe racer" has been completely bastardized in the modern era, so I very rarely use it - but at the time this journey began, it still accurately described the true sense of what a cafe racer is - I'll let you do your own research into it's origins). My dear friend, and long time motorbike mentor, Bib, called me one day and said that he'd like to sell me an Atlas special that he had owned for about 20 years. It was a very cool machine with a Dunstall seat and a hot rod motor. It was a bike that we talked about, countless times as I had drooled upon it, during every visit to his house, and it was held in very high regard by both of us. So I was shocked that he'd be willing to sell it to me, but it only took about 2 seconds for me to proclaim "I'll take it!" So I gathered up every penny I could muster, booked a flight to California and couldn't contain my excitement as I anxiously waited to take possession of it. It was planned that I'd meet Bib at his house on Saturday morning, and after landing in LA on Friday morning, I spent the day with my best friend, talking his ear off about the bike as I tend to get carried away when I discuss these things. Coffee and donuts were the standard ritual, and as we sat at the usual establishment, I called Bib just to triple confirm we were all set for the following day. His response was a surprise to me, as he painfully told me "I can't sell it. I cleaned the carbs and gave it a once over as I prepared it for you, but after taking it for a ride, I decided I just couldn't let it go." I'm sure there was an awkward pause on that phone call, as I searched for an appropriate response. After all, I had just scraped together every bit of money I could find and flew half way across the country. But I simply couldn't be mad. I completely respected every word that he said, and would have felt the same way. So where do we go from here I wondered. Bib says "come up anyway, I've got an idea for you."

Saturday morning comes and I head to Bib's, with a feeling of uncertainty, but also with a sense of excitement. There was no bike to be bought that day, but Bib broke the news to me that he'd sell me a project bike, and we'd build it together; my way. This was a big moment, as I had previously discussed with him, my desire to build a featherbed Norton, in the way that a guy of the era, would have done. A genuine machine that was built with real parts, just like it would have been done when these bikes were contemporary. Bib had always said that he'd never do such a thing. His preference was to build bikes as he saw fit and then sell them. He had no desire to deal with someone else's opinion and all the headache that came with it. But he was going to make an exception in this case. Likely because we had known each other for years, and he had become sort of a father figure to me. And probably because he had felt bad for going back on the deal we had already struck. So the journey began and Bib spoke of a project Atlas that he'd had tucked away, and would dig out as the basis of the build. I'm a pessimist  by nature, and I left his place that day with a skeptical feeling because I know what it takes to rebuild one of these old bikes. There was a long road ahead that would take time, money, patience and both of our hard work to complete. I enjoy the process and have always though, so I knew that with the small collection of parts that I had already collected and Bib's experience, we could surely build a machine that we'd be proud of.

A few months later, I returned to Bib's to see "the" Atlas that he had allocated to me. Pictured below, is how it sat. Original paint frame, a solid core of a motor and magneto, and that's pretty much it. No front end, no tank, no wheels, no carbs, no seat, no fenders…. You surely get the impression. It was a long way from being the roadworthy dream bike that I had in my mind.

Let's get to work I thought to myself. I handed him an envelope full of my hard earned money, which of course he refused to count. We had done this before, we were friends, we were family and I'd never short him a dollar and he'd never have a second thought that I would. To sweeten the deal, I offered a small token of my appreciation, and brought two cases of his favorite beer.

I was on cloud 9 as we shook hands and parted ways. He'd be doing certain work, I'd be doing certain work and collecting parts and then we'd get together at specific stages and apply our progress to the machine. My mind was racing with excitement and anticipation as I drove away, with his beautiful craftsman bungalow and small shed of Norton treasures in the rearview mirror. It's about a mile and a half to the freeway, and once I cleared the on ramp onto the freeway, my phone rang. It was my mother, calling to tell me that my grandfather had just passed away. He suffered from Alzheimer's for many years, and losing him, was a devastation like I had never felt before. We were close, and I've never had so much respect and admiration for another person in my entire life. Bib reminded me of my grandfather as well, and both of them were important to me. Although the loss of my grandfather and the purchase of this bike, have nothing in common, the close proximity of both events, added a layer of connection between myself and this machine. It sort of felt like it added a layer of importance and permanence to what I was about to build. I'll leave it at that.

Over the course of the next 14 months, Bib and I built this bike. We bickered along the way as to what was right and what was wrong. I'm not ashamed to admit that he won nearly all of those arguments. As I mentioned before, he was set in his ways and had decades of experience that I respected, and I knew that no matter what we built, I'd likely still have to evolve it once it was "finished", in order to get what I really wanted. Bib liked to set most his bikes up with Mikuni carburetors, which I hate. He wanted the primary to be chrome, which I hate. He wanted to run an 18" rear wheel, which I hate. He wanted to use short reverse cone megaphones, which I dislike. Lots of little things like that, coupled with a few changes of course based on parts that we either could, or could not find at the time, determined the outcome of the bike at the time. But after just over a year, the time had come, for me to take full time ownership of it's care. The day I went to get it, my buddy's truck broke down on the way. I called Bib, and he said not to worry, he'd just deliver it to me. And he did. As we backed it down the ramp of his trusty pick up truck, I was nervous. It was that moment of truth when you kick start it and ride off, in front of your mentor and a small group of friends. But all went well, and that first ride was pure satisfaction. We had done it. We had conspired to build my dream bike and at the same time, rescued another discarded machine. I'll never forget one last little touch when Bib handed me the tank badges, which he didn't mount, and had saved that last task for me to enjoy on my own. It was a truly thoughtful gesture that sort of marked the passing of this machine from him to me. Far more important and significant than the official signing over of the title. After we spent hours talking about every detail and going thru the process, he didn't want to leave. I'm sure that his lovely wife Janet, had been ready to go home for at least an hour, but you could see that it was difficult for him to be done with it. After some time though, he called it a day, we shook hands and I think I might have even given him a hug. It was that sort of moment.

The photos below, show the bike as it sits today. Finally done in my eyes, after about ten years, from the first day that we originally agreed to do this. It's evolved to be what I wanted and had always dreamt of. It's an honest machine that isn't over restored and certainly isn't a trailer queen. We rebuilt and restored everything that needed to be, but din't do anything that wasn't needed. It's part survivor, part rebuilt and part restored. It's a matching numbers machine that runs as good as it looks and currently has nearly 16,000 miles on the clock. I ride, enjoy and maintain it as it was intended to be used by it's maker. It has a few tasteful upgrades to make it safe a reliable, but nothing that detracts from it's originality. I blew up the motor once, when a valve broke in half and brought everything to an abrupt stop. I crashed it once at about 35 mph, but walked away and rebuilt the bike both times. No story would be good without a few bumps in the road, and these are the types of things that either destroy or strengthen you love for something.

Here's an abbreviated list of information about the bike, and photos to go along with the description:

Rebuilt motor & gearbox - 19 tooth countershaft sprocket
Original magneto with NOS Lucas pick ups, points and upgraded wires & caps
NOS 34mm Amal MKII carburetor (the British version, not the Spanish version)
Very rare Sonny Angel 2 into 1 carburetor manifold
NOS ball race Smiths tachometer drive
Petrol tank, oil tank, battery box & primary cover, painted black as original
Wassell swept back pipes
Dunstall Goldstar mufflers
Wassell alloy fenders
High shouldered 19" alloy rims - The rims are Excel, as Borranis were unavailable at the time. I'll likely convert to Borranis, at some point when money permits
Belt drive primary & dry clutch with diaphragm
Rare two piece flip up gauge brackets with rubber isolation mounts
Original Smiths grey face gauges
Dunstall clip ons
John Tickle headlight ears
Completely rebuilt front end with all genuine parts
Doherty competition alloy levers
Tommaselli 1/4 turn throttle
Halcyon bar end mirrors
Alloy dummy bar
Venhill & Smiths cables throughout
Solid state regulator / rectifier
Wired to be run with or without a battery
Clubman rear sets
Original 1960's vented front hub
John Tickle 2LS front brake
Handmade chainguard
Nice original Atlas seat

That's most of it, but I've kept it simple in an effort to not make this post any longer than it needs to be. I could go way down the rabbit hole when talking about this bike. Everything's been properly rebuilt with new bearings, bushings, seals, brakes, genuine parts, Amal, Lucas, Smiths, Tickle, Dunstall etc etc etc. No expense spared, and almost of a decade of meticulous care & maintenance.

So there it is. It took a bit for me to get it out and onto the blog, but I'm fairly happy with this post. An honest machine that makes no excuses and is a true pleasure to own and ride. It's got no monetary value to me, as I'd never sell it. I've got more money into it than it would like ever be worth, but that doesn't matter. I could never buy such a story, or such a machine. It had to be built, experienced and become the magnificent motorbike that you see here. Preserved by a a couple of guys that care enough about this stuff to try and make a difference, all while enjoying the journey. Unfortunately, Bib passed away a few years ago, and he never got to see it quite like this. It was really close, but not done yet. I know he'd be happy with it, and proud of what we did. I know that I sure am. God Speed Bill "Bib" Bibbiani

All photos courtesy of another dear friend, Rob Collins @robcollinsphoto (with the exception of the photo of the bike as a basket case)

Solo Motorcycle Works - workshop sign

While I tinker around, restoring all the small bits, and doing the mundane tasks that aren't really worth a post, here on the blog, I figured I'd make things a bit more "official" and make myself a sign for the workshop.

It's nothing too spectacular, but I had some reclaimed wood lying around, so I cut it up, put it together and painted it black. The lettering is done by hand, and while I'm no artist, it came out to my liking.

Until I've got something more substantial to share….

On The Bench - Manx Norton rear brake

It's been a while since my last post, and I'll admit that I've neglected to keep up with things here on this page. But rest assured that it's mostly for good cause, and I've still managed to keep busy and maintain progress on my Norton projects.

Since it's too damn cold outside, the normal "On The Bench" postings, will be switched to "In The House", until the weather gets warm enough to be back outside for any length of time. Shown here is my recent addition to the Norton wideline 650 project; a Genuine Manx Norton rear brake / hub / wheel. Ever since I started building this project, I've envisioned having this exact brake on the bike. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's nearly impossible to find discarded Manx parts. They simply just don't come up for sale that often, and for good reason. I could have opted for either the common BSA conical rear brake or even a replica, but if you've followed along, or know me at all, than it comes as no surprise that's just not good enough.

As you can see, it's got the standard amount of patina and the sprocket is entirely too big for road work. It's also got a steel rim, which won't be correct for what I'm building, but rest assured that I'm about as happy as can be, to find this thing, so I'm not complaining at all.

I'll admit that even with the steel wheel, I was very surprised as to how light this set up is. And of course the fact that it's complete, will make the rebuild / restoration of it, pretty straightforward.

So far I've disassembled most of it, and I'm very please that everything has come apart nicely. None of the threads are buggered up and it doesn't have any corrosion at all. Even the grease nipple came out easily. I've cleaned everything and inspected the whole kit. I need to remove the spokes and pull the bearings, but other than that, it's ready to go.

Of course it'll get the following treatment:

New bearings

New Paint

Smaller sprocket

New brake pads

Borrani shouldered alloy rim

A brake arm return spring

New brake arm

And then of course I'll skim the drum surface and cut the pads to fit so that I get the best braking possible. 

Since I'm not running a speedometer on this bike, I'll just make some spacers to take up the space between the swing arm and I'll be all set.

Anyone that's ever built a bike, knows what a big deal it is to get wheels. It's that big step closer to having a rolling chassis. I'll report back with photos once this beautiful piece of kit is all restored and ready to mount.