Concours De Crud
Concours de crud
UP FRONT
David Edwards
HELL OF A NOTE, REALLY, WHEN YOUR own motorcycle is better known than you are.
I had just unloaded my flame-painted 1954 BSA hot-rod when someone approached, circled the bike, stood back, then proclaimed, "That’s the Gold Star that guy at Cycle World built. Neat bike. How'd you get it?"
"Well, I'm that guy, actually," I replied.
This little vignette took place at the . Hansen Dam Recreation Area parking lot just north of Los Angeles, marshalling point for the 16th-annual British Motorcycle Road Ride put on by the Southern California Norton Owners Club. In total, about 250 bikes of all nationalities would show up for the 90-mile loop on twisting two-lanes through the Angeles National Forest foothills.
Ride coordinator Bill “Bib” Bibbiani unashamedly takes credit for coining the event’s “Best Ride By A Dam Site” subtitle, and says the run is the antithesis of the spit-and-polish concours d’elegance show scene.
“This is just a ride, regardless of what you ride,” he says. “We get out there in the sun and just ride the damn things.”
Some 140 enthusiastic members strong, the Norton club (818/5852234) has a sporadic newsletter, a broken bike pick-up service and puts on a small-scale ride almost every month. “We’ve always been a riding club,” says Bibbiani, who works as director of testing for the Pasadena School District during the week.
Bib’s bike of choice is a timeworn mongrel of a Norton, formerly a ratty quasi-chopper that was rescued from the atrocities of extended fork tubes and a solid rear end.
“For pounding out the miles, a welladjusted Commando is better than any other classic bike,” Bibbiani preaches. “Mine’s like that old Johnny Cash song, I stole it one part at a time. It’s a total bitsa-lnterstate tank, Fastback sidecovers, a seat that’s a homemade torture device-but it’s a real sweetrunning bike.”
Bibbiani’s bitsa captures the ragtag flavor of the ride. For the record, some machines, like Mike Jacobbauski’s super-sanitary, lemon-yellow Production Racer replica, are legitimate concours winners. But you’re just as likely to see some dilapidated pre-unit A10 Beezer with rippled fuel tank, cockeyed fenders and J.C. Whitney glass-packs, all held together with bailing wire and good thoughts.
I was scrutinizing just such a creation during a Pepsi break at the Hidden Springs Cafe when my nearby BSA snagged another admirer.
“Steve, isn’t it?” he asked.“It’s David, actually.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, brushing past to get up close to the Goldie. “Boy, I remember when you guys did the story on this,” he continued, proceeding to rattle off more details from November 1989’s “The Raising of CB34-GS361” than even I remembered.
This dissertation was interrupted by the arrival of Bill Easter on his 1952 Vincent, a machine he’s owned since new. Easter’s threadbare V-Twin is far from concours condition-its last good wash-n-wax probably predates the Kennedy assassination-but it’s a fixture on the various club rides put on in the SoCal area. It has also been toured through Canada, Europe and New Zealand. “He rides it everywhere,” relates Bibbiani, “usually on bald tires and usually way too fast. He’s a very good rider.” I ask Easter, a retired electrical engineer, how many miles he’s logged in the Black Shadow’s saddle.
“Oh, about 307,000, give or take 200,000,” he jokes.
Then there’s Mike Logsdon and his eight-cylinder Ariel. Nice-guy Logs-
don (as well as three or four other riders) stopped to see if I needed assistance when I paused roadside to screw in a fresh sparkplug. Later, at the lunch stop, I catch up with Mike and find out more about his unique double-engined home-brew.
Seems he already had a complete 1957 Square Four when he acquired another in a storage-bin lien sale. Claiming, “I didn’t really like the stocker all that much; besides, I get bored easily,” Logsdon hefted the two elderly powerplants onto his workbench, connected their cranks with a Gates belt, then eyeball-engineered an elongated chrome-moly frame to house the assembly. In the finest tradition of specials builders, the fuel tank is from a Honda 750F, the fork and double front discs from an old Kawasaki 900, the dual oil-filter setups from Harley-Davidson. For simplicity, Logsdon went with a hardtail rear end.
“It works just fine, although my girlfriend’s not too happy about it,” he says, laughing.
For long two-up trips, Logsdon breaks out his Harley touring rig, but the Ariel gets regular exercise-to the tune of 20,000 miles in the past five years. Hard miles, too. “It’s geared to go 150,” he claims. “I doubt it would do that, but who knows? Together, the engines put out about 80 horsepower.” Problems so far have been limited to incessantly weepy head gaskets and a couple of blown gearboxes, no doubt brought about by Mike’s penchant for smoky burn-outs and dragstrip-style launches. He calls his 450-pound creation “Two x Four,” appropriate for a man who makes his living as a millwright in the lumber industry.
Shortly after lunch, I pull onto the shoulder to double-check the route sheet. Bearings renewed, I’m about to engage first gear when a scruffy Velocette chuffs to a halt alongside.
“Nice bike,” its owner shouts over the din of the two idling Singles. “I read your column every month in the magazine.”
Well, at last, a little recognition. My newfound friend Mr. Velo, obviously a man of fine breeding and superior intellect, leans forward to shake my gloved hand.
“Egan, right?” he says.
