The Call of the Black Commando

The Call of the Black Commando

LEANINGS

PETER EGAN

IT ISN'T VERY OFTEN THAT A TIRE-BALance problem on a modern Triumph leads to the purchase of an old Norton, but in the universe I inhabit there's no such thing as coincidence. There's only inescapable Fate, whose machinations are no more complicated than an ordinary box trap held up with a stick.

A few weeks ago, you see, I rode my Triumph 900 Scrambler over to Sharer Cycle Center, and while mechanic Louis Brings balanced my vibratory tire, I wandered around the back of the shop, looking at various project bikes on workstands.

Among them was a 1974 Norton 850 Commando with the swingarm and rear wheel missing.

“This looks like a pretty clean Norton,” I said to Louis.

“It belongs to a customer who stored the bike for several years, so I had to clean the tank, install new Amal carbs, change the fluids and, let’s see...adjust all the chains and the Isolastic engine mounts. Now it runs great. Only 6700 miles on the odometer.”

“Why is the swingarm off?”

“I’m installing new bushings. The bike is all stock, except it has a 16-inch Harley rim laced onto the rear hub.”

I winced slightly.

Back in the Seventies and Eighties, it was common for Norton owners to install wider, smaller-diameter wheels to run more modern rubber, but I always liked the tall, elegant look of the old 19-inch Dunlop rims best.

I walked around the Norton and noted that the exhaust system was pretty banged up, and someone had repainted the black tank with red and silver trim, rather than classic gold. “Too bad they didn’t go with a stock paint scheme,” I said.

“Well,” Louis said, “the owner’s just fixing the bike up so he can sell it. I think he’s asking five grand.”

I inhaled sharply and all my senses suddenly became incredibly keen, like a werewolf’s, and I could smell the cheap vinyl imitation-leather cover on my checkbook from 25 miles away.

“Hmmm,” I said. “You’ll have to give me the guy’s number...”

I’d owned several Commandos in the distant past, and all were magnificent bikes, but they also had their share of typical old British-bike problems. I’d sworn off them when my last one required four roadside repairs on one trip. Minor stuff, mostly, but still irksome.

But time heals all wounds—or blesses us with Alzheimer’s—and at last year’s Cycle World Show in Chicago, I wandered over to visit the Chicago Norton Owners Club (as usual) to admire their row of restored bikes. Turned out, John Revilla, the club President, had just completed a stunning restoration on a black 850 Commando, and he had it on display.

I stared at the bike for a while, then turned to my friend Jim and said, “Well, that’s it: I’m getting another Commando. And not one word out of you, buddy.”

Jim—a reformed Norton owner himself—rolled his eyes.

So the hunt began. Last summer, I looked at two Commandos that came up for sale in our area, but both were pretty rough—typical $3500 bikes that needed $8000 of restoration work to be worth $6000.

And now this much nicer one at Sharer’s. For $5000. Was it worth it?

I added up what it needed: 1) Correct paint; 2) exhaust system; 3) rear rim and spokes; 4) tires; and 5) new kickstart lever and turnsignal stalks (bad chrome on both). I figured I’d have to spend at least $1500 just to make the Norton look really good again.

But this bike was exactly what I was looking for—a winter project without a lot of heavy lifting. I’d just come off the fairly grueling three-year restoration of a totally shot old British car (1964 Lotus Elan) and was in no great hurry to inspect the dodgy innards of another transmission. A winter of light cosmetic restoration on a mechanically sound bike would do just fine, thank you.

So I called the owner and asked if he’d reduce his price a bit to accommodate my Grand Plan, and he did. He was a pleasant guy, and said I was welcome to test ride the bike before deciding. So I headed back to Sharer’s the next morning, helmet in hand.

The Commando started first kick and idled perfectly. I climbed on and reviewed my Olde English shift pattern: one up and three down, on the right side. It’d been a while. Nice clutch, effortless gearbox, genuinely fast acceleration, tons of torque and dead-smooth cruising above 2700 rpm. Better brakes than I remembered, and the tightest, best handling chassis I’d yet experienced on a Norton. A lovely bike, and quick.

Commandos, when they go down the road, don’t feel like anything else. They’re light, yet they have a damped solidness to them, as if everything might be tightly packed with cotton. Some old Jags give you the same sensation. And that sound... Barb’s all-time favorite.

At her insistence, I bought the bike the next day. After I handed over the check at Sharer’s, I took off for a ride through the hills. The weather was in its last few days of Indian summer, and I rode all weekend. On Monday, we got cold rain, followed by snow.

Now the Norton is on the workstand in my garage, snowed in for the duration. I spent yesterday polishing the cases with Simichrome (the most rewarding job, per minute, in all motorcycling) but haven’t taken anything apart yet. I need to look at the thing for a few days in its complete form, just to soak it in.

It’s a strange thing to say, but when I have a Norton in my garage, I actually feel more relaxed and content with the world, almost as if some part of my soul is fully at rest.

There are a few select things, I believe, that every individual is intended to have in this life, almost as a matter of course. Objects that seem to have been designed for someone with your exact genetic wiring, and you know it instinctively when you see them. For me, there are a few guitars like this, and a small handful of motorcycles. Besides the Norton, a black Les Paul Custom comes to mind.. .with three pickups...

Crass materialism?

Perhaps, but I like to think of it in more spiritual terms, as a classic example of Predestination. But with more chrome and no funeral. □