A Long Winter's Norton

A LONG WINTER'S NORTON

IGnITIOn

LEAnInGS

FREE COMMANDO TO A GOOD HOME

PETER EGAN

Just when I was comfortably retired for almost four months, had everything I needed for a simple saint-like existence, and thought my checkbook was at long last safe from the prédations of desire, the email arrived.

It was from a man named Gary Ackatz, who lives near the small town of Kewaskum, Wisconsin. Gary, it seemed, had a blackand-gold 1974 Norton Commando seriously in need of restoration. It had been sitting in his shed, unridden, for 23 years. There was a time when he thought he might restore the thing, but he was older now and that time had passed.

Still, he wanted it to go to a good home and possibly get restored back to its original beauty and be made to run again. If someone were willing to take up this challenge, he would give the bike away—yes, free, with no strings attached—to that person. The bike even had a title. Was I interested?

Apparently Gary had been reading my column over the years and had noticed that I (a) had a soft spot for Norton Commandos and (b) was inclined to take on projects that most people wouldn't touch with a io-foot pole fired from a giant steam-powered catapult some distance away.

Oh, Lord. Did he have any pictures?

Yes, and he emailed them to me. Seen poking out into the sunlight from his shed like a timid groundhog, the Norton was pretty much as it had been when Gary bought it from his uncle in Colorado 25 years ago—extended fork, high-rise handlebars, forward footrests of twisted, chromed iron bar, and aftermarket shorty mufflers. All the shiny parts were fairly rusty. It had a single Mikuni carburetor and the front fender was missing.

Still, when you substituted stock fork legs, bars and mufflers, what you had here was a fairly unmolested black-and-gold Norton 850 Commando from 1974—a good year for these bikes. The 1973 and later 850 Commandos had the much-improved "Superblend" crankshaft bearings with tapered rollers, unlike the earlier 750s, which were famous for whipping their straight-cut rollers into expensive chunks of metal.

So, as you can understand, my Norton X-ray vision allowed me to see beauty and possibility where others might only see six months of long nights in the workshop. Truth be told, I was looking for a fun-yet-elaborate winter project, and the idea of those long nights (and days, now that I'm retired) in the shop held no terrors for me. And it was a Norton, after all. These bikes have their flaws (God knows), but their polished engine cases, gearbox cover, footrests, valve covers, and other shiny bits collectively form the world's finest collection of Victorian jewelry outside the Tower of London, all embedded in a motorcycle that has no bad shapes anywhere. Commandos look great, have thunderous torque, and sound better than...well, just about anything.

So, of course, I told Gary I'd come and get the bike. How can you turn down a free Norton? I hooked up my aluminum bike trailer to my new VW Jetta TDI wagon and sped off in the direction of Kewaskum, two and a half hours away. My fellow motorcycle restoration sage, Lee Potratz, went with me on a cold Saturday morning with snow flurries gusting out of the north.

Pushed out of the shed and into daylight, the Norton actually looked better than I'd expected. A clean, bone-dry fuel tank with no dents. The engine turned over, and the gearbox clicked through the gears. Before we left, Gary served us a lunch of his custom recipe Tex-Mex chili that could probably take first place at the Terlingua cook-offs and gave me all of his Norton shop manuals. Very nice guy with a good heart. He could easily have parted this Commando out and made some money, but he just wanted to see it restored and running again. I invited him to drive over and check on its progress whenever he could.

BY THE NUMBERS

4

NUMBER OF COMMANDOS I'VE OWNED

$2,40«

COST OF MY FIRST COMMANDO, A MKIII, BOUGHT THE YEAR THE NORTON FACTORY CLOSED ITS DOORS

$3,450

AMOUNT I'VE ALREADY

SPENT ON MY NEW RESTORATION PROJECT

Back home, Lee and I rolled the bike onto my Handy lift and elevated it to idol/inspection height. I needed to ponder the Norton for a few days before I started taking it apart, so I invited our motorcycle gang over for an evening of "Free Norton Worship." I turned down the shop lights, lit candles around the base of the lift platform, and put my skull candleholder on a shop towel that read "The Unapproachable Norton." Food was served, obscure bitters and black porters were drunk, Gregorian chants and the music of Screamin' Jay Hawkins were played. Quite occult. Many who were there have never been the same. Others were not the same even before they got there.

That was two weeks ago. Now there's nothing left on my lift but a bare frame. Today I got the engine out of the bike, piecemeal—head, barrels, and bottom end—and removed the gearbox and cradle. Tomorrow the steering-head bearings come out. Then I can have the frame painted. I've already bought 50 pounds of new glass bead and blasted the battery box, taillight mount, head-steady, etc. Powdercoat or paint on these bits? I must think.

Yesterday a huge box of new parts arrived from my old California friend Bill Getty, who runs a British bike parts business called JRC Engineering. Mufflers, fork tubes, Isolastic motor mounts, etc., all at friendly prices. Bill, too, has a good heart and wants to see Nortons run. He has 130,000 miles on his own Commando.

So I am, as my dad would have said, going to town. I've had several Commandos in the past but always played catch-up with repairs and never taken one down to do the whole thing right. With this one, I'm painting the frame, putting it on new Excel shouldered alloy rims with polished hubs, new bearings, stainless spokes, and Dunlop K8is, and moving on from there. One piece, done as well as I can do it, at a time.

Friends have pointed out it's probably not economically sensible to restore an old Norton that needs virtually everything. They tell me I could find a nice one that's already running for a lot less money, with no long hours spent at the bead blaster and the parts cleaner. And they're right, of course.

But I just shrug and say, "What fun would that be?" I'm retired, and this is my winter art project. Also, I have a weakness for Nortons and making things whole again. This is how I straighten out my little corner of the universe. Call back in the spring. CTMM

MY NORTON X-RAY VISION ALLOWED METO SEE BEAUTY AND POSSIBILITY WHERE OTHERS MIGHT ONLY SEE SIX MONTHS OF LONG NIGHTS IN THE WORKSHOP.