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At lunch with… Brian Crichton

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Gilera Nuovo Saturno

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September 2024

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Radical rocket

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Suzuki GT750

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At lunch with… Steve Webster

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A vintage day out

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SKY HIGH HILLCLIMBING

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#### **One of Britain’s most jovial and prolific motorcycle journalists explains how always saying yes took him from being _MCN’s_ amateur stuntman to owning 30 bikes**

Interview: JOHN WESTLAKE Photography: BRIAN CRICHTON ARCHIVE, JOHN WESTLAKE

Few motorcycle careers contain as many scrapes as Brian Crichton’s. The former editor of _Classic Bike_ has fallen off the top of a White Helmets display team pyramid, suffered a 130mph tank slapper on the M1, been stopped by police while lapping Snetterton, had his leg broken during an endurance race before he even got on his bike and once inadvertently bought three MZs.

Wiping away tears of laughter after yet another anecdote, I put it to Brian that most of his adventures stem from an inability to say no. “I think you’re right,” he says, grinning. “A lot of my career has been based around saying yes. Especially in my early days working for _Motorcycle News_ – I said yes to everything. For example, the first competition bike I rode was when Mike Nicks \[former _MCN_ editor and _CB_ editor\] asked if I wanted to report on a sprint. I said yes – then asked what a sprint was. I went to the event and one of the riders was Denis Jenkinson \[famously Stirling Moss’s navigator when he won the Mille Miglia\], who offered me a go on his Triumph twin special, which was really fast. I said yes, obviously, despite not having a clue what I was doing. I could see this airfield going into the distance, so that’s where I rode. I didn’t know you were meant to stop after a quarter of a mile. I got to the end of the runway and thought I’d better turn back. Denis must have thought I’d stolen it.”

It was a similar story of hope over experience with the Royal Signals White Helmets display team, again during his days on _MCN_ (where one suspects the management rather took advantage of Brian’s enthusiasm for, well, everything). “I agreed to ride in their pyramid, so I clambered up the backs of the riders and got to the top. Thankfully I was a lot lighter back then, so it wasn’t too arduous for the boys underneath. It wasn’t the full pyramid you see in public displays, but it was still quite high.

“The lead rider had told me that he’d say: ‘Steady, steady, stop’ and on the first ‘steady’, I had to jump back to land behind the bikes. On the second ‘steady’, the next rank would jump back, and on ‘stop’ the bikes would come to a halt and the final layer would jump off. I thought: ‘Well, within a few minutes I shall be on my way to hospital’.

“The problem was that I thought he’d say: ‘Steady... steady... stop’ slowly, but he rushed so I wasn’t ready. The whole pyramid collapsed underneath me before I jumped, and I tumbled down on everyone else. The lads broke my fall, so I got away with that one. I had a fantastic time on _MCN._ It was like a chimpanzees’ tea party.” Brian was also saying yes to testing road bikes, though here he was on safer ground because he’d been riding ever since he’d had a go on a mate’s BSA Bantam, aged 16. “From that moment it’s been bikes ever since,” he says between mouthfuls of burger at his local. As soon as he saved up, he bought a 75cc Bianchi Gardena two-stroke, then a 250 BSA C11G, then an ES2 Norton with double adult sidecar for £15. By the time he joined _MCN_ in 1971, aged 22, he had a BSA A7 Shooting Star chopper which he’d ridden to the south of France. “Because I was young and keen, they’d say:

‘Will you report on this motocross race in the west country, and while you’re at it, ride this Benelli Six down and do a test report?’ So off I went. The Benelli was very smooth, but it was heavy and if you went flat out – which I always tried to – the handling wasn’t up to much. You had to be careful with it.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and never miss an issue]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_Brian_Crichton' }

#### Retro models that revive old names are often more refined, but lack the charm and energy of the original model. Is it a trap Gilera’s late ’80s namesake of its ’50s single falls into?

Words: RICK PARKINGTON Photography: GARY MARGERUM

Mention Gilera to me and my first thought is of Norton’s desperate efforts to spur their ancient cammy singles ahead of the smooth Italian fours. After that? There’s the Saturno, their purposeful-looking 1940s/50s 500 single hailed in its day as ‘the Italian BSA Gold Star’... but Isomehow missed Gilera’s Nuovo Saturno when it came out in 1988.

Seeing it for the first time today, it’s hard to believe this is a 34-year-old bike. The Gilera’s timelessly classic-influenced styling, enhanced by a striking black and gold limited edition ‘anniversary’ paint job makes it difficult to age – the stylish Marvic wheels, the white clocks, the neat frame and rear suspension, and even the upswept exhaust haven’t dated like others from that era of colourful full-cover bodywork and in-yer-face graphics.

The most amazing thing is how small it is for a 500. I’m more carthorse than Italian stallion, but even without me in the picture you could easily mistake it for a 125. It could almost pass for modern (to my eyes at least) and if the spindly forks give it away they still suit the Gilera’s lightweight looks. That’s the other thing – it’s like a short-circuit racer, pared down to basics – even down to the exposed battery – yet it has mirrors, indicators and an electric start.

It’s best described as a ‘supermono’ – a name made famous by Ducati, but essentially a revival of the lightweight sports single, partly inspired by the Sound of the Singles race series. On the road, it’s pure café racer – and there’s no need to live near a ‘best biking road’ to start enjoying it. Café racing evolved to make the most of whatever ‘track’ was available, scratching round local lanes or even a city in carefree defiance of responsible riding, and the Gilera’s perky motor and low weight make it ideal for that kind of spontaneous fun.

Leaving town, I filtered to the front at a red traffic light. Having jumped the queue, I like to make a smart getaway – but laughed aloud when the Saturno popped its front wheel in the air! This ‘chase me, chase me!’ attitude is what makes the Gilera so endearing. There’s not much room between tank and seat hump, the clip-on bars are a stretch and the pegs are high, so once aboard you get that same feeling of commitment and expectation that comes from being strapped into a rollercoaster seat – but in no way is this an intimidating bike to ride. There’s no drama getting moving; while first gear engagement is a bit noisy the Gilera pulls smoothly away. The low weight prevents the fairly extreme riding positon from feeling ungainly and once you get going it enhances the experience.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and get 3 issues for just £5]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_radical_rocket' } in our summer sale, but hurry offer ends 31st August!

#### Celebrating its 50th birthday this year, Suzuki’s RG500 is the greatest GP bike ever (probably). The squarefour stroker’s domination of the sport led to 11 world titles and world fame for a certain Mr Sheene

Words: MAT OXLEY Photography: BAUER AUTOMOTIVE

Barry Sheene and Suzuki’s RG500 Grand Prix bike go together like fish and chips. Man and machine were mutually beneficial – Sheene probably wouldn’t have won his two 500cc world championships without the RG500, but would the square-four two-stroke have been as good as it was without Sheene’s input?

When Sheene won his second 500cc title in 1977, all but three of the top 29 points scorers rode RGs – and when ‘King’ Kenny Roberts took the crown in 1978, the American was one of only five riders in the top 29 who didn’t ride an RG. In other words, Suzuki’s creation democratised the premier class like no other motorcycle before or since. The RG also won the fastest GP in history – a race average of 217.370kmh (135.067mph) average at Spa-Francorchamps, with Sheene in 1977 – and achieved the final truly privateer victory with Dutchman Jack Middleburg’s defeat of Roberts at Silverstone in 1981.

Suzuki two-strokes had already won the 50cc, 125cc and Formula 750 championship when factory bosses decided to fight for the prize that would really put the Hamamatsu brand in the headlines and hopefully sell more of their two-stroke road bikes. The company already had a 500 Grand Prix bike, but the XR11 was powered by a tuned GT500 street engine, so it was never going to challenge for global glory. Instead, Suzuki entered the XR11 in the 1973 500cc world championship as a rolling surveillance operation, gathering information on the dominant MV Agusta fourstroke and Yamaha’s first 500cc GP machine, the fourcylinder 0W20 two-stroke, which had arrived in Europe at the start of that season.

Back in Japan, chief engineer Makoto Hase went to work on the company’s second square-four GP bike, making sure not to repeat the mistakes made with the RZ63 square-four 250, which raced in the 1960s and never came close to winning a GP. Whereas the RZ63 was basically two 125cc parallel twins geared together, the RG was four 125 singles geared together. This had various advantages. For example, 1970s two-strokes were fickle things, liable to detonate or seize at any time, so keeping each cylinder separate prevented damage to one cylinder from infecting the others.

Sheene was involved in the RG – the first iterations were designated XR14 – from the start. Just weeks after the very first RG was bumped into life at Suzuki’s Ryuyo test track in the autumn of 1973, Sheene was on a plane to Japan to test the bike. First time out he broke the Ryuyo lap record by 1.5 seconds. Despite his speed, Sheene wasn’t that impressed by the protype: “The first RG I rode at the end of ’73 started at nine grand. Below that, there was nothing – and when I say nothing, I mean nothing,” Sheene told me many years ago. “To get it out of the paddock you had to scream it at 10,000rpm or it wouldn’t even clear – and it stopped at ten-five, so once you’d got it clear at nine-five, you had 1000rpm to play with. I told them it was a waste of time unless they spread the powerband.”

Suzuki shipped its first RGs to Europe in time for the 1974 season-opening French GP, where the bike encountered its rivals for the first time: the MV, ridden by Phil Read, and the 0W20, ridden by Giacomo Agostini, who had recently defected from MV. Both machines made around one hundred horsepower, so this was GP racing’s crossover point between four-stroke and two-stroke. Ultimately there would only be one winner, but the French GP flattered to deceive. Sheene finished second, between winner Read and his MV team-mate Gianfranco Bonera.

A few weeks later, at Austria’s daunting Salzburgring, he was lapped by both Agostini and Bonera. The RG certainly wasn’t ready to rock straight out of the box. “Foolishly Barry, looking very young, with the original G-54 version of the bike, looking very spindly. The open cradle chassis had no lower chassis rails in a bid to reduce weight, but it was soon replaced by a conventional double-cradle design enough I told Suzuki I’d go to Japan at the end of ’74 and stay there until the engine was right,” Sheene added. “I was there for five weeks, the biggest jail sentence I’ve ever served in my life; a nightmare, but the bike came good.”

> ‘The first RG I rode at the end of ’73 started at nine grand. Below that there was nothing – and when I say nothing, I mean nothing’

Of course, the RG wasn’t entirely a Japanese creation, because Suzuki’s two-stroke knowhow was the product of skullduggery. In the early 1960s the only company making fast two-strokes was East German brand MZ. Suzuki decided to accelerate its learning curve via industrial espionage.

It paid MZ’s number-one rider Ernst Degner to defect from East to West and bring MZ’s secrets with him.

The RG was basically four MZ 125 rotary-valve singles in a square format. The only real difference was its bore and stroke: 56 x 50.5mm, instead of 54 x 54. And that only lasted until 1976 when Hase switched to 54 x 54, the longer stroke allowing bigger ports. Using rotary-valve induction gave the RG a significant advantage. Yamaha’s 0W20 used basic piston-porting, which handicaps performance by restricting the engine to symmetrical valve timing. Rotary valves allow inlet tracts to open and close at the ideal time, for a better blend of peak power and midrange.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and get 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_fair_and_square' } But hurry, offer ends 31st August!

The cover of Classic Bike’s September issue shows an in-your-face image of Barry Sheene on the bike that took him to two top-flight world championships in the 1970s – the Suzuki RG500. Inside, there’s an analysis of this glamorous double act by top GP writer Mat Oxley, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the bike’s earth-shattering arrival.

You’ll also find a 500cc Norton single that’s been causing a stir on the Isle of Man – but it’s not a Manx. Plus there’s the tale of how Laverda’s 75th birthday party took over a whole Italian town, as well as the return of the project Harris Magnum with a complete rebuild of its Suzuki GSX1100 engine. So no shortage of stories to keep you entertained as you enjoy the summer sun.

The September issue of Classic Bike is out now at all good newsagents, or why not :a[subscribe today and make the most of our summer offer with 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=newissue_clb' } But hurry, offer ends 31st August!

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#### The Rustler BSA was like no other British racing triple before or since. It took on the TT with a home-brewed chassis – and now it’s been taken back to running condition

Words **MICK DUCKWORTH** Photography **CHIPPY WOOD** & **ISLAND PHOTOGRAPHICS**

The Rustler BSA is a machine whose construction is as intriguing as the man behind it. This is a unique ’70s British triple with a monoshock parallelogram rear suspension system, created to race at the Isle of Man TT by a man who was “not interested in the ordinary,” in the words of his widow. And after a six-year lay-up, it has been returned to running condition with her blessing.

Martin Russell was a former BSA factory technician whose speciality was fault rectification, although his time at BSA’s Small Heath factory ended abruptly in August 1973. Akeen endurance racer, on his return from a 24-hour race at Spa in Belgium, he handed works manager Alistair Cave the Princess Paola Manufacturer’s Trophy won by BSA, after he and co-rider Pete Bates (on Pete’s ex-works Rocket 3) were amongst three well-placed BSAs. That cut no ice, though – he was a day late back at work (he blamed the après-race champagne) and was was sacked on the spot.

But a man with Martin’s talents wasn’t out of work long in those days – and he continued to race in his spare time. At his first TT in 1974, racing his Production 750cc BSA Rocket 3, he realised how bumpy the Mountain Course was – and noticed that the final-drive chains of the fastest machines were virtually dragging on the ground by the end of a race. As a man fascinated by problem solving, he pondered the TT Course issues and began making countless sketches for his ultimate racing chassis in early 1975. They were to be the genesis of the Rustler BSA.

To address chain wear, he chose to replace conventional swingarm twin-shock rear suspension with a monoshock parallelogram system that would maintain constant chain tension over bumps. It would have the added benefit of pushing the rear wheel down onto the road during acceleration, while avoiding ‘squat’ where the suspension is fully compressed.

MV Agusta’s earliest shaft-drive racing 500cc fours of 1950 had also used parallelogram rear suspension in conjunction with torsion bars. In the mid-1970s the system was tried out in endurance racing by the Dholda Honda equipe, as well as on the Mead &Thompkinson Laverda nicknamed ‘Nessie’. The US Kawasaki team had also briefly experimented with a parallelogram swingarm.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and get 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_radical_rocket' }

#### **Its nicknames aren’t that flattering, but will our air-cooled man think the ‘Water Buffalo’ and ‘Kettle’ monikers are undeserved?**

WORDS **RICK PARKINGTON** PHOTOGRAPHY **GARY MARGERUM**

The starter button produces a burst of muted staccato, like a muzzled Uzi machine gun – and with a clunk that recalls putting a C90 cassette into its player, we’re in first gear and away. This isn’t the first time I’ve ridden a GT750 Suzuki – but it’s the one that I ended up enjoying the most. On a nostalgic level, I was given a die-cast model of a GT750 (complete with spring forks and back end) on my tenth birthday, so you could easily imagine that by riding Lloyd Benton’s lustrous Candy Jackal Blue J model on a rare sunny day in early summer, I’m living a childhood dream. Just imagine my little rosy cheeks and shining eyes as I pictured myself, one day, riding a real one...

Sorry, that’s some other kid. I never really engaged with that toy Suzuki. I wasn’t into the flashy modern look even then – and worse still, it just felt too chunky to be wheelied convincingly across the carpet. No, there’s no rose tint here, I’m just enjoying an old bike on modern roads – and much more than I expected. I’m sinking alarmingly comfortably into the ’70s vibe, even though I’m no lover of heavy bikes, safari suits or kipper ties. The GT750 is a far cry from the streaking strokers that made Suzuki famous in the ’60s; this is ‘the water buffalo’, remember – and with no disrespect to that noble beast, that’s hardly a compliment. So I find myself wondering just what Suzuki were up to in the 1970s.

Think about it. From the AP50 up, Suzuki seemed to place themselves between Honda’s responsible four-strokes and the rowdy Yamahas; even the triples were Beatles vs Stones alongside the Kawasakis – how could a company destined to bring us the RG500 make... a ‘water buffalo’? Well, having now been able to spend a bit of time with a GT750, I think I get it. You see, while a touring two-stroke triple may seem an odd idea today, that’s hindsight. We may view Japan’s defeat of the British industry like two armies meeting on a battlefield, but the Japanese companies were not allies – they were rivals as much as Triumph or Norton. When Honda stole the superbike show, Suzuki needed to fight back and their two-stroke background demanded a different approach.

> ‘Forget about the Kawasaki triples; if you view a GT750 as atwostroke CB750, it makes much more sense’

Forget about Kawasaki triples; if you view a GT750 as a two-stroke CB750, it makes much more sense.

And it’s a good effort too. Water cooling aided reliability and got rid of the rinky-dink rattles that plague alloy-finned two-strokes. Don’t expect arm-wrenching thrills, but the power delivery is strong and smooth – provided you keep above 2500rpm, there’s not much below. But alongside that, the Suzuki is really comfortable thanks to well-placed footrests, a generously proportioned saddle and wide handlebars. Now all of this I could probably have guessed, but what surprised me most of all was that the GT750 isn’t anything like as ungainly to ride as I expected. I felt very confident swinging it through bends – in fact, when I saw some sports bike riders approaching as I negotiated a roundabout, I couldn’t resist cranking it over to make as good a showing as possible. It did well enough to hold them off, too – water buffalo indeed!

The cornering made up for it all. I wasn’t hanging off the seat, of course – that’s not the deal when someone is kind enough to lend you their bike, but I was impressed with how secure the Suzuki felt and I suspect the Bridgestone Battlax tyres have much to do with it. In the ’70s, the one area British bikes still held a winning card was handling; Japanese frames, rear shocks and especially tyres left so much to be desired that many owners changed to Avon or Dunlop at the first service. That elevated the more notorious bikes from downright dangerous to adequate, but it seems the rubber of the last few years has turned those ‘widowmakers’ completely around. Whether that’s the technology – tyres now are generations ahead of those TT100s and Roadrunners which were designed for less fractious British bikes – or just the fact that the riders of these bikes are a bit more, ah, _mature_ in their riding, I don’t know.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and get 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_suzuki_GT750' }

#### The most successful sidecar racer of all time explains how he won 10 world championships, took 31 consecutive poles and watched most 500cc GPs from the roof of his truck…

Interview **JOHN WESTLAKE** Photography **STEVE WEBSTER ARCHIVE, JOHN WESTLAKE** & **BAUER AUTOMOTIVE**

In early 2004, Steve Webster spotted a curious anomaly with the sidecar race dates – none of that year’s British championship, European championship, and world championship rounds clashed. It meant that, technically, someone could compete in every one of them. So he did just that – winning all three titles and cementing his place as the most successful sidecar racer of all time.

It was an astonishing feat, and neatly summed up Steve’s combination of talents. Not only was he blisteringly fast – he scored his 31st consecutive world championship pole that season – and daringly ambitious, but his calm, analytical approach away from the track was a huge advantage, in this case allowing him to work out the logistics of competing in three championships simultaneously.

Explaining himself in the surroundings of his local in Easingwold, North Yorkshire, Steve attempts to play down the achievement. “We could only do it because the world championship back then was over one weekend \[it was called the Superside World Cup and consisted of three races in one day\],” he says. “And the European championship was actually the main one.”

But that was still a logistical nightmare, surely? “Well, yes. One weekend we’d be in Italy, the next at Brands, then in Germany, then back to Thruxton, then Hungary, then Snetterton... luckily, it all fell into place, so we could go to them all. One key thing was we had a bus as a transporter and we put the bike underneath \[where the bag storage normally is\], so we didn’t have any trouble with customs – they didn’t know it was there. We didn’t get held up anywhere. But the whole attempt was silly really.”

In fact, the effort took so much out of him physically and mentally that it effectively ended his career, but we’ll come to that later. Meanwhile, Steve is making his way through a giant fish and chip dinner and explaining how he arrived at a stage in life where the only challenge left was winning everything, everywhere, all at once.

“My dad raced grasstrack, so Igrew up in sidecar paddocks,” he says. “But I used to love going to Scarborough and watching Sheeney and Mick Grant – I had a Garelli Tiger moped, then a CB175. I didn’t have the money to race solos, so me and my older brother Kevin pooled our resources and bought a sidecar. My dad never encouraged me to race, but once we decided we were going to do it, he was very supportive and got involved. He was obviously just waiting for us to make the decision.”

The wrong decision, as it turned out, in terms of the racing machinery that they chose to buy... “We got a Fiddaman Suzuki, which couldn’t go fast or stop – we ran into the back of a few people. We took turns driving and passengering, but I didn’t miss as many gears as Kev, so I became the driver.”

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[subscribe today and get 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_at_lunch_with_steve_webster' }

The completion of the Classic Bike BSA Thunderbolt project takes pride of place on the cover of the August issue. The true cost of transforming a £2650 restoration project into a great-looking and reliably roadworthy ’70s British bike is also revealed – and may come as a bit of a shock!

Delving even further into motorcycling’s past, the CB team take a trip to Kent, where three of the guys get their first chance to experience hand-change bikes – a 1928 Sunbeam Model 9 and a 1936 Rudge Ulster.

A Rick Parkington road test of a Suzuki GT750 ‘Kettle’ and the tale of how an owner’s revival of a worse-than-expected Honda CB1100R that was bought sight-unseen, brings things back to the ’70s/’80s, while an interview with 10-time world sidecar champion Steve Webster moves the timeline into this century.

So whatever your favourite era of motorcycling, Classic Bike has it covered.

The August issue of Classic Bike is out now at all good newsagents, or why not :a[subscribe today and make the most of our summer offer with 3 issues for just £5!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=newissue_clb' }

Classic Bike magazine helps inspire you to get more from your passion for classic motorcycles. It's not surprising it's the UK's best-selling classic motorcycling magazine when we share your fascination with motorcycling's heroic past.

Our experts help you find your dream classic bike with advice on buying, fixing and restoring real-life classic motorcycles from experts such as our spannering supremo Rick who tackles jobs from simple maintenance through to full restorations. Let us take you back to the glamour, glory and adventurous spirit of the golden era of motorcycle racing and the best of the events that bond our community, including classic racing, meet-ups and shows.

### **Become a Subscriber today and you'll never miss an issue, PLUS you'll get access to exciting rewards on the Classic Bike app.** :a[Choose a subscription to suit you best]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=howtoread_clb' } {#h-become-a-member-today-and-you-ll-never-miss-an-issue-plus-you-ll-get-access-to-member-only-content-and-rewards-on-the-classic-bike-member-s-website-and-app-try-our-digital-membership-today-for-only-99p}

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Head down to your local newsagents and pick up the latest issue of Classic Bike.

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WAYS TO READ CLASSIC BIKE MAGAZINE

#### **What happens when bikes up to nearly a century old are thrust into the hands of riders who are barely familiar with a right-foot gearlever – let alone a hand-change? We took a ride through the Kent countryside to find out…**

Words **MARK HOLMES** Photography **GARY MARGERUM**

These old things are just about chuffing round a parade ring in fancy dress, aren’t they?” I venture with a grin, looking down at Rick’s 1928 Sunbeam Model 9. But he’s not taking the bait. He knows my reference to his habit of dressing in period attire to demonstrate his more elderly motorcycles at off-road gatherings is a thinly-veiled attempt to wind him up. In fact, _Classic Bike’s_ vintage motorcycle evangelist has expressly forbidden me from calling them ‘old chuffers’. He should’ve known it would have the opposite effect. Whether that description is pertinent or not remains to be seen...

We’re about to find out – and the means for doing so couldn’t be more enjoyable. A bunch of us has descended on Mr Parkington’s Kent retreat (a selection of bike-stuffed garages and sheds loosely attached to a house) to raid his collection, commandeer five of his motorcycles and cart them off to a place of safety where we can muck about on them. Apart from the fact that it seemed like a fun thing to do, there is a vaguely relevant point to all this, because three of our party have little or no experience of riding old chuffers – sorry, very old motorcycles. We wanted to see if we could penetrate their veil of seemingly alien and complex control systems, get to grips with them and wring out a bit of entertainment in the process.

For the purposes of this experiment, we’ve plucked the Sunbeam, along with a 1936 Rudge Ulster, a 1935 Norton International, a 1956 BSA DBD34 Gold Star and a 1959Triumph Thunderbird from their semi-slumber in Rick’s retirement home for old bikes. Our motley crew’s range of experience starts with _CB_ design man Austin Smith, who is a seasoned rider but has never thrown a leg over a classic bike in his life. Then there’s modern bike habitué and _CB_ contributor John Westlake, who rode a Speed Twin on a VMCC run years ago and “nearly died three times” due to brake/gearchange confusion, as well as once having a brief go on Hugo’s old Matchless off-road.

My personal experience on really old stuff is limited to a few hours chugging round Rutland on a Brough SS80, although I did have a brief ride on Rick’s Norton Inter over 10 years ago on the Isle of Man, when the bouncy-castle effect of its sprung seat on a bumpy road had me in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. There will be no foot-based gearchanging for me today, though, as I’ve broken my right big toe, so will be limited to the two hand-change bikes (the Rudge and Sunbeam). Acting in the role of responsible adults, we have _CB_ Editor Hugo Wilson, a man who has plonked his rear end on many a vintage bike (although he’s never ridden a Rudge) and, of course, the owner of these machines (and many more) Mr Rick Parkington, to whom these motorcycles are more like his own offspring than mere machines.

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#### Tobacco companies coughed up vast sums to sponsor motorcycle racing from the 1970s into the next millennium. The formula of ash, cash and thrash produced some memorable teams and liveries

Cigarettes and motorcycles were always a match made in heaven – or at least a happy union of mutual convenience until the World Health Organisation got serious about the dangers of tobacco. The Marlboro Man was no doubt ideal for convincing Americans that smoking was a manly pursuit bringing many benefits (aside from the possible drawback of early death), but men dressed as cowboys were less convincing in Europe.

Philip Morris &Co realised this. Ellen Merlo, vice president of marketing, said: “Formula One and IndyCar racing are a modern dimension to the Marlboro Man. The image of Marlboro is rugged, individualistic, heroic.”

And what could be more heroic than a rugged individualist dicing with death on a motorcycle?

Gold Leaf, a brand owned by British American Tobacco, had been first into the Formula One arena when they backed Team Lotus in 1967; Philip Morris attached their Marlboro brand to BRM in 1972, and that same year embarked on personal sponsorship of MV Agusta teamsters Giacomo Agostini and Alberto Pagani. They had followed John Player & Sons, who began supporting the Norton Race Team in 1971. But while John Player backed out in 1974, Philip Morris kept their hand in with Ago as Gauloises, the French state-owned brand, started backing star French riders Patrick Pons and Christian Sarron.

The late-1970s’ level of fag sponsorship was small beer compared to the cash that cascaded into the GP paddock in the 1980s. Marlboro Yamaha Team Agostini arrived in 1982 and scooped three 500cc World Championships (1984, 1986 and 1988) before triple champ Eddie Lawson decamped to Rothmans-backed Honda to win the 1989 title (note that the cigarette got top billing, ahead of even the factory – a formula that was to become standard).

With Lucky Strike teaming up with Suzuki in 1985, the GP paddock was almost instantly transformed from casual Continental Circus into a uniformed parade of corporate muscle. The money improved the racing. Bigger backing meant better bikes and up to $20 million being spent each year by the major players. These were vast numbers compared to what used to be spent on a factory team – but a mere bagatelle to the tobacco giants, whose net global sales ran into billions.

Rothmans were first to leave the party in 1993, but there was no shortage of eager replacements to prop up the factory Honda operation, with the Repsol oil company generously stepping in. The remaining players would grimly hang on to one of the few sports where they could peddle their products to an audience that plainly had fewer scruples than most about the deleterious effects of their wares.

TV advertising for cigarettes had been banned as early as 1968, when concrete evidence had emerged via the US Surgeon General in 1964 that cigarettes were bad for your health. And yet Norton happily dressed both race and road bikes in John Player regalia throughout the ’70s. Marlboro, Rothmans and Lucky Strike liveries were seen as highly desirable on road bikes of the ’90s, and the black-and-gold John Player Special look is as esteemed now as ever.

Vast resource went into making cigarette packets appealing, into advertising a brand in a manner to almost certainly connect with the desired audience. That same level of thinking and execution went into making sponsored racing motorcycles look very good indeed.

Whether we like it or not, we were all willing participants in a big sell. A sell that enriched the racing to great effect.

It’s 1972 and the John Player Norton team are proudly posing with their team motorhome. Norton were the first bike team to benefit from fag money and as well as painting their bikes in corporate colours, their race numbers were usually Number 6 or Number 10 to match Player’s big selling brands, though star rider Peter Williams was an Embassy smoker.

The motorhome got them paddock kudos, too. It is a Rectrans Discoverer styled by none other than Larry Shinoda, the man responsible for the 1963 Chevrolet Corvette and Ford’s Boss 302 Mustang. The JPN Discoverer was last seen near Guildford in 2020, and is now believed to be in the USA undergoing restoration. The Discoverer could be ordered complete with a ‘Thermosan’ waste disposal system in which the contents of the toilet were incinerated via the exhaust system – seriously.

KOOL were an American menthol cigarette brand who used motorcycle racing as part of their European promotion scheme. In the 1980s they forged a strong link with Kawasaki France Endurance – and their bikes were always well-turned out and highly competitive. Jean Lafond is pictured here in the 1982 Le Mans 24 hours, in which he finished second overall with Hervé Guilleux. Lafond won in 1981, sharing a Kawasaki with Raymond Roche, later to become 1990 World Superbike Champion on a Ducati.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[check out our subscription options so you never miss an issue!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_lighting_up_the_race_track' }

#### For a time in the 1980s, it looked like turbocharging was the future – and one bike soon blew the rest away. But was Kawasaki’s 750 Turbo a winner or just a load of hot air?

Words **RICK PARKINGTON** Photography **GARY MARGERUM**

Funny how minor styling details stick in your mind. If you’d asked me last week to name some mid-’80s Kawasakis, the 750 Turbo is the one I’d have forgotten. But I do remember liking the one with a funny row of studs, like bullet holes, along the side panel – and a guy who sauntered over for a look at this bike during my test said he’d recognised it by the alloy midriff to the fairing.

Well, that’s the 750 Turbo. But beyond its visual appeal, as I stood alongside the ZX750E – Kawasaki never called it a GPz – on loan from Earl Classics, I didn’t have very high hopes. I mean, turbos... really? To me, putting a turbo on a road bike was just marketing patter – aimed at older versions of the kid who stood at the counter asking me if we had a ‘power band’ in stock for his DT125. Honda had already made turbos a bit of a joke by charging their spinsterly CX500, while the Suzuki and Yamaha offerings were little more convincing. The GPz1100 was pretty damn good as I recall, so why would anyone buy a 750 with a built-in vacuum cleaner – however studded the side panels?

> ‘To me, putting a turbo on a road bike was just marketing patter – aimed at older versions of the kid who stood at the counter asking me if we had a ‘power band’ in stock’

Well, now I think I know. The Turbo is a surprisingly nice bike to ride. For a start, the slinky looks are practical – the contoured seat and tank combination make it narrow and provide the classic ‘sitting in, not on’ position which is a blessing for shorter-legged riders. I liked it too – although low seats can spell a cramped riding position for those of my height, again the Kawasaki scored with the relationship between seat, pegs and bars, encouraging me to adopt a near perfect back-straight position rather my usual lumbarcrunching slouch. On top of that, sitting in a bike always inspires cornering confidence and I felt immediately at home on the 750 – my only complaint being the stylish fairing mirrors that required me to bodyswerve like a rugby player to see behind my shoulders. But then, as my dad says: ‘You should know what’s behind, because you’ve just overtaken it,’ and that’s an area at which the Turbo excels.

The first I heard of the turbocharger was an odd jingling noise at 3000rpm, like a phone ringing in my pocket – this, I realised, was the beast stirring but not yet awake. Power was adequate while it slept – although on a long, steepish climb I might as well have been on a Z200 and noticed cars racking up embarrassingly behind me. Dropping a cog, I soon pulled away again – but you wouldn’t need to do that on a Bonneville. And again, later, when I tried to accelerate in fourth to pass a cyclist I’d been sitting behind, it almost felt like it was in ‘limp mode’. I tell you this not to expose my lazy British bike rider’s ways, but because it’s it’s not a slogger, you need to be in the right gear, and I liked the bike so much it didn’t annoy me. I blamed myself, mutely apologising and cogging down. But when the turbo kicks in... well, that jingling at 3000 may be the alarm clock ringing, but it has a long snooze setting. It’s not till 5000 that we get up and go – and then all hell breaks loose. It’s not exactly a ‘power band’ like that lad wanted for his DT – or if it is, I didn’t find the other side. It was more like riding a twin that’s been running on one cylinder and suddenly cuts to two. The power just seemed to keep coming faster and faster with no real indication of flattening off.

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The July issue of Classic Bike takes a big draw from the days when motorcycle racing was supported by tobacco sponsorship, looking at some of the iconic bikes, liveries and team names from John Player Nortons to Lucky Strike Suzukis, plus an interview with Marlboro Yamaha Grand Prix legends Niall Mackenzie and Rob McElnea.

Elsewhere in the magazine there’s more high-speed antics with a test ride of a Kawasaki 750 Turbo and a look at the crazy era of multi-engined drag bikes. For those who prefer a more sedate pace, there’s a tale of a Honda CB550K restoration that took much longer than expected and, on a similar note, Classic Bike’s project BSA Thunderbolt 650 is finished… or is it?

And to finish, there’s a look back to the days when 16-year-olds could hop straight onto a Gold Star race bike after passing their test.

The July issue of Classic Bike is out now at all good newsagents, or why not :a[subscribe]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=newissue_clb' target='_blank' rel='noreferrer noopener'} so you never miss an issue.

#### Well, not this one. Seasoned bike restorer Joe Brock got a shock after riding this 1977 Honda CB550 K3 home– what seemed like a simple project turned into a nightmare. Here’s how he turned it into a daily rider

Words **MARK GRAHAM** Photography **GREG MOSS**

When Joe Brock paid £2200 for a 1977 Honda CB550 K3 with 45,000 miles on the clock back in 2021, he was fully expecting a routine Honda refurbishment to unfold. He’d been lucky with Hondas; full engine service, address some cycle part deterioration, bit of electrical work, maybe chain and sprockets, some brake work, tart up the paint, fresh fluids... and off you go.

At this stage, let’s be clear about Joe’s ambitions with his bikes. He is neither a rivet-counter nor a stickler for the minutest original detail. He does not spend money on paint to the exclusion of mechanical soundness. He rebuilds his bikes to be ridden and to represent decent value, nothing more: “I was after a CB500, but prices had gone up a bit and so I settled on finding a CB550 instead,” he says. Good move. The CB550 had a stronger clutch and gearbox than the 500 and, while it didn’t look as stylish as the ’71-’73 machine, the KO-K4 ’74-’78 bike was plainly the value buy.

He found one at DK Motorcycles, paid up, and the imported US model was duly delivered. “It had clearly had a crankcase repair, so I said no – I didn’t want it. They were really good about it – picked it up... full refund... said if I’d bought something and didn’t like the colour they’d still have taken it back. So fair play to them.

**RESTORATION SAGA**  
Furry alloy and plenty of rusty bits in evidence, but the bike started and ran well enough to be ridden home; original cylinder head had three bent valves, while the secondhand replacement contained a broken off spark plug

Keihin carburettors had to be rebuilt using original parts after properly-fitting replacements proved impossible to find

CB550’s five-speed gearbox is a tough old thing

> ‘I’VE PROBABLY DONE 40 BIKES OVER THE YEARS AND THIS WAS THE WORST I’D SEEN’

“Then I found another three miles down the road from where I live. The seller said he had too many bikes and needed to unload this S-reg 550. It had new rims and spokes and a recently powdercoated frame, but the rest of it really looked its 45,000 miles with loads of rough bolt heads and furry alloy, but it started up fine and I rode it back home.

“I wasn’t expecting much from it; it felt dull but OK. But when I drained the oil, it was a black sludge,” says Joe. “I’ve probably done nearly 40 bikes over the years and this was the worst I’d seen.” Joe (62) freely admits that the alarm bells of regret were ringing loud in his head when he poked around in the dropped oil.

#### To read more, head into stores and grab the latest issue of Classic Bike, or why not :a[check out our subscription options so you never miss an issue!]{href='https://www.greatmagazines.co.uk/classic-bike-magazine?utm_source=classicbike.co.uk&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=bau_classicbike&amp;utm_content=article_hondas_are_easy_right' }

Rob McElnea and Niall Mackenzie were factory GP riders when cigarettes bankrolled racing. But that’s not their abiding memory. No, what they’ll never forget are the Americans…

During the 1980s, two of the world’s best GP riders just so happened to be best mates. Rob McElnea and Niall Mackenzie surfed the wave of cigarette cash, spending their Sundays thrashing Skoal Bandit, Lucky Strike, HB and Marlboro sponsored 500s, and the rest of the time touring Europe in motorhomes of dubious quality and laughing a lot.

The latter still continues. “Marlboro gave him some money to paint his motorhome in their colours when he was riding for the factory team,” says Niall, deadpan. “But when they saw the state of it, they paid him to paint it beige again.”

“Yeah, that is true,” admits Rob, 65, as we drink coffee at a tennis centre while his teenage daughter has a training session. “I didn’t invest in an expensive motorhome because I didn’t know how long I’d be in the GP paddock. I honestly thought I was all wrong – I was too heavy, my background wasn’t like the Americans, I just felt so fortunate to be there. I never saw Kevin \[Schwantz\] or Wayne \[Rainey\] as genuine competitors – I’d just try and hang on to them for as long as I could. But Niall really could compete with them – he proved it with podiums. I was always pushing too hard and hanging on.”

I’m stunned that a GP racer who beat Rainey, Gardner, Spencer, Schwantz, Mamola and Lawson in their prime, and came fifth in the 1986 500cc World Championship could suffer from imposter syndrome. It seems that, despite them being mates for decades, Niall is slightly surprised too. “It’s funny Rob says that, because I was a couple of years behind him and he was an inspiration.

“I saw him going from club racing to a factory Suzuki and Yamaha ride, and for me that was very inspiring – it was proof that a normal person could do it. It always felt like Freddie \[Spencer\], Kenny \[Roberts\] and even Barry Sheene were born into it. And when I got to the GP paddock, Rob was one of them – he was mates with Eddie \[Lawson\] and Randy \[Mamola\] and I wasn’t. He’d made it.

“But I had the imposter syndrome too,” continues Niall, who’s now 63 – although like Rob, he’s living proof that racing vicious 500cc two-strokes actively slows the ageing process. “I had a few podiums \[seven, _to be exact, which we’d argue is more than a few – Ed\]_ but I never won a GP – and in any paddock, if you’re not winning, you can’t have that extra feeling of confidence. You’re not quite doing what the best guys are doing.”

And, Rob points out, for most of the time, the best guys were the Americans. “I remember the first time I went on track with Ed \[Lawson\] at a test and he followed me and said afterwards: ‘My God Rob, you’ve got to change – I was waiting for you to be flying through the air’.

“I was pushing the front and carrying loads of corner speed and lean angle. When any of us Europeans – me, Niall, \[Christian\] Sarron – followed Ed, we’d nearly run into the back of him going into the corner. Then he’d get it turned and be gone. They never used to lose the front, because they were riding on the rear tyre.

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