Getting on with it.

With the Sportster out of commission again (we don't know what's wrong yet, so far we only noticed a very weak spark, but the rest is still unknown) I took the Commando out a couple of times, though it's totally useless in town thanks to the "modified" head.
I quickly put it back in the garage and decided it was time to crack on with it.

Off comes the bodywork, it will be going back to Toni Raia for a clean-up, a couple of repairs and fresh decals here and there. Don't worry though, the colour will stay the same glorious, brash, "aurora galactica" purple you've come to know and love (or loathe, whatever).
So then looking around the garage, thinking about how to get back home I saw the BSA... it was as if it looked back and me and just said " 'sup? "
It took a little bit of persuasion to get it going (something to do with the carburetter, we'll get to that particular story someday) but eventually it did. While I was at it I also greased up the clutch and front brake cable ends as they were squeaking every time I pulled the levers and it was like nails on a chalkboard.
Apart from checking the tires and putting a spare fuse in my pocket, there was not much else to do, so I took off as conservatively as possible to try to keep the exhaust bark at bay. This thing is not exactly neighbourhood friendly so I try to attract as little attention as I can. It doesn't really work though, a dude on a grey BMW G/S almost crashed into the back of a van as he turned around to look at the BSA...
Loud pipes aside, it turns out that it is totally usable on a daily basis in town: you're narrower than anything else on the road, so lane-splitting is a breeze. The bike is very light, so parking and kerb-hopping aren't a problem. I've cleaned up the rims and a few other shiny bits so it looks presentable and doesn't jarr with its surroundings.
There is a short "to do" list for the BSA. First of all, I fished the new pair of front brake shoes out of a box and will get around to fitting those as soon as I get my Sportster back.

The front brake lever also needs some attention because it's not clamping down properly on the handlebar. Last but not least is the rear wheel sprocket, which hopefully won't require shortening the chain (in case I later decide to go back up to the larger sprocket).
I was musing all this on my way to Witold's, where I found him working on his Commando redux:

He's doing a lot and the details will be part of a separate post once he's finished and the bike is on the road again, burning rubber, tarmac and the landscape in general.

Our friend Marco (one of the Corsica marauders) came by on his lovely BSA Thunderbolt for a quick fork oil change. It turned out to be a little bit more time-consuming than you might have thought, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to take more than just oil to get that suspension working properly...

What a lovely scene, don't you think?

Boom!

All clear.

The little blue Triumph purred along to its MOT and passed with flying colours. Ready for action...

A lesson in avant-garde streamlined design.

Every once in a while in the world of motorcycle design, something comes along that either divides people or unites them in common bewilderment and repulsion.
On some occasions, after years, sometimes decades, people come around and realise that a particular design or model was simply ahead of its time and is only now becoming appealing. The Fastback iteration of the Commando is one example, as is the Suzuki Katana. And while it is satisfying to see a design finally appreciated (some might say vindicated) it can also mean that there is a measure of conformism creeping in. But there is one trend which is still to be appreciated and understood by the masses, and that is the streamlined British motorcycles of the 1950s. Many manufacturers had a stab at it, including Vincent (for those who deride this trend as silly, well if Vincent thought it was a good idea it probably wasn't silly now, was it?), Triumph, Velocette and Norton to name but the most famous. To this day these wonderful machines are laughed at and the original bodywork often lies buried in landfills across the globe. It will have archaeologists scratch their heads one day. I think perhaps one of the biggest hang-ups people have about such strikingly special shapes is that they belittle them as "scooter styled" whereas in fact they were always meant to be streamliners for a world bursting at the seams with optimism, trust in technology and a desire to conquer the cosmos. These would have been the sleek mounts on which to swoosh along smooth sun-dappled highways, as three-finned rocketships would be blasting off to Mars, silhouetted in the bacground against a glorious blue sky.
And so without further ado, I give you what I think is the most spectacular example of avant-garde streamlined design: the 1957 Triumph 3TA "Twenty-one", from an era that ushered in Sputnik and the beginning of forward-thinking technologies that brought man to the moon and living in space. Rather than bury their nose in clip-ons, some people chose to reach for the stars.

sneak peek

On Thursday, Rome got a sneak peek of my Commando redux, only the very first in a series of improvements that I have planned.
Of course Witold was the first to sample and I'd say from the look on his face it was a hit...