Antique & Classic Cars Blog

It’s a given that you shouldn’t drink before riding a motorcycle. Obviously you wouldn’t get drunk, but even a little alcohol is dangerous because it brings out the Superman cape.

Before a beer, it’s all proper riding position, sight lines, safe technique… after one, gaps seem bigger, traffic lights slower, braking distances longer. An E.R. doctor could confirm that a meaningful number of riders they sew up have some alcohol in their system. They thought they were riding better than ever. The reverse was true.

Coming home in the Dodge today–haven’t picked up the “new” bike yet–another safety idea popped in mind: Don’t ride immediately after hearing Love Cats, by the Cure. Like the song or no, with its driving rhythm galumphing around in your skull, it’s going to crash into the nerve center carefully metering your throttle input–and there go the revs.

Other songs can be added to this cautionary list. I also won’t be listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “You Got That Right” and “I Know a Little,” Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” most Courtney Love, Dick Dale’s “Misirlou,” and just about everything by the Violent Femmes.

If out on the bike and exposed to one of these songs, proper protocol will be to take a walk, get some air and try to listen to something instrumental by Sting, or maybe our own Billy McLaughlin. Be calm, ride calm, live longer.

Our youthful experiences play such an important role in our choices as classic car and motorcycle buyers, or dreamers, they must be credited for helping to sustain the hobby itself.

For 15 years my motorcycle was a 1975 Honda CB750 bought because my brother’s friend Jim came over to our house when we were kids astride a used CB550 he’d bought for $200 and got running. He and his stepfather were seriously good with a wrench. With its spoke wheels, chrome fenders, twin gauges, high circular mirrors, rubber gaitered front springs, attractive engine, and excellent overall proportions, it looked to me like the smartest way a pair of Franklins has ever been spent.

Yesterday, I traded it in toward a CB1100F, another bike from a bit later in youth. I saw one of these in a motorcycle dealership in Newark, Delaware, in 1983. Looked like the sexiest, most powerful motorcycle in the world.

BSAs and Nortons and Triumphs have all laid claim to my imagination but somehow, that bike, the one I had seen and sat on and daydreamed over for so long pushed them all out of mind. Infectious devotion like that is gold to a manufacturer and half the time, it arises from mere happenstance and not the millions in advertising they all lavish on print and airwaves.

A novel way to change the front tire on your motorcycle, here.

When Sport Wheels, the motorcycle salvage yard in Jordan, moved its entire inventory a couple miles up 169, they left this Honda 360 Super Sport.

Take a look at these photos and see if you can determine why.

Hint: it’s not a hidden defect.

Nor is the answer a gravity anomaly rendering objects in this spot immovably heavy. That, for purposes of this quiz, would be a hidden defect since only the really good gravitometers work off a lo-res internet photo.

In working on an unrestored bike book, I came across this sweet Italian-built ‘71 Harley Davidson Aermacci Leggero, which sat in a Midwestern dealership unsold until the owner pulled it off the floor and put it in his warehouse.

It was never titled; the battery has never been serviced (filled).

As simple as this bike is, and small and unassuming, with its years of accumulated dust and dry rot, it feels like long-lost treasure. (Photos by Jerry Lee.)

This beautifully homely creation sat in a junkyard for many years before the right eyes recognized it as a marvelous piece of innovation and craftsmanship. Today it runs and drives (rides).

It is a motorcycle, in that it has the familiar characteristics of one—a motor and two wheels and an upright riding position and handlebars, fork, driven rear-wheel—but its genius, no doubt intentional on the builder’s part, is that it uses virtually no motorcycle parts. Only the twist throttle–perhaps not the original piece–appears to be from a motorcycle. Even the handlebars are cut down tubular table legs. Every other part comes from a car (wheels, engine, gearbox, frame members, headset) or a home (cut-down radiator) or something else non-motorcycle. Seat looks like small tractor.

Engine and gearbox are Chevrolet, frame pieces Model T, headset a Model T wheel hub. The tank across the top is coolant; fuel tank is below handlebars, which, as you note, do not connect to the fork directly, but through shafts like some of today’s most “innovative” show bikes. (Chrome pipe “above” headset is actually behind the bike and not part of it.)

This playful invention was crafted in 1939. The farmer who built it is pictured above it, astride the beast. (It resides in a private collection within 12,450 miles of the Twin Cities and belongs to a Mr. A, or a Ms. Z, or someone in between.)

In a prior post, we showed a Ural motorcycle and sidecar out for a cold winter spin. I had said it was a driven-wheel sidecar and Paul asked if I was sure.

This rider is rugged, so I found the bike again by Diamond’s Coffee Shop on Central Ave. This Ural is a powered-sidecar model. Pictured is the driveshaft arrangement from the motorcycle to the sidecar wheel.

There was another bike there this visit–a 1944 Harley Davidson WLA, stilled owned and ridden by its original buyer. Its sidecar is the typical non-powered kind.

The fact that this is Minnesota and it’s 2009 has no bearing on what you can find here in terms of amazing cars and bikes. Hidden behind the anonymous facades of houses scattered throughout the state are vehicles of all ages from all parts of the globe.

Last Saturday, Gene, a bike owner going into my current book project, Survivor II: The Unrestored Collector Motorcycle, invited me to see some really great bikes he’s accumulated over the years. He has roots tracing to the very heart of the American auto industry–his grandfather started working for Henry Ford pre-Model T. In the shot above, Gene’s grandfather is on the far left with moustache; Ford is on the far right in topcoat.

Gene has an extremely original, unrestored 1938 Velocette he bought at the St. Paul auction. (I’ve included my feet because I don’t have Photoshop.) That bike came over from England for the event.

The Norton International below is also an incredible bike. His father Lee had one in 1949, which he raced with a partner in Michigan. When Gene went hunting for this rare model several years ago, the one he found worth buying–in England–was also a ‘49. It still wears the original paint. The pinstripes have been redone–but by an original factory pinstriper whom a prior owner of the bike had do it before the man retired.

The Honda Dream was a bit nerdy in ‘66, but today it’s pure classic cool. For a 43-year-old sheet of plastic, the original windshield still looks great. This bike has less than 3,000 miles and, like all of Gene’s bikes, runs like new. That’s thanks in part to his tuner, ace mechanic and Bonneville recordholder, Steve Hamel, another valuable asset in the Twin Cities bike community.

It’s not just bikes at Gene’s place. He also loves E-type Jaguars and has one of the best 3.8’s in the world. You would never want to set a sandwich on this engine as oils from the bread might get it dirty. Calling this car immaculate is like saying Usain Bolt is quick.

…For some. Eleven below is a bit crisp for most of us, but this diehard cyclist had the sidecar-equipped Ural out yesterday morning.

A sidecar is a near must in a low-friction environment like snow–keeping you upright and lending a little traction for going uphill too. This sidecar has a driven wheel with its own brake.

What that extra wheel won’t help with is the frigid, frigid wind flying at you like a flock of samurai swords. Not only does this rider have a constitution like the Founders wrote, he’s also got some very effective winter riding gear.

Kudos for staring Old Man Winter in the face on a subzero morning and saying, “Think I’ll take the bike.”

On Saturday, I was lucky enough to get in on a vintage motorcycle enthusiasts outing to a private collection in Burnsville. WOW!

These are some of the most beautiful motorcycles I have ever seen. . . . wonderful examples from well-known marques like BSA, Triumph and Ariel, and then some rarer steeds, like a Brough Superior (the bike Lawrence of Arabia apparently rode), New Imperial, Rudge Ulster and a Vincent Black Knight.

There were delights in all areas, from the craftsmanship on the engine componentry, to the daring sweeps and shapes of the exhaust pipes, to the artistry in the faces of speedometers, tachometers and other gauges.

In recent years, hopping on a few modern bikes had moved my mind in that direction, prompting dreams of sprinter speed, acrobat agility and the confidence of sure starts and stops, every time. Humbug! This collection of bikes yanked my mind right back into the past–way back.

There must be a dozen bikes here that would make any classic motorcycle fan proud for life. The angles were not always ideal for a great photograph, but the subjects could not have been better. Rather than jabber on, I’ll let these iron horses speak for themselves.