Not For Sale

Not for sale

UP FRONT

David Edwards

NOBODY REALLY NEEDS MORE THAN one motorcycle. I should know; I have eight, which at times seems about seven too many. Just keeping the things in current registration tags, charged batteries and fresh oil is a full-time job. And there always seems to be something else each one needs.

My 1946 Velocette GTP, purchased in parts and persuaded back into entirety only after much check-signing on my part and a lot of hard work by the crew at Time Machine Motorcycle Works, is a beautiful piece, splendid in its black paint and gold pinstripes. But Time Machine went belly-up last year, a victim of the recession, before we got the charging system fully sorted out, and I still have to find someone who can fabricate a leather-faced toolbox and the optional rear luggage rack.

My 1954 BSA Gold Star special, a likeness of which appears atop this page, is still the centerpiece of my motley collection, but I haven’t ridden it lately. Its flamed fuel tank developed stress cracks in the clear coat, so I sent it off to be re-painted. That was six months ago, though the painter assures me it’ll be done “real soon.” By now, the Goldie also needs its numerous aluminum tidbits shined up, which is an all-day job.

The 1970s Champion-framed Yamaha 750, my street-legal flat-tracker, also needs some attention. I’ve been meaning to fix a chipped cylinder fin for months now, and the fork tubes, pitted from years of drafting in the churned-up debris of competing bikes, need replacing. Even after stoning to knock down the worst of the dings, the tubes are rough enough to damage the fork seals, which then lets oil migrate down to the front disc brake. And about every three months, the bike’s artistically welded, nickel-plated frame needs to be buffed out, another all-day affair. Between the Yamaha and the BSA, I’m looking for polish sponsorship from Nevr-Dull.

My other racer-turned-streetbike, a 1985 Honda HRC Superbike, wants a little TLC, as well. A runaway drill wielded by some idiot (me) poked a hole in the V-Four’s all-but-unobtainable radiator, which needs to be removed and taken to a specialist. The Honda’s fork is leaking-finding seals for the works Showa front end should prove interesting. Lastly, the oh-sotrick magnesium-bodied downdraft carbs ($3500 the set in 1985) impart a flat spot of Great Plains proportions between 5000 and 7000 rpm, a malady that already has stymied one wellknown former factory tuner.

They say that much of the collector craze is driven by guys wanting to own the bikes that were hot when they were young and poor. My latest additions fall into that category. Back when all I could scrape together was $400 for a used Honda CB175, what I really lusted after was a wheelie-popping Kawasaki HI Triple or a sweetsounding Honda CB750 four-piper. Now, I have both. The Kawi, a 1970 model that was raced to the numbertwo spot in Southern California’s 500cc production-bike class in 1972, sat unused for a decade in an Arizona garage. I plan to hit the historic-racing circuit with it this year, but first it needs to be totally gone through and fitted with rebuilt wheels, frame bracing, sticky tires, modern shocks, replacement crank seals, rearsets, new cables, etc., etc., etc.

I probably should leave my CB750a complete, low-mileage 1969 modelwell enough alone, but the lure of having a mint Honda Four will more than likely lead to a full restoration some day soon.

My 1982 Yamaha Seca 650 soldiers along, but has picked up a maddening problem: If it sits for more than a few days, it refuses to start, even though the battery is up to snuff and spins the starter motor with conviction. A short bump-start, though, and the 22,000mile motor catches and quickly settles into an even, 1200-rpm burble. If you’re thinking I should take the bank of carbs apart and see if any passages are blocked, you’re right, and I’ll get on it as soon as I have a free Saturday afternoon.

I also have a 1981 Yamaha XV920yes, the ugly, ill-fated, Euro-style cousin of the Virago V-Twin cruiserpurchased on the cheap and stripped for racing years ago when I thought I was going to be the next great AMA Pro Twins star. Now, it should be put back together. Or maybe pushed off the end of a pier.

Actually, the thought of thinning down my collection to just one bike-the BSA, if you’re wonderingtook on some appeal recently as I worked late into several nights detailing the GTP, the HRC Superbike and the Yamaha flat-tracker for the San Diego Antique Motorcycle Club’s annual Del Mar Concours D’Elegance. With just one machine to look after, just think of all the free time I’d gain. Heck, I might even save enough in registration fees to pay for the Gold Star’s new paint job-when and if I ever see it, that is.

Then, I remembered a conversation I had a few months ago when I stopped by Ted Burleson’s motorcycle dealership in Alton, Illinois, a best-ofboth-world’s place in that Burleson carries both Hondas and Harleys. In what little spare time he has, he builds “Lead Sleds,” those chopped and channeled hod-rods that were the scourge of 1950s drive-ins, and which are enjoying a strong resurgence today. I asked if Burleson built them to sell or to keep.

“Oh, I keep ’em,” he quickly replied. “If you sell a car, all you have is the money, and that gets spent soon enough. Then, you don’t have the car or the money. Nope, I keep the cars.”

My Velo won a couple of trophies at Del Mar, but the Champion-Yamaha attracted the most attention. In fact, one gentleman tried to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

I kept the bike.