Matchless Mxer

Matchless MXer

The factory Thumper that never was

CALL ME YOUNG AND INEXPERIenced, but I’ve got a story to tell you. In 1957, a Swedish racer by the name of Bill Nilsson, on his way to winning the 500cc Motocross World Championship on a homebuilt bike, approached AMC, the

British makers of AJS and Matchless, with plans to produce a replica of his racebike for the ’58 season. His unique bike was powered by a worked-over AJS 7R roadrace motor, bored and stroked to 478cc, then mated to a Burman clutch and BSA gearbox. He

kept the roadrace frame, strengthened the steering head and lengthened the fork tubes. But AMC wanted nothing to do with the project, and sent Nilsson away with nothing more than the offer of another 7R motor. Now, remember that this was well before I was even a glimmer in my parents’ eyes; in fact, they hadn’t even met yet.

Anyway, three decades later, along comes Rob Iannucci, owner of vintage roadracing powerhouse Team Obsolete and a self-confessed lover of the Matchless G-50 motor. He decides to build what AMC could have-should have, he says-in 1958, a Matchlesspowered scrambler. All the parts for Iannucci’s bike are off-the-shelf AMC, Matchless or AJS components, assembled by none other than Dick Mann, two-time Grand National Champion and a regular on the vintage MX circuit. The G-50 motor is Matchless’ 500cc version of the AJS 7R. The frame bears a striking resemblance to the full roadracing version because that’s what it is. The aluminum tank and motocross seat are straight off scramblers of the era. The rear shocks, Girlings originally, were replaced by Works Performance units, the only parts of the bike that don’t belong in a history book.

“This bike is something special, maybe too special to campaign regularly,” Iannucci confesses. So, what was I doing with this please-don’t-tell-methe-price missing link of motorcycle evolution? Getting a quick course in vintage motorcycle appreciation by way of an AHRMA Motocross National at Southern California’s Glen Helen Raceway, is what. When all is said and done, Iannucci builds bikes to be raced-one-off scramblers included-and that’s just what I was about to do.

Filling out the entry forms, I calculated that the Matchless was 10 years older than me, and that most of the guys surrounding me at sign-in began racing before I was born. I checked the box stating my intention to race the Premier class, which encompasses machines from the stone-wheel era ’til 1965 or so. I checked another box that said Expert, which had nothing to do with my knowledge of what I was doing. I was a novice at vintage racing and I knew it. Fortunately, the Team Obsolete G-50 starts right up with one or two kicks and a little carb tickle, but it can pack a punch. Remember kickback? So does the Matchless. And its one-up-threedown, shift-on-the-right, brake-on-theleft routine was another timely piece of motorcycling experience I lacked. So, I dropped it into gear, or rather pretended to check the rear brake, and then clicked it up into first gear on the right side. And as quick as that, I was roosting down the start straight in practice, fairly impressed with the power output of the 30-year-old engine. I, and most around me, was even more thrilled by the sound escaping from the G-50’s straight-through exhaust pipe. I took it pretty easy, and noticed that most of the other riders would not dare get on the outside of me going into turns. Green vintage riders have a way of getting into turns a bit hot.

I was set for my first Vintage National. Checking out my competition on the starting line, I showed them I knew where the brake was, oops, then put it into gear. The gate dropped and I was charging into the first turn, maybe a wheel-length behind, when I began searching for the way to slow down. Oops, again. It took two laps to get remotely comfortable on the bike, but I was soon battling for the lead with Rick Doughty on his BSA Gold Star and Matt Hilgenberg on a Rickman Metisse. Every time I got a good drive, though, Ed upshift or stomp on the brakes for no reason. Then youth and enthusiasm took over and I jumped for the lead, only to land with a big thud, not such a good thing on a 310-pound bike with about 3 inches of suspension travel. This flexed the forks enough to pull the low-mounted alloy fender onto the tire, and we came to a skidding halt. I fixed the fender, but was off the pace. As luck would have it, Hilgenberg’s Triumph motor DNFed a lap later and I was credited with second behind Doughty.

I was primed to win the second moto, getting a clean start, and managing to shift and use the brakes correctly. I was glued to Doughty’s mud-flinging Gold Star, looking for the line I needed to shoot by. I found it but decided to wait until near the moto’s end, not giving him an opportunity to seek revenge. So, on the second-to-last lap, I squared a corner in a slick turn and used the extra power of the Matchless to roost on by. All I had to do now was remember to shift backwards on the wrong side, brake with my left boot-oh yeah, and hold off Doughty’s last-lap charge-to take the moto win and the overall.

Even though this particular bike was never mass-produced, I can appreciate the Matchless as part of the foundation of my sport. I’m sure it

brings back memories to many, but I had to create my own through old books and magazines, and a great day at the vintage races. Still, I may need some further education. Why? Well, in the thrill of victory across the finish-line jump, I did my best imitation of a Roger DeCoster cross-up. Sitting here typing this, I realize that it was 10 years too early for that move, too.

-Jimmy Lewis