The Borrowed Bike Blues

The Borrowed Bike Blues

Spitfire Scrambler meets Motogiro

When the invitation to Motogiro America arrived, I was both delighted and dismayed. The former because it sounded like a wonderful idea; the latter because my best vintage machine, my 1970 Harley XR-

750 street-tracker, needed a set of connecting rods to be ready for the road, while my best Italian bike (made by Aermacchi when that brand was a Harley-Davidson division) is a short-track racer, lacking only lights, horn, silencer, plate, registration and insurance to be eligible.

Mr. Editor Edwards came to the rescue. These guys aren’t sticklers, he said, so you can ride my 1961 BSA Spitfire Scrambler, which fits the spirit if not the letter of the ’70s Sport class.. .oh, you don’t have a problem with rightside shift, do you?

It’s situations like this that teach one to appreciate the challenge of making One Size Fit All.

No, rightside shift is a snap, as my XR and XLR both shift on the right, while the Aermacchi has shift shafts on both sides, selected on the basis of which other racer I’m riding that day.

The problem-and this isn’t personal, I’m just reporting-was Mr. Motherhen, as in “Don’t start it on the sidestand, it’ll bend” and

“Don’t forget to shut off the petcocks, it’ll flood” and, a few days into the rally, “The chain looks a little dry.”

So when I went to lube the chain, bike on centerstand as instructed, the rear tire didn’t clear the ground, making lube a 6-inch-persquirt ordeal; “Oh yeah,” said the owner, “I put on longer shocks.”

No big deal, but then we came to fit. The handlebar bend wasn’t my style, so most days I rode with my sore left thumb hooked over the top of the bars, not wrapped. And the kickstart lever was angled forward funnily, competing for ankle space, because the gearbox-a nifty five-speed Steve Tonkin conversion-was supposed to be used on a café-racer with rearsets.

The true hang-up, though, was the rightside footpeg and shift lever. I literally could not put my boot-and it’s not a big bootstraight ahead because the shifter blocked my toe. Raising the lever one spline gave barely enough clearance, but now my ankle wouldn’t bend far enough to shift.

“You ever think about a nice set of folding, rubber-covered, vintage Bates pegs?” I inquired.

“Those pegs are rare, only used one or two years. They are the correct pegs for a 1961 BSA Spitfire Scrambler.” End of discussion.

At first I’d hook my boot top under the shift lever and lift my entire leg, hup, hup, hup, hup, first to fifth every time we stopped.1

But when another rider heard me groan as I swung my leg over the bench at lunch, I realized leg lifts would only go so far. From then on, I slid back to the rear of the seat, bringing my ankle’s bend into range, and that worked just fine.

End of complaints. In sum, I could not have had a better ride. Gentle curves and hills with no sustained high speeds was what English motorcycles were made for in 1961, and that’s just what this rally featured. Okay, the front drum made me wonder how the old-timers ever decided a touch of brake would hurl you over the bars; this one barely impeded forward progress, but that can be allowed for, and the rear binder was up to snuff.

And showing off? Goodness yes. Here I am, BSA on the centerstand, two minutes from clock-out and up come Cook Neilson and Phil Schilling, ex of Cycle magazine. They’ve been friends and friendly rivals for 30 years, and I can’t imagine two guys I’d rather impress, so I do the mountain-goat leap on the lever and... Vrrrooom, starts on the first kick and Cook and Phil tip their hats.

Or, given the slightest slope, I can put the bike into second gear, push to speed, hop aboard sidesaddle, drop the clutch and as the engine fires, plant my left leg and swing the right up and over Hailwood/Agostini-style and the entire crowd nods approval.

Plus, the tank holds enough for 120 miles and...the seat! I forgot the seat. All the other Giro riders squirmed and shifted and I just sat there, so comfy I forgot to take notes. Can’t beat that.

As the song says: If you can’t ride the bike that fits, you can fit the bike you ride.

Allan Girdler