Where did it go?
Most of it on the highway – with more 10-hour trips to Montreal, Toronto , and Ottawa than I care to remember. Some of it disappeared in the strange fog that came with a failed attempt to switch away from the medication I’ve been on for the past 10 years. A good chunk of it was spent on the keyboard; doing weeks of analysis and business planning.
On the upside, I enjoyed an almost weekly ride on the ’57 Triumph with my local buddy Peter on his ’56 BSA. We developed a one hour route that, on good days – rewarded us with laughter and scraped foot pegs and on bad days, left us frustrated but somehow mostly fulfilled.
But most of my summer lies on the highways north.
I forgot to post about an excellent encounter with a talented builder during my time at the Show-up, Shut-up and Ride event at Calabogie this past June. Walt Siegle fabricated this astoundingly unique and capable Ducati Monster-based custom last winter – and the happy new owner spent the three days beating the snot out of it on Calabogie’s three mile course. You see a lot of Monster-based customs, but most of them stay true to the donor bike’s naked origins. Counting Robert Trottier’s Canadian Thunder ride, this is the second Monster I’ve seen that looks more the Supersport part than cruiser and like Robert’s racer; it gets around a racetrack in a big hurry. What really set this bike apart though is the amount of custom fabrication, attention to detail and overall visual impact. It plays to the early bevel-twin Ducati theme and does so in a way – in my opinion – far more faithful to the original than the Sport Classics.
The tank is handmade by Siegl as are most of the brackets and fixtures as well as the exhaust. It’s fast, it handles and it looks like no Ducati I’ve seen. Oh, yeah – it’s loud too.
There’s an obvious edge to it that you don’t normally see with Ducati customs and given Walt’s focus on Harley-based customs, it’s no surprise. And while the Monster doesn’t fit the stereotype, neither does Siegl. After we chatted about the bike for about 30 minutes, we decide to hit the track together; he on his 996 and me on the F1. I didn’t have a chance. He simply disappeared once he got some heat in his tires and I almost tucked the front twice trying to stay with him.
Not your typical Harley custom builder...
Walt has a shop up in New Hampshire housed in a heritage factory, where he meticulously crafts one-off customs for a growing clientele. Check him out at http://www.waltsiegl.com/
And Me? Back on the road tomorrow to complete a summer’s worth of planning by starting a new business.
The plot thickens...
And then I guess there’s just some inner voice that’s been pulling me back to the bikes of my youth.
But while I’m currently lovin’ the Commando experience, the post-purchase realities left a lot to be desired. I’ve bought most of my machines on eBay and for the most part, I’ve found the sellers to be honest and the bikes to be as represented. The Commando came from Ben Zimmerman in Minnesota and I still can’t figure out if the guy’s simply very early in his mechanical evolution or slapped the bike together for a quick sale. Either way, the eBay listing description and the bike’s actual condition were pretty far apart and – even more disturbing - his reaction to my letter outlining the condition of the machine and the work he had done was downright hostile.Fortunately I enjoy working on bikes….
As usual, hi-rez pics are available HERE.
As I sat on the ’57 Triumph waiting to be waved out on to Calabogie’s gorgeous twenty-two turn course, I wondered about brakes.
There’s some pretty serious braking done on the F1 and the 52 year old 650 was awfully shy in that department. Halfway through my first lap I came to realize that I wasn’t going to be travelling fast enough to need brakes – but ground clearance was going to be a really big problem. So was my constant laughter. As it was, the Triumph simply went where I pointed it and the 3.05 miles of Calabogie just sort of slid by in slow motion. I even passed a trio of slower riders who were still trying to figure out which way the track went.
It’s interesting how the Triumph has become my favorite ride and the bike just gets better the more I ride it. Once I got the generator working, fixed a bunch of leaks, sorted the clutch and carb, put oil in the forks, changed all the other fluids and switched to the small diameter Siamese system that was standard on the TR6C, the bike just sort of came alive. It’s perfect for riding in my neck of the woods and now reliable enough to fire-up on a whim and take the long way to the store for a pack of smokes.
But taking the Triumph out for a couple of laps wasn’t the high point of the mid-week event. It was riding fast and pain free for the first time in three years. Given the injuries and the 100 degree weather, I decided to keep my sessions on the F1 to 10 – 15 minutes and that proved to be just the ticket for an excellent three days of riding. I was at an event known as “Show up, Shut up and Ride”; the brainchild of John Scholl, the man who put the concept together at Grattan eight years ago. SSR is one of the most efficient and laid-back track events I’ve been to due to the close-knit, referral-only group and loose structure. It’s an honor system; self tech, self regulated and with an onus of care for fellow riders that you just don’t see anywhere else. I haven’t been to the Grattan event for four years and although I turned John on to the concept of running a round at Calabogie, my schedule kept me away until this year. As usual, it was a fabulous experience and although the lads were crashing more than usual – the event ran smoothly and offered more than enough track time.
That’s what made taking the Triumph out for a few laps so easy. Even with the crazy speed differential, I knew the bike was safe and that those on the track could get around me with ease. I didn’t have to consult with anyone and everyone was delighted to see me out on the machine. SSR is one of those rare concepts that shouldn’t work, but does. With only two rotations, the usual stress of trying to get as much track time in literally disappears. With that urgency eliminated, people show up at pit out relaxed and smiling. “After you”, “No, no – after YOU”, No I insist!”
The F1 was as usual; flawless - and for me, 10 minute sessions were perfect, given the blistering heat and healing body. I seem to run best in short bursts. I remembered back in my vintage racing days saying that if races were only 8 laps long, I’d win ‘em all.
And if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.
It's been a strange year with many of us in the tribe switching out some of the fleet. My turn - with the Hypermotard custom I finished late last year. It's a phenomenal bike, but for some reason I'm just not bonding with it. I can't fault it for anything; it's got the looks, the sound, the motor, the handling... Just that I gravitate more to Das Boot when I'm up for a ride. Old age?
Here's the eBay ad text:
2008 loudbike Ducati Hypermotard S Custom
Now’s your chance to own a truly unique expression of Ducati’s Hypermotard 1100S. You won’t see another like it – nor likely get the opportunity to experience one that has been set-up so thoroughly for both track and street. With suspension re-worked by Traxxion Dynamics, Ducati Challenge rear-sets, Rizona MA005G bars the bike handles exquisitely and has great ergos for the street and the track. The engine makes 95 HP at 8,000 RPM and an amazing 75 fl/bs torque at under 5,000 RPM; giving incredibly nice drivability.
On the subject of the motor, we could have gone for 100 HP, but the objective was to deliver a package that made seamless power with lots of torque available in the bottom. Kyle Thompson at BCM delivered the power package exactly to my specs and the bike is an absolute hoot to ride in practically any circumstance.
With 705 miles logged it’s essentially a brand new bike. Basically, you’ve got some street miles to break it in, 12 dyno runs and three 20 minute sessions on the track (two at VIR and one at Mosport. The one at Mosport was right after completing the work on the suspension and the improvement was almost unbelievable.
You couldn’t build this bike for anywhere near the reserve I’ve set. Here’s the rundown in point-form:
See the dyno chart below for a taste of how the engine develops power and check out my story on the build process at a video (with sound) of the last dyno run HERE. You’ll find high resolution pictures of the machine HERE.
Please note that the bike is titled to the US Department of State as we are down here on a diplomatic mission. This means that the Department of State will create a new Maryland title in your name once I submit the paperwork and you can expect to wait two to three weeks to receive same.
"Buy it Now" is a steal based on the shiny bits alone... See the listing HERE
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Four weeks ago, I couldn't bend my right knee enough to sit on the F1. I'd been slowly working back into a regular training regime and things were progressing well until a 5 mile bicycle ride threw the knee into a swollen, painful state that I simply couldn't put right on my own. Every time I'd try and build strength in my quad and hamstring, I'd aggravate the joint and throw the muscles back into a state of atrophy. Three weeks of daily physiotherapy did the trick and by last Wednesday, I seemed to be good to go and truly looking forward to four days at Mosport.
Driving 10 hours north or south during a change in seasons is like traveling in time. In this case, late May in Bethesda looked like late June in Ottawa; with the leaves full on the trees, balmy temperatures and green everywhere. As we headed north, it seemed like we were rolling back the calendar at a rate of three days per hour and when we crossed the boarder at Thousand Islands, the trees were in early bloom and the temperatures more like what I’m used to for this time of year.
I spoke with Bar Hodgson three weeks before the event and he agreed to pull the Adamo/Leoni Mille Battle of the Twins Championship winning bike out of the Supershow Collection. This is a bike that I’ve only seen twice and heard running once (about 8 years ago), but it left an incredible impression on me. I think it’s the most gorgeous Ducati ever created - with incredible lines and a massive presence (for such a small machine). Jimmy and Reno won the BOTT Championship with it in 1986; clocking over 160mph on the big Daytona track and then the bike (as with many Leoni machines) was shipped up to the Great White North for Frank Mrazek to do battle against the Interceptor, GS 1000 and KZ100 superbikes of that period. Back in the 80’s, Tim Spiegelberg (www.euroclassic.ca) fettled the machine and while patching it back together after some of Frank’s infamous get-offs, made some mods to the chassis and geometry. The machine made it into Bar’s collection after a mild restoration.
Bar brought the Mertens TT1 and his 955 along with the Mille and I came packed with the Hypermotard and my newly freshened F1. I missed the DOCC event at Mosport last year and was feeling downright excited about letting the F1 loose on this fast circuit with the open megga and new motor. And when I went out Saturday morning for the first session, I wasn’t disappointed.. Between Kyle Thompson’s work on the motor and the changes we made to jetting and cam timing the thing was an absolute joy to ride. Same old “where’s the beef?” seamless power delivery that only tells you you’re smokin’ when you pay attention to what you’re keeping up with on Mosport’s long, uphill back straight. Fran called it “a rocket” so it must be. I recall taking a run at Chris McDermott on his 999 and being pleasantly surprised that I could at least stay in touch. The knee was OK for about 15 minutes of silliness and then I’d be forced to back off and pull in - and although I was nowhere near my best pace, I had some good hard runs with Fran both days.
Between sessions on Saturday, Bar and I went over his TT1 to get it prepped for tech and by mid-afternoon, we were picking away at the Mille. I found that the front end was really soft and discovered a complete lack of fluid in the rebound leg. Topped it up and added some oil to the compression leg to be safe. As Bar went about wiring up a fresh battery, I pulled a carb only to discover the float bowels filled with something that looked like pickled worms. Both came off and we set to cleaning the bowels, jets and airways. When we added gas to the tank, the right petcock began weeping aggressively and a careful attempt to tighten it only made it worse. Drain the tank, pull the petcocks and watch Bar methodically dress the crossed threads with an Exacto knife for 20 minutes.
We had at it again Sunday morning and discovered that the right fork leg had no oil due to a serious leak from the rebound adjuster. I replaced a couple of o-rings and topped off the fluid again – but found that I likely needed longer preload spacers to get the sag I needed. Bar finished off the battery wiring – which left us with the most perplexing task for last. We had to do something (but other than add lots of air, we weren’t sure what..) to the rear “Double” air shock given that it had rebound damping, but zero spring action. We’d messed with a similar unit on Bar’s TT1 a few years ago and replaced it with a Stadium shock out of frustration, but this time we figured we’d take a whack at getting the unit to work (or something…). The Bridgestone guys kindly offered us 100PSI of compressed air and with 90 lbs in the unit; we were amazed to find that the damned thing actually worked. A rebound was a little slow for my tastes, but workable and a far cry better than what we had hoped for. The “spring” rate was about perfect. There is an adjusting screw on the primary body and a valve of some sort upstream of the secondary reservoir, but we have no idea what they do and weren’t inclined to mess with the set-up we’d stumbled on.
Between sessions on the F1, I stopped by Tim Spiegelberg and Don Gosen’s pit to chat about Tim’s experiences with the Mille and he agreed to able over and have a look – but no before insisting that back in the day, they always added air to the Marzocchi M1R forks. How much? 20 – 30psi!!. Yikes! He admitted that the fork had never worked well, but we were in an experimental mood, so Bar hand pumped 15psi into each leg and damned if it didn’t get the sag into the ball pack. Felt weird, but might do for a few tentative laps… And with that, we decided to fire the thing up using Bar’s shiny, new roller starter.
And it was like waking an angry giant.
The sound bite in the video doesn’t do this machine justice. The ground shook. Everything else that was happening around us simply stopped. After running it long enough to establish a good degree of fitness, I synched the carbs and we took a crack at getting the idle circuit sorted, but then discovered that as with most early race bikes, the throttle stops were disconnected and that the low speed stuff would evade us for this weekend. Bar ran it down into the lower pits, turned it around and gave it enough stick to bug his eyes out and blow his ball cap off.
And then it was my turn.
Frankly, it ran like crap until about 5 grand and then it woke up with a boot to the head and simply launched itself into another space. Cool. BIG POWER.
It’s funny. I saw the potential way before Bar did. With properly sorted forks (piece of cake), a bit of guidance on the shock (I have Romanelli’s phone number), K5 needles and a functioning idle circuit, the thing would be an easy ride. But for this weekend, a quick review of the dates on the tires (1987) quashed any plans of running the Mille on the track.
I had some fine rides on the F1 and took the Hypermotard out for a couple of sessions (handles like a dream), but the high point for me was the whole process of bringing the old warrior back to life and getting a detailed run-down on its history from Tim.
During the weekend Bar and I were in different classes so we didn’t have a chance to ride together, but on Monday we both moved into the Red group and set out for a session with me on the F1 and he on the TT1. However, the TT1 started to miss as Bar headed out of Turn 3 and began to sputter as he came out of Moss’ and onto the back straight. He pulled off on the inside and as I came around for the next two laps, I saw him taking in the noise from a shady perch behind the guardrail – but on my 5th pass, I noticed he was gone. I pulled in thinking that he was headed into a 1.5 mile walk through the woods at best and set off in my car to pick him up. As I hit the end of the access road that runs halfway down the back straight, I caught sight of him (hard to miss in bright red leather) coming up the hill. He mentioned as we were riding back that his mood had turned from sour to mellow as the woodsy setting took hold, but that that he had a hard time shaking off the unnerving sense of feeling horribly and completely out place (not to mention a tad warm) in full red leathers.
Bar and I sat out staring at the machine Monday at sunset and as I began to snap photos, he got out a fresh towel and started dusting off the Mille and shining up the bodywork. About 20 minutes later as we sat admiring this incredibly handsome beast, he mentioned that he had a set of new Michelin slicks sitting back at the shop. I think it’s safe to say that I’ll get to test my theory next year.
Hi Rez pics over HERE
Buying a vintage Triumph is a return to my motorcycle roots and likely the ultimate expression of a mid-life crisis. Precipitated by a ride on my neighbor Peter Stifel’s ’58 BSA and enabled by the hot deals that mark the current economic downturn, the acquisition had its own momentum; I merely hung on for the ride.
My first bike was a 1967 Triumph Daytona café racer that I built up with the help of friends in the late 60’s – a café racer in the truest sense; with clip-ons, rearsets, flat track pipes with open meggas, Goldstar tank and seat and a bright white rattle can paint job.
While that machine could be marked as the first loudbike, the imprint came much earlier. I grew up in an urban canyon. Walkley Avenue between Somerled and Fielding (in Montreal) was lined with six storey apartment buildings spaced some 30 yards apart and butting up only 20-odd feet from the sidewalk. As a kid, I relished the sound of a loud British twin blatting down the brick canyon and there were enough in the neighborhood that I’d get my fix at least twice a night in the summer. The bikes and their riders were the stuff of urban legend and by the age of 13, I knew their names and the machines they rode by exhaust note. Early in the game, my loyalty to Triumph was firmly established. I learned to ride on a Triumph Cub.
In my mid to late-teens, I hung with a group that lived bikes. Mick had a ’56 rigid framed Triumph and a Thunderbird, Alan rode a 500 Tiger, and John owned a BSA Spitfire. Ron Sampson and Ron Voot were our mentors; both in their 20’s and real, honest to goodness racers – Sampson on pavement and Voot on the flat tracks of Western Ontario. Early in the game, I was exposed to Goldies, Thruxtons and Seeleys,
I rode my Daytona right through college and sold it in ’76 when I took a left turn into the realm of Japanese fours. It only took a few years to bail out of the Japanese phase and pick up a Triumph Silver Jubilee that ultimately made its way to Mick in exchange for one of his stunning egg tempera paintings and some cash. To my continued amazement he has it to this day (along with his early BSA Rocket 3 and the Thunderbird of his youth).
As I moved through my various phases of Ducati ownership, I completely lost touch with my affinity for Meriden’s finest and even though I encountered more than a few very cool examples at vintage races and DOCC events, they barely drew a second glance. It was a ride on Peter’s ’56 BSA that awakened the long dormant Triumph bug. The sound, the simplicity, the sense of lightness and the view of the cockpit firmly set the hook. Once I got over the initial shock and adapted to the complete lack of brakes and suspension, I had an absolute riot.
So, without even making a conscious effort, I began lurking in the BSA, Triumph and Royal Enfield Interceptor sections of e-Bay – watching the ebb and flow of machines for a month before hitting on a ’67 Interceptor and a ’57 Triumph TR6/A. Although I tell myself that the Triumph won out from an investment perspective, the truth is that the bike simply spoke to me in a really loud voice. Another driving factor in the selection was the fact that amazingly – the bike was local. Owner by a retired gentleman who found that his diabetes had sapped the strength required to manage the machine, it was all there; complete and remarkably unmolested. The TR6/A is also known as a Trophy Bird; a rare, expert only model that came in low, dual and high, Siamese piped configurations. Mine has the low pipes today…. When I brought it home last week, it took a few hours for the Hot-blooded Mexican to voice her opinion that it was the best looking bike in the garage. Go figure…
My first outing revealed a very loose front end, chain rattling on the chain guard, impossibly stiff clutch cable, poor carburetion and shot shocks. A few hours later, I had most of the issues sorted out and I continued to go over the bike and take longer exploratory runs through the neighborhood to get a feel for the overall fitness of the machine. The old fuel lines were replaced with sections of OEM Ducati lines left over from the Hyperstrada, a Brembo front brake micro switch now buts up against the industrial strength rear brake lever to send a feeble 6 volt current to the brake light, the chain is adjusted and lubed, chain guard remounted, front end tightened, shocks at the highest preload position, carb adjusted, cables lubed, and tire pressure adjusted. The bike got a bath in Varsol and then a full WD 40 spray, blown dry with compressed air and finally licked to a state of clean that it hadn’t likely seen in decades. By Wednesday morning, I had enough fettling (that’s what you do with British bikes, eh?) done to take it for a 45 minute run up my regular short route and came away from the experience a full convert. The triumph is a treat to ride with a comfortable riding position, lovely motor and surprisingly good handling. As riding around these immediate parts is best done in slow motion, the Triumph's just the ticket. It requires a more laid back approach to everything and rewards a deft touch with sweet action. There’s a lack of urgency to the whole experience that makes me feel good.
Still a few bugs to iron out before I start into fastener restoration, etc: The clutch is naff, the dynamo doesn’t, the forks have like 3” of sag and the primary chain case has a few serious leaks. But the swing arm is tight, the motor seems to be perfect and nothing is stripped, cracked or broken. To my delight, parts are cheap (by Ducati standards) and plentiful. A Siamese hi-pipe and slash-cut muffler are in the mail as is a complete gasket kit. Shocks and clutch bits will be here next week as will stainless fork caps, a correct tach and a few other bits. Seems the plan is to get it reliable and run it through the summer to see where I want to go with the machine… Hot-rod the old girl or make it into a cosmetically correct sleeper….
They tell me you can graft a T150 5-speed into the old pre-unit gearbox…
Hi Rez shots HERE
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Ducati TT affictionado Lou Saif hosted a gathering of Ducati TT1 and TT2 owners in New York last weekend and the result is enough vintage Ducati eye candy than I've ever seen in one place. Here's a taste of the impressive collection, but there's more on Marcos Lara's Flicker site. Enjoy...
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Fran’s “Grey Bike” was the inspiration for my return to the racetrack and gave me a bar to reach for when I was putting together The Original Loud Bike. I spent my fiirst two years chasing him around Mosport and can bear witness to the impressive (low-mid-70s) horsepower and exemplary handling. The Grey Bike was different than my old bevel despite the bikes being so similar on paper – Fran’s bike is a true time machine that transports you back to the days when men were men and they actually rode these things to the hairy edge.
In Fran’s own words:
1974 750 Sport desmo....
When I bought this bike in ’81 I was told it had originated from Keith Harte, Grimsby, ON although clearly it had served its owner well as a canvas for his personal expression, since many of the bikes original fitments were gone. Morris Mags, heavy as truck rims were the hot ticket in 1977, Tomaselli Commander multi-adjustable clipons and Mulholland shocks made the scene so the bike was subsequently fitted and prepped for Ducati Owners Club track days (unique in 1980) and Classic/Vintage racing. It was a natural fit since the bike needed a lot of help.
Like all the truly sporting Ducatis, a 750 Sport was engineered to go well, particularly in comparison with its contemporaries. Since the Morris wheels were naff, the proper 2.15 Borrani 18” front and an Akront 3” rear allowed for track-appropriate rubber on this one. The leading-axle Marzocchi fork was care-worn as were the Scarab brakes so a 38mm Ceriani kit with uprated Brembos on NOS rotors was adapted to good effect. Little regret accompanied ditching the points ignition in favour of Dyna and KV coils.
Imola high pipes in stainless provide the proper ground clearance, look and most importantly—that sound! Up the straightaway with those trombones blaring in concert with that smooth engine is unforgettable and unique.
These more practical performance considerations benefitted from ongoing development but engine performance needed to also evolve with the times for sake of reliability and that competitive urge, too. JE pistons? Check. Better have Carillos and MBP crankshaft upgrade with that. Might as well have the late model Darmah gearbox lubra-film coated and shimmed to a nice Italian dry clutch (sourced by Reno Leoni who also supplied head work on the last available 750ss desmo heads Ian Gowanloch had).
In point form:
- 1974 750 Sport –
Recently rebuilt 750 Sport motor:
1974 750 Sport chassis:
High-rez pics are available HERE.
This is a race or track day-ready machine – add gas, tickle the carbs, run, bump and go.
Steal it for $18,000US by emailing Fran at fmcd@storm.caor calling him at 819-647-3920
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