This ZRX1100 resurrextion started out kind of leisurely. We don’t like stress at ExhaustNotes.us because we are at peace with our surroundings. ExhaustNotes staff have a firm grasp of our place in the universe and see all matter as insignificant much like we see ourselves. There was no big rush, you know? However, things change in life and the ZRX resurrextion timeline has sped up due to the Mud Chuckers wanting to attend the road races July 7-9 at Laguna Seca in California, now known as Polident Speedway. From my house to Laguna Seca is 1150 miles the fast way and we never take the fast way. We might end up doing 2500 or more miles round trip. Thus, the urgency to get the road burner running as none of my other motorcycles are exactly suited to the job.
The first thing I did to the ZRX was to remove as much bodywork as possible to prevent the odd dropped wrench or spilled brake fluid from damaging Rex’s somewhat pristine original paintwork.
Kawasaki ZRX1100 bits and pieces have been trickling into the shed at Tinfiny Ranch and we will soon see some progress on the abandoned, neglected motorcycle.
Starting with the coolant leak from under the engine, I have determined the water pump or the O-rings on the pipes connecting to the pump were the culprit. Seeing as the pump is 24 years old I sprung for a new pump on eBay. I imagine I could buy just the mechanical seal and rebuild the water pump but I’m getting lazy.
The coolant pipes are slightly rusty so I’ll have to clean them up and give them a shot of paint. The paint on the front down tubes is chipped from road debris so I’ll touch up those areas also.
I also bought some new silicone hoses for the pipes. These hoses live directly behind the exhaust headers and while they seemed flexible and in good condition, they are also 24 years old. A lot of stuff on the Rex is 24 years old, because the bike is 24 years old. Funny, it seems like a new model to me. I can remember buying it only a few years old not a long time ago. Is this how aging works? Does time compress making distant events seem close?
The ZRX1100 comes standard with a ground skimming, low-slung exhaust system. The header pipe collector joins under the engine making my motorcycle lift too tall to fit between the pipe and the ground. Even if the jack fit under the bike you’d have to make some spacer blocks to prevent the pipe from hitting the lift. I went with jack stands on both front frame rails and one stand on a cross pipe behind the engine. With this tripod set up the bike feels pretty stable.
Once jacked up I could remove both wheels for new tires. I also removed the clutch slave cylinder that is leaking and then could access the leaking water pump.
The calipers on the front brakes are stuck. My caliper rebuild kits came in the mail so I’ll have plenty of piston swapping to keep me busy. This is one of the chores I dread.
The chain is pretty much worn out. The rollers are loose on the pins and the thing has 25,000 miles on it. Kawasaki used an endless type chain so I cut it off with a 4-inch abrasive cutting wheel. The rear sprocket looks unworn, which I find amazing, and the front sprocket has just the slightest bit of hooking. Most aftermarket junk won’t last as long as an old, used Kawasaki sprocket. I’ll get a new front sprocket and chain for the bike.
My initial goal with the Kawasaki is to fix the brakes, fork seals and tires. That will upgrade the ZRX to roller status, then I’ll be able to push it outside the shed for a much-needed bath. There is a long way to go to undo the damage 9 years of storage has done to this motorcycle so don’t get ants in your pants. Part 3 to follow, unless I skip to Part 5.
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Susie and I recently visited the Franklin Automobile Museum in Tucson, Arizona, and while we were there I photographed their 1913 Thor Model U motorcycle. It’s a fascinating machine from many perspectives, one of which is what those guys had to do back in the day to start their motorcycles. Today, we have electric starters and fuel injection…hit the ignition, touch the starter button, and go. Turn back the clock 15 years or so and it was open the fuel petcock, close the choke, turn on the ignition, and hit the starter button. Turn back the clock 50 or 70 years and you have to add kickstarting to the mix. Go back a century or more (for this 1913 Thor, it would be a cool 110 years), and wow, you practically had to go to Thor University to learn the drill.
The 1913 Thor as viewed from the left side. The large lever extending up from the crank is the clutch. The drive chain on the left is one of two chains on this motorcycle. The left handgrip operates the throttle and the clutch. Think about that: Your left hand operated the throttle and the clutch.The 1913 Thor Model U on its centerstand. Note the rear wheel ground clearance, the bicycle pedals, and the chain on the right side. There’s no front brake; the bicycle pedals operate a rear wheel coaster brake, like you might have had on your Schwinn in the ’50s or ’60s.
Starting a Thor would keep a rider busy. The bike had to be on its rear wheel centerstand to get the rear wheel off the ground (why will become clear in a bit). Then you had to put the engine in gear by pushing the clutch lever forward. You might think that’s counter-intuitive. Read on, blog acficionados.
The clutch lever is on the left side of the motorcycle, and the “T” at the top operated the optional two speed transmission (as shown, the transmission is in first; turn the lever 90 degrees and it’s in second).
If your Thor had the the optional two speed rear hub transmission (a $40 option on top of the motorcycle’s $290 price in 1913), you would want to make sure it was in the high gear position. You do that by turning the T-handle on top of the clutch lever parallel to the motorcycle. Having the bike in second gear would make the engine easier to turn over; it would be like putting your bike in second for a run-and-bump start (and I realize as I type this how few readers will know what a run-and-bump start is). But we’re not going to run-and-bump this priceless 1913 Thor. Stay with me; this is going to get interesting.
Fuel petcocks under the left forward side of the fuel tank. The rear petcock allows fuel to flow to the carburetor. The forward petcock allows fuel to be removed for priming the cylinders or, as the owner’s manual states, “for any purpose.” It included a small cup for this purpose.The right side of the mighty Thor 1000cc twin. Those little protuberances on the outboard side of the valve covers (bear with me; I’ve been looking for an excuse to use the word “protuberance” all day) are where you dump raw fuel to prime the engine. No kidding.Another view of the priming port. The spring you see in this photo is the intake rocker return spring.
Next up: Prime the engine by taking a bit of fuel from the Thor’s fuel tank priming petcock and manually inject gasolina into the intake cups (the Thor has openings in its intake domes for this purpose…those Thor engineers thought of everything). Or, you could use the optional device on top of the fuel filler cap to extract a bit of fuel. Like I said, they thought of everything.
The right twist grip operates the ignition advance; the left twistgrip operates the throttle. The lever on the right handlebar is a compression release. It could be locked in the compression released position to hold the exhaust valves open.
You then retard the ignition timing via the right twistgrip (you read that right; the left twistgrip works the throttle) by twisting it clockwise. Having the ignition fire after top dead center, you see, makes it easier for the engine to catch a spark and continue running. So where’s the throttle? That’s on left handlebar. Open the left twistgrip a bit by turning it clockwise. It will stay where you leave it; there’s no return spring.
That funny little chrome lever on the right handlebar? It’s not a clutch (remember, that was ginormous lever to the left of the fuel tank). The little right-handlebar-mounted lever is a compression release. Pull it in, and it opens the exhaust valves to, well, release the compression. It makes it easier to pedal, and we’ll get to that momentarily. Maybe you didn’t believe me when I told you this was a complicated undertaking. Read on. It gets even more interesting.
Thor Plumbing 101: The “forward filling nipple” (Thor’s terminology; we’d call it a fuel filler cap) is where the gas goes. Thor recommended any “standard grade gasoline,” but advised straining it through a chamois first (things were different in 1913). The gizmo on top of the fuel filler cap extracts a bit of gas that can be transferred to the priming ports. The center cap is for oil; Thor also recommended straining the oil before pouring it into the oil tank. The third (and rearmost) device is a needle valve that should be left open to allow oil to flow into the reservoir immediately below the tank (and from there, to the engine).The Thor oil reservoir, complete with sight glass. That little petcock halfway down the oil line? Make sure it’s open before you start the motorcycle!
The Thor has a total loss lubrication system. That term, total loss, doesn’t describe how your 401K account is doing these days; it refers to how the engine uses oil. It uses and consumes it (it’s not returned or recirculated). Think of it as Autolube for four strokes. Ah, shoot, I’ll bet a lot of you are too young to know what Autolube is, too. Gresh can explain it later. Back to the main attraction, that total loss lubrication system…there’s an oil petcock halfway down the oil line on the left side of the motorcycle, between the sight glass and the crankcase. It needs to be open (you may void your warranty if operate the motorcycle with it closed). The Thor would consume a quart of oil every 50 to 300 miles depending on conditions and your riding style, but the tank carried a gallon, and with a top speed somewhere between 50 and 65 mph (again, depending on conditions, the rider, and whether or not you had the optional two speed transmission), it’s not likely you would run out of oil. “They smoke a lot,” one Thor expert told me, “so as long as you see blue smoke behind you, you’re good.”
The last bit of preparation involved closing the choke on that big tomato can Thor carb nestled in the V between the cylinders, and that involved two actions: Closing a thumbscew on the carb’s rear and screwing down a tapered knob on top.
All right…now we’re ready to get to the good part. You may have noticed that the Thor has two chains (one on each side of the motorcycle) and a set of pedals (like a bicycle). Once you have completed all the actions described above, you can get on the Thor and start pedaling like Lance Armstrong charging up the Col du Tourmalet (I say that figuratively; the good guys at the Franklin Automobile Museum are not going to let you climb onto their 1913 Thor). Your pedaling is going to drive the rear wheel via the chain on the right side of the motorcycle from the pedals’ chainring to the rear wheel sprocket. That’s going to spin the rear wheel and tire (which is why we wanted the bike on its centerstand), transmit the rotational inertia you generated through the rear-hub-mounted transmission, turn the drive chain on the left side of motorcycle, transmit your torque through the clutch (which we engaged earlier) and spin the Thor’s 61-cubic-inch V-twin. As you ponder all of that, be thankful that you’re not trying to crank the 1914 Thor’s larger 74-cubic-inch engine, and be thankful that I clued you into actuating the compression release. And finally, be thankful that you’re adding the rear wheel and tire’s flywheel effect to what you (the motive force in this cacaphony of early American motorcycle starting activities) have set in motion.
Once you’ve attained sufficient rotational inertia, release the right handlebar compression release. If Thor and the other ancient Norse gods are smiling, the engine will catch, and you’ll hear the opening chords of that delightful “potato-potato-potato” V-twin symphony we Americans love. As soon as you are sure the music will continue, pull that large left clutch lever rearward to disengage the clutch and reverse direction on the pedals (like you would have on the Schwinn you rode as a kid). As mentioned earlier, there’s a coaster brake back there; in fact, it’s the only brake on this motorcycle. While the engine is warming up, advance the ignition (with the right twistgrip), open the carb choke (it involves two actions, as mentioned above), and then, as the owner’s manual explains with early American Aurora engineering precision, apply “a trifle” of throttle (with the left twistgrip). The owner’s manual authors’ descendants, I’m sure, went on to become writers for Saturday Night Live in the early days when that show was still funny. One more thing…if it’s a cold day, Thor recommended placing a rag soaked in warm water around the carburetor’s float chamber.
Once everything is percolating to your satisfaction, roll the motorcycle forward off the stand (Pro Tip: Remember to disengage the clutch first), and while adjusting the throttle, feather the clutch lever forward to start moving. As you read this, think about simultaneously feathering that clutch lever and working the throttle with both of your left hands. Whew!
After writing and then reading the above, I think I’m going to step out into my garage and start my Enfield 650. By pressing a button. Just because.
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The Yamaha RT1-B 360cc that I call Godzilla has been my long haul dirt bike choice for years. The old Yamaha has criss-crossed the country on dirt and on pavement and I had it set up to carry a lot of gasoline and a lot of gear. Up front, I removed the non-functional speedometer/tachometer cluster and replaced it with a luggage rack. The rack worked great, it redistributed the weight of my travel gear and made the bike handle less worse than if everything was strapped to the back rack.
I crashed in Beaver, Utah a few years ago and mangled the front rack so I removed it for future repairs. While I was at it I got rid of the cheesy GPS mount that fit a GPS I no longer owned. Truthfully, I don’t need that stuff because haven’t been doing any long distance dirt rides lately. It seems like all my rowdy friends have settled down. Anyway, with that junk out of the way the view from the saddle was kind of sparse. I decided to freshen up Godzilla’s front end.
I rode Godzilla for many years with the stock handlebars (bottom bars) and they were fine. The last couple rides my wrists started hurting a bit and I think the sweep back angle was causing too much stress on my decrepit body. The bars on the Husky are almost flat across and very comfortable so I bought a new, lower, flatter bar (top bar). The new bar has no cross brace and is made of powder-coated aluminum; I’m hoping they flex a bit more to smooth out the really rough trails where I tend to crash.
After replacing the handlebars my horn quit working. I figured that the process of removing and replacing the switch must have disturbed the rust inside so I dismantled and cleaned out the three switches in the control module. The horn button was really rusty and the other switches looked none too good, either.
After all that work on the switches the horn still didn’t beep. The Yamaha wiring supplies the horn with power and the horn button grounds the circuit through the handlebars, triple clamps, and steering head bearings then on to the frame, which is grounded. This convoluted electrical path makes the horn go beep. I took the headlight apart and grounded the horn wire inside the headlight housing. It worked. Then I grounded the horn to the new handlebars: nothing. Turns out, powder coat is an effective electrical isolator. Instead of scraping the powder coat off to make a connection I ran an extra ground wire to the switch pod. Now I had a horn.
For a speedometer I decided to try one of those cableless, GPS, analog types from Amazon. The voltage input on the speedo is 9 to 32 volts and the thing powered up fine on Godzilla’s 6-volt battery. Since this fancy electronic wizardry was all new to me I also bought a 6-volt to 12-volt converter to make sure the speedo had plenty of voltage. All this junk needed to go somewhere so I made a LeCrox template and chopped the side out of a storage cabinet for sheet metal.
After bending and welding the gauge console I gave it a lick of spot putty and some black paint to hide the sins of my welding. Next all the pieces went into the housing and I pre-wired the speedometer so that it would plug into an unused, key-switched, 6-volt power wire inside the headlight.
I used the existing Yamaha speedo/tach mounting base by adding a couple rubber lord mounts and assembled the whole mess onto the motorcycle. It powered up fine and was ready for a test ride.
The test ride was a failure. Not because of the speedo (it worked great), but the cantilevered gauge console flexed the rubber mounts so much the gauge was dancing up and down like a set of those humorous, wind up chattering teeth. It was back to the shop for a quick brace on the front of the console.
I used the high beam indicator hole on the headlight shell and ran a short brace to another lord mount that steadied the gauge nicely. Now I can bang around in the dirt without the speedometer trying to slap me upside the head. Hopefully it won’t push the headlight aim down.
To finish off the front-end facelift I bought a new mirror to replace the crappy bar-end mirror. The old bar-end mirror was a bicycle part and never worked very well. It was there for legal, not visual reasons. The new mirror gives me a fairly clear view of what is going on behind me.
The GPS speedometer is smooth. You have to wait a few seconds while it acquires a satellite fix but from then on it seems just like a regular speedometer except it is accurate and the needle is steady. With no reception it won’t work indoors but I don’t ride far indoors. I zipped the RT1-B up to 75 miles per hour and all was well.
There are several functions you can access like different color backlights, Trip 1, Trip 2, odometer and compass. Trip 1 is sort of useless because it resets each time you turn the key off. Trip 2 supposedly saves the data and you have to hold a button for 3 seconds to clear it. The compass is a 360-degree type so you get a numerical reading instead of north, south, east and west. I’ll have to mess with the thing a little more to see how all this flimflammery works.
One thing I don’t like is that the mode and set buttons are on the back of the speedo. This is not a problem for a motorcycle because you can reach behind and push them. If the speedo was mounted in a car or boat dash this would be a deal killer. If I had it to do over I would try to find a unit with the buttons on the face. Also, it would be nice if the antenna could be incorporated into the gauge, eliminating the external antenna but that probably wouldn’t work in a car.
For a prototype my dash console works good enough. If the speedo holds up I may re-work the design a bit. If I flipped the mounting flange 180 degrees the mounting bolts would be hidden inside the console and it would move the speedo back a bit which I think would look better. As it is the gauge console has a clunky, AMF-era, Harley-Davidson look to the thing. I may remake the console using aluminum as the sheet metal one, while thin, is not very light. Godzilla is a high society motorcycle now with its modern, space age speedometer; I guess there’s nothing more for me to do but to join my peers down at the local Starbucks.
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I’d heard of the Pine Barrens when I was a youngster in New Jersey but I’d never been there, which was weird because the northern edge of the Pines starts only about 40 miles from where I grew up and geographically the Pine Barrens cover about a quarter of the state. New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the US, but you wouldn’t know it in the Pine Barrens. Pine trees and sand, lots of dirt roads, and not much else except ghost stories and New Jersey’s own mythological Jersey Devil (more on that in a bit). The region is mostly pine trees, but there are just enough other trees that our last-weekend-in-October ride caught the leaves’ autumn color change. That, the incredible weather, and saddle time on Jerry Dowgin’s vintage Honda Scrambler made it a perfect day.
Kicking back in the Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth. Check out the leaves changing colors in the background.A 305cc Honda Scrambler, the Jersey Devil, and Lucille’s Country Diner. Life is good in the Pines.Jerry Dowgin at speed in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. He’s been riding the same motorcycle for five decades. Jerry paid $10 for his Honda Scrambler. I offered to give him what he paid for it, which drew only a smile.
There were other things that made the day great. For starters, that has to include riding with Jerry Dowgin, former South Brunswick High School football hero, vintage motorcycle aficionado, and son of the late Captain Ralph Dowgin. SBHS is my alma mater (Go Vikings!), and the Dowgin name is legendary in New Jersey. I didn’t personally know Jerry when I was in high school (he was four years ahead of me), but I knew of his football exploits and I knew of his State Trooper Dad. Captain Dowgin commanded Troop D of the NJ State Police, and thanks to a photograph provided by lifelong good buddy Mike (another SBHS alum), Trooper Dowgin graces the cover of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. Take a look at this photo of Jerry, and the Police Motors cover:
In the New Jersey Pine Barrens with former football star Jerry Dowgin and his awesome Honda Scrambler. I only run with the cool kids.Jerry’s father, Trooper Ralph Dowgin of the New Jersey State Police. This photo was taken in 1936. The one above it was taken 4 days ago.Trooper Dowgin’s original leather motorcycle helmet. Jerry showed it to me.
My ride for our glorious putt through the New Jersey Pine Barrens was Jerry’s 1966 CL77 Honda Scrambler. Jerry has owned the Scrambler for five decades. Jerry’s name for the Scrambler is Hot Silver, but I’m going to call it the Jersey Devil. The bike is not a piece of Concours driveway jewelry; like good buddy Gobi Gresh’s motorcycles, Jerry’s Jersey Devil is a vintage rider. And ride we did.
Honda offered three 305cc motorcycles in the mid-1960s: The Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. All were 305cc, single overhead cam, air-cooled twins with four-speed transmissions. The CA77 Dream was a pressed steel, large fendered, single carb motorcycle with leading link front suspension. Like its sister Super Hawk, the Dream had kick and electric starting; the electric starter was unusual in those days. The Dream was marketed as a touring model, although touring was different then. Honda’s CB77 Super Hawk was a more sporting proposition, with lower bars, a tubular steel frame and telescopic forks, twin shoe drum brakes (exotic at the time), twin carbs, a tachometer, and rear shocks adjustable for preload. The engine was a stressed frame component and there was no frame downtube. Like the Dream, the Super Hawk had electric and kick starting. It’s been said that the Super Hawk could touch 100 mph, although I never saw that (my Dad owned a 1965 Honda Super Hawk I could sometimes ride in the fields behind our house).
The Scrambler fuel tank. Honda hit a home run with the Scrambler’s styling.Everything on this motorcycle is well proportioned. The ergnomics fit me perfectly.The cool kids removed the Scrambler’s bulbous two-into-one muffler and replaced it with Snuff-R-Nots. Jerry is one of the cool kids.
The third model in Honda’s mid-‘60s strategic triad was the CL77 Scrambler, and in my opinion, it was the coolest of the three. It had Honda’s bulletproof 305cc engine with twin carbs, and unlike the Super Hawk engine, it was tuned for more torque. The Scrambler didn’t have electric starting like the other two Hondas (it was kick start only, a nod to the Scrambler’s offroad nature). The Scrambler had a downtube frame, no tach (but a large and accurate headlight-mounted speedo), a steering damper, and a fuel tank that looks like God intended fuel tanks to look (with a classic teardrop profile and no ugly flange running down the center). The bars were wide with a cross brace. With its kick start only engine, the magnificent exhaust headers, and Honda’s “we got it right” fuel tank, the Scrambler looked more like a Triumph desert sled than any other Honda. In my book, that made it far more desirable. I always wanted a Scrambler.
The Scrambler’s speedo. The switch on the left is for the headlight; the amber light is a neutral indicator. The speedometer is accurate; we rode through a highway sign that showed your speed and it matched the speedometer indication.The Scrambler’s front fork damper.The Scrambler’s tool storage compartment.Jerry’s wife Karin made the toolkit pouch. Jerry’s toolkit includes the original Honda tools and a few extras.A single overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder, and threaded locknut valve adjustment. Honda’s casting quality was superb for the time.
Jerry and I had great conversations on our ride through the Pine Barrens. We talked motorcycles, the times, the old times, folks we knew back in the day, and more. Other riders chatted us up. The Scrambler was a natural conversation starter. Every few minutes someone would approach and ask about Jerry’s Scrambler. Was it original? Was it for sale? What year was it? I had a little fun piping up before Jerry could answer, telling people it was mine and I’d let it go for $800 if they had the cash. I can still start rumors in New Jersey, you know.
The Scrambler’s rear suspension has three preload adjustment positions.Relatively sophisticated for the time on a mass-produced motorcycle: Twin shoe brakes.The Scrambler’s rear brake was similarly equipped.Gresh and I are both members!
The 305cc Honda twins of the mid-1960s were light years ahead of their British competitors and Harley-Davidson. British twin and Harley riders made snide comments about “Jap crap” back in the day (ignorance is bliss, and they were happy guys), but at least one Britbike kingpin knew the score and saw what was coming. Edward Turner, designer of the Triumph twin and head of Triumph Motorcycles, visited Honda in Japan and was shocked at how advanced Japanese engineering and manufacturing were compared to what passed for modern management in England. No one listened to Turner. The Honda 750 Four often gets credit for killing the British motorcycle industry, but the handwriting was already on the wall with the advent of bikes like Honda’s Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. I believe we’re living through the same thing right now with motorcycles from China. Or maybe I just put that in to elicit a few more comments on this blog. You tell me.
I’m always curious about how others starting riding, so I asked Jerry if he inherited his interest in motorcycles from his motor officer Dad. The answer was a firm no. “Pop wasn’t interested in motorcycles; he saw too many young Troopers get killed on motorcycles when he was a State Trooper.” Jerry’s introduction into the two-wheel world was more happenstance than hereditary. He was working with his brother and his brother-in-law installing a heating system in a farmhouse when they encountered the Scrambler. Jerry bought his 1966 Scrambler in 1972 for the princely sum of $10. Yes, you read that right: $10. The Scrambler wasn’t running, but the deal he made with his brother was that Jerry would do the work if his brother would pay for the parts (and in 1972, the parts bill came to $125 from Cooper’s Cycle Ranch, one of the early and best known East Coast Honda and Triumph dealers). Getting the Scrambler sorted took some doing, as the engine was frozen, it needed a top end overhaul, it had compression issues, and getting the timing right was a challenge. But Jerry prevailed, and the bike has been a Pine Barrens staple for five decades now.
Jerry shared with me that he plans to leave his Honda Scrambler to his son and grandson. I think that’s a magnificent gesture.
Jerry on his Scrambler at the end of a great day on the road.Jerry and his Scrambler were featured on the cover of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s magazine about 4 years ago.
Our ride in the Pine Barrens was most enjoyable. It’s amazing how little traffic there is in the Pines, an unusual situation for me. As a son of New Jersey, riding with no traffic in the nation’s most densely populated state was a new experience. But there’s a lot of land down there in the Pine Barrens (the area was a featured spot for dumping bodies on The Sopranos, and that probably wasn’t just a figment of some screenwriter’s imagination). Riding into the Pines (where we saw few other motorcycles and almost no cars), we made our first stop in Chatsworth. Chatsworth is an old Pine Barrens wide spot in the road with only a few buildings and a roadside eatery with no seating. You buy a soda and a dog (of either the hot or brat variety), find a seat on one of the roadside benches, and chat with other riders. It was different and much more fun than what I remembered New Jersey riding to be, but I had never ridden the Pines before. The locals told me it’s always been like this.
From Chatsworth, it was on to Lucille’s Country Diner, a popular Pine Barrens roadhouse more like a California motorcycle stop than a New Jersey diner. Lucille’s is known for its pies, and (trust me on this) they’re awesome. We parked under a carved, presumably life-sized Jersey Devil statue. I’d heard of the Jersey Devil when I was a kid (it’s a New Jersey thing; think of it as a cross between Bigfoot and Lucifer and you’ll understand). We didn’t see the Jersey Devil lurking out there in the pine trees on this ride, but who knows? Maybe he saw us. As a New Jersey native, I know this: Anything’s possible in the Garden State.
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This blog is about my friend Bob’s vintage BMW collection on display at Brown Motor Works in Pomona, California.
Bob is one of the most interesting people I know. He’s the founder of Brown BMW and he’s a guy with whom I’ve ridden Baja a couple of times. He is the fastest and most talented rider I’ve ever known. I’ve seen Bob riding well-worn BMW police trade-ins (bikes that weigh a hundred pounds more than regular boxer twins) smoke kids on Gixxers. When he wants to make a point, Bob will outride the Ricky Racers in the twisties while standing on the pegs.
Bob’s dealership does a lot of police motorcycle work, and Bob will usually grab a black and white police motor that’s been turned in (I think he likes those bikes because they’re black and white, like the old Beemers). That’s a police motor you see in the photo of Bob at the start of this blog, and no matter how many times I’ve ridden with Bob, my heart still skips a beat when I see that black and white motorcycle in my rear view mirror. It’s a good thing when we ride in traffic…Bob takes the lead and traffic parts.
But I’m going off topic; the topic of today’s blog is the vintage Beemer collection at Brown Motor Works.
This first bike is a 1928 BMW. It’s a 500cc model, and like all of the bikes in these photos, it’s a boxer twin.
The black-and-white paint themes on the first several bikes make these photos really pop. This used to be the classic BMW colors until maybe the 1970s and it works. It’s a classic color combo.
Here’s a 1936 750cc flathead BMW.
The bike above is interesting. It’s basically the model the Chinese copied, and until recently there were still folks riding around on Chiang Jiang motorcycles in China that are, well, Chinese copies of the old 1930s BMW flathead. In the 1990s, you could go to China and buy a brand new 1936 BMW (made in China under the Chiang Jiang name). It’s the bike my good friend Carla King rode around China. Those days are gone; you can’t register a motor vehicle more than 10 years old in China today, and they stopped making the Chinese early BMW boxer twin copies at least that long ago for emissions reasons.
This next BMW is a 1952 600cc model.
Here’s a 1951 600cc BMW.
Here’s one with a great story…it’s Bob’s personal 1961 600cc BMW.
Bob calls the bike above the original GS, and for good reason. He rode it all the way to Cabo San Lucas back in the early 1960s. You might be thinking hey, what’s the big deal? Bob did it before there roads to Cabo. Bob rode the distance on trails and riding along the beach. Sleeping on the beach. Spinning the rear wheel in the sand to let the bike sink in so he wouldn’t have to use the center stand. That is a real adventure ride. Bob was blazing trails in Baja while I was still in elementary school!
More good vintage stuff…here’s a 1971 R75/5 750cc BMW.
Here’s a 1972 model.
Another beautiful BMW classic is the 1976 R90S model. This motorcycle turned heads when it was first introduced, and it is still a show stopper.
The bikes you see in these photos are all in their stock colors. Most amazingly, most of these bikes (including the early ones) are not restorations…they are original motorcycles.
These last two are particularly beautiful. The first is the 1000cc 1977 R100RS.
And here’s the last bike BMW did in the R100RS configuration, the 1983 1000cc model in a beautiful pin-striped pearl white.
These photos are the results of a few minutes of shutter work on my part, and a lifetime of collecting by Bob Brown at Brown Motor Works.
The one that I found most intriguing was Bob’s early adaptation of a boxer twin into a dual sport. As I mentioned above, Bob refers to it as the original GS. When I was in Brown BMW ealier, I saw a current R9T 40th Anniversary model, and it pushed all the right buttons for me. It’s a little out of my price range, but I sure spent a lot of time looking at it. It’s one of the nicest ones they’ve ever done, I think.
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People collect for different reasons. Some are completists…they collect to own every variation of an item ever made. Others have a theme…something guides their collecting and they can’t rest until they have acquired items that show all aspects of that theme. Still others are brand loyalists…they want everything associated with a particular marque. Others collect to rekindle memories…items in their collections bring back better times. And people collect different things. All kinds of things.
As I surveyed the expansive and overwhelming contents of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, I wondered: What made Bill tick? What fueled his desire to collect? I asked the question and Bill answered it, but I’ll wait until the end of this blog to share the answer. Hold that thought and we’ll return to it.
When I knew we were going to Pennsylvania and my wife Susie Googled motorcycle museums…well, silly me. I thought we would find a motorcycle museum if I was lucky and it might make a worthy topic for a blog or two. Maybe an article in a motorcycle magazine. Susie gets the credit for finding Bill’s Old Bike Barn. I didn’t realize we had hit the Mother Lode. We had stumbled into a more advanced collection than we had ever seen.
No, wait: I need to restate that. It would be unfair to call what I found in Bill’s Old Bike Barn a collection. I realized when assembling this story that what Bill created is not a mere collection. It is, instead, a collection of collections. Bill’s Old Bike Barn might have started as a motorcycle collection, but it goes beyond that.
Way beyond.
Anybody can collect and display motorcycles. Well, not anybody, but you get the point. In the course of curating a collection, advanced collectors, the guys who go exponential and become collectors of collections, amass collections of all kinds of things. Then the question becomes: How do you display your collections? What’s the right format?
Bill had the answer to that, too.
Billville.
Hey, if your name is Bill, and you have a collection of collections, why not start your own town, and display each collection in different stores and businesses and government offices, all in a magical place called Billville. You see, if you have your own town, you will also have streets on which these shops are located. And you can park different cool motorcycles on the streets in front of the shops. The Billville concept solves several challenges simultaneously. The streets let you display the motorcycles and the shops. People see the shops and what’s in them and they want to add to the collection, so they bring in and contribute more things you can exhibit. The shops grow and the town of Billville thrives. Sense a pattern here?
Bill, at home on the streets of Billville.One of many streets in Billville. The streets in Billville are lined with something even better than gold: Vintage motorcycles and Bill’s collection of collections. Bill’s collections are hypnotic in their appeal.
Being a world-renown blogger and motojournalist, I had the grand tour of Billville, led by Bill himself. Bill led, I followed, and my jaw dropped with each turn and every stop in Billville. Billville. I get it. It’s brilliant.
The Billville camera shop. Nothing is for sale, much is on display, and the inventory exceeds 6,000 pieces.
We started in front of the Billville camera shop. I had my Nikon D810 along for the shots you see here. I’ve been a photography enthusiast all my life. I asked Bill if he was into photography, too, when he mentioned the camera shop. “Nah, I just had a few cameras on display. Folks see that and they come back a week later with a bag of old cameras. There’s more than 6,000 cameras in the collection now.”
There’s a very cool Norton parked in front of the Billville Camera Shop. The bike behind it is a Velocette. Per capita motorcycle ownership in Billville is off the charts. Billville is huge, the streets are long, the shops are amazing, and the collections are dreamlike. Pick a collectible item, and there’s a Billville shop housing a collection for it. Into Coca-Cola memorabilia?
An Aermacchi Harley and Harley’s attempt to penetrate the scooter market, the Topper, parked in front of the Billville Coca-Cola shop.
You can’t have a town without a police department, and police paraphernalia are collectible. Billville has its own PD, with a police stuff collection.
The Billville PD and its neighbor…a shop with walls constructed entirely of collectible beer cans.Every police officer who wanders through the Billville PD probably leaves a department patch.The Billville PD has, as you might imagine, its own contingent of motor officers.
Bill told a funny story about visiting firemen. After seeing the collections, they asked Bill if Billville had a fire department. When they asked the question, Billville did not. So the visiting fireman offered to donate their vintage fire engine if Bill would build the Billville Fire Department around it.
A vintage Mack fire engine. A local fire department donated it.
“Then I had to make a fire bike,” Bill said. After all, this is a motorcycle museum.
Bill and his personally-crafted fire bike. This is cool stuff.
Bicycles? You bet. Billville has an interesting collection. Check out the badging on the one shown in these photos.
Want to guess who made this bicycle?Check out the chainring. HD. Cool.Harley-Davidson. I had never seen one of these before visiting Bill’s Old Bike Barn.My Nikon was earning its keep during my visit to Bill’s Old Bike Barn. If you make the trip, don’t forget your camera.
Some people collect toys. Bill is one of them. What would a town be without a toy store?
Another place to display one of Bill’s collections. That’s a cool two-stroke Harley parked on the street in front of it.
Billville has a post office and a restaurant. Take a look at the ornamental wrought iron surrounding the restaurant. Bill told me he purchased huge quantities of wrought iron when he was buying up motorcycle dealer inventories in Europe.
The Billville post office is on the left; the restaurant is on the right.A vintage bike in front of the finest dining in Billville.
Are you into Avon collectables? Billville has you covered there, too.
A 1970s Harley two-stroke and a vintage CL Honda Scrambler. Bill’s collections are extensive and varied.
There are several spiral cases throughout Billville. I thought they were purely decorative. But there seemed to be more to see upstairs, so I climbed one. My reward was more collections. How about phones? Yep, those, too.
Some of the phones in the Bill’s Old Bike Barn phone collection……and more phones.
Bill told me again about people bringing things to him. Matchbox cars? Why not?
Matchbox cars line a wall. There’s something for everyone here. Dads, moms, and kids.
Into horse collectibles? You bet.
Horsepower. Lots of it.
As you might guess, there was an area for Elvisabilia (or should that be Presleyana?).
The King.
If you were wondering, Billville has a dentist’s office, too, complete with vintage dentistry equipment.
Vintage dental stuff. The photo ops in Bill’s Old Bike Barn were endless.
And, of course, Billville includes the motorcycles, motorcycle engines, and everything-associated-with-motorcycles collection. Bill’s collection doesn’t stick to only one marque. You’ll see Harley, Indian, Moto Guzzi, Triumph, Norton, Velocette, Honda, Yamaha, Zündapp, Peugeot, and many, many more motorcycles.
An airbrush painting on one of Bill’s trailers. Check out the vintage Harley and sidecar.Now, check out the actual vintage Harley and sidecar.A vintage Knucklehead in the main hall. Note the spiral staircases on the right. There’s more up there, folks. Lots more.Vintage Indians. Some are left unrestored; others are restored to better-than-new condition.
Bill’s collection is eclectic. The collections themselves are eclectic, and within the collection, the pieces Bill has exhibited vary widely. He’s not just a Harley guy or an Indian guy. He likes anything that’s interesting. You saw the prior blog about Bill’s favorite ride, a Zündapp. Other bikes pepper his collection, including one I always wanted…an early SL350 Honda twin. It’s the color I always wanted, too, and it’s in its 100% original, unrestored condition. I stared at the SL so hard I might have worn away some of its paint.
A stunning and unrestored SL350 Honda.Ah, the mileage on the SL350 Honda…the motorcycle is over half a century old, and it has but 4,000 miles on the clock. Wow.
So, back to that question I posed at the top of this blog: What makes a collector collect? Everyone has their reasons, and like I said at the beginning of this blog, I wanted to know Bill’s. I asked the question. Bill smiled, lowered his gaze, and answered softly. “I like to see peoples’ reactions when they see the collections,” he said. That being the case, I think Bill must have really enjoyed our visit. We sure did.
A sparkadillo. There’s a lot of folk art in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Our first blog on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
I realize we all have to make a living. Food has gone up, gas costs more and the rent is too damn high. Look, I have nothing against businessmen, as long as they play it straight and don’t scam customers. Go for it. Make all the money you can; see if I care. No, this story is about how all of us grease monkey types have forsaken the cool and the funky to become a bunch of soulless stock fluffers: a nation of pump-and-dump Hobby-Hawkers concerned only with what they can extract from the other, equally soulless fluffers.
Take Jeep YJ’s for instance. The square-headlight YJ has been the entry-level vehicle for 4-wheel drive buffs for the last 30 years. Shunned by other Jeep owners, despised for the simple crime of having headlights that actually align with their bodywork, Jeep YJ’s were the bottom rung. You could pick up a running YJ for a couple thousand dollars and hit the trails later that day. Light weight and simple suspension made the YJ very capable off-road and easy to fix when it broke down.
I bought my ’92 YJ for $2800 about ten years ago and the thing has been running good-ish ever since. If you believe the YJ groups I habituate, YJ’s are $20,000 rigs now. I see people posting up rusty old YJ’s for $6000/$8000 dollars. The users of YJ groups love it. Just sitting on their hands their investment (note: It’s no longer a Jeep or something they enjoy; it’s just an investment, like oil futures) goes up several thousand dollars a day. When someone online asks what their YJ is worth, which is every second question after which oil to use, the shills pipe in with ridiculous amounts of money that they themselves would never pay. All in service of bumping up the YJ’s stock price.
I could understand it better if Jeep YJ’s were sort of rare, but Jeep made 685,000 of the things over a nearly 10-year production run. They are everywhere, in fields, rusting in driveways, stacked in Jeep specific junkyards. That doesn’t stop the flippers from trying to run up the price. Everyday the imagined value of a Jeep YJ goes up another few hundred dollars. We may have missed out on Bitcoin but we’re darn sure not going to sell our clapped out old Jeeps for less than the price of a 2022 model. This money grab turns a fun hobby into just another IPO stock offering, something to own for its upside potential, not because you enjoyed it.
It’s the same with old motorcycles. The prices people are asking for any minor part that fits a vintage Japanese bike are just silly. I’m not immune to fluffer-fever. Prices for old Z1 Kawasaki’s have gotten so high I’m thinking of selling mine to cash in before the bubble bursts. My funky old motorcycle has turned into a savings account. And that’s the truly sad part: I enjoyed building the Z1 but now have to worry about where I park it due to its inflated value. I was going to ride it to Mexico with Berk but what if it gets stolen? The bike is no longer fun. In my mind’s eye it has become a stack of dollar bills waiting to be blown away by the slightest wind.
I know I’m ranting here but just once I’d like to log into a vintage motorcycle forum and not be bombarded with Internet shills asking for valuations or offering Jeeps and motorcycles for sale at stratospheric numbers. Old Jeeps, motorcycles and for that matter, vintage cars should mean more to us than how much return on the investment we can get from them. They should reach back into our memories and emotions; they should recall hot-metal smells and loves lost or found; they should be valued and not commoditized.
I guess what I really want is to remember the fun we had with our old cars and bikes before it all became a race to the top. I know the air will rarify and these old clunkers will become like casino chips: traded but never loved except for their monetary properties. You know, I used to hate the way people chopped up vintage Japanese motorcycles and turned them into goofy looking Brat style bikes but now I’m having second thoughts. Maybe by so thoroughly destroying the value of their motorcycles the Brat Butchers are actually saving the old bike’s true value as a motorcycle.
All good things must come to an end, I suppose, and Newcomb’s may be one of those things. I just read that this iconic roadhouse on what may be the most famous moto road in So Cal is on the block. The article also said that Newcomb’s has been shut down for months…another casualty of the pandemic. Ah, let’s hope the right somebody buys it and brings it back to its former splendor.
Truth be told, it was the ride, and not the Newcomb’s restaurant that made Angeles Crest Highway something special. The food was okay and the service was always outstanding, but the real attraction was the Newcomb’s parking lot and the ride to get there. Ferraris, MV Augustas, vintage bikes, Jay Leno…you just never knew what you’d see out there. That was always worth the ride.
Hiya, Kenny!
I wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics magazine on the Angeles Crest Highway and Newcomb’s Ranch a few years ago. I’ve ridden the Crest many times, and I don’t think I’ve ever ridden by Newcomb’s without stopping.
You can approach Newcomb’s from either end of the Angeles Crest Highway. The Crest, or California Highway 2, can be picked up off the 210 freeway just north of Glendale (which is just north of Los Angeles), or you can get on it in Wrightwood at the northeastern end on the other side of the San Gabriel Mountains. It’s a delightful ride.
I have a lot of stories about rides on the Crest. I led a bunch of CSC Motorcycles company rides up there, I’ve ridden it a lot with my geezer moto buddies, I’ve seen more than a few crashes (by others) up there, and I even went ice racing up there on a Triumph Daytona once. Good buddy Bryan (who is fast approaching geezerdom) and I started out from the Wrightwood end one winter day and we soon noticed we were the only two people on the road. Then it got cold. Then it started snowing. Then we realized the bikes were moving around a bit more than usual. We were riding on ice. And we faced that age-old question: Do we admit defeat and turn around, or press ahead in the belief warmer weather lies ahead and things will get better?
Being redblooded American engineers (read that any way you want), Bryan and yours truly pressed ahead. We stopped at Newcomb’s, and we were the only ones in the parking. We went inside to warm up and the folks who worked there were astonished. How did you get here? On our motorcycles, we said. But the road’s closed, they said. Wow.
Newcomb’s. An American and So Cal icon. Let’s hope it comes back to life soon.
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After a Covid-cancelled year in 2020 Endurofest came roaring back in 2021. Unfortunately the 2-year lay-off has already eroded my meager off-road skills.
On our very first ride I managed to do a header in a rough rocky section. I was bouncing along ricocheting from rock to rock when a combination of tired arms, inattention and poor riding skills pitched Godzilla’s front wheel sideways and down I went on my right side.
It was a hard landing on rocks and for a moment I couldn’t move, like in those dreams where you can’t move except I was awake. Or maybe I wasn’t awake. It was probably only a few seconds. As my senses returned I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the brilliant blue Utah sky in wonder. How did I get here?
My foot was pinned under the motorcycle and Larry had to lift the bike off me. I stood up pretty well and managed to get Godzilla started. I went very slow the rest of the trail.
Never one to miss plugging sponsor’s freebies, my BMG jacket and ancient, Speed & Strength helmet from The Helmet House took the brunt of the crash and I am only a little sore. Godzilla suffered a bent foot peg and a damaged front food platter.
I really need to ride more dirt to stay sharp. Dirt riding, like any skill, improves with repetition so I’ll go attack some more rocks.
I think we have about eight Enduros at this year’s fest. Down a bit but understandable considering the crappy year our entire planet had in 2020. It’s just good to see your old friends and shoot the breeze without worrying about dying.
Endurofest headquarters this year is at the Beaver, Utah Quality Inn. It’s a great location if you’re into a Fawlty Towers kind of management. I showed up early and the manager was freaking out saying “I can’t put you in the room the people haven’t left yet!” There was no panic from my end. I mean, I get it. Just asking.
I got a suspicious look when I asked for a room with two beds. “There’s only one of you. Why do you want two beds?” I don’t know why but I defended my request,”My buddy Hunter might show up.” That seemed to satisfy Basil so the deal went down as planned.
This blog may be riddled with errors as I’m typing it on a cell phone and can’t actually read what it says. More riding tomorrow!
The styling of the 250cc Ossa Pioneer is what attracted me to the bike in the first place. I loved the old-fashioned, pin-striped black panels over the orange base. It was like some sort of cheerful, horse drawn funeral wagon. That cool rear fender extension gave the bike a flat track look that I have been a sucker for since forever.
The Spanish built Ossa’s bodywork was fiberglass, the original miracle plastic that many manufacturers used back in the late 1960s and 1970s. Unfortunately, modern alcohol laced fuel plays hell with fiberglass so the use of the miracle plastic has faded. Rotocast, alcohol resistant, poly-some-such-crap has taken its place. The new stuff is not without its problems as I’ve had fuel tanks that were exposed to sunlight crumble into dust. (Don’t leave your weed whacker in the back of a pickup truck for 6 months.) I’m assuming that problem has been fixed because the IMS rotocast tank on the Husky has held up fine for 5 years.
The Ossa was similar in construction to a Bultaco but where there were four or five Bultacos running around the town where I grew up there were no Ossas. So maybe rarity has something to do with my fascination with the brand.
The cycle magazines of that era praised the Ossa for its handling and generally good off road manners. One road tester stuck a spare plug in the Ossa’s fiberglass rear fender storage area and then complained when the loose plug beat a hole in the compartment…after riding trails. Even as a young whippersnapper I knew you couldn’t let stuff bounce around on a dirt bike. I felt the Ossa name was sullied for no good reason and if it was me that did something so stupid (and I have) I would have kept quiet about the situation.
I saw a Pioneer race motocross out at Haney Town a long time ago. Tuned softer than a MX engine, the Ossa grunted around the track fairly well. The rider was talented in the art of crossing-up and wasted valuable energy and time showboating over each jump. Still, it had the desired effect. I wanted an Ossa bad.
Ossa prices are still very reasonable as they are still not popular. A couple grand should get a fairly clean runner and that’s some cheap vintage dirt riding my brothers. The bikes are easy to fix and I’m sure you could order any part need from some hole-in–the–wall bike shop over in Spain. Just remember to use non-ethanol fuel or your gas tank will turn mushy inside.
Later Pioneers, called Super Pioneers, were styled in a more modern fashion and don’t tug at my heart like the old ones. I guess it’s a little odd to want a motorcycle that you’ve never ridden and only seen one running many years ago at a motocross race. Stranger still is my defense of the Pioneer’s rear fender compartment, but that’s the way love works. It sinks its hooks into you and the pain never subsides. You never forget your first Ossa and one of these days I’ll have my very own Ossa Pioneer.
