How the Velo Virus was caught.
I was always interested in motorbikes and engines in particular. I’d started on pushbikes but the thrill of an engine was all consuming. In the mid-60’s I used to gaze in the window of “The Dean” in Newcastle’s Haymarket, on my way home from school, where a new Thruxton could be bought for 400 Guineas. I remember a pair of them in the window and was overwhelmed with admiration when one was bought by one of the local Rockers, Johnna by name.
I lived in Morpeth as a teenager and the Rendez-Vous café in Castle Square was the place to be. As well as the locals, there were regular visitors from “The Coast” and arrivals and departures were dramatic moments. Some got a bit overdramatic and Tom from “The Coast” managed to lose his Thruxton on the downhill left hander on the approach. The bike slid on its side, ending up in the gateway of what was then Morpeth Police Station. The inmates were not unduly surprised, but took a dim view of what was then the de-rigeur act of defiance, having a Newcastle Brown Ale label in place of a tax disc. It was rumoured he was prosecuted for forgery. The nicknames tended to reflect personality and riding style. Log was tough and silent, Yarkie rarely explored the delights of cutaway or needle jet zones.
Velos were always, (and remain) a cut above the rest. Oddly, I don’t recall many mechanical problems, and was blissfully unaware of the delights of the Velo clutch. Perhaps we were too busy trying to change big ends on Tiger Cubs and C15’s. (On the pavement with a felling axe and lump hammer, since you ask). I shudder at the thought. This, inevitably, ended in disaster and they were either taken to Harry Wood in Newcastle or sent to the mythical “C R Speedshop” in Ilford, Essex (Strap-line. “Speed, in the right place, is our business”) – how quaint.
About this time, I had my first ride, around a building site in Stakeford, on a DOT trials bike. The germ had taken hold and, as we all know, it is incurable.
Before we leave Morpeth I must mention someone who may be known to the LE riders. There was a chap known, astonishingly, as Horace Hales of Hepscott, a small village near Morpeth, who had a large hoard of LE’s, which he worked on and rode. I have a vague memory of a garage full of LE’s. Anyone remember him?
Like many others I had to wait until I left home to own my first bike, a Tiger Cub for £7 which was poorly maintained and thrashed mercilessly from Scotland to Essex. I still have the badly corroded swinging arm spindle, changed with a small hammer in a back yard, which I use as a drift. As a student in Hull, we re-defined irresponsibility. We would leave the Hoffbrauhous in such a state that managing a motorbike back to the Avenues was beyond us. Our solution was novel but effective. I steered and my mate Dave on the pillion worked the pedals. Not content with that, I had not, at that stage, mastered the intricacies of ignition timing, so we used to adjust that with our heel as we went along. Tiger Cub owners will understand how that was possible.
On leaving home I moved to Derby to take up a student apprenticeship with Rolls Royce Aero Engines. As someone obsessed with mechanical engineering, it was manna from heaven. In those days, pre-outsourcing, it was probably the best engineering works in the world and you experienced every known process carried out to the highest standard. This stayed with me and the principles apply now in my approach to Velo work at my business Design and Prototype. I find it very interesting that Velo obviously took a similar approach with their raft of engineering innovations and built-in quality, such as roving tooth, helical valve gears. You don’t design like that if price is your driving objective.
Whilst at College I got a placement at Cosworth Engineering in Northampton. I left, to start there, after closing time, the night before, wearing a nylon anorak and a pair of jeans. It poured all the way so by the time I arrived at Watford gap services at 3 am, I was in a sorry state. Having no money, I presented myself at the fairly deserted cafeteria and one of the ladies took pity on me and gave me a full English, (Try that nowadays). Cosworth started at 7 am so I slept on a bench in the railway station before reporting for my first day. They must have wondered what they’d signed on.
Like Royce’s, Cosworth was an engineering temple of excellence. It was a vertical learning curve, but I bored and honed rods, ground cams and cranks and gained experience on many other machines and processes, which was to prove useful later on.
Not long afterwards the Cub shed its piston skirt on a trip to chase a girl in Essex and I hid it under the bench at Cosworths whilst I re-built it. Unfortunately, it was spotted by no less than Keith Duckworth himself and I still remember his glare burning through me.
Spares for the Cub usually came from Wilemans Motors in Derby, a long-established British bike dealer and Velocette agent. After yet another rebuild Ken Wileman took me quietly to one side and suggested to me that I really needed a bigger bike. He was probably disappointed by my reaction as I didn’t buy one from him. This was early 70’s and Velo themselves had sadly succumbed and used bikes were readily and cheaply available as the Japanese invasion took over. Several of my friends in Derby rode Velos and I learned that an ex-Velo dealer, Clarks of Nottingham, literally had a pile of Velos, in their back yard, available at £50 each. I think they were on Carlton Hill. I duly went over and there were, as suggested, numerous bikes, all models, lying at all angles in the back yard. I found a Venom which looked complete and handed over the £50. It turned out to be a very early one, number 57 off the line in 1956 and it stayed with me for 24 years.
Needless to say, I learnt a lot about Velos during those 24 years, but it was a reliable, and indeed only, means of transport for some of that time. It needed a rebore and big end and the latter was still going strong when I sold it. The rebore however was another matter and learning curve. It was an Alfin on +60 so had to be sleeved. I knew about Alfins not having enough “meat” to hold the sleeve securely so told Wilemans to Loctite it in. All was well until the morning after I my girlfriend stayed with me, rather than going home, for the first time. I dropped her off and set off for work, probably keen to put some distance between me and her father. I used all the available revs and, as I snicked it into third, there was a huge bang and a jet of smoke from the drive side, followed by the sound of metal being violently crushed. Some of you, no doubt, have already identified the problem. The sleeve had crept down the barrel and the top ring had hooked over the edge, ripping the top off the piston, which then absorbed the protruding valves. I pushed it back to her house and she ran me into work in the car – I survived. It later transpired that Wilemans had not done what I asked and used Loctrite, as they were afraid of it going off, part way down. If I was doing it now, I would put a 40mm ring around the bottom of the barrel so the sleeve encounters it when nearly home. I have seen one retained by a self-tapper through the cylinder base flange, which may work but doesn’t appeal to my purist ideals.
I used the bike throughout the year and commuted to Liverpool twice a week for a couple of years. I vividly recall living in a caravan, in a pub car park in Delamere Forest, during the winter. I emerged in the freezing morning to find the kick start so stiff it was like a springless Woodhead Monroe. It did eventually start, but taught me to change to 20-50. At no time during that 24 years did it have an effective enough front brake, which makes me appreciate the 2LS on my current Viper Clubman.
I had a range of other bikes over the years but, apart from a 10-year break in the 90’s, when I started my first engineering business, have always had a Velo. I sold WJH 752 to a guy from Gravesend, who seemed very enthusiastic at the time, but the bike was never taxed again. Perhaps its running now on a Brown Ale label.
I was running a 900 Multistrada and eventually came to the conclusion it was too big, too heavy, too complicated and faster than me at 65, so it was time to move on. I always fancied a Viper Clubman so started to look out for a genuine example. There aren’t too many about (Velo made six in 1960 iirc) but one came up on ebay “loosely built”. I called the owner who didn’t seem interested, but said I would pay his price if it was genuine and straight. I almost gave up at his negative attitude but took the works van down to Coventry to take a look. He showed me into his house which had pure white carpet in all the rooms. On entering the lounge, one couldn’t fail to notice a full sheet of shuttering ply, in the middle of the room, upon which stood a bare metal RS frame, on a work stand. It was surrounded by all the parts needed to make up a complete bike. A lot of money had been spent. New clutch, exhaust, rebore and piston, valves to name a few. He had no idea how to build it and started quizzing me on what went where. I remember he held up the tiny screw which retains the clutch tab and asked me where it went. I checked the dampers for the tell-tale brazed on washer, examined the buff log book and gave him his money.
I’d taken a couple of our guys with me, to help load up, and when we lifted the shuttering ply from the white carpet, it revealed a pile of rotting dust beneath and an 8 x 4 hole in the carpet. It had been on the stand for twenty-seven years. At no time did I see any evidence of a wife.
After my ten-year break, I was keen to press on and quickly had the cycle parts stove enamelled in Burton. I don’t know if it’s just me but genuine stoving always looks blacker and shinier than powder coating. As those of you who know me are aware, I am not a concours enthusiast or rivet counter, I just want the Velo to ride, appreciate (not in the financial sense) and enjoy. One thing, which surprised me at the time, was that parts were very readily available, which had not always been the case in the past. Ken Wileman sometimes took parts off his own Venom to keep us going.
Once rebuilt, the Viper has proved to be a nice bike and usually reliable, until it’s embarrassing oil-vomiting episode on the day of last year’s Borders Rally. That turned out to be a blocked oil filter tube, which I wrote about in an earlier Fishtail.
I’ve recently had a few health problems and found the rearsets a bit uncomfortable, now I’m approaching 75. The next phase is in two parts. Firstly, I’m going back to standard footrests and had a 1” higher seat made by Leightons. Secondly, the Viper is a lively bike but needs to rev above 4000 to be on the 17/8 cam, so it is not a relaxing ride. I am planning to modify the engine with a 500 barrel, squish head, 17/5 cam and aiming for a CR of about 8.5:1, possibly with a centre plug and believe this will create a flexible, torquey outcome and a more relaxing bike to ride. There are a number of design issues to be resolved as this is the reverse of “Tuning for Speed”, and getting the CR down to 8.5 may be difficult. I understand that it is possible to use a Yamaha piston but haven’t explored that yet. A friend who builds the racing engines for Aston Martin, which have a similar combustion chamber and valve set-up to a Velo, tells me the 38 deg advance is an indication of inefficient combustion chamber design. I believe a flat top piston with central or twin plugs would improve the flame path and allow the ignition to be retarded thus releasing more power. We shall see.
So, 55 years on from my first Velo and 100 years since they were winning TT’s, that is where I’m at. The virus is still permeating my system and there is no cure in sight. The saga continues, but the excellence and quality of those old designs still not only appeals, but performs, and is perfectly practical and usable in today’s conditions. Those white shirted draughtsmen in Hall Green knew what they were doing, but I am sure even they would be surprised, to see them still going strong today.
Brian Mackenzie
Design and Prototype
Chairman VOC Northumbrian Section
