On The Mark

(Sorry, Pete Seeger)

Where have all the crap bikes gone, long time passing.

Leaky cases and dirty carbs, handling like stone.

Where have all the crap bikes gone, they took forever passing.

Lucas lights and seizing mills, thank God they’re gone. 

I was talking to Dangerous Dan the other day and ruminating about the fact that most of the bikes today are actually pretty good. The advent of automated, numerically-controlled manufacturing techniques and the need to keep the companies out of court have made most of the latest models fairly reliable and rideable. DD’s current favorites, the new Royal Enfields made in India, are affordable and have a dizzying array of styles that look vintage, but run and handle nicely. I can remember a time when, if you had an original Royal Enfield Bullet, you wished for another type of bullet with which to put the bike out of your misery. DD actually has an original and says, “Yeah, it’s crap, but I still love it.” He’s weird that way.

Remember when people said “BSA” stood for “Bastard Seized Again?” Birmingham Small Arms once turned out some interesting motorcycles, ones that the Brit press would have described as having “character” as a euphemism for them leaking, starting, running, and handling like complete shite. I have a longstanding memory of an older guy at a vintage meet kicking a BSA-motored chopper. And kicking. And kicking. Eventually, after the frustration gods were satiated and homage was paid in sweat to the carb troll, it reluctantly coughed to life like a chain smoker answering his morning alarm. “Racking the throttle” was necessary to keep the RPMs above the combustion sustainment spot because heaven help you if you had to kick it again.

Lest you think I’m a complete Anglophobe, let us not forget when our own famous national motorcycle brand was held in various stages of esteem ranging from insane loyalty to outright hatred, especially during those dark “AMF” times when those initials meant “Adios Mother F’er.” Names like “Leaky Davidson” and “Milwaukee Vibrator” were tossed around by both doubters and worshipers alike. The first Sportster I ever rode on the Blue Ridge Parkway was hastily turned back over to its owner after I found it deafeningly loud and reluctant to turn.

Returning to Brit-bashing, let me pay tribute to the Prince of Darkness. I speak not of the recently-late Ozzy, but rather of Joseph Lucas, who in 1902 became a purveyor of some of the most vexing and damnable automotive electrical devices on the planet. The jokes abound: “Why do the English drink warm beer? Because Lucas can’t make refrigerators either.” At any vintage meet, there will undoubtedly be a number of stickers offered that attest to the unreliability of anything from Lucas, from ignitions to lighting. Add in a positive-ground, six-volt-battery system and you’ve got a sure recipe for electrical disaster. The definition of an optimist would be someone with Lucas electrics leaving a party after dark and expecting to have a headlight on the way home.

On the OTHER side of the Battle of Britain, despite all their haughtiness about the precision of their engineering, the Germans have had their share of issues along the way. One July, I rode a BMW K100LT - in the appropriate color of shite brown - that I swear was designed to sterilize the entire male population, so great was the heat coming off the engine. It might have made a great Arctic bike, but I was never happier to turn in a used service loaner. I mistakenly pocketed the key when I took it back, but my apology was equivocated by saying, “It’s not like anyone will want to buy it anyway.” We will not speak of German “styling,” as that appears to be an oxymoron. They should look to their former Axis allies for aesthetic counseling, but Ducati may have purchased voltage regulators from Lucas…

At one time, even my favorite (3 t-shirts a week) brand from blighty, Triumph, had a sketchy reputation that was eventually put right when the factory burned down and the machinery and tooling was replaced with things that actually produced fine motorcycles. There’s a certain romance to the thought of a skilled artisan hand-fitting parts to a bike; unfortunately, that romance falters when the new part you bought will not work without leaking (whether the original one did or not). Overall, however, these days you run a lot less risk of purchasing a bike with “character” no matter what brand you favor.