Norton Model 7 Restoration Part 1: Postmortem

The machine was long dead when I rolled it off the delivery truck and into a cold Seattle rain. I pushed it across the broken street to the workshop space I rent, and, as it sat dripping, I went over it assessing what I had just gotten myself into.
It was a 1950 Norton Model 7, a specimen of the first multi-cylinder engine Norton had ever produced. (A Peugeot engine had propelled the Norton twin that won its class in the inaugural Isle of Man TT in 1907.) Although it was not strictly a sporting motorcycle, Norton advertising of the period made all the hay it could of the firm’s myriad racing successes, and so Nortons gave their new twin the name “Dominator.” The model debuted at the 1948 Earl’s Court show, and production commenced for the 1949 model year.
The Norton Owners Club in England reviewed its copy of the factory records and told me that this particular machine was dispatched from the Bracebridge Street works in Birmingham on March 20, 1950. It and two consecutive Model 7s had been purchased by Brockhouse Limited and were destined for the United States. Brockhouse had purchased Indian Moto Cycles in the late 1940s and by 1950 was actively using the Indian dealership network in America to sell various British bikes. Norton ads in American motorcycle magazines proclaimed “Sold by Indian.”
The seller in Cincinnati had told me the bike was last licensed in 1974 in Minnesota, Land of 10,000 Lakes. But as I looked over the bike in 1998, it was another 24 years on; by now the bike had been off the road for as long as it had been on it.
By all appearances this was a machine that had suffered from what I call “Volkswagen Syndrome”—a sad mechanical fate that befalls obsolete vehicles that refuse to die. They are hardly worth repairing, and they certainly are not worth maintaining, but they soldier on with everything about to give up the ghost, yet not enough things do. Whatever the aesthetic reality, cases of Volkswagen Syndrome are often interesting if only for their extraordinarily bodged repairs and extremely worn parts.
Most of the bike was there, but it was in generally shabby condition. The gas tank and fenders were in gray primer, which told me they weren’t good enough to tolerate either bare or painted. Sheet metal parts were dented, fatigue cracked, and repaired badly. Short strands of wire stuck out of the few electrical components on board; someone had re-wired the plot completely with brown wire only to have someone else come along and snip off all of it. The drive chain was one size too wide and had carved a path out of the back of the primary-chain cover. The sprocket teeth were worn hook shaped. Happily the frame and engine numbers did indeed match, just as I had been told. But when I removed the gas tank it was obvious that the frame was bent at the head tube.
The original owner must have lost the tool kit on his way out of the Indian dealership. Water-pump pliers and pipe wrenches had chewed up bolt heads, nuts, and even the carburetor. Some bolts had been removed from non-critical areas to serve where the original fasteners had left the scene. Unable to remove the fork-top bolts, someone had drilled them, tapped them, and installed a bolt in one and a stud and nut in the other so that fork oil could be added without having to borrow a really big wrench.
In the tradition of those before me, I tried to piece the Dominator together enough to get it running. I would restore it as I rode it. The problem was, everything I touched came apart in my hands. I finally gave up and tore it down for a complete rebuild.
The machine had apparently been driven two-up for a fair distance. Once the primer was stripped from the rear fender, it was obvious that a pillion saddle had been bolted on and used long enough to severely fatigue and tear the top of the fender. One of the original Norton pillion footrests was received with the bike, but the other was a well-worn replacement. Disassembling the plunger-sprung rear suspension revealed that one of the coil springs was broken. Its two broken halves had wound past each other to form one very short, incompressible spring.
From the bent frame and fork yokes it was obvious that the bike had been crashed. At the moment of impact, the forks sprung back so far that the front fender got caved in from behind when it smacked into the frame tube. The steering had then whipped right hard enough to strike a sharp dent in the front of the bulbous, chrome, gas tank. Twenty-two smaller dents balanced out the tank damage. The 21-inch front wheel, when rolled across the shop floor, wobbled badly over its repaired spots and fell immediately upon reaching a grizzly warp that was probably the collision site. Regardless of the damage, someone had continued to ride the bike after rounding out the front rim as best they could and straightening the dent in the back of the fender. It was an old repair—they had used lead instead of Bondo on the fender.
Unscrewing the timing cover revealed that the phenolic generator-drive gear was missing. But even disconnected, the generator would not turn. It turned out that a commutator segment had escaped from the spinning armature, snagged the brushes, twisted the brush holders, and stopped the generator cold. This might have been enough to destroy the fiber drive gear, but inside the engine there wasn’t even the tiniest trace of phenolic shrapnel. Someone had already cleaned out the remains and put the bike back into operation without any electrics except the magneto. That explained the snipped-off wiring.
When splitting the crankcases I discovered that the best secrets were those hidden deepest. The left crankcase bore evidence of having been pierced by a broken connecting rod. The hole had been expertly welded shut, but the welder had also addressed the left piston, welding in place the broken pieces of piston skirt that had been cleaved off by the flailing remains of the broken con rod. The welds had been crudely ground off and the piston re-installed in its bore, connected to a replacement rod that was obviously a different casting from its neighbor to the right. The right con rod had suffered a giant gouge from the event but was retained. And this despite the fact that Norton twins use aluminum rods, so re-use was tantamount to a postponed death sentence.
The big-end shell bearings had also been re-used, and, when one had checked out lose, a piece of paper had been stuck behind the bearing to take up the slack. Because the paper used was a piece of blank shop receipt, I assumed the whole mess was a professional job. By the time the rod failed, the bike had already lived a long life; the pistons that they repaired and reused were 0.020” oversize.
In the end, the most surprising thing I found was the absence of any obvious cause of death, except perhaps for an indifferent magneto. Despite the laundry list of ailments, it looked like it might have continued to limp along had someone not started to disassemble it to paint a few parts.
Even so, it is all better now, and I am happy to say it is mostly an amateur job. In late September 2001, the engine fired for the first time in a long time, and by May 2002 I had the machine assembled, wired, and on the road. Since then it has covered more than 10,000 miles from sea level to 7,000 feet. Its greatest feat was a 1,200-mile trip from Seattle to the International Norton Owners Association (INOA) rally in southwest Oregon in 2005. My brother (1939 Ariel Red Hunter!) and I rode there down the Pacific Coast Highway and rode back along the Cascade Mountains. The Model 7 Dominator is such a wonderful machine to ride that I can see why prior owners had tried to keep it on the road despite its various incidents and the mounting toll of bodged repairs.

Racycle Chain: Another Unusual Feature

The Racycle’s maker, the Miami Cycle and Manufacturing Company, often stated that “a Racycle differs from a bicycle.” Its chain was one of the more subtle ways in which this statement was true.
In 1897, Racycle’s second year of production, large, 30-tooth (1-inch pitch) front sprockets were introduced on two of the eight models offered. Miami Cycle had reasoned that the larger sprockets were preferable because they imparted less strain on the drive chain. Thus, with larger sprockets a neater, narrower chain could be used.
So it was that from 1897 on through 1913 (and perhaps later) Racycles carried unusually narrow chains on their unusually large sprockets. Perhaps the narrow chain also helped cement the notion in the mind of the customer that superior engineering and high-quality materials and construction made the Racycle more efficient and easier to pedal--how else could they get by with such a delicate chain? The second photo shows an elaborate Racycle display complete with weights and spring scales (left) to demonstrate Racycle efficiency. Future posts to this web log will evaluate at least a couple of Racycle's engineering conclusions, so check back for fascinating stuff!
When typical bicycles carried chains that were ¼-inch wide, the first large-sprocket Racycles (1897) carried chains that were only 3/16-inch wide. In 1900, the width was reduced further to 1/8 inch. The 1/8-inch wide chain was used through 1913 (as late as my sources go) and perhaps later.
Interestingly, in 1905 Miami Cycle introduced shiny nickel-plated chain on the high-end Racycles: the Pacemaker (Model 100), Racer (Model 101), and Roadster (Model 102). (These are the same models, with addition of the Roadster Model 104, that also received the improved crank hanger in 1905.) This arrangement of fitting plated chain to the top three models was continued through 1908. In the first and third photographs is a length of nickel-plated Racycle chain (circa 1905-1908) next to a standard 3/16-inch block chain for comparison.
Through 1909, only block chain was used regardless of width. Roller chain was first offered on Racycles in 1910 but only on selected models: the Pacemaker (Model 150) and Rideabout (Model 152). Both models used Diamond 1/8-inch roller chain. Diamond roller chain was also an option on The Racycle Yellow Flyer (Model 151-R) and Roadster Model 154, but only block chain (also 1/8-inch) was available on the lower-tier models: the Ladies’ Pacemaker (Model 153) and Roadster Model 155. The catalog text makes no mention of whether the chains were nickel plated. Diamond chains continued to be used on all Racycles through 1913 (as late as my collection of catalogs can take us), and by that year roller chains were standard throughout the Racycle range.
The only use, so far as I am aware, of ½-inch-pitch chain was on the Racycle Rideabout, mentioned above. The Rideabout was introduced in 1909 and continued through at least 1913, perhaps later. In addition to the chain pitch, the Rideabout was unusual in that it carried an intermediate-sized 70-tooth front sprocket that was sized half way between the Pacemaker and the roadster sprockets.

Racycle Rumors #1: Racycles Were Racers

These days a surprising number of supposed board-track racing bicycles are coming out of the woodwork. The owners seldom (if ever) offer any conclusive evidence of their machine’s competition career, but at least their assertions are supported by a lack of evidence to the contrary!
Thanks to Racycle’s use of large sprockets and reversible handle bars, the bicycles from Middletown, Ohio, certainly cut a dashing figure that could be mistaken for a racing bicycle. Were Racycles all racers? To help shed light on the matter, here is what the manufacturer wrote in a 1901 promotional publication under the heading “Racycle’s Growth.”
“The name ‘RACYCLE’ was coined from the words ‘Ray’ and ‘Cycle,’ as a compliment to F.H. Ray, the original president of the company, to emphasize its distinctive feature when compared with all other bicycles.
“Many people labor under the false impression that it is called the RACYCLE because it is a racing machine. To correct this impression we do not employ a racing team….
“In the spring of 1896, after a great deal of experimenting with thorough practical tests, larger sprockets were advocated. No doubt many will remember the ridicule evoked by the ’97 Models exhibited at the cycle show of 1897, which were equipped with 30-tooth front sprockets.
“A great cry of ‘Freak! Freak!’ was raised. Columns pro and con were written in the cycle journals, but before the season was over all bicycle concerns were compelled to adopt this ‘freak’ feature, for the public realized that the 17-tooth sprockets not only looked badly [sic], but put so much strain on the chain that they caused a wheel to push harder than when equipped with a larger sprocket. Today a 17-tooth sprocket would elicit as much ridicule as our 30-tooth did at the ’97 show….”
So now we know the source of the name and the maker's rationale for using large sprockets, and it was not because all Racycles were racers. However, the maker may have seen the sales advantage of aping the competition machines. Today, this is commonplace. What is not altogether clear is how they concluded that larger sprockets reduced chain strain and made the Racycle easier to pedal. And was there really an industry-wide movement toward large sprockets, or was this only wishful thinking on the part of Racycle hoping to be a trendsetter? More on these questions in future posts—stay tuned!
Although the factory might not have employed a racing team (or, at least not in 1901), Racycle included a racing model in their catalog from 1897 through 1910. (Illustrations from 1897 and 1908 are included above as the second and third images.) I have incomplete information for 1911 and 1912, but the 1913 Racycle catalog does not include a racing bicycle, indicating that Racycle had by then decided to leave the competition market to other makers.
This photo collage (above) is from a promotional publication printed in 1904 and features several images that the maker had received from proud privateer Racycle racers. Elsewhere in the same publication other Racycle racers are mentioned including M. Sunada, the 1903 Japanese national champion, and Frederico Arredondo, the Mexican road champion.

Clearly a few Racycles saw competition, but the vast majority got more ordinary use.

1965 Sunbeam Tiger 260

According to the owner’s handbook, this is a Rootes Sunbeam 260, but everyone knows it as a Sunbeam Tiger. I bought this one in May 1984 (coincidently, I paid $3,500, which was the car’s original list price in 1965). It was in rather poor condition at the time, but I had a job in autobody repair, so I immediately set to getting it road worthy.
The following summer I raced it with the Vintage Racing Club (VRC) of British Columbia at Westwood (second photo), a track in the hills above Port Coquitlam, B.C. I continued to vintage race it in 1986 (twice) and 1987 (four events). From late ’85 through ‘88, it was my only car, so I could race it as hard as I dared, so long as I could still drive it to work on Monday.
From Seattle, I’ve driven it twice to Monterey, Ca, to watch the vintage races at Laguna Seca, and once to Baja California, Mexico, to race in La Carrera Classic (1987). The trip to Mexico was a terrific coup: my brother and I drove my daily-driver “race car” to Mexico, started the race 33rd out of 90-plus cars, and finished 16th at an average speed of over 91 mph over the 120-mile course across the Baja Peninsula (third photo). And then we drove it back to Seattle. It was a great adventure. There are more photos from the '87 La Carrra Classic (most with the mapped locations at which they were taken) at https://goo.gl/photos/tZpPV9Y1ZZdnkWD39.
In 1988 I restored the body, promptly crashed it, then re-restored it again in 1990. In 1992 I returned the Tiger to the track for four events. This would be the last season that I’d risk the car in this way; I knew I didn’t have the gumption to fix it up a third time.
I still have the car, and it’s still a blast to drive. We just don’t get out so much anymore. Really must rectify that.

Racycle Production Years

When were Racycles built? It’s a valid question given how long they have been out of production, the dearth of Racycle information, and the confusing later introduction by Westfield of normal-looking bicycles with a Racycle head badge.
Racycles were built by the Miami Cycle Company of Middleton, Ohio. The company identified 1896 as the first year of Racycle production. That much is certain and is consistent in a variety of the factory’s own publications.
But determining when Racycle production stopped is more difficult. I have seen Racycles and Racycle catalogs from 1913, so it is safe to say that they were in production that late. But the trail would seem to go cold at the end of 1913.
Enter Fred Fisk, who wrote a brief history of the Miami Cycle Co for the May 1989 issue of “The Wheelmen.” For his history, Mr. Fisk’s research included the resources of the Middletown Public Library, at least one collection of ephemera, as well as information from a Middletown historian who had written about the town's industrial history and the Miami Cycle Co. in particular. Mr. Fisk’s article included a photograph of catalogs from Miami and Racycle for 1916 and 1918, so maybe production continued through 1918 and perhaps even later. Mr. Fisk concluded that Racycle production ceased in 1924, but he did not cite his source for this conclusion.
Even if there is some uncertainty about how late the Miami Cycle Co. produced the Racyle, what is certain is that they had given up by 1925. In that year, Westfield Manufacturing Co., makers of Columbia bicycles, published a catalog advertizing “Racycle” bicycles built in their Springfield, Massachusetts, factory. The Racycles in Westfield’s catalog illustrations look like standard bicycles without the large sprockets and widely-spaced crank-hanger bearings that had characterized the Ohio-built Racycles. I will leave it to others to research and report on the Westfield-built Racycles, but various sources suggest that Westfield used the Racycle name periodically from 1925 into the 1950s.
If I had to keep it short, and it pains me to do that, I’d say that Racycles were built from 1896 to about the early 1920s, perhaps as late as 1924. By 1925, it appears that Westfield Manufacturing had bought the Racycle name and was using it to sell their products, which had no obvious connection to the original Racycles built by the Miami Cycle Co. in Ohio. These conclusions are subject to change as more information becomes available. Stay tuned!

Shelby "Cadillac" circa 1938, Pt. II

In an earlier post about this same bicycle, I introduced it and mentioned the various influences for the color scheme and paint pattern. This is my artful project, and it was very refreshing after so many projects where the main objective was to make a machine look factory fresh with all the original parts, finishes, and colors. The only objective here was to produce something interesting using influences and parts that were contemporary to the bicycle. I'm posting this little story because I hope it might inspire someone to build a road-worthy mongrel out of a bunch of disused parts.
This project took shape over the cold months of 1998 and '99 from a series of swap-meet finds. It started with the pre-war Shelby frame, which came with a seat post and crank set and a long history of abuse and neglect. Rust was blistering an old coat of grass-green house paint, and the middle frame tube had broken free from the seat tube. Clearly no one would complain about what I might do to this mechanical corpse. The fork was also a pre-war Shelby item, but had come off a girl's bike, so it had a longer steerer tube than would fit in this boy's frame, but I could cut it down to size. The wheels came complete with an old (circa 1940s or '50s) set of Western Auto middleweight tires. Compared to typical balloon tires, middleweight tires are narrower (1.75-inch wide) and run at higher pressure (45 psi), so they roll easily and make for a much faster bike.
I tried to keep the total purchase price as close as I could to $100. Even after the pedals and stem, I wasn't too far over until I had to have those very cool flat handlebars.
The repair work was fairly straight forward. To repair the broken frame, I ground out all of the brass and welded the joint. It wasn't pretty, but it was nothing that some time with a grinder wouldn't fix. The stem was rusty and gouged from crashes and pipe wrenches, but what I couldn't grind or file out I was able to fill with silver solder. A fabricated brass bushing took up the wear in the horizontal pivot of the sprung fork.
Compared to other sprung forks, Shelby's "Shock-Ease" hardly looks like a sprung fork at all because the design hides the spring inside the steerer tube. It's an interesting solution that is visually elegant but not particularly good. To absorb impact, the lower portion of fork moves forward. This action compresses the hidden spring, which returns the fork to its original position, but it's like leaning into a punch. When assembling the contraption, I cinched the spring down nice and tight so there is minimal easing of the shocks. That suits me fine.
The finish on the fasteners is dull chrome. From what I know about electroplating, this is essentially hard chrome applied like decorative chrome but at a higher temperature and amperage. The appearance has a dull sheen like you see on micrometers, and it makes for a very tough surface that wrenches don't mar like they will cadmium or zinc plating. This was the fastener finish used by Norton on its motorcycles from around the late 1930s until the early 1950s, and I thought its understated, function-over-form sophistication suited this project well.
The black-painted wheels and the absence of fenders are meant to give the impression of a light-weight machine built for performance, not glitz. But without fenders, where do you attach the pretty red rear reflector? (Irony intentional.) I tried out some arrangements at the seat-post clamp before settling on hanging it off a fabricated bracket that I attached to one of the original drop-stand pivot holes.
The cranks, sprocket, and seat post are gun blued. The only difficult part of the process is getting the metal clean and smooth enough for the process to work. Rust had already stripped the chrome, and sand blasting, grinding, and sanding took care of the rust. I bought a bottle of gun bluing solution for less than $10 from a gun store. The guy behind the counter (at the gun store) said he had yet to sell gun bluing to a gun owner--only hobbyists buy the stuff. I would have laughed, but I didn't want to make any sudden moves.
I found it can be cheap and fun to make a usable old bicycle from cast-off parts. I even learned some new skills.

How to Disassemble a Racycle Crank (1896 through 1910)

The Racycle is one of those rare bicycles that warrants attention for its technical interest as well as its sleek looks. The principal technical feature of the Racycle is its unique bottom-bracket bearing and crank assembly. “The Racycle crank represents the only mechanically perfect crank construction that has ever been used on a bicycle….” So claimed the Miami Cycle Company in their 1908 Racycle catalog. Future posts will discuss what the perfection was all about, but here we are concerned with taking that mechanical perfection to bits to inspect or repair it.
Below are instructions directly from the Racycle catalog, in this case 1904, but the basic procedure appears to have been the same from 1896 through 1910. At the end of this post is a little bit about the thoroughly redesigned crank hanger that appears to have been first introduced in 1911.
Before you put this information to use, please read it at least twice and study the pictures, because the instructions are not entirely easy to follow, and there is the potential to get it very wrong and break an unobtainable piece: the connecting bolt. This square-headed bolt has a LEFT-HAND (reverse) thread, which means you have to turn it clockwise to loosen it. If you turn it counterclockwise like a conventional bolt (or if you know only digital clocks, so you are flipping a coin to see which way you’ll turn it), you are going to break the bolt. This will get the crank apart, but you’ll have to do some careful drilling and fabrication to get it back together.
Here are the manufacturer’s instructions, circa 1904:

DISSECTION OF HANGER
“The machine should be turned upside down, so that it will rest on the handle bars and saddle. In dissecting the crank hanger, insert the pointed end of the crank bolt wrench (from the tool box) into the two holes in the cover nut on the right hand side and turn to the left, the nut being screwed in with a right-hand thread; this will loosen the cover nut. After taking out this nut remove the lock-nut on the opposite side, in the same manner; then place the socket end of the wrench on the bolt which holds the cranks together and turn to the right (not left). This separates the two cranks and they can be removed without taking the chain apart or interfering with the ball cups.
IMPORTANT
“On all Racycles both the lock and the cover nuts must be taken out before the improved connecting bolt can be removed. This connecting bolt has a left-hand thread, and must be turned to the right, otherwise the head of the bolt may be twisted off and would have to be drilled out.
“To remove the ball cups, loosen the clamp bolts on the lugs of the bottom bracket, and then unscrew the cups; this will expose the copper oil tube and the cone sleeve.”
Regarding the 1911 and later crank hanger, it appears that the connecting bolt was done away with in favor of an axle shaft to which the crank arms were attached in more or less the post-modern conventional way. I have very little information about this late-production revision except this page from a 1912 catalog.

Each crank arm appears to have been located to the crank axle with two short pins. Each crank arm is retained with a lock nut that had a conventional right-hand thread. In the center of the lock nut is a lock screw that the catalog says is LEFT-hand (backwards) thread. Thus, it’s still possible to tighten the parts that you want to loosen. Viva la difference!

The 1913 catalog does not describe any backwards threads. Indeed, from the 1913 illustrations, it appears that a spring lock washer was used under each lock screw, and perhaps this was done in order to finally abandon left-hand threads.