Classic Bike Guide - Real rides, real riders

Little Red Rocket

Hatchets can sometimes be darned difficult to bury, though they can be, shall we say, hidden away. It had begun as a throwaway remark to a fellow Norton enthusiast, from whom I was purchasing a set of Roadholder forks complete with huge four leading shoe front drum.

In the course of conversation I had made comment that the BSA Rocket Three was my dream bike, but finances wouldn’t run to that sort of expense. It was then he told me of one such machine, albeit with a broken piston, residing somewhere in a now defunct Lincoln dealership, owned by a road racer of reasonable national standing at that time. I called on Christmas Eve, just as the workshop staff were heading for the ale house, so agreed to meet up post holiday. Foolishly, I mentioned this fact to a so called friend over the festive period and he duly went and bought it from under me. That must have been 30 years ago but it’s stuck in my craw to this day.

In hindsight, for numerous reasons, I’m glad I never went down that road and from then on, none of the triples have appeared at the top of my wants list. That’s not to say I don’t like the look of them, I just have reasons. However, when a very tidy Mk1 Rocket Three pulled up alongside of me at the 2008 Beezumph, that old attraction pulled at me again. What’s more when the rider removed his helmet, I recognised him as one Paul Bamford, an old pal from vintage racing circles of a few years earlier.

Paul used to race an indecently quick, Stu Rogers tuned Model 50 Norton, with no little success, but as his project management career took off, his racing had to be curtailed.

We swapped telephone numbers and waited for a suitably convenient time for the weather to be fair, Paul to be in the UK and the photographer to be available, which eventually fell into place in May of last year.

The engine of Paul’s Rocket was built on 5 February 1969, and the bike built and shipped out to the USA two days later under consignment number NP578, which makes it one of the very first batch built.

Little is known of its stateside history other than it was discovered by Paul’s father, Mick, at Beno Rodi’s British bike emporium, in Alabama, in 2004, while he was spannering for Inter’ Norton specialist Rogers on one of his American racing trips.

According to Rodi, initially at least there was a great deal of frustration with the triples as the inconsistency of carburation, particularly the jetting, caused poor running and many owners simply gave up on them. As such, for a long time he never had fewer than 20 triples in stock, as he could barely give them away!

However, Mick knows a good bike when he sees one and despite the fact the Rocket had parts missing and incorrect parts fitted, Rodi had brand new, old stock replacement parts on the shelf, including mudguards, ‘raygun’ silencers and the difficult to find air horns. A deal was struck and the bike and parts crated up and shipped home.

Included with the bike was an amazing array of literature, all of which had been exported with it originally, such as sales brochure, manuals, service sheets, even an addendum letter from Albert Close esq, BSA parts manager, to all American dealerships.

Mick Bamford is now in his 80th year but still fettles 11 classics and rides a new Triumph Sprint! He is highly respected in restoration circles, indeed Mick is responsible for reconstituting several motorcycles from the piles of ash, which resulted from the Birmingham museum fire.

On arrival the Rocket was stripped and although found to be generally in good order, there was a tooth missing from third gear, so this was replaced The bores were standard size and well within tolerance, so it’s fair to say that the speedo’ reading of 11,500 miles was probably correct.

The bores needed no more than a hone, but a new pair of better quality pistons (from Rodi) were fitted, along with stronger con-rods and while the engine was down all the bearings were replaced as a matter of course. The stellite face to the cams was replaced and a Mistral electronic ignition replaced the standard points set up. Many of the parts were sourced through LP Williams.

As for the carburation, Mick stripped the 626 Amal Concentrics and spent a painstakingly long time inspecting countless jets under a strong magnifying glass before choosing which to fit. Then it was a case of setting up each carburettor individually – not an easy task and as Paul says, “He would set one up so that cylinder was running right, write down his setting and then sometimes have to put it out of sync’ again in order to hear one of the other cylinders. Once he’d got all the settings, he’d return them all to their individual settings, job done.”

While apart, the clutch assembly was entrusted to former works race team wizard Arthur Jakeman, who lightened and balanced it and fitted a stronger spring. Compared to modern machines, it’s a heavy operation and not one for the weak wristed.

The reason for Mick having undertaken most of the work – apart from the fact that he can – is that Paul spends much of his time working abroad and as such has little time, so who better to entrust the job to than dad!

The original Jones rims were sound but were treated to a new coat of chrome plate and built up by Central Wheel Components. The forks were in top condition as were the rear shock absorbers, so other than a cosmetic, all these parts were reused. The Rocket was also treated to a paint job, matched perfectly to the underside of the fuel tank, an area where the USA sunshine had not reached to bleach. Once it was all back together and up and running, a dating certificate was obtained from the excellent TR3OC and a suitable age related plate was granted, fuss-free, from the Sheffield Licensing Office.

Now while this sounds a harmonious and smooth operation, it was not always thus. Born – in 1959 – and bred around the Barnsley area, Paul and his dad fell out when he was 16 and he took himself down to Plymouth and joined the Royal Navy. He quickly rose through the ranks as electronic systems engineer and became a leading figure in the elite Special Boat Services and later undertook covert operations at the height of the Northern Ireland troubles.

With a dozen years of almost secret service under his cap he left the Navy and joined Phillips Electronics in Cambridge. Having made their peace again and with a genuine, concours, fully faired, Dodkin Venom Clubman in their ownership Paul and Mick fancied the idea of a spot of vintage racing. “When we presented the bike to the scrutineer at Cadwell Park, with a view to entering it, he nearly blew his top, telling us that the bike was far too smart to race and to come up with another machine especially for the task!” says Paul.

That machine turned out to be a 1936 Model 18 Norton, on which Paul finished sixth in his first race. He says, “I was living near Peterborough at the time, not far from Stu Rogers, so I went to see him. He’s a great bloke and a terrific engineer, he kind of took me under his wing and taught me how to use the machine tools. I spent as much time at his place as I did at home then and we built a Featherbed Model 50.

It had a JAP rod, big valves, and John Armstrong made cams, Manx inlet and Inter’ exhaust.” (John Armstrong was a top vintage and classic racer at the time on Andy Savage’s Manx Nortons).

A career move to Shorrocks, in Blackburn followed but when he was made redundant, Paul set up his own Programme Management Consultancy business. Applying the skills learned during his time in the Navy, it was only three years before he was in charge of running the closure of Hong Kong’s Kaitak airport and the construction of a replacement. Since then he has multi million dollar Asian contracts, plus Pan European aeronautical defence and space projects and state of the art networking systems.

It’s clear to see why Mick has undertaken much of the work on the BSA – because Paul’s hardly ever in the UK for more than a few days at a time!

Paul continued to race the Norton for several seasons, moving later to more modern machines, including a 998cc Ducati, which he crashed at Rockingham, in 2004 injuring a shoulder. The Model 50 is still in the garage, though it now sports
a rather trick Triumph engine and, hopefully, will be reappearing at a vintage circuit near you soon!

So, with the history of the bike in the bag and the wonderful array of period literature covered too, it was time to actually sample it.

Straddling the BSA, it did not come across as the big bike it once was, such is our acceptance these days of overly large motorcycles, indeed apart from being a tad on the heavy side, the Rocket’s a dimensionally small motorcycle. Straight bars serve to enhance the feeling too, though I’m sure originally it would have had typical US spec’ high bars. Mick has fabricated a natty little lever device which allows the almost unreachable central carburettor to be ‘tickled’, so with all three carb’s flooded and the ignition switched on, it was just a couple of kicks before the engine burst into life. There is an air lever on the bars, but it does nothing other than pull up a dummy spring, for the chokes have been removed. The ease in which the Rocket started seems to vindicate the notion that they were unnecessary. It takes a few minutes with the tickover screw wound in before the engine is warm enough to idle, and that extra cylinder certainly gives the impression of a busy arrangement before it can be backed off to a more leisurely burble.

With Paul and photographer Baumber ahead in the car, it was in with that heavy clutch, down into first gear and away after them. Take up was smooth, riding position was quite comfortable but the first thing that struck me was the complete lack of any vibration. Over the course of the test, I tried labouring in high gear, buzzing in low gear, yet nothing could persuade the Rocket to induce a vibe, it was quite the smoothest piston engined classic machine I have ridden. On winding open the throttle, there was that trade mark, induction roar, so familiar from the racing triples, and although somewhat muted by the ray guns, somewhere in there was that archetypal triple howl.

Initially I was a little disappointed with the performance until I remembered triple guru Neil Beadling, of Nova Classics, telling me that they have to be buzzed as little happens under 4000rpm. Once the Rocket was spinning in that region, it became a different animal and as the revs rose, so did the speedometer needle! That’s more like it! The over-run through the ray guns was a delight and I deliberately kept the revs high just in order to shut off and listen!

Retardation was superb too – I later learned that the linings are actually the real deal, asbestos. People get ridiculously over-excited about that word these days, but there’s never been a better braking material.

Mick’s work on the carburation has paid dividends because the engine breathed as clean as could be, with ne’er a cough, spit nor splutter anywhere. Once the heavy clutch had warmed up, it didn’t seem quite so heavy after all, unless I’d simply become used to it, and while neutral was available throughout the test, at standstill, once back in Paul’s yard later, it could not be found. Paul called me later to explain that the adjuster had loosened off and once back in its rightful place, normal service was resumed.

The suspension was good, considering the ‘technology’ of the period, soaking up all but the harshest of pot holes but ground clearance was limited. This is not a criticism of Paul’s bike because, for if you look on period photographs, ‘they all do that sir.’ Fearing a footrest or ray-gun induced incident on someone else’s very special motorcycle, I cooled my ardour on the corners, but I could see the appeal of a higher clearance frame arrangement, for these bikes are meant to be ridden. After all they have a good claim to being the first real superbike.

Paul has now covered around 21,000 miles on the Rocket and it never fails to gather a crowd wherever it goes. Indeed, race team boss Jack Valentine – of V and M fame – opened his cheque book, signed a cheque and passed it, along with a ball point, to Paul to complete, such is the appeal. Needless to say, Paul refused the offer.

As we made our way home, I thought back over the last few hours and could fully understand the original appeal of the BSA Rocket Three all those years ago. As much as I’d like to, I’m afraid I can’t dig a hole for that hatchet yet.