Classic Bike Guide - Real rides, real riders

Valiant effort

The horizontally opposed twin cylinder motorcycle, while popular and enduring in Germany and Eastern Europe, gained only reasonable success for the British companies who followed that route. Douglas did OK for a few years but it’s probably fair to say that without the steady stream of constabularies, the LE – hailed as an all year round motorcycle for man, woman and child alike – would have been an unmitigated sales disaster. Velocette’s original effort at 147cc, or even the later 192cc models, were never going to set the world alight, the water-cooled side valvers being designed for only moderate performance, their main claim to fame being the weather protection. For those who wanted a little more zip – and I use the word relatively – they could go for the overhead valve version – the Valiant.

Despite their lowly status, the LE family has a highly passionate following of enthusiasts, none more so than Leek, Staffs, based Brian Day, who has two very different versions of the Valiant.

The little twins have been a part of Brian’s life for over half a century now. He explains, “My elder brother had a 250cc MOV, but when it was my turn to find some everyday transport, my dad said, ‘I’ll buy you an LE because it’s really quiet.’ That was in 1954 and I ran it for years. It was overhauled by the factory initially and then as I got to know it, I maintained it myself.”

The local Velocette dealer was a man called Ron Deville, and in 1959 he took a Valiant Veeline in as part exchange for a Triumph. The little Velo was finished in dark green and complete with the distinctive matching fairing. Priced at around £150, it was beyond the wallet of young Brian – and most other folk around the area too it would seem, because two years later it was still in his showroom.

It had however been noticed. “I fell in love with it from the moment I saw it but couldn’t afford it, so we struck a deal. I refurbished three LEs for Ron and in remuneration he knocked £50 off the Valiant and in 1961 it was mine,” says Brian. However, the family of his girlfriend Carole, now Mrs Day, frowned upon motorcycles and so Brian traded in the Valiant for a Mini van, through Scott Moncrieff, a local Rolls Royce dealership and restorer of the luxury cars. There were few takers for the Veeline, so Brian’s brother Tony, who worked for á them, used the bike, at least until the big ends failed, whence it was stored up.

Initially working on the family farm, Brian moved onto driving HGVs before also taking a job at Scott Moncrieff. He discovered that the now pretty scruffy little Velo’ was still there and what’s more, the log book had never been updated from his name, so in 1971 he bought it back – as far as the official documentation goes then, just two owners from new.

The restoration was undertaken steadily between 1975 and 1978. The wheels were rebuilt with Tagasako steel rims and the cycle parts repainted, the original silencer needed little more than a polish and the all important fairing was sound, though a new screen was sourced and fitted. A regular modification to the LE range is the fitting of a deeper sump and Brian has done just that, so now there are three and a half pints swilling around rather than the stock one and three quarters. He also plumbed in an oil cooler. Since that time the Veeline has behaved very well, though Sod’s Law decreed on the day of our visit it would turn petulant.

Brian switched on the fuel and the ignition and within a couple of kicks it was ticking over nicely in the yard as I donned my gear and Brian prepared his other Valiant for escort duty.

Brian led the way to the chosen venue for our static shots with me following up and Peter in the car behind. We rode from his drive, down the hill a short distance to the junction, but as I pulled away I suddenly found myself with a box full of neutrals and stuck in the middle of the road holding up the traffic as I paddled toward the verge. Brian returned and following a quick inspection pronounced the situation beyond redemption on the day and pushed it back up that hill to his house.

Once he’d got his breath back, he climbed in the car with Peter and I climbed across his second Valiant as we tried again.

Show-goers and Velocette enthusiasts may well have noticed Brian’s Valiant Special already, as it’s dressed up to resemble the factory’s super-model, the Thruxton Venom, with a blue and silver paint job.

He saw the 1957 Valiant advertised in Old Bike Mart in 2005, in Consett, a suburb of Newcastle upon Tyne. “It was semi restored with lots of stainless nuts and bolts but it wasn’t very good. It had odd carburettors and a cracked barrel among other problems, but at least the frame had been powder coated and it was on electronic ignition,” he says. It was the intention from the start to restore it as a special, so the wheels were rebuilt with Morad flanged alloy rims. The front drum was replaced with a Kawasaki item and with a bit of careful work, a Honda twin leading shoe brake plate was mated to it. He says, “I had plenty of spares by this time, so replacing the barrel wasn’t a problem and all the alloy parts were bead blasted at my brother Eric’s, who has his own cabinet.”

The inlet tracts of the tiny cylinder heads were opened out to 23mm, from their standard 16mm, to suit Dell’ Orto carburettors of that size and the exhaust ports smoothed out. New bronze valve guides were fitted though valve size remained standard. The carburettors were mounted on rubber stubs, which Brian made himself and the cylinders were bored to +40. The crank and rods were also polished.

The gearbox was sound and needed no work other than a new sealed bearing. The clutch had already been replaced. Brian has also fitted the deep sump and an oil cooler.

With rear set footrests fitted, the kick-starter could not be operated, so a reversion to the earlier form of hand starting was made – problem solved.

Brian made the seat base and its basic form from wood before passing it over to Martrim, in Middlewich, to pad and cover it in Thruxton blue – a smart job they made too. Stainless steel blade mudguards were sourced from Armours, in Bournemouth, as were the exhaust pipes but Brian made up the megaphones, with end cans formed from a tea caddy and silencing courtesy of wire wool pan scourers.

The forks needed no more than a clean up and the smooth rocker covers were polished and then painted matt black. “Just for the look really,” says Brian. “I originally had clip-ons fitted but they weren’t so comfortable so I replaced them with these,” he adds, pointing to the swan-necked handlebars. New rear shock absorbers came from Hagon.

Brian continued, “I got it finished in late 2006 and it won top prize, first time out at the Bakewell Show in 2007 and then Best Classic Special at Stafford the year after.”

Across the tiny machine, the pilot’s eye view is impressive. There’s a speedometer, ammeter, headlamp switch, a Scitsu rev counter, an oil pressure gauge and a clock, plus not so obvious little mods to the levers, the rear brake pedal and the gear pedal opposite.

The fuel tank came from a Kawasaki. Brian explains, “I puzzled over the tank for ages, I knew roughly what I wanted it to look like and tried no end of different tanks before I found this one which I think looks just right and fits well.” The paint job was undertaken by a friend.

During the course of conversation, Brian explained that the tuned Valiant Special would rev to 8000rpm and clear 80mph – a speed at which he was clocked at a Cadwell Park track day. “I went out first at the Festival of 1000 Bikes, at Mallory, and it was four laps before anyone overtook me,” he says. Impressive, though I had no plans to prove the performance claims, especially having just broken his other machine.

With the engine warmed up we took a brisk ride out to a local water park for the statics. The Special gave forth a very fruity bark from those home-made megaphones, even though I deliberately chose to keep the revs fairly low. The ride was excellent, the forks and suspension remarkably good for such lightweight items on what was, at times, a pretty poor road surface. Winding open the throttle, acceleration was better than expected and we were soon cruising happily around the 55-60mph mark, though one or two fairly lengthy climbs told heavily and a downward shift or two was required to crest them.

Worthy of note also were the brakes, the front was absolutely superb with great grip and no shudders or shakes, likewise the rear would lock the wheel if necessary.

The little Velo attracted a crowd wherever we stopped – or started come to that – and apart from a slight hesitation on opening the throttle from a long overrun, was a real treat to ride, with a featherlight clutch and throttle, smooth gear-change and lovely, lightweight handling.

Having found a suitable corner for Brian and Peter to park up safely, I proceeded to ride back and forth for the camera – that was until something began to make a clonking noise toward the rear of the bike. I pulled in and let Brian have a feel, all the while thinking ‘Oh no don’t say I’ve broken this one too’. Alas, that seemed to be the case and with hazard lights on the car, Peter and I followed Brian as he limped the Special back to base.

Brian was very good about it, though underneath I’m sure he was narked that both his bikes were now broken, and I felt pretty bad too about it, as I’d been aboard on both occasions.

A couple of weeks later, Brian called me to explain that on inspection he had found that the muff coupling on the Veeline – an internally splined joint in the drive shaft – was worn and the splines had finally given up the ghost – just a coincidence that it was me aboard when they did. The Special meanwhile had shed a tooth from the crown wheel and pinion drive in the rear wheel. I have since been informed, by an LE expert, that this may well have been a legacy of a bump start. Thinking back, my attempts at starting on the handle not being as familiar as that of Brian’s, and on occasions unsuccessful, meant we did have to revert once or twice to a push start, so who knows?

It always amazes me how the jungle telegraph works so quickly for when I arrived at work on Monday morning, there were two tiny pictures of a Valiant, one above the other, on my desk – akin to the fighter pilot’s number of kills on his fuselage. Very funny lads, though I fear Brian may not have shared the joke!

It was most unfortunate that both failed on the day, as that might be construed as Brian’s workmanship or my ham-fistedness – but I feel neither would be justified. Having seen elements of Brian’s work, on the bench, I can vouch that it is first class and extremely thorough, likewise I treat everyone’s machine with respect. What’s more both these machines have run faultlessly for many miles previous to this. Unfortunately, neither of us can do much about general wear and tear, or original design. It was really just a bit of bad luck.