Part
10 of a series on the restoration of a 1961 Triumph
By Jan of West
Virginia Bikers husband John.
It was the summer of 2001. Janet and I were running around the hills
on an old 1973 Ironhead Sporster. You know the type - a noisy, leaky,
chain driven, AMF Harley Davidson Sporster. It was lean, quick and often
hard to start but it was faster than hot moonshine on a cold winter's
night. There was always some kind of problem, yet it was fun to ride.
Janet helped me change the starter bendix a couple of times, helped with
tune-ups, changed plugs and adjusted the chain. During those times she
often mentioned her desire to ride her own machine again. We rode, and
rode, and rode all that summer and late into the fall.
As the air turned cold, and the snow began to fly, it was time again
to get the old Jeep up and running. You've got to have four wheel drive
in the snow here in the hills. With a new battery, a can of starter fluid,
and a set of keys, Janet and I attacked the old Jeep. We moved all the
summer stuff from behind it, started it up, pulled it out of the weeds,
and there, right there, was my old Triumph 650. I knew it was back there
but I don't think Janet had a clue. Her eyes got wide as she tilted her
head to one side. She walked over through the weeds and touched it. I
knew right then that this was going be trouble.
The Triumph TR6SR - One carb. It is the object of simplicity. I must
have ridden that thing for 8 or 9 years. When the Sporster came along
for the price of putting it together, and I rode a machine with rear shocks
for the first time, I pretty much forgot about riding that old hardtail.
I remember the last time I had it out. I rode it a whole weekend. Then
I rode it home, parked it under the pine tree, covered it with plastic,
and pretty much figured it would be worth something in later years.
Now it was just parked and ageing. The weeds had grown around, and through,
the wheels, frame, and cables. As the years went by, the paint flaked,
the seat grew splits, and rust began appearing. I would look at it from
time to time. I even went through the trouble of rolling the engine over
to be sure it didn't freeze up. The cables were shot. Even the wires were
loosing their plastic coating. I had planned on doing a good restoration
job when I ever got around to it, but you know how life is - "sometimes
ya just can't buy a roundtoit". Oh my, there is Janet running her
hands over the thing.
With one of those sinking feelings in the pit of my stomach, I got out
the jeep, walked over to the old Triumph, and with a jerk on the handlebars,
pulled it upright. The wheels had sunk into the ground. We brushed off
bits and pieces of old plastic, grabbed hold of the sissy bar and the
handlebars, and gave it a good jerk. Yep, those wheels refused to turn.
The brakes had grown to the drum and the disc. With much effort, we pushed,
pulled, and literally dragged the Triumph over in front of the garage.
Then we found a good piece of wood and set the frame on top of that log.
The Triumph sat there most of the winter. I would often see Janet looking
closely at it - touching the spokes, toying with the throttle grip, touching
the seat. She never again expressed any interest in riding - until I started
building bikes….
I ordered one of those kits - 100 cubic inch engine and a frame with
shocks. It was cold in February, and I had motorcycle parts all over the
living room. That's when I decided it was time to get some paint for this
new machine. That's also when Janet decided she wanted Candy Apple Red
for the old Triumph.
Ok, off to the nearest paint store (1 1/2 hours away). I purchased my
paint with no problem, but Janet wished to know all there was about paint.
I think after about 10 minutes of being explained to about paint, mixing,
finishing, and preparation, she was pretty lost. Anyhow, she finally decided
on black. We went back to the house in the hills. I was ready to paint
my frame. Janet just looked forlorn.
We pulled the Triumph into the garage. I handed her a box of wrenches
and told her she had to take the thing apart before she could begin preparing
for paint. After about a week, she had most of the parts in a cardboard
box, the engine on the floor, the wheels up against the wall, and the
frame standing alone in the garage floor. "What's next?" she
asked. I gave her a little grinder with a wire wheel and told her, "You'll
figure it out." I didn't know then that this was going to be a phrase
I would use often over the next 7 months.
Janet was so proud of herself for using that wire wheel right down to
the metal cone that holds the wires - no wires left. Then she asked about
how to get the paint out of the little cracks and crevices in the frame.
I kind of grinned, turned on the air compressor, dumped a couple of bags
of playsand in a 5 gallon plastic bucket, sunk the suction end of the
sandblaster in the sand, plugged in the air hose, and handed it to Janet.
She looked at me real funny when I said that phrase for the second time.
"You'll figure it out".
It took a couple of days, but she finally got all that paint off the
frame. I showed her how to mix up some primer paint. Then I turned her
loose with the paint gun. Geeze o Pete! Runs, drips, errors, and paint
on the truck, jeep, rocks, grass, trees, and especially on her. The frame
was definitely well primed. It was time for 400 grit sandpaper. She looked
at me questioningly. I pointed to a really big run and once again said
that magic phrase.
Oh my, I thought she was going to cry. She did a little better with the
black paint, and by the time she started with the clear coat, she had
become nearly run free. It only took her about half a dozen tries before
that frame shined like brand new. I guess she thought she was finished,
because she had the look of a little girl in a candy store who couldn't
have candy when I handed her the front fender.
After 3 wire wheels, 4 bags of playsand, 2 more trips to the paint store,
and making a repair on the paint gun, she finally had all the parts painted.
It must have been sometime in April by then when she asked, "What's
next?" Hmmm, my new machine is already running, and I am starting
on a second one, and it's riding time. Oh my. So I gave her a stick of
polishing rouge, turned on the buffing wheel, handed her the handlebars
and told her the rust has to leave.
She jumped right on polishing. Her father was a jeweler so she knew a
few things about buffing metal. But this wasn't gold or silver. This was
chrome, aluminum, and steel. These parts weren't smooth and round either.
They were of irregular shapes, had sharp edges, and were large and small.
You know how a buffing wheel will grab a corner when you're not gentle
enough with it? - The way it grabs that object right out of your hands
and flings it across a room? I just could not bear to watch. It actually
looked dangerous. She would have a piece taken from her hands and thrown
into the wall, then onto the floor. She would immediately bend down and
pick it up. I though for sure her hair was going to get caught in the
buffing wheel. It was a long process, but by the time May came around,
she had all the parts clean and shiny.
Yep, every thing was sparkling - that is, all but the rusty spokes. So
I showed her how to cut them off. Then I produced a package with new shiny
spokes. I handed her the Triumph manual turned to the right page, and
once again told her, "You'll figure it out." I bet she twisted
on those spokes for a week getting that rim true, then it must have been
another week with playing with home-made wheel weights made from led poured
into a socket, cut, drilled, placed on the spokes, and shaving it lighter
and lighter till the wheel would stop in a different position every time
it was turned. Then the next dreaded question, "What's next?"
It must have been the first part of June when I pushed the Jeep engine
block into a corner, brought in a pair of sawhorses, and placed the frame
on those horses. Janet was so excited. I had not seen her this happy since
the day we originally pulled that old machine into the garage. She was
going to begin assembly. Little did she know that I had forgotten so much
about the old antique that some of the parts were going to be assembled
incorrectly, taken off, and put back correctly. On some of those parts,
it worked that way two or three times.
With mid-summer rides to take, work to perform, and so many projects
to do, I'm not sure if I can describe just how frustrating it is to be
under a vehicle with grease up to my armpits and having a wife ask, "What
do I do with this?" Arrrghhhh - Out from under the buggy, into the
garage, look at the part in question, and realize I had forgotten. Then
I would say something like, "It only goes one way. You'll figure
it out." Now I know that lots of those things can go different ways,
but they will only work in one way. One good example is the rocker boxes
- after the engine is in the cradle of the frame, the rocker boxes go
on. When I told her "Yep looks good." She then asked, "What
are these little metal stick looking things?" "Pushrods,"
I replied. Hummmmmmm
I have to hand it to her though. Janet learned how to make gaskets, twist
nuts and bolts, fit fenders, lace up wheels, and adjust the air compressor.
I must admit I was kind of blown away when I looked outside one day and
found her with the sandblaster cleaning a big aluminum pot that I had
burned dinner in the night before. I figured we would just get a new cooking
pot, but not Janet. She cleaned it with the sandblaster, and it still
works just fine.
Fasteners were a problem. Since this was originally a British bike it
used Whitworth nuts and bolts. When I got the thing in a cardboard box,
and a couple of buckets, I didn't have anywhere to find Whitworth parts.
The guy who gave it to me made sure I had plenty of Whitworth parts for
the engine and transmission, but the frame was on me. Taps, Dies, and
good old USofA nuts and bolts put that thing together. Over the years,
I found several suppliers of Brit stuff and still use them on the engine.
But this time, I wanted Stainless Steel nuts and bolts. Poor Janet, I
would make a list for her to take to the local hardware store (1 hour
away) and she would come home with the fasteners, but they would be kind
of weird. Like a 3/8 inch course thread bolt with a 3/8 inch fine thread
acorn nut. I often wonder if the guys at the hardware store were playing
some kind of joke on her. To this day, we still have a collection of nuts
and bolts that I believe are metric.
The wiring went pretty easily. I drew a diagram for her of the dirty
Zenier diode/full wave bridge rectifier that I had made years before.
That Zenier diode is what Lucas (the prince of darkness) electronics uses
to charge the batteries. It's an ok system, but you sure can't run a stereo
off of it. Janet ran the wires, tested the bulbs, coil, and switches with
a trickle charger. She then made her own diagram as to which wire goes
where. I showed her how to join wires and solder them together. Toward
the end, I could not figure why the solder wasn't melting into the wire.
After looking around, I realized that she was trying to solder with the
soldering iron unplugged. I think it's a good thing she has a sense of
humor. I just walked back in the house when she asked why the solder wasn't
melting. I just told her, "You'll figure it out."
It was the last weekend in August and I was looking' at getting that
jeep engine block out of the corner, and the Triumph off the sawhorses.
There was just one more thing missing - the kickstand return spring. You
sure can't put a motorcycle on the ground without a kickstand, and the
kickstand has to work properly. I was pretty sure it was on there when
Janet dismantled it. By now, I'm pretty tired of the bike taking up my
work space. So when she asked what to do about that spring and I must
have been a little huffy when I said, "You'll figure it out."
I worked out of town that following week, and had decided to just let
her take care of the spring herself. I didn't even give her a clue. The
fact of the matter is that I had had enough of the Triumph. I wanted to
pull the jeep in and swing the engine. I wanted to ride. I just wanted
the old Triumph finished. When I got home later that week, the first thing
I noticed was that the screen door wouldn't close itself. I looked, and
the spring had been removed from the door! Well, at least it was replaceable.
Yep, it was there on the kickstand, much shortened, but the thing worked.
Good job Janet!
It was the first weekend of September and the Triumph was running! Yeeeeee
Hawwwww! The first trip was down to the local fuel station for a fresh
tank of gas. There were a few carb problems and some timing problems,
but nothing major. At least not until it was time to start it for the
ride home. The kick lever broke there where it attaches to the round thing
that makes the whole thing roll over inside the case - No cure for that
one (or so I thought). I spent hours trying to locate a machine shop that
could weld it up and drill it out to Whitworth size. I wasn't having any
luck. It amazed me how many machine shops didn't even know what Whitworth
was. Finally, a couple of days later, a brand new shiny chrome kick lever
arrived from our friends at Domi Racer of Cincinnati. Yep, an honest to
goodness British kick lever made just for that machine. Great going Janet!
You ordered the correct part. Now it was time to ride.
Off we went - Me on the big VTwin and Janet on her Triumph. She was all
smiles as we cruised through the mountains. We rode up and down hills,
around the turns, avoiding towns, and just cruising. There we were, having
the time of our summer as solo riders with the wind in our faces. Then,
for some unknown reason, my VTwin just dies. Nothing. No spark even though
there was plenty of gas. It was a mystery to me. Janet pulled up, shut
the Triumph down and gave me that questioning look. I shrugged my shoulders.
Janet tickles that old amal carb, flicks on the switch, fires up her bike
puts it in gear, and says, "You'll figure it out," as she released
the clutch and rode on into the mountains.
Jan is a resident of West Virginia, the boss of Hawk Mountain Trading
and the webmaster of West
Virginia Bikers. To learn more about her, check out her biography
or visit her web site.
