Vics Sunbeam
Now, it's all very well these artistic custom chaps building amazing creations that can stop you in your tracks and make your jaw hits the floor but, even with the best will in the world, bikes like Vic Jeffords 'Manhattan' and 'War Horse' are not the most practical modes of everyday transport. So, what does the man behind Destiny Cycles, for example, build when he wants something on which to blat around come Sunday afternoon?
For the last couple of years, a Buell has filled the role of 'useful daily runabout' for Vic. While the Buell is more than capable of rising to the occasion when young Mr Jefford needs a bit of a hooligan jaunt, it's now been joined in his garage by a Sunbeam that could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as 'hooligan'. Far from delinquent tools, the Sunbeam motorcycles of the late 1940s and '50s were gentlemen's tourers, BSA's answer to the BMW. The story began in the late nineteenth century when John Marston started producing bicycles under the 'Sunbeam' trademark. Marston was a perfectionist, and his machines not only had an enclosed oil bath through which the chain ran, but were built to an exceptional high quality - in fact, until production was discontinued in 1936, they remained the best bicycle money could buy.
At the turn of the century, the company had unsuccessfully experimented with fitting engines to bicycles, but that ended when a rider was killed on one of the prototypes. Marston turned to making cars, but when that market suffered an early slump, he was forced - at the age of seventy-five - into reluctantly producing motorcycles, for which there was a greater demand. After the Great War, the Marston Company was sold to a consortium that, in 1919, became part of Nobel Industries Ltd. Eight years later, Nobel Industries merged with Brunner Mond Ltd to form Imperial Chemical Industries - better known as ICI - and suddenly motorcycles were considered a very minor part of this huge concern. However, it was ten years before ICI sold the Sunbeam trademark, when, in 1937, it became the property of Associated Motor Cycles Ltd, which then also numbered AJS, James, Francis-Barnett and Matchless (and, subsequently, Norton) among its stable.AMC made Sunbeam bicycles and motorcycles until
the outbreak of the Second World War before selling the name to BSA in 1943. Sunbeam Cycles Ltd only produced three models from 1946 to 1956 (scooters would continue to be made until the mid-1960s), but that trio was unexpectedly revolutionary. In November 1944, BSA had asked readers of a motorcycle magazine to send in their ideas for a 'machine of the future'. Presumably, having discarded the letters about bikes that could hover or were capable of time travel, the R&D department set about i synthesising all of the ideas submitted by the public. That, at least, is the popular explanation about the birth of the Sunbeam S7, S7 Deluxe and S8. What seems more likely, though, is that the BSA designers actually gained more inspiration from the captured war-time Wehrmacht BMWs that than from the suggestions of magazine readers.
The Sunbeam S7, launched in 1946, had a 500cc twin-cylinder engine, mounted longitudinally in a fully sprung frame which powered a drive shaft rather than a chain. The inline engine made this possible and, after all, BMW flat twins already used shaft drives. Although he had previously built motorcycles, Erling Poppe, the designer of the S7 and S8, was now a car man, brought over from the bus-building division of British Tramways to work on the project. It was not a transition without hiccups - the first Sunbeams had their engines bolted solidly into the frame, and the resulting vibration was so severe as to make the S7 all but unrideable.
With its telescopic forks, plunger rear suspension and sprung saddle, the S7 had been envisaged as a tourer. There was a 'Sports' model with a much higher compression ratio which - for reasons that have never been disclosed -never went into production. Only around two thousand S7s were produced between 1946 and 1949, when it was superseded by the S7 Deluxe and its sister, the S8, a cheaper, less sophisticated and sportier model. But even these two models would last only until 1956, although, ironically, John Marston might have approved the reason for halting production. Although there are those who would argue that it was because Sunbeam didn't modernise and update the design, the reason was actually that the standard finish was so high on the S7 and S8 that its only options were to price itself out of the market or to lower manufacturing quality. Rather than resort to the latter and produce a shoddier product, Sunbeam simply stopped building motorcycles.
About the time that the Sunbeam production line was shuddering to a final halt, two Yorkshire brothers, Ken and Raymond, were beginning to get interested in motorcycling. By the end of the 1960s that interest had turned into a fully-fledged passion; Ken raced Norton grass track and sand-track outfits, while Ray had been a works rider for the Triumph factory trials' team, and so well regarded that when Steve McQueen visited Triumph in the UK, it was with Ray that he stayed. But, back in their own village, it was the brothers, not the American film star, who were regarded as heroes by one little boy.
That lad was one Victor B Jefford, and from the age of seven or so, he would pester Ray and Ken, hanging around their workshops, listening to their stories, and picking up as much practical knowledge and mechanical skills as he could. In 1974, he was passenger to Ken in the Wensleydale 2-Day Sidecar Trial. Vic was just twelve years old. The experience might have put some youngsters off of motorcycles for good, but not in this case, and Vic went on to have a successful career as a sidecar rider.
Soon afterwards, Ken moved house, and, as he was clearing out stuff, he gave Vic a couple of old motorcycle yearbooks. In one of those annuals was a full-page advert for the Sunbeam S7. It was love at first sight and, despite the many bikes that he's subsequently owned and built, Vic has always harboured a desire for an S7. As those among you wearing classic anoraks will have already spotted, he hasn't quite achieved that dream yet, although he also accepts that this is a pretty good second.
Rather than the coveted S7, this is an S8, a model that differed in several ways from its more expensive contemporary. The S8 cost around £185 in 1949 and. although cheaper than the S7 Deluxe, was marketed as the 'Sports' option. The frame had a more conventional saddle arrangement instead of the S7's cantilevered seat, while the forks were similar to a standard BSA A7/A10 front end, although the yokes were wider. One of the most noticeable differences was the use of slimmer tyres in place of the S7's 'balloon' tyres. The sporty look was complete by an aluminium silencer, one of those striking classic items that costs a fortune to replace, although, surprisingly, since 1949, there has never been a time when Sunbeam spares have been unavailable.
What drew Vic to the S8 that he stumbled across while on a foray to Rufforth autojumble was that it was virtually complete? In bits, it must be said, but basically all there, nonetheless. Vic admits that it was an impulse buy, which is not a phrase you often hear a Yorkshireman use. The decision to buy was finally made when his friend, Ako, offered to take the pile of bits to his home and store them for a while. I suspect that Ako's idea of 'a while' was a couple of weeks. It was somewhat more than that... No-one can remember if it was ten or twelve months, but Vic says it was longer than Ako had wanted!
Once the S8 was finally at Vic's North Yorkshire home, he had to decide what to do with it. His prime concern was that it would be as cheap a build as possible, while his good lady, Lin, put her foot down and told him that it couldn't eat into business time, and that he could only work on it on Sundays!
The first move was to check the engine over. Vic took the head and sump off, gunked down the latter, flushed it through and then put everything back together. The engine started on the third kick. As the clutch and gearbox both worked, they - like the engine - were left untouched.
While Vic didn't want to embark on major changes
- in the Destiny Cycles' workshop small modifications tend, like Topsy, to grow and grow, and he didn't have the time, space or cash to undertake a full scale project
- he decided that the bike deserved a little more than just a standard rebuild.
So the tank and mudguards were powdercoated satin black and the wheels red, with Melissa Gee adding the finishing touches with hand pinstriping. The seat came from Mid West Choppers, while Derek donated the handlebars. Woody, the talented young chap whose amazing milling skills (none of that CNC malarkey here!) is increasingly to be found on Destiny Cycles' bikes, made a new set of yokes that are slightly wider than standard. Fellow builder, Richard Millard, came up with a pair of W&W tyres to fit the re-laced wheels, but, other than that, everything else is standard Sunbeam S8.
Although most components were salvageable (apart from, unfortunately, that exhaust, and the bike now boasts a one-off Destiny Cycles' system which would certainly pass muster for the real thing), one or two parts had to be replaced. For these Vic turned to Stewart Engineering in Leamington Spa, which is not only the sole UK parts supplier for late model Sunbeams, but which also boasts the ultimate experts on the marquee. Much to his horror, Vic had to buy a new kickstart, ammeter and a replica headlight, but his Yorkshire sensibilities kicked in when it came to purchasing a new speedo. Even on eBay, one would cost £60 (half the retail price), which he decided was just too dear! It has to be admitted that a new speedo would have sent the cost of the project rocketing. After all, since buying the S8, he's spent a whole £250 on this particular build...
Vic stuck by his promise to only work on the Sunbeam in his spare time, but the whole rebuild still took him just a month - and not a month of Sundays, either! The finished bike tends to divide opinion; some people love its hot rod looks and unusual choice of engine, while those of a more purist bent are horrified that Vic has seemingly cannibalised a classic motorcycle. But, what most of the latter brethren don't realise is that it would probably take Vic no more than a day to restore the S8 to its original standard trim before he could take to the moor roads in his gentleman touring tweeds, leather-trimmed goggles and flat cap. And I fully expect to see that one day.