Matchless Silver Hawk

The Silver Hawk was created in tough economic times during the era of the Great Depression. A new generation of the Collier family had not long taken the helm of the Matchless concern and, although finances were tight, Harry, Bert and Charlie Collier were keen to incorporate cutting edge innovation in the designs of their new luxury models. The British motorcycling scene had been dominated by single-cylinder bikes for many years, but 'multis' were becoming all the rage. Two cylinders might not seem very exciting now, but back then any motorcycle with more than one lung was considered to be a bit daring. The Colliers kept pace with Edward Turner who introduced the Square Four over at Ariel. Ariel's first four was a 500; Matchless countered with a 400cc narrow-angle V-twin, the Silver Arrow, and then the 600cc four-cylinder Hawk.

The V-twin Silver Arrow wasn't a great success although it pioneered several of the features which Bert Collier adopted for the Hawk. The Arrow was sophisticated but not particularly fast; comfortable and quiet, but not quick. It was adored by the press (it gave them plenty to write about!) but sold slowly, so something with a greater turn of speed was called for. The V4 Silver Hawk delivered the goods with a four-cylinder, 592cc, 26bhp engine capable of propelling the motorcycle to 85mph. Importantly, the Hawk also had a chassis and suspension to match its engine's potential.

In their own words, the Colliers described the Silver Hawk as; 'the most fascinating machine to ride that has ever been built. It combines the silence, smoothness and comfort of the most expensive motor car with a Super-Sports performance. On top gear alone, the machine will run from as low as 6mph to over 80mph, while the acceleration given by the four-cylinder overhead camshaft engine in conjunction with the four-speed gearbox must be experienced to be believed. This is the only four-cylinder machine in the world equipped with a Spring Frame.'

The new Matchless motor was essentially two narrow-angle V-twins mounted side by side on a one-piece cast block, with a single-piece cylinder head housing a bevel-driven overhead camshaft. Both V-twins had crankshafts which were set across the frame and thus avoided a 90-degree turn in the transmission (although an alternative layout might have turned the engines through a right angle and used a shaft drive to the rear wheel. That suggestion might be 80 years too late to be of any help…)

The four valves in the top end were completely enclosed and well lubricated, and could be easily accessed by hand to be adjusted. Fuel was delivered to the combustion chamber by a single, centrally mounted Amal carb. The compact engine used roller bearing big ends and a chunky, built-up, two-throw crankshaft that featured substantial cheeks which doubled as flywheels. Positively lubricated phosphor bronze bushes were at either end of the crankshaft with a central roller bearing. The oil tank lived at the front of the engine, by the frame downtube, and bolted directly to the crankcase, thus removing the need for unsightly external oil lines. It is indeed a very tidy design, as you can see from the photos.

Four gear ratios were normally selected by hand; the primary drive chain lived in an oil bath and final drive was also by chain. Drive for the Lucas dynamo/coil ignition system was provided by skew gears from the vertical camshaft tower on the right of the engine, which itself is decorated with the most glorious model badge to ever grace a motorcycle. (I'm not biased. No. Not in the slightest).

With dimensions of 51mm by 73mm, the Hawk retained the relaxed, long-stroke feel of many vintage engines, helped by its mild compression ratio of 6.1:1. Although the Hawk's engine suffered somewhat from overheating (less than did the Square Four of the period), it was extremely easy to start and could be turned over by hand. Once on the move it would pull smoothly from below 10mph in top gear, although the model's much-vaunted smooth sophistication lessened as it neared its top velocity. Matchless claimed that the Hawk engine was 'vibrationless and silent in operation and capable of very high output', Cyril Ayton reckoned that 'the Hawk seemed to become more frenzied with increasing speed'. By contrast Ariel's Square Four gained a reputation for more effortless acceleration - but we should remember that it wasn't until a whole half century later that Honda finally cracked the basics of a competent V4 motorcycle engine.

However, the V4 engine wasn't the only remarkable thing about the Silver Hawk. It used a similar chassis to the Arrow, with an extremely advanced form of rear suspension. The cantilever triangulated system featured two springs set horizontally underneath the separately spring saddle, with two mechanical friction dampers on either side of the springs. This really did live up to its potential and worked well with the girder forks (which could be adjusted by the rider while on the move) at the front, providing a supremely comfortable ride for the time.

The Colliers also included an adjustable linked braking system on the Hawk. 'The brakes are well engineered' said Titch Allen, who found that the eight-inch drums worked extremely well with the rear suspension, although he wasn't a great fan of the linked system. 'I cannot get used to the forks chattering under braking when I have only used the footbrake.

Another innovation was the sprung centrestand - rarely seen at the time, when front or rear wheel stands were the norm. Matchless also offered the option of a positive stop, foot controlled gearchange, for purchasers willing to spend an additional 30 bob. The 370lb Silver Hawk was the top of the range machine and in De Luxe trim came with full electric lighting and horn, a proper ignition switch and indicator light, speedo and oil indicator. If you wanted the detachable luggage carrier it would cost you an extra fifteen shillings, however!

Apart from some issues with overheating when run at high speeds for sustained periods, the first version of the Hawk also had a habit of guzzling oil (a modification for 1932 helped with that problem). Setting up the bevel gears correctly was tricky for home mechanics, so it was common for them to whine or rattle in a manner which would feel very familiar to owners of much later bevel-drive Ducati twins.

The Silver Hawk cost £72 new in 1933; £5 more than Ariel's Square, and the price of the Matchless rose to nearly £79 in the four years of its production run. Just 550 Silver Hawks were sold between 1931 and 1935. These days the Silver Hawk sells for between £30,000 and £45,000 depending on its condition. A complete and unrestored example, in 'barn find' condition, sold for £28,000 in 2009. A recently restored Hawk fetched £35,000 at auction in October 2010; that bike looked very handsome indeed but was effectively a museum piece.

In 1931 Torrens of The Motor Cycle reported that 'at 50mph the engine of the machine was unnoticeable and barely a sound from engine or exhaust could be heard. The spring frame was excellent and the only guide to its presence was the exceptional comfort of the machine.' The handling was 'just about perfect; there was no tail wag, chopping or pitching, even when roughish bends were taken nearly flat out.' He believed that 'no finer machine had ever left the Matchless works, and that on all-round performance it had very, very few rivals.'

Mick Walker reckons that the Silver Hawk was 'in many ways a brilliant design which was unfortunate enough to be conceived at just the wrong moment in history… The majority of customers for whom the Silver Hawk had been designed were simply unable to make a purchase of such a luxury item in those times of economic gloom… It was a notable design worthy of a better fate.

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1941 Matchless G3L WD

The G3L was an extremely popular DR's mount during WW2 because, unlike most other machines, it was fitted with Teledraulic front suspension. This made for a much more comfortable ride than did the standard girder forks fitted to most other military machines. By the end of the war, Matchless had built over 80,000 G3 and G3L motorcycles for the armed forces. The 'L' stands for 'Light', reflecting the fact that the prewar G3 was a substantial machine and it needed to lose some 60lb to be put into service during the conflict. After the war, the first civilian G3Ls were much the same as the military machines - but they were painted black instead of green.

If you are considering buying a similar G3L today, then you can expect to pay between £1700 and £3000. It's cheaper to buy one in civilian trim because the military motorcycles have developed something of a cult following, and finding exactly the correct WD equipment can get very tricky. However, you can find later G3s in military trim because the MOD continued to use the bikes into the 1960s.

Basil's Matchless was restored to standard spec for a WW2 machine and was given 'a first class total rebuild' without any obvious modifications 'so it's accurate for the period', and Basil reckons it is 'perfect… just as you would expect a military machine to be.'

He recommends Russell Motors for their 'good service' and Hawker Electrical for their electronic dynamo regulator.

Since the rebuild Basil has clocked up around 3000 miles, taking the 350cc single to shows and galas and on club runs. It always attracts attention. 'When we do shows it's amazing how many chaps of that era come and tell you tales from the days when we all served our country' says Basil. 'Then they ask if they can sit on it and have their photo taken!'

So Basil is really happy with how the G3L turned out, even though he didn't set out to own one.

'It's a belter and has won lots of trophies. You just couldn't make it any better than it is. It's ready for anything!'

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Ducati Sebring 350

The 340cc overhead cam Sebring appeared first in 1966 and was Ducati's first venture into the 350 class following the success of its smaller OHC singles. Oddly, considering that this model was the touring version, it gained its name from the racetrack in the USA where Franco Farne successfully campaigned the prototype racer in 1965, winning his class and coming a respectable eleventh overall (he was racing in an open class against 650 twins). Rumour has it that Farne's bike still circulates the American classic scene, and was clocked at 113mph at Daytona.

The production Sebring engine was of near-square dimensions, 76mm by 75mm, running 8.5:1 compression, fed by a single Dell'Orto 24mm carb. It output 20bhp at 6250rpm which equated to around 80mph. It made the most of that modest output with a five-speed gearbox and 'the kind of handling that inspires confidence' according to Ducati's literature.

Dave Minton collected his test bike in the pouring rain in November and proceeded to ride 2089 miles on it, covering the classic Le Jog route and only stopping when the rain turned to heavy snow.
Rain began not half an hour after I left London for Cornwall and steadily worsened throughout the trip, but the Sebring motored along quite happily. We must have looked an odd pair - the gleaming silver and black Italian lightweight and what must have appeared to be a wet, loosely stuffed bell tent… Luckily the Ducati was not one of the sports models for which the factory is so famous: had it been the ride might have had a very different conclusion. As it was, its low bottom gear and touring riding position were just right.
Once in Cornwall, the Ducati required no servicing other than a pint of oil in the sump and oiling of the rear chain. It was covered in mud and spray but not a trace of oil stained the engine / gearbox unit. Now that, coupled with it vibration-free performance, is what endeared it to me. I would be willing to wager that this machine would travel further, with less trouble, than the vast majority of motorcycles.
On we went, in a manner most undignified for a touring motorcycle but eminently suitable for covering many miles in a short time. I was approaching corners at higher speeds than I was accustomed to and leaving braking until quite late, and in perfect safety, even to the point of braking while cornering. No doubt the modest power output contributed much to this feeling.
I found the rear brake exceptionally good; my usual reaction is to leave the rear well alone for most serious braking and to use it as no more than a steadying device, but the one on this machine was very good, requiring pretty hard pedal pressure to lock it but being powerful and responsive. The front brake however was in a class of its own. Like the Triumph 8-inch front brake it is a single leading-shoe device, with none of the fierceness of so many twin leading-shoe units. It is as good to look at as it is to use, moreover, so typical of Italian alloy castings.
The brake holds the speedometer drive; sensible idea, this, as it should contribute to accurate readings, for the cable is short, free from engine oil and rev surges. But, as seems usual on Ducatis, the speedo itself is a poor instrument. It is completely undamped. Road shocks and engine vibration had as much effect on the position of the needle as did cable revolutions; indeed, while trying for quarter-mile times it was possible, according to the speedo, to obtain 70mph and no more in every gear save bottom.
On the A1 I had time to think of the bike, its saddle and handlebars, exhaust note, lighting, controls, fuel and oil reservoirs, consumption, etc. As with all Italian seats this one felt too hard initially but over a distance of 2000 miles I never once felt uncomfortable. The exhaust note was too loud and too penetrating. All the controls were light - the clutch especially. It's a normal multi-plate type but has the great advantage of running in oil. Consequently it was impossible to make malfunction despite my slipping it for minutes on end. The oil it runs in lubricates the engine and gearbox also and that is a marvellous idea. No messy external oil pipes, no oil tank, no separate filters for the gearbox or primary drive.
A brief loss of lighting was traced to a loose connection in the wiring loom. Then on the road to Wick the Sebring came into its own. Top speed was immaterial; roadholding and braking were of paramount importance. I seriously doubt that any machine could have covered the distance much faster, for though the road was damp we flew along. The gears, with the exception of first which was too low, were well placed and close enough to cover all conditions. Top made an excellent cruising gear although it was not so high as to be an 'overdrive.' The low-speed power of the Sebring allowed it to be brought into use quite early, from 40mph, but - not unnaturally - there was not much acceleration available in this gear at low speeds.
I began to wish for more performance but the snag here is the Sebring's tiny carburettor which, although contributing to good fuel economy and low-speed tractability, strangles any tendency to high revving. For all that, this 350 is a machine capable of breaking the speed limit by 15mph and, what's more, cruising at that speed indefinitely and economically.
Over the entire journey, frequently running at the Sebring's maximum cruising capacity, the bike averaged 63mpg.
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Ducati Elite 200

In 1960, Ducati built a single-cylinder four-stroke 200 which was capable of 85mph, and which still turns heads today. Richard Jones says he's a sucker for anything that is red and Italian and when he visited the CBG Winter Classic at the start of the year, he found plenty to fascinate him on the Italian Motorcycle Owners' Club stand. Among the scarlet darlings, Richard discovered this 1960 Ducati Super Sports Elite, looking every bit the show-stopper with its scalloped petrol tank and copper-coloured chassis (although we're not entirely sure that the front suspension units would have been quite so colour matched originally!)

The Elite is one of half a dozen narrow-case, overhead cam singles which Ducati built at the start of the 1960s. All stemmed from the Gran Sport 100, designed by Fabio Taglioni and which first appeared in 1954. The Gran Sport was stunningly successful in the two years that followed in the Moto Giro d'Italia and Milano-Taranto races, and a 175cc roadster soon followed. The sporting 'Silverstone', as it was known in the UK, could exceed 80mph which caused something of a stir and certainly helped to establish Ducati's reputation for building mighty mites which punched way beyond their weight. It was a very timely lifeline for the firm who were suffering along with the rest of the Italian industry as motorcycle sales slumped at home and exports became rather more important.
The Elite was then introduced for 1959 by boring the 175cc single out to 67mm to give 204c. Fuel was delivered by a Dell'Orto UB24 while the piston ran 7.8:1 compression which equated to 18bhp at 7500rpm. The Elite weighed a nifty little 111kg, less than 250lb. This meant that the tiny 200 was genuinely capable of reaching 85mph - or, if you took it steady, could return over 80mpg.
The all-alloy, unit construction, air-cooled engine was one of the first production Ducatis to feature the firm's iconic bevel drive to the overhead cams. The customer bikes differed from the racers by having their hairpin valve springs fully enclosed, and utilised a flywheel alternator, distributor and rectifier for their electrics. The Elite employed a four-speed constant mesh gearbox with preselector gear engagement and multiplate wet clutch, all of which provided 'first class' cog swapping 'with positive, foolproof changes.'
The open cradle, single downtube frame was made of 'highly resistant steel tubing' and 'built on smart lines' (hard to argue!) but while the rear shocks were adjustable, the front forks were not. Braking came courtesy of two drums; 180mm at the front and 160mm at the back.
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Douglas Dragonfly

Once upon a time there was Douglas, a family firm based in Bristol. That time was 1900 or so. The three brothers, William, Arthur and Edward, started out as blacksmiths but soon turned their business into a foundry, and that concern then took up with the new-fangled forms of motorised transport. Douglas were building some components for a company which failed, Light Motors Ltd, and Douglas took on Light's projects and its designer, Joseph J Barter, when it finally folded. For 50 long years after 1906 Douglas built opposed-twin engined bikes - flat twins that is, boxers, like those modern beefy Bavarians - around the designs of JJ Barter.
Douglas built a range of sidevalve twins and (mostly) ohv twins, dedicating themselves to the pursuit of quality. The flat-twin engine configuration provided a low centre of gravity, was evenly balanced and well cooled. Douglas machines proved themselves in competition, and so the company won big chunks of the WW1 supply contracts, making thousands of motorcycles for the military which also found their way onto the civilian market once de-mobbed.Douglas experimented with the first type of disc brakes on a two-wheeler in the 1920s. They were even the first British marque to try their hand a purpose-building a speedway machine.
The bikes were generally good performers, although quality control was patchy and reliability was something to be striven for and not necessarily achieved. Didn't stop King George V owning a Douglas in the 1920s, which rather boosted the bike's standing as a status symbol. The Douglas concern broadened during these years to take on aeroplane engines, tractors, trucks, cars. Then came the Great Depression (which was an historical period, you understand, and not merely an understanding that Nothing Good comes out of a judicial enquiry) and the Douglas family exited stage left, c1932.
The Douglas company was taken over by BAC and reorganisation and a touch of streamlining followed, which allowed prices to be reduced somewhat. The range stabilised to incorporate standard models at 250, 350, 500 and 600cc. There was also a remarkable beastie of 498cc, the Endeavour, which was a transverse mounted flat-twin, with a unit construction engine and shaft drive. It bristled with unusual touches - a hand gearchange when everyone else was swapping to foot; a clutch which was so light you could operate it with one little finger. There was a huge kerfuff about this model when it was first seen in 1934. But the Endeavour was nearly twice as expensive as the normal 500cc Douglas, so you can imagine what came of it in the long run. Maybe 50 were built and sold - wonder how many are left today? (The 148cc 2-stroke of the same period didn't go down a storm, either).

After WW2, financial restraint forced Douglas to concentrate on their 348cc flat-twin design, with its ohv motor mounted transversely across the frame, pots cheekily poking out into the cooling breeze. Douglas bikes weren't unusual in this respect alone; they employed ingenious approaches to motorcycle suspension in their quest for 'higher touring speed and less rider fatigue.' Their torsion-bar spring frame and Radiadraulic forks were supposed to even out all the lumps and bumps of 1950's road surfaces, and give the rider an armchair to relax into. For a stunt, factory riders bounced the current model up and down kerbs at 30mph - although we can't recommend that you try this at home, children!
(Although the torsion-bar suspension seemed impressive it came with its own drawbacks, not least the need for frequent greasing. It was also undamped so, while things were fine with a pillion on the back, reports from the time suggest that it was rather like taking a trip on top of Skippy the Bush Kangaroo when riding solo).
Douglas also became the British importer / constructor for Vespa scooters as the 1950s took off - a sideline which eventually developed into the company's only connection with the two wheeled world. But for the 1951 Motor Cycle Show, Douglas presented a new 498cc twin. Its cycle parts were developed from those of the existing Mark V 348cc model - torsion bar rear suspension and Radiadraulic forks. The huge difference was the monster motor which seemed to have been barely squeezed into the duplex frame. Although under the skin it shared many characteristics with the 350, it looked wildly different as it had a be-finned casting under the tank, encompassing the magdyno and air cleaner. The shape of the cylinder heads and rocker covers changed too, becoming sleeker and streamlined. It was a bold attempt at a handsome, touring motorcycle for the heyday of the British bike industry, but Douglas weren't in a financial position to actually build it.
Like other manufacturers of the time - Velocette with their LE and BSA with the Sunbeams - Douglas believed the public when they said they wanted something practical, sturdy and solid to get them to work and back. At the start of the 1950s the feeling was that a motorcycle for Everyman would be a bestseller. The quest for ultimate speed wasn't so important - the common man needed instead low maintenance workaday wheels. Hence the craze for bathtubs and other enclosures, all foretelling the future success of the scooter and the Honda Cub and - oh dear - the Mini. Before the bike-buying public deserted in droves, however, the British bike industry recorded its best ever sales, reaching a peak in 1959. But by then Douglas had been and gone. Their little Dragonfly didn't stand comparison with the sleek speed machines which Edward Turner was turning out. When it came down to it, riders wanted high-speed glamour and performance after all.
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