| A Sunbeam, a Sunbeam by Jim Hunter |
| Ottawa Section CVMG |
A Sunbeam, a Sunbeam Jim Hunter
Do you remember the old children’s hymn, “A Sunbeam, a Sunbeam – Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam”? Many
times during a restoration, the need for devine help is seriously contemplated. I must say however, that during
the restoration of my 1950 Sunbeam S7 Deluxe, the old hymn did on occasion run through my mind, although
the restoration itself is certainly not one of the most difficult that I have undertaken.
My first recollection of a Sunbeam is seeing them in Harry Firth’s motorcycle shop in Toronto, in the summer of
1957 when my interest in motorcycles started to bloom. I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but I was
impressed with the looks, and the fact that it had a shaft drive and rubber mounted overhead camshaft engine.
A new motorcycle when you are 16, of course, is quite out of the question. It was in 1957 anyway, and when I
finally got my first machine, it was a $50 350 Ariel. The image of the Sunbeam stayed with me, and I was
curious. That curiosity lasted for 40 years before I finally got one. Like Sunbeam owners everywhere, I heard a
lot of negative comments on the Sunbeam, gutless, fragile worm drive, and a oil leaker. On the other hand, I am
just contrary enough to not accept the opinion of others when there is something I like involved, and resolved to
find out for myself. For 40 years, I parked this resolve in a dark corner of my mind.
In the fall of 1996, I had just finished the restoration of a 1967 BMW R-60. It turned out very well, and was the
subject of much discussion at meetings of the Canadian Vintage Motorcycle Group, in Montreal. At a winter
meeting, seated in front of the fireplace in my neighbour and fellow motorcyclist’s comfortable home, a suds in
one hand and a handful of peanuts in the other, the question came up. “Now that the BMW’s finished, what’s the
next project, Jim?” I thought for a minute, and then the internal computer did a search in the “dark corner of the
mind” file.
“A Sunbeam”, I said. “I think I’d like to do a Sunbeam, an S7, the one with the fat tires and green paint”. My friend
look at me, kind of cocking his head, and said, “I know where there is one, and it’s only about 5 blocks from your
house. If you’re serious, I’ll give him a call and we’ll go over Saturday morning and have a look, but I don’t know if
he’ll sell it or not.”
On the Saturday morning, he picked me up and we went to an older area of town, with older houses on large
treed lots. Beside the house was a double garage with smoke coming from the chimney. We went in and were
given a friendly greeting by the Sunbeam’s owner, Eric. Introductions were made, but I couldn’t help noticing that
there were model aircraft of all sizes and types, in all stages of construction everywhere. I mentioned that when I
was a youth, in the days before motorcycles, that I had been a keen model aircraft enthusiast. We talked at
length about model building and flying, and the fact that I still had my engine that I bought when I was 14, a now
rare Canadian made Hurricane .24. Finally the subject of the Sunbeam came up. I had noticed it sitting there, all
covered with balsa wood dust. I inspected it closely, and saw that it only had 18,000 miles on it. There was no
rust, no butchery, but it was only lightly assembled. When I queried him, he said that he had the frame painted
and had never really completed re-assembly. There were a couple of boxes full of parts as well. “New front tire”,
he said, only pushed around the shop. When I finally asked him if it was for sale, he said, “I’ll call you this week”.
Thursday night the phone rang, and told me he had decided to sell it. “$1100.00 and your Hurricane .24”, he
said. I thought a minute about trading my engine, I’d had it a long time, but reality prevailed and I said, “you’re
on”. I also gave him the remainder of my model aircraft stuff. He, in turn, had found a kitchen canister that said
“Tea” on it with more Sunbeam stuff. How appropriate, I thought.
Saturday morning, I went over to his place with my van, and we loaded up the Sunbeam, the boxes, and the
“Tea” canister. Returning home, I unloaded the bike into the garage, placing it in the middle of the floor. I got
out my “contemplation” stool, and for the next hour examined it closely, coming to the conclusion that I had made
a really good find. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Eric. “I forgot to give you this”, he said, as he handed me
a copy of “The Bedside Book”, a Sunbeam owner’s manual prepared by Stewart Engineering, the Sunbeam
specialists in England. I diligently read the book for the next couple of days. Between it and Bernie Nicholson’s
“Modern Motorcycle Mechanics”, I felt confident that I was starting the project with a good technical info
resources. The Sunbeam sat in my garage all that summer untouched, but not uncontemplated. It was the
subject of much discussion of fellow vintagents who dropped by my shop. The summer otherwise was taken up
with rallies, club events and of course riding my 2 Ariels, two BMWs, and the Gold Star.
I usually try to get my last ride of the year in on November the eleventh, Remembrance Day. I had a thirty one-
year Air Force career, and a ride on the Square Four that day seemed a worthy tribute to those who had gone
before me. Nothing like a ride on a “bracing” Canadian November day, to clear the mind and aid the
remembrance processes. After the ride, I thought, “this is the day to start the Sunbeam project.” And start it I did.
As I started disassembly, it did not take long to confirm my first opinion that this motorcycle was in exceptional
condition. Eric had told me that his former boss, now deceased, had brought it from England in a container with
a vintage Rolls-Royce in 1968. To his knowledge, it had never run in Canada, which would explain the British
licence OKB 987, (a Liverpool plate I’m told) and the complete lack of Canadian documentation. His boss passed
away only a few years later, and the widow gave the machine to Eric in return for helping her dispose of the rest
of his collection. Eric was too busy running his supercharged Commando (and blowing off Z1 Kawasakis) to
bother with the old Sunbeam. And so it sat – for 26 years.
It did not take long to get the Sunbeam apart, frame parts, engine and gearbox, all in good superficial condition.
During my “contemplation” process, I had thought about just cleaning it up and running the bike as original, but a
problem with the rear fender, where the pillion seat had broken out the two front seat mounts, would require weld
repair, and repaint. Subsequently, I decided to refinish the complete machine. All the black bits went for powder
coating. Did you know that there are 62 parts on a Sunbeam that require black? I do now, and have the powder-
coating bill to prove it! Still, it was very worthwhile, as the finish is a lovely gloss black, and “bulletproof” as well.
The green parts went to my friend Leon Goldik, also a neighbour, who also has the reputation of being one of the
best vintage motorcycle painters in Eastern Canada. His work is flawless. He matched the paint from the inside
of the toolbox lid, and it is a 100% match. Beautiful - and commented on by everyone who views the bike. Not
only did he paint the bike, but he painted the bike – a lovely portrait of the Sunbeam that he gave me for my 60th
birthday. It has graced our hallway since then.
The next part of the restoration was up to me. I started at the back and worked towards the front, starting my
inspection, repair and cleaning process. The worm drive was first, and it came apart very easily. The worm
wheel and worm gear were like new. No corrosion evident anywhere. I inspected the bearings, which were like
new, replaced the gaskets, buffed up the alloy housing with a soft wire wheel on my drill. This works very well,
getting a good finish on the alloy, without over-restoration. Also, without the bother and mess of bead blasting,
which was not required anyhow do to the good condition of everything, reflecting its years of dry, warm storage.
One of the bearing cups in the universal joint was not in good condition, and Stewart Engineering was able to
supply the correct item, as they did quite a few times with other items during the restoration process. Some Vise
Grip marks were blended out of the drive shaft, and the shaft re-chromed. There was about a litre of oil still in
the gearbox, so I flushed it out. I was getting all gears in the gearbox, and the kickstarter was working and had a
good snap-back to it. I decided not to disassemble the gearbox, but only cleaned it up. The chrome gearshift
and kickstarter cleaned up well in the kitchen sink with an SOS pad, and with a good buffing with Solvol, look like
the day they came out of the factory. The exhaust pipe was sound, but corrosion pitted. The chrome plater,
dolts that they were, just chromed over the pits, and it looked terrible, so I wouldn’t accept it. As it turned out, it
was almost cheaper to replace the exhaust system with new parts than to re-chrome one, and the replacement
item is a thing of beauty!
With the engine, I removed the rocker cover and cylinder head. The camshaft was like new, and I only lapped the
valves and re-assembled the head. I removed the sump and cleaned it with varsol and a brush. I replaced two
poorly installed (presumably at the factory) connecting rod nut split pins, reassembled and cleaned the alloy of
the engine, once again with my trusty soft wire brush. The wheel bearings were disassembled, inspected and
cleaned of their 50 year old grease. I had a rough job removing the bearing retaining nuts, so looked for
something I could use that resembled the proper tool, which I didn’t have. I took one of the retaining nuts that I
did manage to remove, to work with me (Rolls-Royce Canada at the time) and broached the problems with the
fitters on the engine overhaul line. We looked through their tools and found a toothed socket wrench that just
about fit, but the fingers were too wide, so we thought it was a lost cause. After lunch, the wrench mysteriously
appeared on my desk, very nicely modified to precisely fit the Sunbeam retaining nuts. I related my surprise to
the lead hand, that he modified the tool. “No problem”, he said. “We found another one in the shop”. The
bearings were serviceable, but I sent the wheels out for powder coating and delayed their installation until the
wheels were returned. I disassembled the seat and the pillion seat, and had the frames powder coated. I used
black shoe polish, two or three coats of Kiwi, on the seat covers and they came up very well. A word to the wise -
don’t wear light coloured pants for a while when you ride the bike if you try this method. I polished the wording of
the seat maker’s name, painted them over, and then wiped the paint of the raised lettering. Gloss black and
polished brass makes a nice combination, and adds that little bit of detailing that is so important in any
restoration that you really care about.
When my wife was away shopping, the handlebars and headlight rim once again saw the inside of my kitchen
sink, with the SOS pad, and Solvol treatment. Same with the handlebar levers. All the original chrome was re-
useable with that treatment, I was only removing 26 years of “storage dirt” and a bit of surface corrosion. In one
of the boxes Eric gave me, I found the original 8” Lucas headlight glass. I washed it with the supper dishes in the
dishwasher, and it came out “clean enough to eat off”. I don’t remember my wife being at home then either.
With the painting and powder coating done, and the engine, gearbox and final drive re-conditioned to my
satisfaction, my favourite part of a restoration, the re-assembly of all the nice new restored parts was the next
step. Almost all the hardware was in good enough condition that it was re-cad plated and re-used. Having
worked mostly on Ariels, with CEI threads, the Sunbeam was my first restoration with BSF threaded hardware.
Luckily, none of the threads were damaged, and I never needed a set of BSF taps and dies. I was able to buy
some BSF bolts through our local fastener supplier, so those that were in any way dodgy, I simply replaced them.
The assembly of the bike went very well. I had a hiccup in assembling the silencer to the exhaust pipe, but with
an e-photo of the problem to David Holyoak at Stewarts, he was able to sort me out in short order. Now the bike
was finished. Eric had told me he wanted to see it when I finished it, so I called him and he came over. After
looking at for a few minutes, he asked me to start it. “So that’s how it sounds”, he said. I could see he was
pleased with what he saw and heard. Then he said, “I think I just found a home for my supercharged
Commando”. There’s another idea for that “dark corner “ file.
The moment of truth with any restoration is the initial “test flight”. The bike started easily and settled down to a
steady idle. Chugga chugga chugga. You know the sound. It reminded me of an old John Deere tractor. The
generator charged, the indicator lights for both oil and generator went out as they were supposed to. All the
lights and the brake light worked. At CVMG Lube Specialist Don Hewson’s suggestion, I was using 10W30 oil for
the initial period to clean out the engine, and 20W50 in the gearbox, with synthetic 220 gear oil in the worm
drive. The plan was to switch to 20W50 in the engine after the first oil change. I rode the bike out of the
driveway and down the street, quite enjoying the nice exhaust note, and the willingness of the engine to rev.
Living in Montreal at the time, the first 20 miles or so were done on city streets, so the highest speed I obtained
was about 45 mph. Off idle, the engine was dead smooth. The ride over the rough Montreal streets was
reasonable for a 50 year old motorcycle. I thought the time had come to try it at road speeds, and in Montreal to
do that, you have to go on the Autoroute. I accelerated down the on-ramp to the freeway, 40, 45, 50. Then,
shudder! shudder! shudder!. A bad front wheel vibration problem. I went through the vibration at about 55 mph
and after that it wasn’t too bad. I spent the fall of 1997 chasing this vibration doing everything in my bag of tricks
to combat the problem, to no avail. On one of these test flights on the Autoroute, I went up over the Blvd des
Sources overpass to turn around and go home again, only to find that it had locked in fourth gear. I parked it at
a Taxi stand, amid fawning cabbies, and took a taxi home to get the van. On disassembly, I found that the
roughness of the outer diameter of the shifter cam had worked like a file to cut a 1/8” deep groove in the detent
plunger. A new detent plunger and smoothing of the shifter cam solved the problem. David said that it had
probably been improperly hardened at manufacture. That problem solved, I was back to my vibration problem
again.
Finally, I switched wheels from front to back. I had one new tire, and one new one “that had only been pushed
around the shop”. Finally, it all came together, when my pal Brian Wigmore riding with me on his Commando on
the road run at the Paris rally . He pulled up and motioned me to stop. He asked me if I knew that at 50 mph, the
back wheel was bouncing right off the road? It turned out that the new ”only pushed around the shop” had
developed a flat spot on it after sitting for 26 years. The tire was still in new, condition still with most of the knubs
on it. What a shame to have to throw this tire in the garbage. I tried every trick in the book to try and return the
tire to roundness, but it was useless. Although I am $185 poorer for a new tire, I have no more vibration! The
old girl is as smooth as silk, and I am really enjoying it. It is no ball of fire to be sure, but I think carrying my
weight is a major contributing factor. The riding position is a little cramped for my 6’6” frame too, but I’m not
going to Timbuktu with it, just leisurely cruises in Brian’s and my “continuing search for the ultimate chip wagon”.
It’s kind of like driving an old VW Beetle, where you have to plan your braking and passing very well, and allow
lots of time for each.
Sunbeams, I find, are like olives – an acquired taste. I built mine out of curiosity, and after running for 3 seasons
now, it has really grown on me. I know one thing for sure, is that it has drawn more attention and positive
comment from the general public than any other vintage motorcycle that I have ever restored. I have won
concours awards with it, but most of them have been “People Choice Awards” at a show, instead of judged
awards. The public seems to like the Sunbeam – and most of them don’t really know what they’re looking at, and
marvel in the fact that it is 53 years old!
I was very pleased, subsequently; when in the spring of 2001, I received a call from the Guggenheim Museum in
New York City, asking me to show the Sunbeam at their upcoming “The Art of the Motorcycle” exhibit at their new
museum in Las Vegas. I can thank David Holyoake of Stewart’s for putting them on to me. The Sunbeam left in a
moving van for Las Vegas August 01. While it was there, my wife and I decided to go down to see the exhibit,
held at the Venetian Hotel on the Las Vegas strip, and see how the Sunbeam was displayed. The exhibit was
absolutely excellent, very tastefully displayed and you could see that no expense was spared; as you would
expect from the Guggenheim. I was pleased to no end to see my bike displayed with some of North America’s
most prominent vintage motorcycles. It was nice to see that motorcycle design has been recognized as an art
form by the Guggenheim, but that is something that does not really come as a surprise to most motorcyclists who
have been around for a while. Staying at the Venetian was an experience in itself, as they put us up in a suite
about the same size as my house. A hotel with a Venetian type canal running through it, complete with singing
gondoliers - kitsch? – well maybe, but a nice kind of kitsch.
Now, the Sunbeam is safely back in my garage, arriving mid-March this year. It saw regular use this past
summer, and has proven to be extremely reliable, and fun to drive. Just don’t be in a rush, because enjoyment of
the Sunbeam can’t be rushed. There is a lot to be said for using a 50 year old motorcycle on scenic open
country roads here in Eastern Ontario on a lovely summer’s day. The road takes on an entirely new perspective
at 45 mph. You get time to enjoy the landscape without having to give the centreline of the road your undivided
attention as required on modern bikes at the much higher speeds that they are capable of. As Humphrey Bogart
said to Claude Rains in the closing moments of “Casablanca”, “this could be the start of a beautiful friendship”.
Do you remember the old children’s hymn, “A Sunbeam, a Sunbeam – Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam”? Many
times during a restoration, the need for devine help is seriously contemplated. I must say however, that during
the restoration of my 1950 Sunbeam S7 Deluxe, the old hymn did on occasion run through my mind, although
the restoration itself is certainly not one of the most difficult that I have undertaken.
My first recollection of a Sunbeam is seeing them in Harry Firth’s motorcycle shop in Toronto, in the summer of
1957 when my interest in motorcycles started to bloom. I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but I was
impressed with the looks, and the fact that it had a shaft drive and rubber mounted overhead camshaft engine.
A new motorcycle when you are 16, of course, is quite out of the question. It was in 1957 anyway, and when I
finally got my first machine, it was a $50 350 Ariel. The image of the Sunbeam stayed with me, and I was
curious. That curiosity lasted for 40 years before I finally got one. Like Sunbeam owners everywhere, I heard a
lot of negative comments on the Sunbeam, gutless, fragile worm drive, and a oil leaker. On the other hand, I am
just contrary enough to not accept the opinion of others when there is something I like involved, and resolved to
find out for myself. For 40 years, I parked this resolve in a dark corner of my mind.
In the fall of 1996, I had just finished the restoration of a 1967 BMW R-60. It turned out very well, and was the
subject of much discussion at meetings of the Canadian Vintage Motorcycle Group, in Montreal. At a winter
meeting, seated in front of the fireplace in my neighbour and fellow motorcyclist’s comfortable home, a suds in
one hand and a handful of peanuts in the other, the question came up. “Now that the BMW’s finished, what’s the
next project, Jim?” I thought for a minute, and then the internal computer did a search in the “dark corner of the
mind” file.
“A Sunbeam”, I said. “I think I’d like to do a Sunbeam, an S7, the one with the fat tires and green paint”. My friend
look at me, kind of cocking his head, and said, “I know where there is one, and it’s only about 5 blocks from your
house. If you’re serious, I’ll give him a call and we’ll go over Saturday morning and have a look, but I don’t know if
he’ll sell it or not.”
On the Saturday morning, he picked me up and we went to an older area of town, with older houses on large
treed lots. Beside the house was a double garage with smoke coming from the chimney. We went in and were
given a friendly greeting by the Sunbeam’s owner, Eric. Introductions were made, but I couldn’t help noticing that
there were model aircraft of all sizes and types, in all stages of construction everywhere. I mentioned that when I
was a youth, in the days before motorcycles, that I had been a keen model aircraft enthusiast. We talked at
length about model building and flying, and the fact that I still had my engine that I bought when I was 14, a now
rare Canadian made Hurricane .24. Finally the subject of the Sunbeam came up. I had noticed it sitting there, all
covered with balsa wood dust. I inspected it closely, and saw that it only had 18,000 miles on it. There was no
rust, no butchery, but it was only lightly assembled. When I queried him, he said that he had the frame painted
and had never really completed re-assembly. There were a couple of boxes full of parts as well. “New front tire”,
he said, only pushed around the shop. When I finally asked him if it was for sale, he said, “I’ll call you this week”.
Thursday night the phone rang, and told me he had decided to sell it. “$1100.00 and your Hurricane .24”, he
said. I thought a minute about trading my engine, I’d had it a long time, but reality prevailed and I said, “you’re
on”. I also gave him the remainder of my model aircraft stuff. He, in turn, had found a kitchen canister that said
“Tea” on it with more Sunbeam stuff. How appropriate, I thought.
Saturday morning, I went over to his place with my van, and we loaded up the Sunbeam, the boxes, and the
“Tea” canister. Returning home, I unloaded the bike into the garage, placing it in the middle of the floor. I got
out my “contemplation” stool, and for the next hour examined it closely, coming to the conclusion that I had made
a really good find. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was Eric. “I forgot to give you this”, he said, as he handed me
a copy of “The Bedside Book”, a Sunbeam owner’s manual prepared by Stewart Engineering, the Sunbeam
specialists in England. I diligently read the book for the next couple of days. Between it and Bernie Nicholson’s
“Modern Motorcycle Mechanics”, I felt confident that I was starting the project with a good technical info
resources. The Sunbeam sat in my garage all that summer untouched, but not uncontemplated. It was the
subject of much discussion of fellow vintagents who dropped by my shop. The summer otherwise was taken up
with rallies, club events and of course riding my 2 Ariels, two BMWs, and the Gold Star.
I usually try to get my last ride of the year in on November the eleventh, Remembrance Day. I had a thirty one-
year Air Force career, and a ride on the Square Four that day seemed a worthy tribute to those who had gone
before me. Nothing like a ride on a “bracing” Canadian November day, to clear the mind and aid the
remembrance processes. After the ride, I thought, “this is the day to start the Sunbeam project.” And start it I did.
As I started disassembly, it did not take long to confirm my first opinion that this motorcycle was in exceptional
condition. Eric had told me that his former boss, now deceased, had brought it from England in a container with
a vintage Rolls-Royce in 1968. To his knowledge, it had never run in Canada, which would explain the British
licence OKB 987, (a Liverpool plate I’m told) and the complete lack of Canadian documentation. His boss passed
away only a few years later, and the widow gave the machine to Eric in return for helping her dispose of the rest
of his collection. Eric was too busy running his supercharged Commando (and blowing off Z1 Kawasakis) to
bother with the old Sunbeam. And so it sat – for 26 years.
It did not take long to get the Sunbeam apart, frame parts, engine and gearbox, all in good superficial condition.
During my “contemplation” process, I had thought about just cleaning it up and running the bike as original, but a
problem with the rear fender, where the pillion seat had broken out the two front seat mounts, would require weld
repair, and repaint. Subsequently, I decided to refinish the complete machine. All the black bits went for powder
coating. Did you know that there are 62 parts on a Sunbeam that require black? I do now, and have the powder-
coating bill to prove it! Still, it was very worthwhile, as the finish is a lovely gloss black, and “bulletproof” as well.
The green parts went to my friend Leon Goldik, also a neighbour, who also has the reputation of being one of the
best vintage motorcycle painters in Eastern Canada. His work is flawless. He matched the paint from the inside
of the toolbox lid, and it is a 100% match. Beautiful - and commented on by everyone who views the bike. Not
only did he paint the bike, but he painted the bike – a lovely portrait of the Sunbeam that he gave me for my 60th
birthday. It has graced our hallway since then.
The next part of the restoration was up to me. I started at the back and worked towards the front, starting my
inspection, repair and cleaning process. The worm drive was first, and it came apart very easily. The worm
wheel and worm gear were like new. No corrosion evident anywhere. I inspected the bearings, which were like
new, replaced the gaskets, buffed up the alloy housing with a soft wire wheel on my drill. This works very well,
getting a good finish on the alloy, without over-restoration. Also, without the bother and mess of bead blasting,
which was not required anyhow do to the good condition of everything, reflecting its years of dry, warm storage.
One of the bearing cups in the universal joint was not in good condition, and Stewart Engineering was able to
supply the correct item, as they did quite a few times with other items during the restoration process. Some Vise
Grip marks were blended out of the drive shaft, and the shaft re-chromed. There was about a litre of oil still in
the gearbox, so I flushed it out. I was getting all gears in the gearbox, and the kickstarter was working and had a
good snap-back to it. I decided not to disassemble the gearbox, but only cleaned it up. The chrome gearshift
and kickstarter cleaned up well in the kitchen sink with an SOS pad, and with a good buffing with Solvol, look like
the day they came out of the factory. The exhaust pipe was sound, but corrosion pitted. The chrome plater,
dolts that they were, just chromed over the pits, and it looked terrible, so I wouldn’t accept it. As it turned out, it
was almost cheaper to replace the exhaust system with new parts than to re-chrome one, and the replacement
item is a thing of beauty!
With the engine, I removed the rocker cover and cylinder head. The camshaft was like new, and I only lapped the
valves and re-assembled the head. I removed the sump and cleaned it with varsol and a brush. I replaced two
poorly installed (presumably at the factory) connecting rod nut split pins, reassembled and cleaned the alloy of
the engine, once again with my trusty soft wire brush. The wheel bearings were disassembled, inspected and
cleaned of their 50 year old grease. I had a rough job removing the bearing retaining nuts, so looked for
something I could use that resembled the proper tool, which I didn’t have. I took one of the retaining nuts that I
did manage to remove, to work with me (Rolls-Royce Canada at the time) and broached the problems with the
fitters on the engine overhaul line. We looked through their tools and found a toothed socket wrench that just
about fit, but the fingers were too wide, so we thought it was a lost cause. After lunch, the wrench mysteriously
appeared on my desk, very nicely modified to precisely fit the Sunbeam retaining nuts. I related my surprise to
the lead hand, that he modified the tool. “No problem”, he said. “We found another one in the shop”. The
bearings were serviceable, but I sent the wheels out for powder coating and delayed their installation until the
wheels were returned. I disassembled the seat and the pillion seat, and had the frames powder coated. I used
black shoe polish, two or three coats of Kiwi, on the seat covers and they came up very well. A word to the wise -
don’t wear light coloured pants for a while when you ride the bike if you try this method. I polished the wording of
the seat maker’s name, painted them over, and then wiped the paint of the raised lettering. Gloss black and
polished brass makes a nice combination, and adds that little bit of detailing that is so important in any
restoration that you really care about.
When my wife was away shopping, the handlebars and headlight rim once again saw the inside of my kitchen
sink, with the SOS pad, and Solvol treatment. Same with the handlebar levers. All the original chrome was re-
useable with that treatment, I was only removing 26 years of “storage dirt” and a bit of surface corrosion. In one
of the boxes Eric gave me, I found the original 8” Lucas headlight glass. I washed it with the supper dishes in the
dishwasher, and it came out “clean enough to eat off”. I don’t remember my wife being at home then either.
With the painting and powder coating done, and the engine, gearbox and final drive re-conditioned to my
satisfaction, my favourite part of a restoration, the re-assembly of all the nice new restored parts was the next
step. Almost all the hardware was in good enough condition that it was re-cad plated and re-used. Having
worked mostly on Ariels, with CEI threads, the Sunbeam was my first restoration with BSF threaded hardware.
Luckily, none of the threads were damaged, and I never needed a set of BSF taps and dies. I was able to buy
some BSF bolts through our local fastener supplier, so those that were in any way dodgy, I simply replaced them.
The assembly of the bike went very well. I had a hiccup in assembling the silencer to the exhaust pipe, but with
an e-photo of the problem to David Holyoak at Stewarts, he was able to sort me out in short order. Now the bike
was finished. Eric had told me he wanted to see it when I finished it, so I called him and he came over. After
looking at for a few minutes, he asked me to start it. “So that’s how it sounds”, he said. I could see he was
pleased with what he saw and heard. Then he said, “I think I just found a home for my supercharged
Commando”. There’s another idea for that “dark corner “ file.
The moment of truth with any restoration is the initial “test flight”. The bike started easily and settled down to a
steady idle. Chugga chugga chugga. You know the sound. It reminded me of an old John Deere tractor. The
generator charged, the indicator lights for both oil and generator went out as they were supposed to. All the
lights and the brake light worked. At CVMG Lube Specialist Don Hewson’s suggestion, I was using 10W30 oil for
the initial period to clean out the engine, and 20W50 in the gearbox, with synthetic 220 gear oil in the worm
drive. The plan was to switch to 20W50 in the engine after the first oil change. I rode the bike out of the
driveway and down the street, quite enjoying the nice exhaust note, and the willingness of the engine to rev.
Living in Montreal at the time, the first 20 miles or so were done on city streets, so the highest speed I obtained
was about 45 mph. Off idle, the engine was dead smooth. The ride over the rough Montreal streets was
reasonable for a 50 year old motorcycle. I thought the time had come to try it at road speeds, and in Montreal to
do that, you have to go on the Autoroute. I accelerated down the on-ramp to the freeway, 40, 45, 50. Then,
shudder! shudder! shudder!. A bad front wheel vibration problem. I went through the vibration at about 55 mph
and after that it wasn’t too bad. I spent the fall of 1997 chasing this vibration doing everything in my bag of tricks
to combat the problem, to no avail. On one of these test flights on the Autoroute, I went up over the Blvd des
Sources overpass to turn around and go home again, only to find that it had locked in fourth gear. I parked it at
a Taxi stand, amid fawning cabbies, and took a taxi home to get the van. On disassembly, I found that the
roughness of the outer diameter of the shifter cam had worked like a file to cut a 1/8” deep groove in the detent
plunger. A new detent plunger and smoothing of the shifter cam solved the problem. David said that it had
probably been improperly hardened at manufacture. That problem solved, I was back to my vibration problem
again.
Finally, I switched wheels from front to back. I had one new tire, and one new one “that had only been pushed
around the shop”. Finally, it all came together, when my pal Brian Wigmore riding with me on his Commando on
the road run at the Paris rally . He pulled up and motioned me to stop. He asked me if I knew that at 50 mph, the
back wheel was bouncing right off the road? It turned out that the new ”only pushed around the shop” had
developed a flat spot on it after sitting for 26 years. The tire was still in new, condition still with most of the knubs
on it. What a shame to have to throw this tire in the garbage. I tried every trick in the book to try and return the
tire to roundness, but it was useless. Although I am $185 poorer for a new tire, I have no more vibration! The
old girl is as smooth as silk, and I am really enjoying it. It is no ball of fire to be sure, but I think carrying my
weight is a major contributing factor. The riding position is a little cramped for my 6’6” frame too, but I’m not
going to Timbuktu with it, just leisurely cruises in Brian’s and my “continuing search for the ultimate chip wagon”.
It’s kind of like driving an old VW Beetle, where you have to plan your braking and passing very well, and allow
lots of time for each.
Sunbeams, I find, are like olives – an acquired taste. I built mine out of curiosity, and after running for 3 seasons
now, it has really grown on me. I know one thing for sure, is that it has drawn more attention and positive
comment from the general public than any other vintage motorcycle that I have ever restored. I have won
concours awards with it, but most of them have been “People Choice Awards” at a show, instead of judged
awards. The public seems to like the Sunbeam – and most of them don’t really know what they’re looking at, and
marvel in the fact that it is 53 years old!
I was very pleased, subsequently; when in the spring of 2001, I received a call from the Guggenheim Museum in
New York City, asking me to show the Sunbeam at their upcoming “The Art of the Motorcycle” exhibit at their new
museum in Las Vegas. I can thank David Holyoake of Stewart’s for putting them on to me. The Sunbeam left in a
moving van for Las Vegas August 01. While it was there, my wife and I decided to go down to see the exhibit,
held at the Venetian Hotel on the Las Vegas strip, and see how the Sunbeam was displayed. The exhibit was
absolutely excellent, very tastefully displayed and you could see that no expense was spared; as you would
expect from the Guggenheim. I was pleased to no end to see my bike displayed with some of North America’s
most prominent vintage motorcycles. It was nice to see that motorcycle design has been recognized as an art
form by the Guggenheim, but that is something that does not really come as a surprise to most motorcyclists who
have been around for a while. Staying at the Venetian was an experience in itself, as they put us up in a suite
about the same size as my house. A hotel with a Venetian type canal running through it, complete with singing
gondoliers - kitsch? – well maybe, but a nice kind of kitsch.
Now, the Sunbeam is safely back in my garage, arriving mid-March this year. It saw regular use this past
summer, and has proven to be extremely reliable, and fun to drive. Just don’t be in a rush, because enjoyment of
the Sunbeam can’t be rushed. There is a lot to be said for using a 50 year old motorcycle on scenic open
country roads here in Eastern Ontario on a lovely summer’s day. The road takes on an entirely new perspective
at 45 mph. You get time to enjoy the landscape without having to give the centreline of the road your undivided
attention as required on modern bikes at the much higher speeds that they are capable of. As Humphrey Bogart
said to Claude Rains in the closing moments of “Casablanca”, “this could be the start of a beautiful friendship”.