Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park, Southwestern Utah, Summer 1972.
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Birmingham Small Arms didn't build the BSA you see here. This motorcycle was built in Boulder, Colorado. Nobody called it a dual sport; we didn't use that term then. But many of us did prefer motorcycles that we could ride for several hundred miles on pavement and then ride trails as well. Many of this motorcycle's parts came from the BSA factory. It was intended that the bike look like BSA built it. A lot of people assumed BSA did build it. In 1972 it was still possible to assemble a state-of-the-art custom motorcycle in one's backyard. I built three BSA "dual sport" motorcycles that summer and a dealer friend, whose idea it was in the first place, built a forth using my patterns and plans for fender braces, electrical-component mounting hardware and wiring harness. Three days after mine was completed, I rode it on a four-state camping tour of highways, unimproved roads and desert trails. One of my stops was Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park in southwestern Utah, a park that was then (and perhaps still is) designated for off-road vehicles. My three riding buddies (500 BSA single, 500 Triumph twin, 650 Triumph twin) and I were the only campers in the park. When the state ranger came around to collect our fees, he eyed our bikes suspiciously and asked, "You boys don't intend to ride them big bikes in the sand, do you?" "Not Likely," someone from our group replied. "Good," the ranger said, "some times folks try to get out there on street bikes and they don't go so good in sand." We accepted the challenge. |
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These four BSAs represented our last gasp effort to continue riding big British bikes both on-road and off. Triumph had abandoned the single-down tube frame we loved; the new twin-down tube frame didn't work for us. BSA was nearly out of business. An era was ending and we were reluctant to let it go. |
| I rode this BSA to Moab, Utah and then rode my favorite trails around there. I rode it to Death Valley, then rode designated four-wheel-drive roads out of there. I rode sand washes in northeastern Colorado and then rode across Wyoming to Sturgis, South Dakota to see what the rally was all about. I left Albuquerque before sunrise one morning, with the thermometer showing nineteen degrees, and rode nearly 500 miles to Kingman, Arizona, without seeing over thirty-five degrees. I rode flat-out on dry lake beds in the Mojave Desert. My gasoline tank only held two gallons of gasoline; I carried another two-gallon can in a knapsack on my back. I couldn't have made it from Green River, Utah, to the next fuel stop without extra gasoline. |
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While riding with friends, I met an elderly Englishman at a gasoline stop somewhere in Utah. He and his wife were touring America in a rental car. Delighted to find four riders on British motorcycles, he came over to introduce himself. After admiring each bike, he turned to me and asked, "How do you like your Bee Ess Aye?" "I beg your pardon," I stammered. "Your Bee Ess Aye," he said, pointing toward my bike. "Ah yes! I like it a lot." "You know what Bee Ess Aye stands for?" he asked. I smiled expectantly. "Bloody Sore Arse," he howled.
My BSA performed flawlessly wherever I rode it. I often dragged the foot pegs on paved, hairpin corners. Yet, the wide power band and low first gear handled steep, rocky mountain trails with ease. It seemed made for power slides on twisty graveled roads. Other than the small gasoline tank, I can't remember a single negative attribute. Here's how the bike was built: I bought a new 1972 BSA Thunderbolt single carb 650 right out of the crate and completely dismantled it without starting it. The engine, chain, rear wheel and sprocket, speedometer and some electrics were set aside. The remainder of the Thunderbolt (frame, tank, seat, fenders, forks, front wheel, lights, etc.) Was returned to the dealer for a modest but agreed upon credit.
Next, I ordered the following new parts:
A skilled welder was hired to graft down-tubes from a 650 frame to a frame for a BSA 500 MX. This frame was then sandblasted and cadmium-plated for a durable finish (I've never seen this done before or since). I buffed the frame with a rotary power wire brush for a satin finish. The spine of this new frame was used as an oil tank for the dry sump engine, as had been intended with the original 500 single. The bike was assembled with tapered bearings in the steering head and needle bearings in the swing arm. The two coils were suspended through rubber grommets from a fabricated aluminum panel hung in the space under the seat with four Saab rubber muffler hangers. This aluminum panel also served as a heat sink for the zener diode. I chose not to have a battery. The rear hub was stripped of gray paint and polished to match the aftermarket front hub. The Preston Petty fenders were selected for color and the bike was trimmed to match. A thick aluminum skid plate (not shown in the photos) was fitted under the engine. Fender braces and brackets were hand made from various aluminum and steel stock. Before adding gasoline or oil, I weighed the bike at 317 pounds. A low "sissy bar" was fashioned from aluminum strap. Such was my "luggage rack system." This bar was removed when I wasn't touring. A nylon duffle bag from a local discount store served as "soft luggage." My BSA was well received by other motorcycle enthusiasts. I often heard people ask, "Why can't the factory build something like this?" The dealer hired me to build one for him; a friend hired me to build a third one with a 500 single engine; the dealer built another for himself with a 500 single engine. These owners liked shinny things and wanted their frames nickel-plated, otherwise the bikes all looked alike; I still think cadmium was the way to go. I rode this BSA 14,000 miles in fourteen months and sold it. A new wife, a new life made a two-up touring bike more appropriate; we bought an 850 Norton Interstate. The Norton, too, is now long gone but the wife is still with me. — This article was published in the December 1999 issue of Dual Sport News
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