Dave and Dawne's 1933 BSA M33-11
Way back in the fall of 1977, I had just opened up a repair shop called Wolfville Engine Specialty on Main Street of the small university town of Wolfville, Nova Scotia, and was intent NOT to work on motorcycles as a business.
I was 21, and other than a break to take air cooled and marine engine technology at Centennial College, had been repairing motorcycles and selling motorcycle parts in Ontario since age 16.
I had started off building and selling motorcycles and parts out of my rented garage, then worked at Norton distributor Firth Motorcycles in the parts department days while repairing British bikes at night at Ken’s Custom Cycles, finally worked in the service department of a Honda motorcycle dealer in Sudbury, Ontario called Tundra Service, before succumbing to the allure of the Maritimes (and a lovely redhead) and moving to Nova Scotia, where the roads were curvy and police radar minimal.
The local Triumph dealer, Boates Cycle in nearby Wilmot, was well known for Mr. Boates’s expert mechanical skills despite only having one arm, and for his firm refusal to sell a bigger motorcycle than he thought an inexperienced rider could handle.
I remember hearing many tales about how he would tell people what they were buying, such as a customer who went into Boates Cycle in the winter of 1968 to buy one of those new 750cc Triumph Trident triples he had heard about, and was told he could only buy a Daytona 500, nothing bigger, and could trade it in the next year if he was still in one piece. And so he did just that, and as far as I know he is still in one piece and riding motorcycles today.
Though I wanted to concentrate on lawn & garden equipment, chainsaws, and snowblowers so I could keep my passion for motorcycles pure, unadulterated by mixing motorcycles and money, when people heard I was familiar with British cycles, I began getting repair jobs and my vision of a one-man shop open 40 hours a week dissolved, especially as people started calling me up to ask if I wanted to buy inventories of seemingly useless parts for out of production British motorcycles, at scrap metal prices.
The Triumph Co-op was working hand to mouth, producing a few TR7 and T140 models, but BSA and Norton had shut down, and with Harleys and Hondas selling cheaply in comparison and the British Pound rising, dealers wanted to dump their obsolete British parts to make room for current inventory.
One of the first calls I got was from Mr. Boates, who was getting older, and was worn out by the drama of the collapse of the once thriving British motorcycle industry.
He had enough, and offered me everything he had left in the way of new parts and a full collection of factory parts and service manuals going back to the 1950s.
We made a fair deal with a (left) handshake, and as I was loading up the last of the haul into my beat up 1969 Chevy C10 panel truck, he said “I got something to show you.” and took me into the back workshop, where a dusty but complete BSA sidecar outfit sat, looking like it had just rolled out of a farmers barn, ready for a run to the big city of Windsor to pick up some supplies.
“Have a look at this” he said and with his one hand unrolled an original canvas toolroll, with every pocket filled with BSA logo spanners, and a lovely brass Tecalemit grease gun shining away greasily in the middle of it. “1500 bucks more, and you can take the BSA with you, too.”
I had spent every last cent I had on parts, and knew I was going to be eating pretty much only baked beans for the next week or two as a result, so gazed sadly at the Sloper outfit. shook my head reluctantly, climbed into my overloaded panel truck and headed back to the shop.
Over the years that followed I spent many miles in that faded old truck pulling a cargo trailer, and when it finally died spent many miles more in a further variety of old trucks, dragging unloved parts back from all over Canada and the USA to our overflowing shelves, but have never forgotten “the one that got away.”
For decades since, I have been kicking myself in the behind for not taking his offer, which even then was a steal, but am heartened to know that the BSA ended up never leaving the area and has stayed in his family for the 47 years that ensued, and that his daughter Dawne and her husband Dave have lovingly (and with some parts from us) brought back into operation this lovely example of the kind of motorcycles that made BSA the largest manufacturer of motorcycles in the world at one time.
As people say, we don’t own these motorcycles, we just care for them. and this motorcycle is a time warp machine, unrestored, unmodified, and being used once again as the workers at Small Heath intended, so long ago.
Dave and Dawne have my utmost respect for the time and effort they have put into caring for this lovely outfit, and I hope that their family enjoys many more decades of pleasure and use.
Mark
