Norton Commando returns from the grave

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The scent of catastrophic fire permeated the air. People avoided the bike as if its bad fortune might be contagious. Looks of pity and distaste were turned our way. My own demeanor was somber as I tore the bike down. Disassembling a grimy, burned-up motorcycle is not fun, and at that point I wasn’t entirely certain it was worth the effort. The work dragged with my spirits, and by the end of the day I hadn’t completed the teardown. I tossed heaps of junk and rubble into the back of my pickup, leaving an indelible aura of bad juju in one corner of Gary’s garage. I then drove to Bob Martin’s house a few miles north in Broomfield to drown my sorrows. In the morning, Bob helped me complete the teardown. I’d started the weekend with a burned-up bike in my pickup bed and ended it with a truckload of grimy parts. This is progress?

On the way home I dropped the chassis and several boxes of parts at the powder coater, at Bob’s expense. It was his generosity, more than anything else, that drove the restoration process. How could I possibly fail to honor his incredible gesture of friendship and support? I had to rebuild the Norton. And though I’d never tackled a full, frame-up restoration, in more than 20 years with this bike my oil-stained fingers had touched every bit of it at one time or another. I knew the machine as well as I knew my own aging body.

Progress

After the powder coating was done, I visited Doug McCadam at Doug’s Nortons in Dolores, Colo. We cracked open the engine, and Doug was astonished at the fine condition of the bottom end, which hadn’t been exposed to daylight since it left the factory in 1975. Bearings and journals looked good, and even the notoriously soft Mk III camshaft looked fresh after 40,000 miles. Doug insisted I leave the blackened cylinder head and crankcases with him for cleaning and detailing. Some weeks later I returned to Doug’s shop, where I found a pair of cases and a cylinder head that bore no resemblance to the grubby parts I’d left there.

At some point I decided not to undertake the engine build myself. Anything I goof up on the chassis can be undone, but there’s a lot going on inside that big parallel twin, and I knew just the man to build it right — Jim Comstock. No one builds a better Norton, and after all, it was his fire that destroyed my bike: The least he could do was help me make it whole again.

Time passed. After agonizing over a paint scheme, I delivered the tank, side covers and a quarter fairing to R&T Auto Body in Pueblo, Colo., for repair and paint work. These guys did a great job on the same bike a few years back, and I wanted them involved in the restoration process. 

Seasons changed. The powder-coated chassis and parts languished in my “temporary garage.” (Yes, although I live 8,000 feet up in the Sangre De Cristos in the Rocky Mountains, I don’t have a garage. Besides, assembling a motorcycle under a tarp builds character.) Finally, I began working on the chassis: I pressed in new steering head bearings and assembled the triple clamps and forks. The night before, a bear had ripped the door off my tool shed, and parts were strewn about. I searched for parts I knew were around here someplace, and ordered a truckload of small items from Art Xanders. Tragically, Art suddenly died while the order was pending, and I ordered more parts from other sources.

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