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Peter’s 1959 Norton Dominator 99. (See the full Bike Profile by clicking here)
By 2006, my 1959 Dommie 99 looked a sorry sight. I’d bought this bike (my second Norton after the 77 I’d acquired in the summer of 1965) at age 18 in 1966 between leaving school and going to university, and it was this acquisition, together with my leaving home for part of the year to live independently at University College London that inspired me to join the Norton Owners Club (NOC), of which I’m now The Longest Member, with over 40 years of continuous membership ever since. I ran the 99 solidly for six years as my sole means of transport, during which it covered almost 100,000 miles of commuting and weekend NOC events. Then in 1972 I bought a 750 Commando Fastback in preparation for the 20,000 mile Trans-European trip wife Val and I undertook in 1973 as Britain joined the EU, which was reported in a year-long series of articles in the late lamented Motorcyclist Illustrated magazine, then being edited by Norton’s ex-marketing manager, Big John McDermott. Since then, the 99 has been bundled from pillar to post between the various garages, sheds and even barns that came with the various houses we occupied over 34 years until 2006. Finally, and 40 years after my acquisition, the rebuild could wait no longer. It missed being ready for the first NOC Reunion Rally on the Upper Thames in late June 2006 by only a few evenings’ work, but with the heat of that absolute deadline then off, it took a further week or so to get her fired up for the first time in all those years, which finally happened on Sunday 2 July, around a month inside the 40 year anniversary of my first acquiring the beast. As the keen-eyed will observe, she’s not been restored as a bog-standard 99 – she was never run as such in her first phase of my usage, so I could see no reason to do so now. After a brief, and incredibly uncomfortable period in the early days of my ownership of using her in un-tuned café-racer form, a sheep in wolf’s clothing if ever there was, I went in the diametrically opposite direction, and spent considerable effort tweaking the performance with big valves, lumpy pistons and cams, twin carbs etc, to develop a sort of early sports-tourer. In 1971 we were rewarded with an M3 bust by a jam-sandwich, and a ticket for cruising at 90 per (albeit behind a big Avon fairing), a price I almost regarded as worth paying to independently verify my results!
So, she’s been rebuilt along similar lines today, with stainless guards and alloy rims, a big Grimeca 4 l/s front hub to provide braking more in tune with today’s traffic, belt drive, tranny ignition, etc, etc. Priority has been given to reliability and usability, so all the castings bar the timing chest, gearbox outer and rocker covers have been stoved satin black, to improve the ‘hose-down’ cleanability; the brakes and tyres are hopefully to modern standards courtesy of Avon, as are the electrics, lights, indicators, brake-light switches on both front and rear brakes, etc. Comfort is also a priority, so there’s nothing extreme in the layout. The large, soft-humped single seat is built onto a standard seat pan, and will eventually incorporate a toolbox in the hump, the standard box now being full of two coils, a Boyer tranny ignition black-box, regulator, ignition switch, etc. The handlebars are rubber-mounted using an early Road holder top yoke and much later Triumph P-clips and rubber bushes, etc. The headlamp, rear number plate and mudguards are also rubber- mounted to minimise the destructive effects of the good ol’ Dommie engine’s inevitable vibes. Engine spec includes a single 1 1/16th Amal Monobloc 376, breathing through a 1960 bigger-valve head, 10.2:1 JP Aussie-made pistons and an SS camshaft with flat cam-followers.
In this spec, I used to average around 65mpg on proper 60s/70s leaded fuel, and first indications are that this will be maintained on the current pump-brews once the early over-rich running is sorted out by attention to the jetting, etc. Primary transmission is by Bob Newby 6-spring clutch and belt-drive. Wheels are Dunlop steel-rim profile alloys on the Grimeca 4 l/s front hub, and a new bare Norton rear hub without the polished plate covering the strengthening webs. Both are polished and satin-black painted, shod with Avon Roadrunners, that I fortuitously won through being selected as another magazine’s Star Letter early in 2006. The forks have received a 100% refurbishment, starting with new stanchions, the originals having suffered major rust damage, with flakes about one square inch in size gouged off them. Onto these have been fitted new bronze and steel bushes, plus seals. Inside, the damping mechanism has been completely replaced, with Dural damper rods and new alloy damper tubes and caps, pistons and damper valves, etc. The whole lot is suspended on progressive springs from RGM Motors, and everything functions wonderfully. The ride, while not plush, is by no means harsh, the damping is brilliant, and the whole thing works a treat, even over the hideously bumpy roads between Peel and Port Erin in the Isle of Man, which presented their first real test, and a suitably severe one at that. Everything that could be replaced with stainless has been, again in the interests of usability, including the wheel spindles, engine bolts, chain guard, brake rod, tank strap, etc, etc. The chain and gearbox / rear sprockets have been upgraded to Atlas / Commando spec to reduce maintenance requirements (all that 600cc power through 850 spec stuff shouldn’t put too much stress and therefore stretch on the chain, should it?). I’ve yet to total the cost. It’s north of £4k, but worth every penny in reconnecting me with my mis-spent youth, and providing me with a suitable mount to attend Norton Owners Club and other classic bike events on, after way too long of turning up riding all manner of other sorts of machinery. First of these was the NOC’s Norton Day in late September 2006. Early shakedown starts and runs had demonstrated a very stiff motor, and an impossible to tighten left-hand exhaust ring in the head, clearly a stripped exhaust port thread. With no time to fix this properly, a jury-rigged solution was attempted, involving drilling a small hole in two of the fins of the exhaust gland nut, through which was passed fencing wire, running around the back of the cylinder head between the fins, permitting a Spanish Windlass to be fashioned, using a 4 inch nail through a loop to twist up the wire and hold things in place.
And it worked! The 350 mile round- trip from home under the White Horse near Uffington to the Norton Day site at Whittington Castle, near Oswestry, and back passed uneventfully on that score. Since then, threaded inserts on both zorst-ports and in the plug-holes have sorted that problem, with Commando lock-tabs keeping everything nice’n’tight.
However, on that opening jaunt there were other alarums and excursions to keep me on my toes, largely centred around the alternator. Fitting a belt drive requires a relocation of the alternator output leads, which had chaffed against the outer chaincase, resulting in a short. The cure involves a rerouting with the cable at approx 9 o’clock and fed carefully around the alloy stator-mounting-spacer, the stator mounted back-to-front so the cable exits at the rear. Oh, and the right-hand pot smoked badly, the result of incorrect assembly of those awkward Tri-flex oil-control rings. So, once the head came off to have the exhaust port Helicoiled, it was barrels off too! Sure enough, the Triflex spring was in about 12 pieces, and both have now been replaced with one-piece cast-iron scrapers. However, none of this detracted too seriously from the joy I experienced being back in the saddle of XLH 495 after 34 years’ absence. Once the engine loosened up, and the alternator resumed delivering electrons, starting became a first-prod affair. Sure, the engine shakes a fair amount, initially not helped by a loose alternator rotor, which was sorted over the winter along with the head / piston issues, but there’s certainly power there, enough to ensure a thoroughly enjoyable outing. The gearbox was also a little stiff initially, but has since improved to near-normal AMC box standards, while the Bob Newby clutch is a delight; positive, smooth and far less heavy than the original AMC one, which could be a real bicep-builder from past experiences. But above all, as with any Featherbed (and indeed most Nortons) it’s the handling that crowns the riding experience. My progress through the periphery of the Black Country and then back via the edge of the Welsh Marches brought with it bends aplenty, just the sort of road the Norton was designed for, and I was able to revel once more in the easy, dependable swooping through them that the Featherbed chassis and sorted Roadholder forks permit, indeed actively encourage. It’s just so, so... oooo easy – line up the bend, adjust the speed on the throttle and pitch her in, twisting back the right wrist at the appropriate rate. Result; cornering on rails thanks to the wonderful frame geometry allied to the stiff, box-frame the twin-loops of the McCandless brothers’ masterpiece results in, complemented by the low- weight concentration it permits with the crankcase and bottom of the gearbox hanging through the lower tubes. Bumps do little to deflect the chosen course, so the whole process is dependable and predictable, all adding to the rider’s confidence and flattering many a pilot.
The Grimeca 4 leading-shoe brake, once bedding-in, has proved dependable, with good, progressive retardation available, allied to excellent feel. The Suzuki twin-pull lever can be adjusted just right to enable the fingers to curl nicely around the lever to exert gentle, firm or distinctly strict pressure according to need, and the brake responds accordingly, without pitching into the snatchiness I’d been warned of. Bedding-in all 4 shoes at the same time is a tricky business, apparently, and this was another area I spent some time on over the winter. The rear brake is the usual rather pathetic Norton affair. However, the Norvil cast-alloy brake plate ought to provide some improvement over the flexing standard pressed-tin affair, albeit that I’d previously retro-fitted the later Commando stiffener between the cam spindle and axle in an attempt to sort this known problem out. Be warned though; the alloy brake-plate required some significant metal-removal before it could be persuaded it to fit properly.
All-in-all, my re-acquaintance with the 99 has been a real delight. The compact size, low weight, easy starting, perfect riding position, firm yet comfortable ride and dependable handling and braking have resulted in a bike that’s easily lived up to my memories and expectations, even after years of riding modern, vastly more sophisticated machinery. While I sometimes wonder why I didn’t get on with the rebuild way beforehand, I just have to keep reminding myself how well I did hanging onto her over all those years, when finding space to store her, means of moving her from house-to-house, etc could so easily have resulted in my parting company with the ever-degrading old gal. But, I kept the faith and she’s rewarded my eventual attentions, once more emerging as a partner that’s just a continual pleasure to ride, one I look forward to indulging in for a good few years yet.
Supplies for the rebuild came from RGM (most of the stainless stuff), Les Emery at Norvil, Mick Hemmings Motorcycles, Armours of Ferndown (stainless pipes and handlebars), AJS Motorcycles near Andover (Grimeca bits) and Bob Newby. Special thanks to Bob for time spent discussing the belt-drive, Mick for words of wisdom and Angela Hemmings for cups of tea and instant despatch, to Les E also for help and advice (and a big ‘Hi!’ to his missus Sue and daughter Kate), and to Roger at RGM. Brickbats go to some other members of staff who don’t know enough to be able to do anything without a part number (surely, that’s the storeman’s / woman’s job to sort out? I don’t expect to have to quote numbers if I want parts for my MR2 or Audi, after all.)
Black paint was courtesy of RD Cox of Reading (not that impressed with the durability of modern 2-pack paints compared with the old stove-enamelling, I have to say, but they do a nice job). Norton silver tank, etc paint was by Dennis Motorcycles of Preston, near Cirencester, chroming by Hampshire Electroplating of Bevois Valley, Southampton, and wheel building was by Brickwood Wheels of West Grimstead, near Salisbury; nice guys though possibly the slowest in the world at 10 weeks compared to the initially estimated six, but hey ho! Bits and bobs of engineering courtesy of Wantage Engineering; also slow, but very local.
Having finally sorted-out the 99 after a 34 year wait, I’ve caught the bug once again, if anything even more firmly than before. A 1955 Dommie 88 (first of the welded up frames, but still with the lay-down gearbox) has been acquired as a partially started restoration for completion to as close to original factory specification as cash and parts-availability permit, and a growing collection of bits suggest another project bike could be on the way. A Slimline frame and fork yokes, Manx short-circuit pattern tank, alloy wheels, 2 L/S brake plate, alternator 88 engine and AMC gearbox provide the basis of a planned DommiRacer replica, with the opportunity to indulge in some serious engine tuning adding further entertainment.
But that, as we say, is for the future...
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