THE RALLY'S END: VELOS IN THE PARKING LOT

Paul Zell's MeSS, 700cc of fun.

Longtime Velo man Sam Jowett, of BC, who oversees the 'Concours d'Oiligance'

The essential portable margarita blender, voted second-best Non-Velocette!

George Shoblo cleans his Thruxton

Girder-forked Velos ridden during the week

Would that this Thruxton had its original GP carb...but a Mk2 Amal probably gives easier starting

The Floyd Clymer-built Indian Velo.  Clymer owned the Indian name until his untimely death in 1970, and arranged many British engines to be housed in Italian chassis, as here.

The native fishing spots; photos from the late 1800s show near-identical scenes

The fabulous 1937 Mk7 KTT emerges from its captivity, making a glorious noise

The Concours d'Oiligance

Discussing the finer points of KTT evolution...

Not exactly Brand X; the mighty Norvin

The readers' favorite; hybrid 1948 Triumph 3T chassis, with 1950 Tiger 100 alloy engine shoehorned in place.  Smooth and perky, the super-short chassis gives sharp handling, although I wonder how it feels over 70mph?

The 'barn find' original-everything 1965 Thruxton.  As you would like to find them...

VELOCETTE OWNER'S CLUB RALLY, COLUMBIA RIVER, THE FINISH

Taking the inside line along the winding road up Mt.St.Helens...maybe a bit too inside!

1938 KSS in the rain forest

One of many tunnels along Hwy 14, the north side of the Columbia river

Picturesque railroad bridge across from the heights of Oregon

One of many small bridges in rural Washington

Gary McCaw of Toronto, who has in the past ridden his Velo to the West, on the Venom Clubman he's owned since new.

Fishtails at the salmon hatchery

Vancouver Thruxton crests a hill, as we explore waterfalls and byways

A picturesque viewpoint high over the Columbia and the town of Hood River

A Venom from Montana

The indefatigably cheery Jim Abbott, even when sorting out a seizure.  Piston issues were the #1 source of trouble during the rally, although air temperatures were quite mild.  Unpredictable concentrations of alcohol in fuel were thought to play a part.

BSA A10, a faithful partner to a Venom

The man of the meeting; Jim Day of Australia rode from Los Angeles, and put in a startling 640 miles one day on his way north.  That's a long ride on a 50 year old motorcycle.  Jim is 24 years older than his bike.  Jim is my hero.

The pink hippie bus with failed brakes, halfway into a sand bank...

No excuses necessary; the ride was sheer pleasure.

Taking a break from the family sidecar and KSS; the Youngs explore tad-pools near Lucia Falls, WA.

When I met Oliver Blow, he was Atticus Young's age; this year he rode his RD350LC Yamaha, with father Russ

The two-owner 1950 Triumph Thunderbird.  The first owner was 'Mac' of Yakima WA, hence the number plate.  Mac bobbed the rear mudguard when new, and asked the factory for a paint match...which was available only in Seattle, 140 miles away.  So he painted both mudguards black, a simpler solution, and thus it has remained for 60 years.

Mac's new owner, Dennis

 

 

Near-original and unrestored.

We are not who we were, but who we are; Jeff and a 1996 pic of himself with his '38 Royal Enfield KX 1150...

...which Kim finds outrageously funny...

...while Jeff finds Kim funny!

The evening's entertainment in a small town out West; the Rough and Wild Fort Dalles Days Rodeo

Rodeo clowns need love too

Ready for her rope tricks

The ladies of the ticket booth

The boys of the Heifer Dust Cafe

The local rodeo IS the dating scene for the under-21s

The men and women sat their horses for hours at times, watching, sometimes breaking away for their event, moving in all seriousness with great skill and aplomb, taking victory or defeat equally, only a smile marking the difference

This is not a Velocette.  But the horses were uniformly beautiful.

For a breast cancer fundraising evening, 'Real Men Wore Pink'

Sweethearts of the Rodeo

VELOCETTE OWNER'S CLUB RALLY, COLUMBIA RIVER, DAY 4

Did John intend the Velocette Vogue to match the endless wheat fields of his native Oregon?

Get your Jesus, get your tires, wash your truck

The Columbia river in eastern Oregon emerges from the dry high desert volcanic bluffs

Red, white, blue, white, blue, green, black, yellow

A pause within the endless horizon, before we drop, twisting, into canyons below fields of golden wheat

Not a flatscape, but full of hidden hillside bends and rises

Jessup, OR; an invasion of leaky British metal

One of many incomprehensible signs along the route...

Gathering at the Mountain Identifier; only Mt.Jefferson was visible in entirety - the rest of the Cascades volcanic chain being obscured by clouds in the west.

I discovered this '59 Venom Endurance amongst a pile of Velocettes and parts in the SoCal desert; it had sat nearly 30 years, untouched, and had a bird's nest under the seat, amongst accumulated filth.  I completely dismantled the bike, to the nuts, replaced the gearbox internals, but everything else - big end, main bearings, piston, valves, wheel bearings, etc - was in perfect condition. After reassembly, Jeff rode the machine over 2000 miles in two weeks. He's still riding it, three years later.

The wheat fields are rotated throughout the year, as the climate is mild and the growing season long; some fields are stubbly and brown, some golden and ready for harvest, some still green, with a month of growing yet.

Jim Abbot on his Endurance

Lots of abandoned farm houses and barns, collapsing to earth over decades, as mechanization and massive corporate holdings have replaced family farms, which are left to decay physically and in our cultural memory.

Tres Pablos; Adams, Zell, d'Orléans

Theresa and her sunflower yellow Norton Commando

God has not fled this place, only the communities which celebrated the Spirit are gone

The Mountain Identifier; on a clear day, 7 volcanoes are visible. The People Identifier; Uncle Brian from Wales, Judith and Dai from London, Mirek from Toronto, John from San Fran.

As the shadows grow, the hunt for an elusive problem with the Gold Star continues

Lunch!

The end of the Sturgeon Cycle; the fish changed hands for a modest sum, a rallyist with a stove in his camper cooked the beast, and nearly everyone on the rally was fed with 1-hour-old fresh sturgeon! Unexpected, but a welcome development.

The original transport across this countryside.  Give me a motor!