Over the years I have literally fought every square inch of my Vincent from the little G48 spring being worn out, which nearly broke my leg when the kick-starter slipped, to a badly slipping clutch, to a holed piston, to a bad generator, bad magneto, a bottom end rebuild that cost me exactly twice what it should have, to a tank slapper, to lousy brakes, to a clutch push-rod that wore into the clutch arm, to worn out shocks, bad wiring, half-sprung rear end, to loose spindles, leaky oil feed bolts, broken speedometer, poor headlight beam, no turn signals, horn sent off three times to try and make it work, and the lasting sting of being taken advantage of by a well known (now deceased) club member. I have replaced shocks, springs, installed disc brakes, released the rear end from its half-sprung situation, installed turn signals, B-TH mag, Kubota alternator, new pistons, valves, special ET26's from the magnificent Trevor Southwell, and on and on. Now literally every bolt head on my bike is an 'acorn', I have touring bars, new tear-drop panniers, 12 volt ignition (and you can't see even one wire on my handlebars). I read and re-read all the manuals, 40 Years On, Know Thy Beast, Ten More Years, etc. and to me, the bike is spit-shine perfect, except for the oil leaks. I would not trade my '54 Shadow for any two-wheel vehicle on the market today or yesterday. A couple of years back I took a 300 plus mile ride with the BMW club and was fourth in line. At the first gas stop the man who was in second came up and said, "You've been riding a LONG time. I had no idea a Vincent could stay up with us." My reply was, "Well, it's not a fair assessment. You're not riding 1954 BMW's." It was the fastest ride I've ever taken and I must say I won't be doing it again at the speeds we were traveling. That Yamaha you're riding might be an OK motorcycle, but I earned the right to ride this one, and ride it I shall until the day they push me into the crematorium. Along the way I've sure met some wonderful people who turned me into a Vincent man who has busted his knuckles taming this Beast. I've put only about 60,000 miles on her and wouldn't trade the experiences for the world. She represents the Best of The British, she was conceived when the little island was under attack from the most heinous dictator in history, and she stood alone and sent her young men to the skies to fend off certain defeat. She won, and I'm proud to preserve a bit of glorious British history. My bike was made by hands that turned wheels on machines, that Yamaha is the product of computer chips that are beyond my comprehension. Your Yamaha will never draw an appreciative crowd and leave them with smiles. I get nods and smiles everywhere this old girl takes me. When they ask:"What's that lever under the clutch," I think of Phil Irving designing a light pulling clutch lever, "for the boys who come home that may not have a lot of strength in their fingers." You don't get any thoughts like that on a Yamaha.
