We were looking for something special to feature in this Summer of Speed issue and it had to be great if we were to maintain the standard of last year, if not exceed it. The motorcycle had to go like stink (obviously), be as rare as a pink, striped elephant, have oodles of charm and have a rich history behind it. When I got to know about the bike you will read about in the next few pages, I knew that we had just the machine we were looking for. To most of us, a bike dating back to the 1920s doesn’t really conjure up an image of speed. Well, that’s true in most instances – until one rides a bike like the venerable AJS H-7 pre-war veteran racer.
Back in 1897, four Stevens brothers – the sons of a blacksmith – built their first motorcycle, albeit with a proprietary engine. The engines they built were being sold to other companies and in order to retain their identity, they realised that they had to build their own motorcycles under a brand name of their own. So, in 1910, the name they chose was the initials of the name of one of the brothers, Albert John Stevens, as he was the only one among them with two Christian names. AJS, primarily based in Wolverhampton, England, got involved in racing with a vengeance, and by the 1930s had already racked up 117 wins at the Isle of Man TT races. Among their most cherished products were the Porcupine, 4 and the 7R. The AJS H-7 I got to ride rolled out of the factory in 1924 and is a racing model. Its evolution culminated in the iconic AJS 7R, which helped fill out the AJS trophy cabinet and was one of the first ‘homologation specials’, in the sense that it was a race bike the public could buy. Popularly called the ‘Boy Racer,’bikes of this period are rare to start with, and thoroughbreds like this one rarer still. Most racing machines were altered by their owners to make them go faster, so it’s next to impossible to discern a totally stock machine from one that was tweaked, because so few remain today. This, however, does not reduce the exclusivity of the bike and this AJS H-7 is still priceless.
It’s certainly a handsome machine. Finished in glossy black with gold pin striping, it grabbed our attention as soon as we parked and walked towards Farokhi Bengali’s home. The lines are extremely clean and the bike looks very sporty. This is what I love about pre-war motorcycles – they were built for performance, but always ended up looking good enough to be art museum display material. The handlebar is wide and is swept low, with the levers having their fulcrum points at the ends of the bar. The tank is slung between the upper and lower backbone of the frame and is a delectable confluence of rectangular sides with rounded corners. The mudguards look straight off a period bicycle and are an ode to the lineage and progression of the evolution of motorcycles. A bicycle-type main stand, which swings under the rear wheel to prop it up, is bolted onto the rear axle and a small chain cover prevents the primary chain from shredding your trousers and leg into spaghetti and mince. However, the engine crank cushion spring isn’t covered and spins a few inches away from your toes – a very comforting thought indeed!
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