If you are into old motorcycles, the Pioneer Run is probably an event that is on your radar.
The idea was born in 1930 when the Sunbeam Motorcycle Club decided that the motorcycles that kick-started the trend needed some form of credit. The pre-1915 veteran era was established, and a route devised from London to the South Coast that aimed to test man-and-machine. The 1930 run was such a triumph that spectators and their vehicles caused chaos on the route and held up normal traffic for hours. It has continued in its tracks and continues to attract an eclectic mix of old motorcycles, sidecars, tricycles and even quadricycles.
In recent years the old motorcycle movement has waned a bit, and so the Sunbeam Motorcycle Club adapted to the times for that much needed kick up the backside… an additional class was added to the event for machines that were manufactured before 1931. It has been labelled the “Pioneer Plus” and despite some resistance in the ranks, it does open the event up to a wider audience. This was positive news for me – I had wanted to do the Pioneer Run for years and now had the chance on my 1925 Sunbeam. That was until my phone buzzed one day. It was my mate Adam – “any chance you want to sit in a sidecar on the Pioneer Run?”. “Yeah, why not” was my response, and so the adventure was born.
The sidecar in question was attached to a fantastic old 1926 Norton Model 14. Adam had been offered the machine and picked it up two weeks before the run. It had been sat dormant for some time and needed some attention. The sidecar was in tatters, without a floor and devoid of a wheel. The Norton was all there but had no spark. There was some serious work to do, however I know Adam – if he has a plan, then that plan will happen in some shape or form. I cannot lie – I did have some doubt, but with the help of some friends and some serious resolve, the sidecar was fixed up with a new floor and a mended wheel, and the Norton was now thudding with pride. It was all sorted in the nick of time, and the outfit was loaded up into the van ready for the Pioneer Run the next day.
The Model 14 is a version of the 633cc side-valve Norton with a four-speed crossover box. It is a rare machine and there are very few examples out there. The bike is the ideal sidecar hauler as it steams along like a train, and this was tried and tested back in 1924 when a Norton sidecar combination won the 4088-mile Maudes Trophy event. The machine was completely stock, having been assembled under the watchful eye of an ACU official, and was ridden by West Country dealer Phil Pike with Arthur Bourne in the hot seat.
James Norton himself also demonstrated the dependability of the 633cc Norton when in the winter of 1921 he decided to take a trip to Durban, South Africa on his Norton to visit his brother. The faithful bike clocked up hundreds of miles in severe rain and was really put to the test when James had to cross flooded and rutted roads, taking numerous detours due to bridges that had simply been picked up by the rivers in flood, and swept downstream. The condition of the roads and tracks would have been something to behold, but the dependable Norton trudged forth and completed the journey to demonstrate the spirit of the machine.
Anyway, enough history and back to the exploits of the Pioneer Run. It was a fresh 03:00am start for Adam as he made the trek across the Blackdown Hills from Devon and over to the start at Epsom Downs. I met the bleary-eyed chap in the carpark and after we had necked a load of coffee, we rolled the Norton and its wobble cart out of the van. There was a bit of hesitation and uncertainty, particularly as this would be the first time that the Norton had been used in years – “what’s the worst that could happen” we asked ourselves – either way it was set to be a day out on an old bike, so life was good!
After a few kicks the old Norton spluttered into life, and we made our way over to the start line where a superb selection of weird and wonderful motorcycles had assembled to take on the historic run. This is a small selection of some of the machines at Epsom.
There was one old contraption that really stirred the soul – a 1901 Royal Enfield (De Dion Bouton powered) quadricycle. Royal Enfield must have had some faith in their quads back in the day, as in 1900 one such machine, crewed by Messrs Iliffe and Grew, was entered in the Automobile Club of Britain and Ireland’s Thousand Miles Trail (London to Edinburgh and back), which it successfully completed, winning a silver medal. This quadricycle had not seen much sun for some time, and this was the maiden trip to the Pioneer Run.
Adam and I had started to discuss and map out the options of our previous comment – “what’s the worst that could happen” … and while the minds wandered to the sidecar wheel overtaking us as we thumped down the road, and the possible ramifications that would then take place, we realised that most of the bikes had scarpered. It did seem a bit quiet to be fair, and so with minor trepidation and zero finesse, I squeezed into the sidecar and contorted my limbs around the emergency hand pump that was needed for the sidecar tyre that deflated to a flat every 6 minutes.
We were off, and thundered out of the start-up arena and out past the racecourse.
I had looked forward to a nice sedate ride, where I could relax and take in the scenery, but as I looked to my right and spotted the smirk on Adams face, I realised that this would not be the case. I clutched onto the sidecar for dear life as we rounded the first corner, like a nervous passenger on a rollercoaster from another era, and we rattled out of Epsom and onto the open roads, the Norton and its sidecar bouncing and flexing with every undulation in the road.
I had been tasked with the navigation. I studied the A4 stapled directions that were flapping in the wind, and soon came up with a thorough and articulate route plan – follow the bike in front! We rolled on and followed a couple of Wall Auto-Wheel machines as they snaked through the town of Reigate. These unusual contraptions were in effect a self-powered wheel (a one horsepower single-cylinder, air-cooled petrol engine) which could be used to power a bicycle and provided many people with their first taste of powered transport.
As we punched out of the other side of the town, we were forced to take an impromptu stop to inspect the Norton which started to feel a tad abnormal. A bit experience has educated me that if it doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t! The first problem was the sidecar wheel, that had ironically been the topic of debate before we had set off on the run. It turns out that the cone had loosened up, quite a bit, and so the conversation once again switched to “what would have happened if the wheel fell off?”.
With the topic of death and destruction out of the way, there were a few other bits to sort. The decompressor lever needed a bit of attention and the tyre on the sidecar needed another pump, and as we inspected the motorcycle, we noted that the top of the float chamber had disappeared (if you have one spare for a 1926 bottom feed Brown and Barlow, please contact us!). We put the hick ups behind us and continued to march south.
As I started to settle into the experience it became quite fun, particularly as it provided the ideal observation platform to watch the other old motors in motion as they rattled and smoked up hills, and wound their way the countryside. It was a comfort to see that it was not only us with problems as many machines spluttered to a halt by the roadside with their owners crouched beside them with spanners and oily hands. It was also nice to see spectators out in force, who waved and cheered as their mechanical ancestors rolled by. I continued to hold on for dear life and simply returned their waves with a nervous grin.
The motorcycles were allowed the chance to cool down at a pit-stop at Leonardslee Gardens. It was also the chance for the riders to check and titivate, and so far, the Norton was behaving itself, to a point. It was the chance to snap some photos of the Norton and some of other motorcycles, and to have a look around the remarkable machines that were taking part in the event.
A cup of tea down the hatch, and the Norton was fired back into life. We continued to bounce down to the finish, which now concludes at Shoreham Airport. As we bowled past the finish line, we entered an area awash of old bikes cooling down – their motors ticking as the heat escaped.
As riders swapped stories and loaded their bikes into the vans, we realised that we had to reverse the run and head back to the start line where our van was. A minor issue – it turns out that the Norton is a thirsty lady – we had next to no fuel! In a stroke of luck, we were able to quickly siphon some fuel out of one of the bikes as the owner was distracted and went for a cup of tea. Ok jokes aside, a kind rider topped up the tank and after we chucked him a tenner, we were back on the road, bound for Epsom.
You would think this experience would have taught us a valuable lesson in the art of fuel observation, however 20 miles in and the old Norton spluttered to a halt on the side of a main road. We shifted the bike and sidecar onto the pavement, unwound the fuel filler, and were met once more to an empty tank. While scratching our heads in a bemused state for a second time in as much as an hour, a very nice chap came over, and offered to drain some fuel from his tractor to enable us to limp to the next petrol station. We chucked him another tenner, said thanks, and made it to the next station.
The tank was filled to the brim and we started on the final stretch back to Epsom. The co-pilot spot in a sidecar is quite the experience to behold – it provides an alternative perspective and in one so old, you feel every pulse through the bodywork as the world rushes by just inches from your knees. Each turn leans against your instincts as the sidecar lifts and shudders on the right-handers, but the best bit is that you can watch the motorcycle next to you in full motion – and that wonderful old Norton did not disappoint.
The Pioneer Run in a sidecar was a right laugh, and an experience that I would certainly recommend. The event has endured the wars, recessions and even pandemics, and it is on us to keep the movement buoyant into the future – and on that note, see you there next year!
an article by Rich Orriss for The Girder Club
If you would like to be kept up-to-date with the latest news and information on vintage motorcycles, feel free to sign up to our newsletter, which we aim to ping out each month.
