Words: Andrew Howe-Davies
Photos: Andrew Howe-Davies / The Girder Club
If you think of Peugeot, there is no doubt that a French motorcar will pop into your head – the iconic 205 GTI for example – a car that sent a flock of 80’s kids down to the local dealer to throw a deposit into what could be perceived as the best hot hatch of the century. In the modern world of Peugeot, it may all be about four wheels, but spin the clock back a few decades, and then continue with a few more revolutions, and you will no doubt stumble across a motorcycle.
The Peugeot Brothers started like many other companies in France by building bicycles, with their first pedal-powered contraption produced in 1882. As the combustion revolution hit, Peugeot started to experiment with clip on engines which were fitted to cycles, tricycles and quadricycles, and by 1902 they had produced their own machine – the “Motobicyclette”. It was very much a heavy-duty bicycle fitted with a 198cc Swiss ZL engine. In next to no time a 293cc factory-built motor was introduced evidenced by PF (for Peugeot Frères) that was cast into the crank cases.
The motorcycle scene soon became a vibrant one, where manufacturers competed with one another to make the fastest machine. Peugeot wanted a piece of the action. As early as 1903 five of their machines were entered in the long-distance Paris-Madrid event and by 1905 they had become renowned record breakers and successfully entered teams in events such as the Circuit des Ardennes.
With a healthy stance on the competition scene, orders continued to flood into the factory that was based in Beaulieu in France. The motorcycles on offer to the public at this time were four-stroke singles, belt driven, and constructed from bicycle-derived frames. They were well-made and robust, and capable of speeds of over 30mph. This is one such bike from the era, and the story of how it came about is told by its owner Andrew Howe-Davies.
A few years ago, I attended an auction in Versailles with the intention of possibly buying a De Dion motorcycle. That particular lot sailed past my self-imposed limit, and I resigned myself to going home empty-handed. But then the very next lot appeared and immediately hooked my attention. It was a Peugeot racer that I had somehow completely missed during the viewing. I liked it instantly, and before I’d fully processed what I was doing, my hand went up.
The hammer fell, and it was mine.
At that point, I knew nothing about the motorcycle or its history, but when I collected it I was delighted to find just how original it was. Only later did I discover that I’d actually paid about £1,000 more than I thought – purely down to not understanding the exchange rate properly. Oh well. In today’s money, it looks cheap enough!
The next task was registration. I’ve always found the VMCC extremely helpful with these matters. They handled the main work, and after a DVLA visit to inspect the bike, everything was approved without fuss. With paperwork sorted, it was time to see if the old Peugeot would run.
The usual recommissioning followed: oil change, cleaning through the pipes, and attention to the magneto – which turned out to be dead and so a new one was sourced. Once that was done, the bike went onto the rolling road. And then – voilà – it went. And it went very well indeed.
It is astonishingly fast for a 1904 motorcycle. A real rocket ship for its day.
This was also my first encounter with a clutchless belt-drive motorcycle. It certainly focuses the mind. Initially it felt like controlled chaos, but before long I found a strange calm within it. I absolutely love riding the bike, although modern traffic can make it rather intense. Being a 500cc machine, bump-starting it isn’t exactly easy either.
That reality really hit home during last year’s Pioneer Run. I found myself following another belt-drive machine that simply stopped at traffic lights and pulled away again on green, all while I was frantically careering into driveways and garage forecourts and trying to time the lights just right. At the finish, I met the rider – Mark Roper – and we chatted. His secret turned out to be a beautifully made centrifugal go-kart clutch, neatly fitted where the engine drive pulley sits. Mark later offered to fit one to my bike, and he did an outstanding job. It does exactly what it says on the tin and my enjoyment levels in traffic have soared.
All that’s missing now is some brakes.
The Peugeot’s braking system consists of a three-inch strip of leather. That’s it. It works – just about – in the dry. In the wet? It’s very much a size-12-boots-on-the-ground situation.
Everywhere I take the bike, it’s admired. I’m a firm believer in leaving the bike’s appearance and history alone. I like seeing the story in the paint, along with the dents and wear. I love them.
Peugeot were hugely successful in period racing circles, with many road wins. Their singles dominated up to 1904, before their twins came to the fore. My bike also carries several period modifications, clearly carried out around 1904. Most notable are the independent aftermarket front forks – known as Simplex forks – which were more advanced than the standard Truffault design and offered improved stability. To my eye, they look like a clear precursor to the Indian leaf-spring setup, though I’m sure that opinion will provoke discussion.
The rear seat has been extended a long way backwards, and the handlebars altered too. This makes for some interesting moments, but the bike corners extremely well, with knee-scratching entirely possible. One particular modification made by the owner boy racer in period was the removal of the crank and starting pedals, replaced by a simple wooden spar. This allowed the rider’s feet to be opposite one another, giving more even pressure for balance and cornering.
Sadly, due to my own knees and the realities of bump-starting, this setup was no longer practical. Mark refitted the crank and pedals – no easy task, as Peugeot dimensions are very French. The rear sprocket proved especially challenging, as the size is no longer made. Wanting to keep the original rear wheel, Martin Shelley stepped in and made it work.
I’m lucky enough to keep the bike at Brooklands, where it’s on display, and I regularly take it out to events such as Montlhéry and the Where is Anna Rally. In fact that rally provided one particularly memorable moment. Just after lunch, I felt the drive go soft. I looked down in time to see the belt spin off – along with the new clutch and drive pulley – and disappear down the road straight into a Belgian canal.
Terminal, I thought.
While waiting for the recovery trailer, I began wondering just how deep the canal actually was. Knowing roughly where the parts had gone in, I stripped off my kit and scrambled down the bank through some extremely painful nettles. The water turned out to be nipple-deep. I waded around for fifteen minutes and had just about given up when I felt something between my toes.
I dived down and – voilà – the pulley! But the clutch was still missing. Damn.
Refocusing on the area, I had one last go, and once again – voilà! Down I went and found the clutch too. Back at base, everything was cleaned, refitted, and the bike completed Sunday’s 100-mile run without further drama.
A great save – and a great weekend.
Andrew turned up to the event in style with his Peugeot strapped to the side of wonderful old vintage Lagonda, and despite the pulley and clutch fiasco, made it the next day to the Oude Klepper Parade where the bike made it around the course – talk about dedication!
If you wanted to have a look around the bike with Andrew, here is a video featured on Brooklands Members TV.
an article by Andrew Howe-Davies for The Girder Club
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