This is an impression from the saddle of a 1933 Velocette KSS on the Sunbeam Motorcycle Club Warwickshire Weekend.
Words and Photos: Rich Orriss
The Sunbeam Motorcycle Club has long understood that an important part of vintage motorcycling is to keep the old bikes ticking. After all, where is the fun in sticking a historic piece of kit in the corner of the shed to collect dust. It is all about keeping the spirit of pioneering motorcycling alive – the rhythm, vibration and scent of a working machine are what it’s all about – and this run does its bit to keep the cogs turning.
Based from the Kings Court Hotel in Warwickshire, the three-day pre-war motorcycle run takes eligible machines (built before 1940) across nearly 280 miles of rolling countryside, with daily routes stretching east, southeast and southwest through the heart of rural England.
The event is organised by a thoroughly decent chap named Martin, and the Warwickshire Weekend is very much a family tradition. His father ran the event for some thirty years before handing over the reins, and Martin now keeps the run alive – and does it exceptionally well. I had wanted to take part; however, my own machine had fallen under the weather beforehand. Without hesitation, Martin very kindly wheeled his 1933 Velocette KSS out of the shed, sorted the insurance, and entrusted me with the machine for the entire weekend. I would run alongside him on his 1928 KSS, and as a Velocette virgin I was very excited to have the chance to hold the bars of a superbike of the 1930s.
The KSS was one heck of a motorcycle back in the day; in fact, it was Percy Goodman’s remarkable overhead camshaft Model K of 1924/25 that changed everything for Velocette. Designed with racing in mind, the 350cc machine quickly proved its worth when Alec Bennett won the 1926 Junior TT by an astonishing ten-minute margin. The Mark I KSS represented the evolution of that groundbreaking design. “KSS” stood for “K Super Sports,” and the model had first appeared in 1925 as a high-performance sporting motorcycle. At a time when most motorcycles still relied on side-valve engines and total-loss lubrication systems, the overhead camshaft layout and fully circulating oil system felt positively futuristic. The bevel-driven camshaft employed clever engineering touches such as Oldham couplings and a hunting tooth gear arrangement to reduce wear and improve longevity – features that demonstrated Velocettes obsessive attention to detail.
The KSS also formed the basis for the legendary KTT racers, the first true Velocette competition motorcycles available to the public. Those machines would go on to dominate competition and secure the first two 350cc world championships, underlining the excellence of Percy Goodman’s original design. By 1933, the KSS had gained a four-speed gearbox, making the machine more usable on the road while retaining its unmistakably sporting character. Slim, purposeful, and mechanically sophisticated, the Mark I “cammy” remains one of the defining British sporting motorcycles of the pre-war era, and it was a privilege to have the chance to tear about the countryside on one, all thanks to Martin.
I turned up to the run on the Saturday morning, where I had a chance to look around some of the old bikes running the event – a favourite was a 1937 Triumph Speed Twin, the bike that made parallel twins famous. Vintage motorcycles are often associated with being impractical and hard work to ride, but the Speed Twin is the very opposite – a smooth refined tourer, that will take you miles without much agro.
I was introduced to my chariot for the weekend, and Martin spent some time with me explaining the fine points of the levers, controls and quirks of the KSS. It’s always handy to know where the brakes are before taking off down the road!
The overhead camshaft engine is a world away from the side-valve machines I have at home, while the foot-operated gear change – one down, three up – demands a different process to the hand change action that I am familiar with on the flat tankers. Even the twist-grip throttle felt unusual in the hand, replacing the lever operated throttle on my earlier bikes with something far more modern in character. It was almost like I had jumped into the saddle of a modern-day machine, but in truth it was still an old bike approaching its 100-year birthday.
There were many things about the motorcycle that were somewhat alien to me, and it took a moment to sort out my brain before the route sheets were locked and loaded and we set off into the heart of the English countryside. As I settled into the ride behind Martin on his ‘28 KSS and Dave on his ‘37 Triumph Speed Twin it was my chance to get to know the sporty Velocette.
The first thing that strikes you about the KSS is just how compact and low-slung it feels. You sit tucked neatly into the machine rather than perched on top of it, and the low centre of gravity gives the bike an incredibly planted feel on the road. Through Warwickshire’s sweeping bends and tighter village corners, the Velocette handles with a confidence that feels remarkably modern for a motorcycle built in 1933. It tips into corners lightly and naturally, holding a line with far more precision than many other machines of the era. It was nice to be able to keep up with modern traffic and not have that constant fear of a car two inches from the rear number plate.
The heavyweight girder forks, dominated by their large central spring, play a huge part in the character of the ride. There is movement and feel through the front end that modern suspension often isolates you from, yet it never feels vague or unsettled. Instead, the forks seem to absorb the road with a gentle mechanical motion, and provide constant feedback through the bars while still maintaining composure over uneven surfaces. They were much more robust than the spindly forks on my Sunbeam and I had far more confidence on the road. Combined with the rigid rear end, it creates a riding experience that feels alive rather than harsh, other than when I hit the occasional unavoidable pothole..!
Another detail that quickly becomes noticeable is the shape of the bulbous saddle tank and the pronounced John Bull knee grips that are set into the sides. Once settled into the saddle, your knees naturally lock into the machine, making you feel connected to it in a way that modern motorcycles don’t quite achieve. On winding roads, that ability to brace yourself against the tank adds to the sensation that the KSS was built with sporting intentions at its core.
As you thump along, the revolving cams thud under your backside; this sensation whirs up into the core, through to your arms, and back into the bike – you really are at one with the KSS and it is an absolute delight to ride.
The bevel-driven overhead camshaft gives the engine a crisp mechanical whirr quite unlike the lazy beat of a side-valve machine, and it took a while to find a patter with the bike. On the first pit-stop, Martin pointed out that the real magic of the KSS comes when you begin to wind the overhead-camshaft motor out and use the revs properly. I responded with caution – “I know but it’s not my bike”. Martin responded: “oh don’t worry about that”. I took his word and sat back in the saddle to put the machine through its paces, with modesty of course! And that magic that was promised, was delivered.
It turns out that the Velocette thrives on being worked. Open the throttle and the engine takes on a sharp, eager note, spinning freely with a smoothness that feels years ahead of its time. There is a real sense of mechanical precision to it, as though every moving part has been carefully balanced to encourage you further up the rev range. To get the best from the KSS, you ride it actively – carrying momentum, holding onto gears a little longer, and letting the engine sing rather than short-shifting. As the revs rise, the characteristic sound of the camshaft blends with the exhaust note that escapes through the fishtails into something wonderfully purposeful – particularly when climbing through the gears along open country roads. It rewards commitment, and the harder you work with the machine, the more alive it feels beneath you. For a motorcycle built in the early 1930s, there is something surprisingly sporting about the whole experience –the Isle of Man TT was the test bed, after all.
Threading the KSS through the Warwickshire is a special experience. The narrow lanes roll gently between hedgerows and open farmland, dipping through chocolate-box villages where honey-coloured stone cottages sit almost against the roadside. The rigid frame of the KSS chattered lightly over uneven lanes, while the narrow tyres traced every contour of the road. I pretended that I was Alex Bennett for a minute, back in 1926 and tearing around the TT circuit at the Isle of Man.
In the villages, the sound becomes part of the experience. Rolling off the throttle and then cracking it open again between rows of old cottages sends the sharp bark of the exhaust ricocheting between the stone walls. And to add to that experience, there were two KSS’s singing away, so it was quite the tune. Crossing narrow bridges over Warwickshire streams, the note hardens and echoes back at you from the brickwork either side, the engine sounding twice its size for a fleeting moment before the countryside opens once more. It really is mechanical theatre at its finest – the smell of warm oil, the vibration through the bars, and the sound of that camshaft engine bouncing around ancient lanes all add to the experience.
And I have to say, the roads of Warwickshire were quite possibly some of the finest I have ridden to date. The routes had been exceptionally well planned, flowing through miles of beautiful countryside and picturesque villages, with perfectly timed coffee and lunch stops that offered a welcome and well-earned rest along the way. This is a weekend of vintage motorcycling that simply should not be missed, and I will certainly be back for the next event.
Thanks to Martin and the team for the invite to this great event and make sure you stay tuned for the next iteration in 2028.
an article by The Girder Club
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