For a whole 24 years, there was one motorcycle that terrorized the streets of England. If you saw one, you knew that you didn’t stand of a chance of catching it. That motorcycle was the Vincent Black Shadow. Its top speed of 125 mph may not be much today, but back then, the 1940s Black Shadow was so quick and so untouchable that it was the fastest bike you could put a license plate on until an early 1970s Kawasaki came around. One of them has come up for sale, and now is your chance to live a lifelong dream.
Every motorcyclist has a bike they would do almost anything to just get a chance at a 30 second ride. Maybe it’s something so quick it bends time and space, or maybe it’s a motorcycle powered by a freaking turbine. I would be willing to gamble my entire fleet just to own a MTT Turbine Superbike. For many, the ultimate motorcycle of all time was built during the short period between 1948 and 1955. It’s a motorcycle so dark, so sinister, and built to do one thing: Be faster than every other motorcycle.
Just 1,774 Vincent Black Shadows were ever built, and they changed the world of motorcycling forever. It’s a motorcycle so stunning that the legendary Hunter S. Thompson penned: “If you rode the Black Shadow at top speed for any length of time, you would almost certainly die. That is why there are not many life members of the Vincent Black Shadow Society.”
Dark Speed
The Vincent Motorcycles story started in World War I when in 1917, British Royal Flying Corps pilot and motorcycle racer Howard Raymond Davies was shot down and taken prisoner by the Germans. It’s been said, but not confirmed, that when Davies was a prisoner of war he designed a motorcycle. After the war, Davies returned to the motorcycle racing world. It took until 1924 for Davies to turn his motorcycle ideas into a reality. Davies joined forces with engineer E.J. Massey, forming HRD. Those motorcycles were successful racers, but a sales failure. HRD folded in 1928.
The scraps of HRD were picked up by Ernest Humphries of OK-Supreme Motors, who wanted the factory. The rest of HRD’s assets were for sale and fell onto the radar of motorcycle enthusiast Phil Vincent. At the time, Vincent was just 20 years old and had purchased his first motorcycle just four years before. However, Vincent was quick to begin designing his own motorcycle chassis and suspension, building his first bike in 1927. In 1928, Vincent got a patent for his cantilever rear suspension design.
When Vincent wanted to market his ideas as a motorcycle company, he decided to tie his name to a known firm rather than try to make it as a new company. £450 later and Vincent had the HRD name, rights, tooling, and other materials. Vincent renamed the company to Vincent HRD and began churning out motorcycles. Despite the name change, the motorcycles still wore HRD on their tanks in large letters, but now had “The Vincent” in much smaller script.
At first, Vincent HRD built motorcycles with Vincent’s innovative inventions, but with the engines of other manufacturers. When those engines failed in 1934’s running of the Isle of Man TT, Vincent decided that his company needed its own engines. That’s where Australian engineer Phil Irving got to work and in three months, designed a 499cc single-cylinder engine with high performance potential.
One of the innovations brought on by Irving was a guide system for each valve designed to eliminate the common valve failures of the day. That way, the engine could run hard without falling to pieces.
Benchmarks were set high, with the Vincent HRD Meteor and Comet riding to a claimed top speed of 90 mph in the 1930s. In 1936, Vincent released the Rapide, which raced to 110 mph thanks to a 998cc V-twin. As Silodrome notes, the Rapide was born after Irving put two drawings of the Meteor’s single-cylinder engine together, forming them into the V-twin shape we know to be familiar today.
Striking Fear Into Motorcyclists
After World War II, Vincent continued the tradition of laying down even more speed. Next came the improved Series B Vincent Rapide. This bike boasted an engine and transmission in one case and the bank angle of the V-twin changed from 47 degrees to 50 degrees, which allowed the engine to become a stressed member. Vincent used the changed engine design to knock the down-tubes off of the frame.
Reportedly, the genesis of the Black Shadow came when fans of the Rapide begged for even higher performance and faster speeds than 110 mph. Vincent answered the call by creating a racing machine and a testbed for an even faster motorcycle.
Update: I’m told the name of that prototype racer is used as a slur, which I didn’t know about before. I have removed this name reference, which wasn’t really important to the story, anyway.
Vincent took his idea for a new, faster motorcycle to Vincent managing director Frank Walker, who declined to allow Vincent, Irving, and the team to develop the new motorcycle. The guys weren’t deterred and instead built two motorcycles in secret. Motor Cycling magazine tested one in 1948, and the new motorcycle hit 122 mph. Suddenly, Vincent couldn’t be stopped and the Black Shadow would be displayed at the 1948 Motorcycle Show at Earls Court in London.
The Vincent Black Shadow would be known for its speed, but that’s not all. Vincent wanted his brand to become a household name in Europe and across the pond in the United States. He figured speed was one factor, but the motorcycles also needed to look the part. So, while so many manufacturers covered their engines and motorcycles with brightwork, Vincent covered the bike, from engine, transmission, frame, and forks, in a deep black color. Now, the Black Shadow had looks that matched its unparalleled thrill.
Much of the Black Shadow took what the Rapide already had and cranked it up. The Black Shadow had the Rapide’s 998cc 50-degree V-twin engine, but with new pistons, a higher compression ratio, polished ports, and new carburetors. This engine made 55 HP, which doesn’t sound like much, but it was moving a motorcycle with a dry weight of just 458 pounds.
That was enough to rocket the Black Shadow to a top speed of 125 mph, faster than any other road-legal bike at the time. Sure, the electrical system was by Lucas, the prince of darkness. But there’s no worry because, with a Vincent, you’ll ride so fast you’ll get home before dark.
Helping you keep the dark side up was Vincent’s patented cantilever rear suspension and a Brampton girder fork up front. Later Black Shadows would get Vincent “Girdraulic” girder-style aluminum forks with hydraulic shock absorbers rather than the typical friction dampers of girder forks. A set of four drums with fins slowed the race down when the bike got faster than your bravery.
The Black Shadow was also developed into a racing version, the Black Lightning. These bikes were even more extreme as Vincent tossed everything that wasn’t needed for outright speed into the dustbin. The Black Lightning didn’t have lights or a passenger seat, and magnesium was used where possible to save weight. The result was a machine that weighed 380 pounds dry and had an engine tuned to 70 HP to boot.
Famously, as Hagerty notes, American motorcycle racer Rollie Free took a modified Black Lightning or Black Shadow (this is debated) to the Bonneville Salt Flats. Free hit 148.6 mph on his motorcycle, but wanted even more speed, so he stripped down to his bathing suit and laid on the motorcycle in a plank position. He reached an average speed of 150.313 mph and photographers generated an iconic photo.
Basically overnight, Vincent became famous and the Black Shadow became the motorcycle to own. I gave you the Thompson quote above, but a Cycle World retrospective continues to drill in just how awesome the Black Shadow is and continues to be:
Obviously, though, the real eye-catcher is that motor. With alloy barrels and cases and iron liners, it pumps out 55 Clydesdale-size horses at 5700 rpm. This lets the 425-pound motorcycle, with a compression ratio of 7.3:1, sprint to 60 mph in six seconds. At 125 mph, it’s only turning 5800 rpm, and at an easy-cruisin’ 100 mph a mere 4600! Other Britbike riders speak of the uncanny calm of the Black Shadow as it overtakes them at 100-plus. It’s a stump-puller.
There’s enduring appeal, too, in the other innovations and clever touches. A few include: an upward-hinging rear fender for quick wheel removal—or reversing to use the different final-drive ratio of the attached second sprocket; height adjustments for the comfy dual seat; triplex primary chain; 120-horsepower-strong gearbox/tranny; dead-accurate 150 mph speedo; cases machined in matched sets; wide use of stainless and high-tensile steels; and Siamesed exhausts. You can also collapse the whole thing into three main parts, stuff it all into the old Civic and re-assemble when you reach the rally site. (Don’t try this with a ZX-11.) Visually, the Shadow is a feast for the eyes. Look closely—each carefully sculpted rocker cover, decompression lever and footpeg hanger is perfect unto itself, yet the whole is integrated, purposeful. It’s all about raw emotion. Park one outside your local high school and you’ll see.
The Black Shadow was so fast that when it released in 1948, it was the fastest street-legal motorcycle on the road. Vincent called the Black Shadow “The World’s Fastest Standard Motorcycle” and clarified in its advertising that the statement wasn’t a slogan, but a fact. While it has been nearly three-quarters of a century since the death of the Black Shadow, it entered modern consciousness in part thanks to Top Gear:
Motorcycle manufacturers took a while just to match the Black Shadow’s might. The BSA Rocket 3 and the Triumph Trident of 1968 match the Black Shadow’s top speed, as does the 1969 Honda CB750, the bike often called the world’s first superbike. Yet, even though the Honda matches the Black Shadow’s speed, the Black Shadow still earned notoriety for its thrill compared to the more refined, newer Honda.
As Richard Hammond explains above, you could argue that the superbikes we love today can trace their roots back to the black menace that outran everything else. Many retrospectives note the 1972 Kawasaki Z1 as the first production road bike to unseat the Black Shadow. It took a little over a decade longer for the Honda VF1000R to unseat the Vincent Black Lightning racer.
This 1952 Vincent Black Shadow
Sadly, relatively few riders have ever gotten the chance to experience the Black Shadow, let alone even see one in real life. As I said before, just 1,774 examples were built before production ended in 1955. As for the Vincent’s price, a new Black Shadow set you back £400 (£12,110 today), or £500 (£15,137 today) if you wanted the Black Lightning. Unfortunately, a Black Shadow today is a motorcycle that easily commands prices from $40,000 and past $100,000.
So, if you want this one for sale on Bring a Trailer, you’ll need deep pockets or a lot of friends.
This Bring a Trailer auction is fresh with 7 days to go, yet it’s already at $58,000 with 14 bids. See what I mean? At least what you’re getting sounds epic.
The engine is a work of art and is noted to have a pair of Amal carburetors and velocity stacks. The listing states that the motorcycle is unrestored, so what you’re looking at here is a true time capsule from its Smiths instrumentation down to the wonderful brake light. The odometer displays just 1,734 miles and while this hasn’t been confirmed, I would bet that this bike hasn’t gone far in its life.
Sadly, this motorcycle is likely to sell for so much money that its owner will be motivated to stuff it away into a warehouse. Putting any real miles on it will crater its value. Still, it would be so cool to see this vintage ride cross the United States or at the very least conquer the Pacific Coast Highway. A woman can dream. If you can scrounge up the money needed to buy one of the most iconic motorcycles in history, head over to Bring a Trailer and drop a bid.
(Images: Bring a Trailer Seller, unless otherwise noted.)
Next article: Egli-Vincent, where a Swiss engineer in the late 60s developed a much more modern frame that fit the Vincent engines ‘ala Bimota.
I LOVE these bikes! Such a cool history and that engine! I actually have a poster of just the Black Shadow engine in my office by Daniel Pierce. He did a whole series of motorcycle engines called “Up-N-Smoke”. I have an XS650 poster as well as I used to have one of those.
“It is like riding a Vincent Black Shadow, which would outrun an F-86 jet fighter on the take-off runway, but at the end, the F-86 would go airborne and the Vincent would not, and there was no point in trying to turn it. WHAMO! The Sausage Creature strikes again.”
A good friend of mine, and probably the most intelligent person I’ve ever met, had a “barn find” moment. He went to a random estate sale in ~2017 because he heard there was a Vincent motorcycle in parts. Turns out, it wasn’t a Black Shadow, but it was a Black Lightning with documentation and even photos of it being used as a promo bike at a show back in the 50s. The person selling was the widow, and she didn’t really know much about it and was trying to sell it for a comically low price.
My buddy could have taken it for the small price, but he just couldn’t do that to her. He said to her what she REALLY had, and bought it for much more money, and is currently having it restored by some crazy guy who lives in the pacific northwest who is apparently “known” to be one of the few people trusted to restore it.
Randomly, another well known Vincent restorer lives a few miles from me in the NJ shore area. I drive past his home 10x/wk but managed to live here nearly 20 years before hearing about him. He rebuilt my friend’s Egli-Vincent.
That’s awesome! I’m sorta from NJ, and go down to the shore every summer even though I live out west.
Was lucky enough to see a couple of Vincents in person in a bike shop in Talent, Oregon, just up the street from my in-laws’ house back in the mid-90s. The old guy who was running the shop had BSAs, Triumphs, Nortons, etc. in various states of repair, plus one complete Black Shadow with another that was torn down. Sadly, the shop is no longer there, and I have no idea what became of the various bikes.
Even then – almost 50 years after they were introduced – you could tell that the Vincents were some serious shit.
I’m not a motorcycle guy, but my father is. We were at a UK car/motorcycle event in the Denver area. There’s a guy with a fairly notable collection of vehicles that brought some over to the event. Among them was a Vincent Black Shadow. My eyes were drawn to it. Had no idea how special it was, just it definitely wasn’t like the BSA and Triumph bikes. My dad said I had a good eye.
Now check out the vincati builds
I saw a black shadow when I rode my bell blast cafe build to the Ace Cafe when I was stationed in the UK
Thank you Mercedes for this loving and detailed writeup!
Sick. The hipster part of me loves old roadster bikes. Black as night and twice as terrifying.
There’s a song too! Pretty good tune that’s almost good enough to make me jump on a bike despite my healthy fear of driving without a steel cage around me. Almost. Let’s see if it displays:
https://youtu.be/j0kJdrfzjAg?si=87b-1FZKDN-dMg0n
If not it’s “1952 Vincent Black Shadow” by Richard Thompson. There are a few covers out there as well.
It even got a mention in “This is England”, the last decent song the Clash recorded, lamenting the near-death of the British motorcycle industry amidst the general decay of the country in the Thatcher years.
I was going to post the same, but it’s not “1952 Vincent Black Shadow”, it’s “1952 Vincent Black Lightning”
My introduction to the Vincent was through Richard Thompson’s song. Our local community radio station had one DJ (all volunteers) include a Richard Thompson half hour in his two hour show. Learned to love his music. He was slated to appear at the 2001 KVMR Celtic Festival in Grass Valley CA. However due to flight closures after the 9/11 incidents, no one was able to come across the pond to our event. Thompson’s performance was promoted and a ’52 Black Lightning was supposed to also be on stage. Bummer. Many years later Thompson did appear here, and the Vincent was indeed on stage! Local owner, and a beautiful bike.
This is my favorite cover of it
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrGOs1a1lOk
Terrific summary of the history and importance.
I skipped past the “gunga din” reference, but didn’t have the appetite to continue once *those* Top Gear presenters were referenced.
Seriously? One sentence with an embedded video and that’s too much for you? Unless you’re the guy Clarkson punched you must have the emotional regulation of a child if a random reference to well known individuals causes you to not only stop reading but head to the comments to complain. Also I’m willing to bet the closest you’ve ever got to Kipling was watching Disney’s “The Jungle Book” as a child.
The closest I ever got to Kipling (other than his exceedingly good cakes) was being on the receiving end of the “gunga din” racial slur, to my face, on numerous occasions in my youth.
Personally, I’ve been having some trouble grappling with stuff like that.
Recently, I’ve had a number of people tell me that they love my work and read everything I write. However, they think I shouldn’t exist, should be institutionalized, and so on.
I’ve been trying to live with that realization. How do you dislike someone to the point of insulting them to their face, but you also call yourself a fan?
Then, I realized that I’m occasionally guilty of similar. I grew up watching Top Gear. I watched the UK new releases as soon as they popped up on Final Gear. The train vs. Jag vs. Vincent race was one of my favorite episodes.
Of course, Clarkson’s awful behavior makes my old love for Top Gear feel weird. Feeling the same after finding out that Hans Zimmer isn’t exactly an ally, either.
Some people just say to separate the art from the artist. But am I ok with people hating me but loving my articles? More self-discovery is needed.
At any rate, I felt that mentioning the Top Gear race was important because it was the way many people in the modern day discovered the Black Shadow and kept its legend alive.
People are stupid that way. They praise you one day then call you trash the next. Don’t ask me why. Also cool bike!
Don’t let those who want to erase anything that makes them “uncomfortable” stop your great work here, or anywhere else.
People are messy and complicated, and (I hope) constantly evolving. With that said, it’s much easier to come to grips with problematic views or behaviour from long-dead artists (Kipling, for example) than with those who are still active.
Mercedes, I have to say that my appreciation of your writing and your obvious love of all things automotive has been yet another factor in helping me overcome some of the unfortunate prejudices instilled in me by my socially conservative small-town upbringing. I look forward to reading everything you write.
I read enough of the article to educate myself on the merits of the Black Shadow. For which I am appreciative.
Thank you for pointing out the slur! I saw it mentioned in the history of Vincent HRD, looked into the name, saw the poem reference, and went with it. Had I looked deeper, I would have seen the darker associations.
Either way, I’ve removed it, since it’s not even important to the story.
You could have left it in. (“Now you tell me”, I hear you say!). With my original comment I wanted to convey that the term is not without its baggage. Not wanting to censor it.
Same with the other issue – I know people are going to keep using that era of Top Gear as a positive reference point for things. But there is a (minority) viewpoint that their various “controversies” define who they are.
I think it was a pretty amazing bike in its 1948 to 1952 time frame. Definitely the “Super Bike” of the time and very innovative with the stressed engine, front and rear subframes, not to forget an actual working suspension and a host of details that will make you go wow. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then and today’s litre bikes are as different from it as it was to the pre-WWII Brough Superior. Would I want one? Hell yes. I could afford to make space for it, I could not afford the bike and Lord knows what my insurance company would say. (-:
but isn’t that part of what makes it so remarkable? Not a bike expert here, but even you’re saying that this thing, from 1947, was as big a step forward in a decade (from pre-WW2 tech of the Brough), as we’ve taken in the the 75 years since with liter bikes?
I am not down playing the huge step forward it was.
Today, the venerable Suzuki SV650 will ride circles around it for about 8,000 USD new.
There are plenty of other examples, however it is a v-twin and a popular mid-range bike with enthusiasts.
I don’t own the example Suzuki, but have found the modern mid-range to be my happy spot. Modern litre bikes are much more than I need or want.
There is nothing that my Karmin Ghia does better than my Rav4. I still enjoy driving my Ghia much more.
It was a pretty amazing bike for the 20 years of major engineering & metallurgy advances it took before another production bike caught up.
I was heartbroken when Egli shut down last year. Getting (or building) an Egli-Vincent was always my dream for when I started to make good money.
Was like no other bike I have ever ridden. The most powerful bike of its day. Not loud, not big, not heavy, not tough to start, not uncomfortable, not high strung.
Like riding a big old friendly bulldog. Was happy just putting along. Twist the throttle and it didn’t rip out your arms. Instead it gently pushed me to the point where I was at my limit and it wasn’t even breathing hard.
Might I ask how you got an opportunity to ride one?
A friend invited me to join him for dinner at a friend’s house. He said we both liked motorcycles.
As often the case with folks that ride their bikes, I was offered to take it for a ride.
Very cool!
oh you dirty bastard you win at life
I will agree that I have been very lucky in life
At first I wasn’t sure if I was going blind or if it was the April English weather that plunged my room in deep shadow. The weather, I decided, peering out of the window and finding nothing but gloom. Below, sporadic wraiths materialized or vanished in the enveloping fog, drifting vaguely toward an invisible mess hall. Shadows everywhere, I thought, missing any portent.
Blindness, albeit temporarily induced, wasn’t easily dismissed as the previous night’s revelry had run far into the wee hours. My skull, shrunken two sizes, throbbed, and even that grey dawn, barely leaking past the casement, caused me to squint like a Bedouin in blazing desert glare. Water, I thought, then sought an oasis.
Slumping to the sink, I passed yesterday’s flight suit, practically standing on its own in the corner, rigid with dried beer. Spanking new captain’s bars were haphazardly fixed on its shoulders, more fallout from my impromptu promotion ceremony. The squadron and several British personnel had feted the event with copious drink (not that they ever needed an excuse to carouse) and celebrated with much drunken singing and, ultimately, “carrier landings.”
Two long banquet tables had been pushed end-to-end, the whole surface continuously soaked in beer suds by enthusiastic onlookers. Daring flight officers lined up across the room. Singly, but in close trail, each flyer ran pell mell toward the improvised “carrier deck,” launching into the air to crash down on the tabletops and hopefully slide to the end where two men stretched a bar towel across the surface, just low enough so that if a slider flipped their feet overhead at the crucial moment, he’d snag the “line” with his heels and safely stop before plunging off the far end. Some flyers slammed into the approach end of the table, some hurtled out of control off the sides, some missed the trap at the end, some were rammed from behind by trailing flyers and some were successful. A few got the olé treatment when the towel was pulled away and they crashed to the floor. According to beer logic, I was obligated to make a dozen or so “approaches,” dutifully attempted and resulting in all of the aforementioned mayhem.
This I recalled as I counted my bruises under a freezing dribble that evoked many descriptors, shower not being one of them. Zipped into a fresh flight suit, I ventured out into the fog in search of chow. Thankfully, it was not a flying day and after eating a light breakfast and pounding several glasses of water, I made my way early to Ops and a crew planning brief for our next mission.
The squadron had deployed from Germany to England to take part in the month-long, largest unconventional warfare exercise in the world. Operations ranged throughout Europe, the Middle East and Africa. It was the most fun you could imagine without a naked partner. Or so I thought at that moment.
I navigated my way to base operations adhering to path edges and marking sounds to keep me out of roads. Approaching the parking area, I saw a couple of ghostly trucks and Jeeps in the parking area that became more distinct as I closed the distance. Then, off to the side, I perceived a dark form that was clearly a motorcycle.
Curious, I crossed over to the bike to behold the most beautiful and brutal looking bike I’d ever seen. It was an industrial work of art. The black finish so deep it could have been a motorcycle shaped hole into the cosmos, set off by a chrome exhaust and fenders Then I saw the “Vincent” banner on the tank and I knew I was gazing upon a legend: the Vincent Black Shadow.
“Do you ride,” came a voice from behind. I turned to find a British flying officer a bit older than I.
“I do. I have a K75S at home. But, it’s nothing like this.”
“Ah,” he said, “the new captain. You survived your party, I see. Paul,” he said, sticking out his hand as we introduced ourselves. “Yes, it took me years to get a Vincent in my hands. Nothing like it.”
“It’s amazing, first one I’ve ever seen.” After more chatter about the Vincent and riding in general, he pointed to the bike.
“Care to give it a go?” I was stunned.
“Yes! I mean, are you sure?”
“By all means, it isn’t every day a man gets promoted.”
Paul gave me a quick primer on starting the Vincent including the decompression lever, which I’d never encountered before.
“She’s still warm, so you won’t need much choke, if any. Just be ready to catch her with the throttle when she fires.”
I switched the bike on and barely nudged the choke lever past horizontal, opened the fuel cock, then folded down the kick start lever on the right side. It took a couple of pumps on the starter to move the pistons into place, then one sharp heel thrust to bring the V-twin to life. It rat-a-tat-tatted for a moment then settled to a menacing, lumping idle as I closed the choke. He handed me his open-face helmet and whirled his index finger around his head.
“Take her around the apron,” he shouted. I rocked the Black Shadow off its kickstand, toed it up into 1st gear and eased into the throttle. The foot brake and gear shift were opposite from what I was used to, so I took a few moments gently feeling the bike out around the parking area. He waved me over and for an instant disappointment struck. Over so soon?
“Hang here a moment, I’ll be right back,” he said and jogged into the Ops building. I sat astride the rumbling bike, noticing that the fog had risen to about 50 feet creating a solid ceiling, above which nothing could be seen, but leaving it fairly clear below that dark overcast. Paul quickly returned.
“Tower says there is nothing flying this way. You’re cleared onto the runway where you can truly let her go.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Not at all; it’s not the first time that I have requested it.” I didn’t have to be told twice.
RAF Sculthorpe was laid out like a giant ‘A’ with the long 9000’ runway serving as the crossbar, intersected by two 6000’ runways that crossed at the top of the ‘A.’ I took off along the aircraft parking ramp to the taxiway that curved along the perimeter of the airfield out to the end of the long runway, testing my mettle on the gentle curves of the taxiway, running the bike through all four gears and feeling out the brakes. Then I was there, poised on that nearly two-mile runway. The tower signal is green.
Shift into first, throttle, release clutch, and launch! I’m away, the machine gun rap of that V-twin – a sound like no other – building into a roar, the unabated wind threatening to tear me off of the machine as the speedometer wound past 100 mph, and just like that I was approaching a runway junction. Brake, downshift, hard lean right, throttle and I’m up and away again, blasting down a shorter runway to the apex, and repeat. I’m in my last leg and I let the Shadow have her head. Too soon it’s another hard brake, downshift, lean and roll back on the taxiway for the return.
During the entire ride I’d been aware of nothing but the feel of the bike, the wind, the runway before me, and the glorious song of the engine. My slight hangover was banished by wind and adrenaline.
As my focus enlarged and the wider world encroached, I realized I’d just had an unrepeatable experience, and on a motorcycle that was older than I. It would prove to be the ride of my life, despite many more biking adventures in the coming decades. Paul’s generosity overwhelmed me.
As I rolled up before the Ops building, my grin told Paul everything.
“Just alright,” he said, dead pan, then laughed, “Smashing, what?”
Smashing, indeed.
Lovely story, is it yours or from a book?
Thanks, all mine.
HOLY CRAP
Good description.
Reminds me of riding my Dad’s 500cc Vincent Comet. Fast, brutal, but finickety and a bugger to ride at slow speed (those Girder forks make for very heavy steering at slow speeds).
I saw one once in a small town on the Oregon coast many many years ago. (Long before cell phone cameras in pockets unfortunately.) My jaw dropped to the pavement and my girlfriend was very confused at my level of excitement over a damn motorcycle. The owner was suiting up to ride off, and I hurried up to ask him if that was indeed what I thought it was. He replied, “Yes. Had it since I was 18. It’s the only relationship that ever lasted.”
Friend of mine’s dad has a Vincent just sitting in the kitchen. He doesn’t do anything with it, it just sits there. Along with a lovely little white and red autobianchi gathering dust in the garage. It’s a bit sad, really
That Vincent – any Vincent, really – is an aspirational bike for me and I did not know about the quick-change gearing. Sweet!
Small note: I believe the Kawasaki Z1 – all 903 furious cubic centimeters – was released in 1973.
Just when I think I’m out you draw me back in. Great story, Mercedes. I let my membership slide when I was feeling old and pissy. You and this story made me proud to re-up and support. Thanks!
I never heard of the Vincent Black Shadow untill I saw “The Rockford Files” episode, Return of the Black Shadow. It’s a standard biker gang story but it featured the Black Shadow and the under rated actor, Bo Hopkins. One of the baddies says, “That’s the greatest motorcycle ever made!” Bo just nods, “Yeah.”
The Rockford Files has the greatest theme song ever made.
Fascinating article! And I’d just referenced that famous photograph of Rollie Free on that Vincent in a comment elsewhere on this website a couple days ago, rather a bit of synchronicity, ha, though I actually hadn’t known much about Vincent until this article so thank you for the enlightening read.
The lead, “For a whole 24 years, there was one motorcycle that terrorized the streets of England. If you saw one, you knew that you didn’t stand of a chance of catching it,” is quite reminiscient of the legendary Black Ghost of Detroit:
https://www.hagerty.co.uk/articles/auctions/black-ghost-dodge-challenger-detroit/
“You can also collapse the whole thing into three main parts, stuff it all into the old Civic and re-assemble when you reach the rally site.”
One actually hopes that whoever bought the Black Ghost will buy this particular Vincent and transport it thusly in the Black Ghost rather than an old Civic, that’d be quite the sight to behold.
Whaddya know, this article https://www.autoweek.com/car-life/classic-cars/a43944694/black-ghost-dodge-challenger-sells-for-975000-dollars-mecum-auction/ mentions that the Black Ghost’s original owner, Godfrey Qualls, not only used it for his clandestine nighttime excursions but also used it for hauling his Norton motorcycles. Norton’s no Vincent but close enough. Well, sort of.
Does anyone remember the Discovery Channel or SPEED “we’re going to lose the shop” reality show that built a Vincent Black Shadow tribute? I want to say it was American Chopper, but I can’t see OCC doing something this tasteful. Google is as always these years, useless.
I told this story in the who have you met thread but this is a better place for it.
My mother met my father on a Vincent owners club ride from LA to Death Valley. The guy she rode there with got drunk and she refused to ride back with him. She got a ride with a different guy and they hit it off.
Rollie Free had a garage in LA and my father worked for him. I’m told I was introduced to Rollie when I was an infant. Probably the other way around, but you know what I mean.
When we moved out of state my father left a Vincent Lightning in Rollie’s care. He was not able to go back and pick it up before Rollie passed. He never saw the bike again.
Great piece on such a legendary bike.
There’s also a wonderful, uncharacteristically dark episode of the Rockford Files where Jim’s easy-going attorney friend Coop is revealed to have been a Black Shadow-riding outlaw biker in his youth, when he infiltrates a gang to avenge a brutal attack on his sister.
Says James, in my opinion, there’s nothing in this world
Beats a ’52 Vincent and a red headed girl.
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won’t do
They don’t have a soul like a Vincent ’52.
“1952 Vincent Black Lightning” by Richard Thompson
Ok, so the Lightning model, not the Shadow, but still the song that immediately goes
thru my head whenever I hear or read about a Vincent motorcycle.
Beat me to it.
I know that’s the original but I found this cover first from the always excellent Sean Rowe and just love his energy:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CrGOs1a1lOk
But it seems there was no room on the back for Red Molly, there being no passenger seat on a Lightning.
There was at least one from the factory set up for road use (dual seat and lights), and I’ve seen one that was modified later. My quibble is James handing Red Molly the keys–Vincents never had keys until the Series D in 1955, and I think all the Lightnings were Series C.
You’re a pedant after my own heart.
Obligatory.
The fact that so many people know “Vincent Black Lightning 1952” shows what the Autopian is the best website. OK, I have to get a membership now.
For instrumental music that really sets the mood for a ride, I have a very specific song for a ride on a day where it threatens rain: The Dave Pike Set’s “Walking down the highway in a red raw egg”. I know, weird title, but it was 1969. Pike was a vibraphonist from Detroit, who set up shop in Germany in the late 1960’s. It’s on Youtube. Both a driving rhythm and a foreboding sound, as if you’re trying to outrun the rain…
Such a good episode of Top Gear.
What’s the saying? Never meet your heroes?
“It’ll outrun an F-111 until takeoff.”
“Takeoff? Can we handle that much torque?”
“Absolutely.”
–Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson