It’s easy to forget how disruptive the early days of the pandemic really were. Routines collapsed, work stalled, and for a lot of people, the forced downtime exposed more than just free hours. For Ben Rowett, August 2020 marked a low point—out of work with stress and struggling to find footing. But it also became the start of something unexpected: a first custom motorcycle, built slowly and deliberately in a shared garage with his father.
Ben grew up around classic British motorcycles, learning some from his father, but it wasn’t until this crossroads in his life that he dove in headfirst. Andy asked if he wanted to help with repairs and restorations during lockdown, not as therapy or a fresh start—just something practical to do with his hands. That was enough.
Ben worked with his father until the inspiration was too strong to leave on the back burner any longer. For nearly a decade, he had envisioned a simple, old-school bobber with the visual line of a rigid, and just enough suspension to make it usable. He didn’t yet know the platform. That changed when Andy handed him a book of British motorcycles from the 1940s and ’50s. Two bikes stood out immediately—a sprung hub Triumph and the BSA A10 with its plunger rear end—both offering that hardtail silhouette without the punishment.
When Ben mentioned the A10, it must have felt like the stars were aligning, as Andy had been storing a decent original example for a friend. A phone call later, and the 1955 BSA A10 Golden Flash was sitting in the garage, ready for a new lease on life.
Before anything came apart, they checked to see if it would run. The tank was full of old fuel, and oil had settled in the sump, but Andy kicked it through. On the third kick, the engine fired to life, filling the garage with smoke and noise. Ben’s reaction—’Gordon’s alive’—stuck. The name did too.
From there, the build unfolded without drama. The A10 was stripped down, the engine pulled and inspected. Internally, it was remarkably clean. Rather than chase upgrades, Ben chose to preserve what was already right, addressing only the basics—lapping valves, checking tolerances—refreshing what needed attention.
As a welder-fabricator by trade, Ben started where he was most comfortable: sheet metal. The oil tank was made from scratch, built in the garage using formed sections and bosses machined on a lathe to suit the pipework. Inspiration came from bikes he already knew well, his father’s Norton Model 50 and a Scott TT replica, machines defined by mechanical honesty above all.
That same thinking informed the rest of the build. A nostalgic saddle was non-negotiable, echoing the bikes Ben had grown up around. It was commissioned from Alex Leathercraft in Germany, while everything else that could reasonably be made in-house was. The seat mount, engine head steady, headlight bracket and exhaust system—all fabricated by Ben, with minimal welding done to the original frame.
Brass became a subtle theme, in both a functional and cosmetic sense. It started with a machined oil tank cap, then extended to smaller details like the fork gaiter reducers, seat spring washers and fasteners.
The custom exhaust was made from 304 stainless, and finished with compact silencers mounted cleanly at the rear. Mudguards were shaped on an English wheel and kept deliberately restrained. Ben admits the front guard is largely a formality, while the rear terminates just beyond the axle line to preserve the bobber profile. Tidy mounts were improvised using copper pipe and old hydraulic brake banjos.
Electrics were pared back to the essentials. Standard magneto and dynamo ignition, a simple lighting switch, duplex dip and horn. No clocks, no excess. The wiring loom was built from scratch and kept as minimal as possible, regulated by a modern AO unit hidden out of sight. Ben made the battery box as well, with a mild-steel structure and the top retained by a brass strap. The finishing touch came later: a solid brass five-inch headlamp sourced from the US after a long search, replacing an earlier Lucas unit and bringing the front end into balance.
Paint duties went to Steve Slight at Joeby’s Airbrush Art, a long-time collaborator who had painted many of Andy’s bikes over the years. Ben chose a period-correct BSA maroon and gold, tracking down the correct RAL codes to get it right. One detail was added quietly, without fanfare—a gold leaf handprint on the tank, based on a logo Andy had used on his helmets for as long as Ben could remember.
Shakedown rides exposed the usual realities. A home-made chain tensioner failed and was redesigned using a Talon sprocket. A sticking throttle traced back to a concentric carb led to fitting the Amal Monoblock the bike should have worn from the start. Since then, Gordon has proven reliable, accumulating miles rather than modifications.
A few final touches came only after living with the bike, including leather wraps for the tops of the fork legs and backers for the rubber knee pads. Small refinements made not to finish the build, but to make it feel complete.
The completion of Ben Rowlett’s BSA A10 deserves more than just a thumbs up for a job well done. Ben had a plan and stuck to it, all while letting the small details figure themselves out as he went. Furthermore, he turned a tough situation into a productive new venture, saving a languishing old motorcycle along the way.
Images by, and with our everlasting gratitude to, Del Hickey
