If you haven’t noticed, the prices recently garnered by vintage, classic and antique motorcycles have gone through the roof…and blasted past Saturn and beyond. Case in point the recent Otis Chandler Museum and Steve McQueen auctions where several motorcycles passed the $100,000 mark, make that the $200,000 mark! Ounce per ounce vintage iron is definitely now a precious metal.
The record-breaking bike prices previously mentioned were paid for rare bikes, perhaps one of several dozen bikes of the make and year. Seen here is literally a oneuvakind motorcycle which itself can be problematic when assigning monetary value. How do you assay the price of something for which there is no comparison? One way is evaluating its history and placing it in some kind of context.
Seen here is a 1911 Minneapolis Tri-Car. The year is a no-brainer, 1911 being stamped into the machine’s flesh so to speak. It was also the year in which the idea of an MVP for the American and National baseball leagues was introduced by Hugh Chalmers, the manufacturer of the very popular Chalmers automobile, a brand new model given to each MVP.
That same year also saw the introduction of the tea bag (instead of loose tea) while the very first Indy 500 was run, and cellophane and air conditioning were invented through Yankee ingenuity.
Meanwhile in the world of motorcycles the top of the food chain was occupied by Indian, Harley-Davidson and Excelsior, the Big Three OEMs at the early part of the 20th Century. While Minneapolis today doesn’t usually ring any bells as far as famous motorcycles, there’s still a city by the name of its point of manufacture. The Minneapolis company designed and built a variety of vehicles from 1908-1914 and had previously been the manufacturers of Michaelson motorcycles, another footnote in history during a period when several hundred different bikes were Made and then Lost in America.
The first Minneapolis bikes employed an Aurora single cylinder engine as supplied to a number of motorcycle manufacturers of the era. These proprietary motors were basically clones of the engine used in the better known Thor motorcycle. That changed in 1911 when an engine of Minneapolis in-house design, specifically a sidevalve single was introduced. Stepping out of the box, the innovative Unit Power Plant design featured a left side displacement of valves and exhaust pipe, contrary to most American engines of the time, and became a major selling point. The Minneapolis Big 5 Auto-Cycle model boasted 11.5 HP and was considered “quick, reliable and efficient.” The new models also sported an internal two-speed transmission and leading link front suspension. Later models went on to incorporate a swingarm rear suspension featuring a monoshock. The company, during the waning years of its operation, offered the more powerful Deluxe powerplant as supplied by Spacke Machine Company of Indianapolis, Indiana.
During its heyday the Minneapolis was also touted as “an automobile on two wheels.” That would be, although briefly, amended to “ three wheels” with the debut of the 1911 Tri-Car, a utility transport vehicle intended for use by police departments as well as for postal and light delivery duties. The example seen here, and previously in the Otis Chandler collection, is the only known example to have survived, and appears just as it did when it trundled out of the Minneapolis shop in 1911 beautifully appointed in polished nickel and a rich burgundy red paint with gold pinstriping, the result of a meticulous restoration undertaken by Master Restorer Jeff Slobodian of Ojai, CA. And yes, the white tires are correct for the bike and era prior to the 1912 introduction of carbon as a blackening compound.
The price of a Minneapolis single when new was about $300. The Tri-Car seen here recently sold at auction for $125,000 plus fees and went into a private collection being put together by vintage bike gurus Don Whalen and Richard Bunch who are seeking to specialize in and ultimately make available for public viewing examples of all pre-1920 American made motorcycles, of which the historians say numbered 200-300, a daunting, though highly commendable task for all those who enjoy the history and beauty wrapped up in motorcycling’s rare legacy. “This search has been ongoing everyday for the last fifteen years.” says Don, “Even with a fairly flexible budget, we’ve only been able to locate about 40 examples, but we’re still looking.”
An Adventure in Moving: Ride Report circa 1911 Tri-Car
Before we delve into the intricacies of piloting a nearly hundred year old motorcycle that’s also pushing a cargo container with no front brakes and a machine that’s worth more than most houses (outside of L.A.), let us make note that serious security is on 24 hour alert.
“Security” only weighs 130 lbs., but he can scale a six-foot fence in a single bound and utilizes a low frequency anti-intruder “growl” technology as well. He wears a collar with a name tag that reads “Maximus” and that about sums up Don Whalen’s Rotweiller, the official “greeter” at his Pasadena, CA residence. Asked if Maximus had eaten anyone lately, Don, noted for his dry sense of humor, replies, “Not anyone of consequence.”
That said Don, who has not only restored a wide spectrum of vintage and antique bikes, but also ridden them, took us through the routine necessary to get the Minneapolis started and then keep going.
“It’s not walk into the garage and push the starter button,” says Don. “In 1911 riding a motorcycle was really an adventure in moving. Not only were the bikes somewhat labor intensive to start and ride, the roads were at best rudimentary. And stop signs or traffic lights? What’s that? No wonder these early manufacturers didn’t spend too much effort on brakes, in fact they had no front brake at all and only a bicycle type Muscleman brake on the rear. You definitely had to plan your trips and especially plan your stopping in advance.”
The start-up process begins with setting the timing controls. Asked how he knows where to set the control, Don laughs and says, “Keep changing it until it fires.” He goes on to explain that the correct position is at about the half-way point between full advance and full retard. If it hasn’t been started in a while you then prime the cylinders with a few drops of gas via small fuel cups. It’s a direct prime via a petcock type arrangement whereby the gas trickles down into the cylinders.
Next, activate the compression release, put the tranny in neutral, then grab a handful of the handcrank. Yes, handcrank. Because of the addition of the framework to handle the Tri-car’s cargo box, you can’t start the bike by pedaling as was the fashion back in 1911, so the company’s standard single cylinder engine was adapted to handle a crank starter that operates much like the old cars. Don adds, “The 500cc sidevalve thumper motor has enough compression that the handcrank can fly back around on you and give you a rap on the knuckles that any nun would be proud of.”
After three or four good cranks, it fires over. You retract the crank and pack it away in the box or as Don does, leave it in the shop. Asked, but what if you stall somewhere out on the street, Don has that covered. “That’s what they made cell phones for. We also have a shop rule that you always test ride bikes going up hill. If the engine stalls out, you just head back down hill to start it.”
Once running, you re-adjust the timing, advancing it. “It runs very smooth, in fact,” says Don, speaking from experience. “As far as gearing it basically it has a first, a neutral and second. Drop it into second and off you go. It’s actually more reasonable to ride than many other early bikes I’ve ridden.”
Asked about handling, Don pauses, then replies, “It’s ready to turn at the slightest indication. If you want to go one way or the other, it’s all in favor of that and has a rather unexpectedly quick response which is a little disconcerting the first time you ride it.”
As far as performance, a truly relative term back in 1911, the Minneapolis was powered by an 11.5 HP engine while most of its contemporaries were chugging along with 4-5 ponies. Says Don, “It’s capable of speeds faster than I’m willing to ride it, speeds way beyond its stopping ability. And that’s with the cargo box empty. That single rear brake is a foot operated lever arrangement that engages the hub brake, which at the same releases some compression, a side effect of retarding the timing.
The Minneapolis also has a right side hand clutch. Pull in the clutch with your right hand, then reach down and use your hand to shift into low gear and off you go and that’s via a left hand throttle to keep it interesting. Says Don, “You only get that wrong a couple times because if you do, you have to get off to start it again.”
Today’s pump gas works fine and the bike’s innards are lubricated by 50 weight oil. “You add a few whiffs of oil now via the little hand pump gizmo and then add another whiff or two when you hear a sound like a ball-peen hammer pounding against the inside of the cases,” explains Don.
Then he sums it up by adding, “It took some fortitude to get where you were going back then, but for the most part bikes could travel quite a distance. This bike was designed to be a neighborhood delivery vehicle, and this specific example was the company’s production prototype. Although the Tri-Car was placed into production, as far as we know, it’s the last of its species.”
If you're looking to invest in, or sell, precious metal, you can reach Don Whalen at 626-358-9696.
