Ann and Bob Pipkins shared a long history of touring across the U.S. on their Norton Commando. Learn about their bond and how their first journey drove their passion.
Married to a Norton owner
It was Christmas Eve 1977, in Boulder, Colorado, when Bob, my late husband, brought home a brand new 1975 850 Norton Commando MkIII Roadster. It was white with blue and red stripes on the gas tank and side covers. It was about this time that Norton Motorcycles was on the way out and the local motorcycle shop saw it as opportunity to off-load its inventory. The original asking price of this Norton was $2,895; Bob picked it up for only $1,895 which he was very happy about.
Although Bob started riding motorcycles at 14 years old (some 13 years previous), the Norton was the biggest and heaviest one he had ever owned up until this time. This became apparent when, the next day, we rode it to a local convenience store. In order to exit the parking lot, Bob had to turn the bike around. Not being used to the bike’s weight and bulk, as he began to push it around to the left he dropped it! I stood there gobsmacked until he brought me out of my stupor when he yelled “come here and help me pick it up!” which I did pronto. The whole incident was over so fast no one even seemed to notice (or if they did, they did not think anything about it at least not enough to come to our aid). Because the bike landed on the passenger foot peg, it escaped damage. So, after gaining our composure, we hopped on and away we rode. Bob made me swear on my honor not to tell a soul about the incident, from which I have refrained all these years, and I am sharing it here for the first time ever. It was definitely our “secret.” (I hope you don’t mind, Bob but I feel it adds another layer to the Unapproachable Norton monicker).
Unforgettable Road Trip
This Roadster was definitely all of that, and we did not let any grass grow under it. Although Bob joined the NOA and INOA and we attended their rallies, we also did a lot of touring on our own. One very memorable trip was in July 1978 from Boulder, Colorado, to San Clemente, California, to visit college friends. After leaving Boulder we stopped at Zion National Park, spent a day and a half there, and left just before sundown to cross the desert. How well I remember cresting the hill as we headed west and seeing the night lights of the Las Vegas Strip glimmering below. It was 97 degrees as we cruised the Strip at 1 a.m. It was the first time I had sweat running down my neck from my helmet strap! Because we had miles to go before reaching our destination, we motored on. But as we approached Barstow, I started dosing off which caused me and the bike to lean precariously to one side or another. If Bob had not caught me, this tale would most likely not be told.
So, outside of Barstow we pulled off the road finding a piece of old, abandoned blacktop. There, we pulled out our sleeping bags, tossed them on the blacktop and slept until the blazing sun popped up on the horizon. Not too far down the road was a real truck stop where we took showers, ate a hearty breakfast, and soldiered on to San Clemente. The very next day, Bob bought and installed an oil cooler on the Norton. During our desert crossing, more than once he begged the bike not to seize up because the air-cooled engine was not getting enough circulation.
After a week with our friends, it was time to head home. Of course, we just had to take the long way back which meant traveling north on the Pacific Coast Highway. Eventually cutting inward, we stopped at Crater Lake, Oregon, before heading east through Idaho. One morning after camping outside of Boise, we found a restaurant that served five-egg omelets. After both of us consumed (more like devoured) one each, the waitress commented “I have never seen anyone finish one of those omelets!” Lady, we were definitely burning the calories, so bring it on!
By the end of the trip, we were riding 300 miles a day. Mind you, the Norton was fully loaded with a tent, sleeping bags, food, water (in a canteen), oil, tools, clothing, us, no cell phone, and it never skipped a beat. In our early days of motorcycling, this is how we traveled — footloose and fancy free, fully self-contained. Who needed a motel? We always managed to find what we needed. The total mileage covered in three weeks was 3,300. This picture of two road warriors was taken at the end of our trip. I believe the smiles tell it all!
This first big trip on the Roadster was only the beginning although it was by far the longest. Subsequent trips include Yellowstone National Park, the Tetons, Sturgis (several times), New Mexico and most of Colorado just to name a few. We always traveled two-up. Bob was okay with that because as he said that way he always knew where I was — right behind him!
End of the Norton Roadster
We took full advantage of that Roadster until one unfortunate day in 1983 in Boulder, when a guy driving a Mazda RX-7 lost control of it while running a red light from the opposite direction and sliding sideways, hit us head on. There was only enough time for Bob to move his hands farther down on the handlebars, taking the brunt of the impact in his shoulders and neck. Because Bob was slowing down for the red light, our speed was very low thereby reducing the impact, but the bike’s front wheel was still pretty much embedded in the driver’s door. Bob’s helmeted head did tap the guy’s window through which you could see the whites of his eyes! I, on the other hand, came up off the seat catching my right foot on my foot peg causing muscle damage. When I saw what was happening (in slow motion no less), I grabbed hold of Bob’s middle so hard he thought I was going to break his ribs. I was determined to stay on the bike!
To Bob’s credit, he was able to keep us and the Norton upright, but it also led to its demise by cracking the engine case. And, to our knowledge, the Mazda driver did not receive a ticket for either running the red light or for reckless driving. I leave you with the thought of how that accident was interpreted by law enforcement.
And, so ends the story of this segment of my life married to a Norton owner, because shortly thereafter Bob purchased his second one which is another adventure story for another time.
