The Interceptor had been stored in a garage for years, after some ham-fisted wrenching had cross-threaded a spark plug. So it just sat - oil, gas and all. But when the deal was done, Jim borrowed the company truck and a few buddies, bought a couple of cases of beer, and the Interceptor was soon installed in Jim's third-floor apartment.

It was the early 1980s, British bikes were out of favor, parts were scarce and advice even scarcer. One local motorcycle dealer even warned Jim not to bring the bike anywhere near his shop! The only information Jim could find on his new bike was in Bernie Nicholson's Modern Motorcycle Mechanics.

Fortunately, he stumbled across Vancouver's British Motorcycle Owners' Club, and a number of members helped out with parts and wrenching advice. It was time to see if it would start...

Some more buddies, another case of beer, and the Interceptor was back on pavement. With fresh oil in the engine, fresh gas and a new battery, the bike coughed after a few kicks and was soon running. But blistering chrome on the exhaust headers meant something was wrong. Jim handed the bike to another BMOC member who rebuilt the carbs and set the timing, and the Interceptor was running like a top in no time.

"It's been flawless ever since," says Jim, "apart from a couple of coil wires breaking. I've never had a single breakdown."

Jim replaced exhaust valves a few years back, but the rest of the engine has never been apart, even though the odometer shows more than 40,000 miles, and in spite of some mechanical rattles, it runs reliably and cleanly. The bellow from the scantily-lined Campbell silencers when Jim winds it up can curdle milk and stampede cattle.

It's a tribute to Jim's spit 'n' polish that the bike looks as beautiful as it does. You can see your face in the carbs, a real achievement given Mr Amal's rough die-cast zinc alloy. The Mk1A drips chrome anyway - fork ears, headlight, gas tank - and Jim's polishing efforts have created a real eye-popper.