At Lunch with Ron Williams

ron williams | Interview
i n t e r v i e w
: J o h n W e s t l a k e
at lunch
with
‘the star riders Ron’s worked with in the
last 50 years could fill a GP paddock’
P h o t o g r a p h y
: j o h n w e st lake (portraits) , r o n w i l l i a m s A R C H I V E
& b a u e r a r c hive
Ron
Williams
You may not be familiar with his name,
but you’ve almost certainly seen the
results of his race chassis wizardry
on Williams is one of the quiet men of
R
motorcycling. He’s the sort of bloke who
steers clear of the limelight and just gets on
with building astonishing machinery –
TT-winning chassis for TZ Yamahas in the
1970s, then frames for numerous GP bikes and a TT-winning
Norton. Ron Haslam, Wayne Gardner, Chas Mortimer,
Tom Herron, Joey Dunlop, Charlie Williams, Roger Marshall,
Steve Hislop... the list of star riders Ron’s worked with over
the last 50 years could fill a GP paddock.
Mick Grant is another one, as Ron explains over lunch
at a pub close to his Maxton workshop near Chester, where
the 79-year-old still works. “I was at the TT in 1975 and
Mick came over and said: ‘You probably realise, I’m not
finishing races [on his KR triple]. After four laps the chain
jumps off the sprockets and we can’t work out why’. I told
him I thought I knew what was going on, but I’d need a day
and his mechanic Nigel [Everett] to help.
“They’d raised the bike to get it to steer and I suspected
the engine was out of position at the back so the chain run
was wrong. I unbrazed the lugs that hold the engine at the
back of the frame and repositioned it – it was about 12mm
out, which is quite a lot because the sprocket and swingarm
pivot were quite close. Obviously I didn’t have a jig, so I just
used the engine to line it up.”
Being able to pull off this kind of major surgery in a TT
paddock is impressive enough, but it gets better: “Mick
Ron Haslam at Donington Park in 1982
on the NR500 GP bike. Honda asked Ron
Williams to build a frame for the innovative
machine and were so impressed that they
kept him on as a suspension consultant
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ron williams | Interview
Ron (top middle, sitting on a crate) with
the NR500 team, circa 1980. Honda UK boss
Gerald Davison is facing the camera on the
left, with Ron Haslam sitting at front right
ABOVE: Mick Grant
soars over Ballaugh
at the 1975 TT.
He won the Senior
after Ron changed
his Kawasaki’s
engine position to
prevent the drive
chain snapping
RIGHT: The chassis
Ron built to house
Honda’s radical
oval-piston
NR500 engine
BELOW: Working on
a frame jig in
the late ’70s
took the bike and won the Senior. It was a fairytale ending.
I didn’t take any money for doing it, because it was a pleasure
to help Mick out – he’s a nice bloke. Mind you, after that
he let me borrow his Mercedes SL whenever he went away!”
Ron’s favour – and his analytical approach to chassis
design – was not forgotten by Mick, though. Six years later
Granty was riding for Honda, working on their wildly
ambitious NR500 Grand Prix project, and they needed
someone to build a new chassis. Mick recommended Ron.
“In 1981 I got a phone call at 7am and I thought it must
be bad news from a relation. But it was Gerald Davison
[boss of Honda UK]. He said: ‘Can you come to Japan and
have a look at our NR500 and tell us what you think?’ So
I went over and they wanted me to make a conventional
frame to make it easier for them to put miles on the engine
[Honda had designed a radical monocoque frame].
“I went back home and made it in the Honda workshops
in Slough – they flew their best machinists over and we built
it together. I bent the tube, because none of the Japanese
could do it. It was conventional, but that’s what they wanted.
I think they couldn’t put enough miles on the normal bike
because whenever the engine broke, it took too long to get
at it with the monocoque.
“It was funny, because I actually ran a class to teach 10-12
Honda chassis engineers – they wanted to learn about
frames. They would bring in an example of theirs and I’d
say: ‘Well, this isn’t a good idea because of this that and the
other’. Academically, I was by far the lowest qualified in
the room, but I’d built a lot of frames and the Japanese
weren’t practical. They needed to ride bikes. I told this to
the head of the NR project – and two weeks later, I turned
up at Suzuka and the same lot of engineers were getting
motorcycle lessons. I enjoyed working with the Japanese,
they were very nice, humble people.”
‘I ran a class to teach
Honda chassis engineers’
Ron’s too modest to mention that among the people he
taught about frames and chassis design was a certain Takeo
Fukui, who went on to become the CEO and president of
Honda worldwide, and another of Ron’s students went on
to become the boss of HRC.
“I never thought the NR would be competitive,” says
Ron, “but I admired what the engineers were trying to
achieve. They had so many problems with the engine – it
revved so high [21,000rpm] that when it blew, it destroyed
all the evidence of why it went. I’m not an engine man, but
the crankshaft was a work of art. It was fantastic.”
Ron’s route into chassis design was similar to many other
mechanical maestros of his generation – he left school at
15 and started an engineering apprenticeship. “I was a tool
fitter at Vickers,” he says. “It was marvellous training –
forging, casting, all kinds of welding... we did everything.
It set me up perfectly for general engineering.”
Running in parallel with his Vickers job was a fascination
with bikes, and in particular sprinting. Short on cash, Ron
got almost everything he required from scrapyards, eventually
building a 500cc Triumph twin that was good enough for
him to break several British records. But his obsession with
motorcycles meant he didn’t feel like he fitted in at Vickers
(later AIE) – “They all wanted to go bowling on a Friday
night and I didn’t, because I had to prepare my bikes.”
Then, while searching for a new ignition system, he made
a valuable contact that put him on a different path. “I needed
a capacitor discharge system for the Triumph twin – by then
it was supercharged and running on nitromethane and
revved to 9000rpm. The bloke who designed the new ignition
had contacts at Chevron [the successful racing car
manufacturer], and I got a job there as a draughtsman.”
This was crucial, as it gave Ron the chance to design all
manner of parts – uprights, wishbones, driveshafts, wheels...
the lot. “I enjoyed it and stayed for five years. But they
weren’t like bikers and I got to thinking that some of my
knowledge could be put into bikes. But I didn’t know
anyone in the motorcycle business, so I was reticent.”
Finally, in 1971, he took the plunge and started
Maxton. It was tough at the beginning – “I had to
sell my car to raise the money, so I was on my
pushbike for a bit” – but Ron was determined,
and humble enough to ask for advice when needed.
“I learnt lots by going to the suppliers and asking
questions. No one in bikes knew much about
limits and fits in those days, especially with
magnesium components.”
This knowledge was invaluable, as Ron immediately
saw the attraction of the new Yamaha TZ racers. His
first frame was for a Matchless G50 (he designed the
exhaust to go through the swingarm to give more ground
clearance), but the TZs were more appealing. “I liked the
power and simplicity of the two-strokes – the G50 was like
a steam engine by comparison.” But the TZs had a problem:
their frames. “They were made out of terrible material – it
was the same stuff that your exhaust pipes are made of,
whereas my frames were made from Reynolds 531 or T45.”
Not only that, but Ron’s were beautifully made. “I was
always keen on brazing frames, because if it’s done properly
Ron in 1972 aboard
his Triumph sprint
bike. He went on
to take several
British records
I’ve never seen one break and the distortion is much less
than welding [because lower temperatures are required].
There’s more skill needed, but that was OK because I’d
done a lot at Chevron and learnt it well.”
Ron’s ingenuity was also coming to the fore, with racers
appreciating little touches in his designs that could make
a huge difference on race weekends. “With my frame
kits, I used to make it so the footpegs would break
off in a crash so you wouldn’t damage the frame.
I did the same with fairing brackets and seat posts.
“Also, lots of TZ frames had problems with
cracking, although mine didn’t, so I came up
with a system for checking, to reassure riders.
I interconnected all the sections of my frames and
put a Schrader valve in one tube, so I could pressurise
the whole lot. Then, after the race, you could check
with a pressure gauge and see if any air had escaped
through a crack. It was a fantastic system.”
Initially, Ron made frames for local racers, and one of
them was Charlie Williams. “I found a really good sponsor
for him called Derek Johnson – you’ll see his name on the
side of a lot of the old bikes. He was a lovely bloke – I wasn’t
well known then, and nor was Charlie, but he took a punt
on us.” Ron and Charlie paid back Derek’s faith – Charlie
won two TTs in 1973 and another in 1974.
Suddenly, people were taking notice of the mild-mannered
engineer working from his parent’s garage. “After the success
I had with Charlie in the Isle of Man, in 1974 I was approached
by Suzuki to make a frame for Paul Smart, who was riding
the first of the square-four two-strokes that would become
the RG. They gave me a free rein to do what I wanted.
“The main problem with the RGs was they didn’t have
enough weight on the front wheel, so they were wheelying
everywhere. I looked at the standard bike and it had a big,
thick radiator that touched the front wheel under braking,
so I moved the engine forward to get more weight on the
front, then had radiators on either side. It worked well.”
That’s another case of Ron being rather modest. It didn’t
just work well, it worked brilliantly and put the frighteners
on a certain Mr B Sheene. “Paul rode it in several GPs and
did well, but the rumour is that Barry Sheene [by then
Suzuki’s lead rider] insisted the bike went back to Japan to
make sure Paul couldn’t ride it again and embarrass him.
“Because it was easy to ride, it made Barry and his
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ron williams | Interview
factory bike look bad. Smarty was great to work with – at
the time he was one of the few riders who cottoned on how
to ride the big bikes, by squaring the corners off rather than
leaning them over a long way. In those days the tyres were
the limiting factor. Paul wanted to ride it at the Race of the
Year at Oulton Park, but he never did – the bike went to
Japan. What Barry said in the Suzuki camp went.”
Ron tucks into his liver and onions, perhaps contemplating
the mysteries of factory politics – which you get the feeling
he understands a lot less than frame stresses. I naively wonder
if helping Suzuki with their R&D had cemented his relationship
with them? “Oo no, I don’t think so,” he says, appearing
baffled by the idea. “They did pay me eventually, but I didn’t
want a job with them. I liked being independent and I’ve
always kept a low profile – as long as my in-tray was full I
was happy. I was working on my own and could only make
10-12 frames a year. Suzuki had no idea I made the frame
for their factory bike in my parents’ garage.”
By the time Honda called him in 1981, Ron had moved
his workshop to Alvanley, just north of Oulton Park. The
converted chapel seemed like spacious heaven to start with,
though within a few years it was crowded with machine
tools. After the NR project, Ron was employed as a chassis
consultant for the Honda Britain squad, which meant he
worked not just with Wayne Gardner and Roger Burnett,
but also Joey Dunlop.
“Honda Britain had entered the European [TT Formula
One] rounds, which were often a couple of weeks apart, so
Joey used to drive around, cooking beans in the back of his
car. I got on with him OK and I could see why he was
successful – he wasn’t distracted by anything. Occasionally
I’d ask him about something he was quoted as saying in the
papers and he’d say: ‘I never said that,’ and get on with what
he was doing. He couldn’t really read or write – I don’t think
he went to school much – so he wasn’t distracted by all the
press attention. When he set off down Bray Hill, he never
knew if he was tipped to be favourite. He was just Joey
going for a ride. And he could certainly ride.
“His feedback was very good – though, of course, he was
difficult to understand,” says Ron, who then illustrates the
point by doing an excellent impression of Joey saying something
about rebound in a bewilderingly thick Ballymoney accent.
“But he was secretive about his settings. He would never
tell me about his steering damper, for example. I used to
write all the settings down, so when we would go to a circuit
again we’d have a good start point.
“But as Joey came in, he’d wind the steering damper off
so no one else in the team would know how he had it.
I actually made him a special steering damper because
I found out he adjusted the steering damper as he went
CHARLIE WILLIAMS ARCHIVE
LEFT: Charlie
Williams, astride
his Derek Johnson
Yamaha that Ron
built, chatting to
Mick Grant in 1974
Below: Ron with
Paul Smart. Ron
helped to sort
Smarty’s early
RG500 – it didn’t go
down too well with
team-mate Sheene
TOP RIGHT: Joey
Dunlop on a Honda
500 fettled by Ron
in the British GP at
Donington in 1987
BOTTOM RIGHT:
Ron with stepson
Richard Adams,
who runs Maxton
round the circuit – he needed the damper wound up for the
rough bits. I made it so it was easy to adjust, and had maximum
and minimums he could pre-set.
“Of course, Joey was a genius in his own way, but if he
was having problems with a bike he’d still come and ask for
help. He’d never say where the bike was good, though – you
could never get that information out of him. I asked him
once what his favourite bike was round the TT and he said:
“The 500” [Rothmans Honda RS]. And that was the end
of that conversation.”
When his race engineer career drew to a close at the end
of the ’80s, Ron returned home to pour effort into Maxton
Engineering – the Max is short for maximum, the ton refers
to 100mph – which had been sidelined by his globetrotting
antics. He’d identified a demand for high-quality suspension
components so people could convert road bikes for racing,
and true to form he quietly set to work. Shocks and fork
internals were designed, built, tested and refined... and
Maxton’s reputation spread.
‘WE do lots of classic bike
suspension work now’
“Richard [Adams, his stepson who now runs the business]
and I do plenty of work on classic bike suspension now,”
he says as we finish off our coffees. “For example, Norton
forks are horrendous. The cartridge doesn’t work. It’s designed
on the same principle as a lift pump [a low-pressure pump
originally used for pumping water] and the only compression
damping is from seal friction. It’s terrible. We replace the
seals by boring out the top of the leg and put a modern seal
in, so the forks can actually move. Also, they’ve got phosphor
bronze bushes which run on aluminium, so we make bushes
from Delrin [a high-density engineering plastic] and it
transforms the fork. Suddenly you can control what you
want the damping to do.”
As ever, Ron makes it all sound bleedin’ obvious, quietly
explaining his solution just as he did to those Honda NR500
engineers in the 1970s. “We’ve even done an Ariel Arrow
race bike,” he continues. “The rider was having so much
judder from the leading link that he couldn’t hang on to it.
At first I made a pair of shocks for the front, but it wasn’t
quite right. So I used a cartridge, even though on the outside
it looks like a shock, and that worked fine.” How fine,
exactly, I wonder as we wander out of the pub. “Well, the
rider was Mike Hose and he won absolutely everything on
it.” No surprises there, then...
RON
WILLIAMS
A life of chassis
Ron and charlie
Ron and Charlie Williams lived
nearby (they still do) and were a
good team, with Ron building
frames for Charlie’s TZs . Above,
Charlie is starting the Lightweight
TT in 1975 on the Dugdale Yamaha.
The late Tony Rutter is #9, behind.
Smarty and suzuki
Suzuki took notice of Ron’s success
at the TT with Charlie Williams and
asked him to build a frame for Paul
Smart’s G-54 prototype RG500
(above). Ron made the frame for
the factory bike in the workshop in
his parents’ garage.
the NR Project
Ron enjoyed working with Ron
Haslam (that’s him on the NR at
Donington Park in 1982): “He was a
lovely bloke. He gave 100% and
when he came in, he’d give you the
first three things that needed to
change. What more can you ask?”
rothmans honda
After the NR project, Ron worked
for Honda Britain in 1983. He found
Wayne Gardner (right) quite
difficult: “What he says after he
gets off the bike is different to later
on. It makes it difficult for me to find
out what’s actually going on.”
Over to norton
Ron poses with Steve Spray’s JPS
Norton in 1990. Despite race
success, it was a tricky time for the
team as rotary engine genius Brian
Crighton and new team manager
Barry Symmonds fell out in a big
way. Crighton ended up leaving.
back to business
Ron’s stint with Norton in the early
’90s was his last full-time foray with
a race team. Since then he’s
concentrated on Maxton, which
now makes suspension for all
manner of classics, such as the
1978 Honda CB400 above.
still working
Walk into Maxton and Ron’s work
station is the first thing you see,
often with Ron at the controls.
“I still do a bit of designing,” the
79-year-old says. “But the business
is run by my stepson Richard, so
he does all the hard work!”
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