With motorcycles, the journey matters more than the destination, especially when your destination is 4,000km away and your ride is a 75-year-old two-stroke.
There's something beautifully mad about vintage motorcycles. They demand patience, understanding, and a healthy respect, because bikes built three-quarters of a century ago weren't designed with modern reliability in mind. When the engineers at Scott Motorcycles in Shipley, Yorkshire were crafting their innovative liquid-cooled two-strokes in 1947, it's unlikely they ever imagined one of their Flying Squirrels would one day be tackling 4,000 kilometres in the Australian outback, battling temperatures and conditions far removed from the cool English countryside where it was born.
For Nathan, a passionate classic bike mechanic and racer, this reality became very personal when he decided to tackle the 2025 Southern Cross Cannonball Classic on a 1947 Scott Flying Squirrel.
The 2025 event itself was straightforward enough: ride a pre-1949 motorcycle from Darwin in the Northern Territory to Victor Harbour in South Australia, just over 4,000 kilometres across some of Australia's most challenging terrain. Simple, right? Well, perhaps not when your chosen steed is a liquid-cooled, parallel-twin, 600cc two-stroke that you've never worked on before.
The Auction Find
"The bike was bought, it came out of a deceased estate," Nathan explains. "When you buy them from on auctions like that, you don't really know what you're getting."
The decision to take the Scott wasn't entirely Nathan's. "Someone who shall remain nameless decided that that'd be a really cool bike to take," he laughs. "So my anxiety levels started to go through the roof because I'm a mechanic, but I don't know anything about Scott Flying Squirrels."
What followed was an 18-month journey through the unique challenges of restoring a machine for which parts simply no longer exist. The radiator was falling apart and the motor needed a complete rebuild, work that was beyond Nathan's expertise.
Nathan pulled the motor down and realised that was some stuff in there that needed some very specialist work with some very specialised knowledge. The search led him to a Scott expert, who had recently and very conveniently relocated from the UK to Ballarat down in Victoria, someone who understood these unique machines and their quirks.
"Long story short, we found someone down in Ballarat that was going to help us out," Nathan explains.
The specialist's assessment revealed the true scope of the challenge. "He had to cast his own pistons, for example. You can't buy pistons," Nathan explains about the specialist who took on the engine work. "The crank was no good. So he attempted to make his own crank for this motor but it didn't work."
The radiator saga became almost comical in its complexity. After finding a different specialist in the UK who could make a new one, they discovered he had "three on order for six years." A desperate eBay search led to a Chinese replacement that wound’t fit between in the frame rails so it had to be modified.
Ready or Not
After all the preparation dramas, the Scott was finally ready. But "ready" was a relative term. As it turns out it was ready to go two weeks before the team drove to Darwin and Nathan had only put 230 km's on the bike.
Two hundred and thirty kilometres. For most motorcycles, that's barely a decent weekend ride. For a completely rebuilt, 75-year-old machine about to tackle 4,000km across some of challenging terrain, it was woefully inadequate. Nathan knew it, but time had run out.
Then came the crew crisis. Dave, their planned mechanical support, had to withdraw due to illness. "It all rested on my shoulders about getting this bike across Australia," Nathan admits.
"You can't go and do something like that on an unknown motor," he reflects, the anxiety of those final weeks still evident. The Scott needed proper testing, miles of proving runs to shake out the inevitable issues that come with any rebuild. Instead, Nathan found himself loading an essentially untested motorcycle onto the trailer, heading north with nothing but hope and a well-stocked tool kit.
It was the kind of situation that keeps mechanics awake at night, all that work, all that preparation, and still so many unknowns. The Scott would get its real test soon enough, but it wouldn't be on familiar roads near home. It would be in the middle of the Australian outback, with 81 other vintage motorcycles and their crews watching every blue-smoke departure.
Darwin to Somewhere
The start in Darwin was both relief and anxiety. Among 82 pre-1949 motorcycles, the Scott was impossible to miss. "Every time we took off from a service station, or set of lights it was just this huge blue cloud of smoke. So all eyes were on us."
The cooling system issues began immediately. The modified radiator setup couldn't cope with the load and heat, forcing Nathan into careful management from day one. "I was carrying more water for the bike than there was water for me. Every time we stopped and I got a chance, I just topped the radiator back up again."
For three days, Nathan nursed the temperamental machine through the harsh landscape of the Northern Territory, becoming hyper-aware of every sound and vibration. "You get so tuned into how the bike's performing, when the road rises a little and the vibrations change, you think…what’s that?"
Day three brought both confidence and crisis. Fighting headwinds, Nathan found his rhythm, spending 150 kilometres lying flat on the tank as the Scott sang at higher revs. Then he noticed steam from the radiator. "She nipped up and seized," he recalls simply. "I thought, oh, that's it, we're done."
But twenty minutes later, the engine freed up. With just 4km to the stage end, the Scott limped home.
Day four was a big one, 500km and while the Scott handled it, the primary chain was deteriorating rapidly. The emotional toll was mounting. "Each night I was in my swag by half past eight, you know, just buggered."
The frustration was building. Nathan found himself caught between his mechanical instincts and the pressure of the event. "I was just getting really frustrated... it's funny that the emotions that you go through... you wouldn't expect it to be such an emotional roller coaster an event like this."
After 1,100km and four completed stages, Nathan knew something had to give. The conversation with Rob, the bike's owner, wasn't easy. "I said, look, we've come a long way and spent a lot of money and a lot of effort to do this event. We're here, we're doing it, we'll put the Scott away and bring the BSA out and just enjoy the event, you know, stop with this stressing because we were all wound up."
It was a pragmatic decision born from exhaustion and the reality that the Scott's issues were overshadowing what should have been an incredible adventure. The bike had given them four good days and over 1,000 kilometres, more than many thought possible but it was time to prioritise completing the journey over proving a point.
The BSA Solution
The contrast was immediate and, frankly, a bit embarrassing. The 1949 BSA B33, Nathan’s father's old bike transformed the entire experience. "I was feeling guilty about how much I was enjoying it. It was just brilliant."
The preparation difference said everything: "I changed the oil. That was it. Changed the oil, put it in the trailer, drove it to Darwin and rode it from Alice Springs to Victor Harbour."
With confidence restored, adventure followed. At a salt lake lookout, Nathan spotted a track leading toward the dried creek bed. “I fired up the BSA and set off down this rocky track... would never have attempted that with the Scott."
Victor Harbour
Despite final day drama involving a crew member's hospitalisation, Nathan crossed the finish line. The numbers tell their own story: 4,300km over 14 days, 220 litres of fuel consumed, and nearly 10,000km total including travel to and from the event.
Looking back, Nathan's perspective on the Scott's performance has evolved. "Four completed stages which was about 1100kms, that’s not too bad. Most blokes wouldn’t do that many kms on a club run on their old bike old bike in a year”.
The 1947 Scott Flying Squirrel didn't complete the Southern Cross Cannonball Classic, but it achieved something perhaps more valuable, it reminded everyone involved why we are drawn to these old machines in the first place. Not despite their quirks and challenges, but because of them.
Sometimes the bike chooses the adventure, and sometimes the adventure chooses the bike. In Nathan's case, it took both a temperamental Scott and a reliable BSA to complete one hell of a journey.
The Southern Cross Cannonball Classic raises funds for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Of 82 entries, 80 started and 77 finished – remarkable statistics for machines built over 75 years ago.