More than half a century after the famous BSA badge disappeared from Australian showrooms, Birmingham Small Arms is back. The reborn British marque officially arrived on our shores earlier this year.
It did so under the stewardship of former motocross champion and long-time motorcycle industry stalwart Jeff Leisk, whose newly established family business, Leisk Moto Imports (LMI), has taken on local distribution, with customer deliveries beginning last May.
Three models currently make up the Australian BSA range: the Gold Star 650, Scrambler 650 and Bantam 350. All are LAMS approved and aggressively priced, with 12-months rego and a 3-year unlimited kilometre warranty.
The Bantam 350 kicks things off at $7590 ride away, with six colours available, the Scrambler 650 is $11,799 ride away in any of its three shades, while the Gold Star 650 starts at $11,699 and is offered in five standard hues, plus a Silver Sheen Legacy Edition.
The Birmingham Small Arms Company was founded in 1861, initially manufacturing firearms, before moving into motorcycles in the early years of the 20th century. Its first complete motorcycle appeared in 1910 before the brand became an industrial giant.
During the 1950s it was the largest motorcycle manufacturer in the world. At its peak, around one in every four motorcycles produced globally carried a BSA badge. The company also built an enviable competition record.
The Gold Star name itself can be traced back to 1937, when Wal Handley lapped the fearsome Brooklands circuit at more than 100mph aboard a BSA Empire Star, earning one of the circuit’s coveted Gold Star badges.
BSA subsequently adopted the Gold Star name for the sporting single that would become one of the most celebrated motorcycles in the company’s history. But like much of the once-mighty British motorcycle industry, the brand eventually fell on hard times.
Production ceased in 1973 and one of the most recognisable badges in motorcycling effectively disappeared from showrooms for decades. The latest chapter began after Indian industrial giant Mahindra & Mahindra acquired the BSA brand in 2016.
The first tangible sign of BSA’s resurrection came when the new Gold Star was unveiled in 2021. And now that revival has reached Australia. BSA certainly has history on its side, but nostalgia alone won’t sell motorcycles indefinitely.
The bikes still need to be good enough to compete in a modern market, while LMI faces the equally important task of establishing the dealer, parts and technical support network required to convince Australian riders that BSA is genuinely back for the long haul.
After two days sampling all three bikes in the Sydney basin, the question is, is this a case of all show and no go, or a proper lash at returning BSA to showroom floors? The Gold Star is unquestionably the hero of the reborn range, as it has always been.
Its classic silhouette is powered by a 652cc liquid-cooled, DOHC, four-valve single producing 33.6kW at 6500rpm and 55Nm of torque at just 4000rpm. It uses twin spark plugs, a relatively high 11.5:1 compression ratio and a five-speed gearbox.
The engine is licensed from Rotax and based on the Austrian company’s 652cc single, an earlier iteration of which powered BMW’s F650 Funduro, so it has pedigree. It’s an alternative to slotting in the ubiquitous parallel twin.
Instead, BSA has retained the defining characteristic of its famous forebear. Fire the Gold Star into life and it immediately gives the bike character. There’s plenty of bottom and midrange grunt and, because I apparently can’t help myself, enough to hoist the front wheel.
It does run out of puff towards the top of the rev range, but that hardly matters on a bike like this. At 213kg wet it’s no lightweight, but compared with its nearest competitor, Royal Enfield’s twin-cylinder Bullet 650, it’s carrying 30kg less lard.
“Ah, but the Bullet is a twin-cylinder machine and is obviously putting out more power and torque”, I hear you chorus. Well, yes and no. The Bullet’s 34.6kW is barely more than the Gold Star’s 33.6kW, while its 52.3Nm of torque is 2.7Nm shy of the BSA.
The Gold Star also delivers its maximum torque considerably earlier. The five-speed gearbox is precise and slick, with no false neutrals or ugliness. I’d still like a sixth gear. The engine has the torque to pull it.
While the Gold Star will happily cruise at 100–110km/h without sounding like it’s about to throw a piston through the cylinder head, an overdrive sixth would add a little more versatility. There’s some vibration above 4000rpm, as you’d expect.
It’s just enough through the seat to tickle your man bits, should you possess them, and blur the mirrors. It never becomes intrusive or uncomfortable, and, for me, it just adds to the character.
The Gold Star uses a traditional double-cradle frame, with a non-adjustable 41mm conventional fork and a pair of five-step preload-adjustable rear shocks. Wire-spoked 18-inch front and 17-inch rear wheels wear Pirelli Phantom rubber.
The combination works better than its fairly basic specification might suggest. The Gold Star hides its bulk well, changes direction easily and remains predictable and forgiving even when pushed considerably harder than most owners are ever likely to.
Ground clearance is reasonable; despite chucking it around with some gusto, I only managed to grind metal a couple of times. The suspension doesn’t score quite as highly. It’s perfectly competent on smooth roads, but noticeably harsh over rougher surfaces.
That’s particularly so in the initial part of the stroke. It never became unsettled or knocked the bike off line, but there’s definitely room for improvement at both ends. Braking comes courtesy of Brembo.
There’s a 320mm floating front disc and twin-piston caliper backed by a 255mm rear disc and single-piston caliper with dual-channel ABS. Performance is excellent and above average for the segment in both feel and power.
The cockpit continues the retro theme with a pair of analogue instruments – complete with reverse-sweep needles – while concessions to modern life include USB-A and USB-C charging ports at the handlebar and a separate 12V accessory socket.
The riding position is relaxed and comfortable. At 186cm, I never felt cramped and, despite spending considerably longer in the saddle than most, neither my arse nor the rest of me was troubled.
The Gold Star has a claimed seat height of 780mm which, combined with the way the bike hides its weight, makes it a pretty accessible rig for a lot of riders. Importantly, the Gold Star feels like a proper motorcycle.
The finish is excellent, it feels solid and substantial, and nothing about it suggests Mahindra has simply slapped a famous badge on some anonymous retro and called it a day. The Scrambler won many fans on the launch for its fun, good-times nature too.
It is built on the Gold Star platform and shares the same engine (with identical performance figures), same Brembo braking package and same 12-litre fuel tank, while sporting different bodywork, lower gearing, a different exhaust and a number of chassis changes.
The Gold Star’s twin analogue instruments are replaced by a single digital display. The Scrambler retains a 41mm fork and five-step preload-adjustable rear suspension, although suspension travel increases from 120mm to 130mm.
It goes up from 108mm to 127mm at the rear. A 19-inch front wheel replaces the Gold Star’s 18-inch item, while both bikes use a 17-inch rear. The Scrambler’s wire-spoked wheels are fitted with Pirelli Scorpion Rally STR rubber at both ends.
Those changes have caused the seat height to rise from 780mm to 820mm and wet weight to increase by 5kg to 218kg, with the larger wheels, different tyres and exhaust accounting for most of the additional chub.
Around 80 per cent of our time on the Scrambler was spent on dirt roads, and it proved to be bloody good fun. It’ll slide, wheelie and generally encourage the sort of behaviour that I’m sure made Jeff frown at times.
The lower gearing helps slightly on the dirt and makes lofting the front that little bit easier, although the engine has so much grunt that I doubt the Gold Star’s taller gearing would have caused much grief on the fast, flowing dirt roads we rode.
While the suspension is almost identical kit to the Gold Star, it performs better across the board. Corrugations have a wonderful ability to expose poor suspension, particularly at the rear, where less capable shocks can have the back wheel skipping and dancing.
The Scrambler simply hooks up and powers out. The front end deserves equal praise for remaining composed. That carries over to the bitumen too, where the Scrambler deals with rough surfaces noticeably better than the Gold Star.
The brakes offer plenty of power and feel without being overly aggressive on loose surfaces, while the Pirelli Scorpion Rally STRs are well suited to the job. This is no enduro bike, though. The low bars make extended standing awkward for a taller rider.
It’s much happier being ridden seated, with a bit of flat-track attitude. If the terrain regularly demands you stand on the pegs, you’re looking at the wrong type of motorcycle. On the road it remains comfortable, playful and predictable.
The tyres are a greater limiting factor than the Scrambler’s performance. It looks tough, it’s comfortable, you can chuck it around on the road and play in the dirt. It does everything that the Gold Star does with an extra splash of ability and versatility.
Sometime around the turn of the millennium, the motorcycle shop I worked in had an old BSA Bantam sitting around that I used to commandeer on quiet days. With no customers about, I’d putter around the car park on it.
It allowed for practicing trials-style balancing and generally mucking about. I was born two years after BSA motorcycle production ended, so there was no misty-eyed nostalgia involved. But I loved that little Bantam.
There was something about its simple lines, that distinctive green paint and, of course, the fact it was a two-stroke. I came very close to buying it. Almost a quarter of a century later, I found myself riding a BSA Bantam again.
This time, however, there wasn’t a whiff of two-stroke smoke to be found. The new Bantam is powered by a 334cc liquid-cooled, DOHC single producing 21.6kW at 7750rpm and 29.6Nm of torque at 6000rpm, paired with a six-speed gearbox.
Royal Enfield’s Bullet 350 enjoys a slight capacity advantage at 349cc, but its air/oil-cooled SOHC single produces just 15.1kW and 27Nm of torque. That gives the smaller-capacity BSA almost 44 per cent more power and 2.6Nm more torque.
It also gets a six-speed gearbox to the Bullet’s five. Where the bigger BSAs rely on bottom-end grunt, the 334cc single likes to rev and rewards you for keeping it on the boil and working the transmission. It’s smooth and precise with no false neutrals encountered.
It’ll happily sit at 110km/h, although it’s revving relatively hard and you get the feeling that’s not really its natural habitat. Around 80km/h on a winding road is much more its happy place, where the Bantam is a genuinely fun little thing.
At 185kg, it’s 10kg lighter than the Bullet and feels light and easy to chuck around, whether carving through corners or negotiating traffic. It’s playful, forgiving and stable enough to let you be a bit cheeky and chuck it into corners without biting back.
That should make it particularly appealing to newer riders still learning their craft. Its 800mm seat, combined with a natural riding position, meant my 186cm frame remained happy after several hours aboard.
The 13-litre fuel tank also holds a litre more than those fitted to BSA’s 650s. Cast wheels at both ends allow the use of tubeless tyres, while braking is handled by Brembo’s entry-level ByBre hardware, with a 320mm front and 240mm rear disc and ABS.
The brakes are well suited to the bike, with good power and feel and little to complain about – refreshing for a motorcycle in this category. Suspension comprises a non-adjustable fork and twin rear shocks with five-step preload adjustment.
As with the Gold Star, it’s the Bantam’s weakest point. It’s perfectly competent on smooth roads but becomes harsh when the surface deteriorates. Our bikes only had a few hundred kilometres under their belts and will undoubtedly loosen up somewhat though.
That said, a little more finesse at both ends would be welcome. For a new rider wanting some retro style, there’s very little here to warn them away. It’s comfortable, forgiving and easy to ride, but still entertaining enough that a more experienced rider can have a laugh on it.
Cheap and cheerful fun, without feeling low rent. Almost a quarter of a century after I nearly bought that little green two-stroke, I reckon this new Bantam is worthy of the name. Reviving a famous brand is easy enough for a company with the resources of Mahindra.
Buy the rights, slap a familiar badge on a fuel tank, throw in some retro styling and hope nostalgia does the rest. But after riding all three of BSA’s Australian models, that doesn’t feel like what Classic Legends and Mahindra are doing here.
They’re having a proper crack. All three bikes feel well engineered, well finished and, importantly, worthy of the badges on their tanks. They’re competitively priced, and they have genuine character.
There’s enough substance beneath the retro styling to suggest BSA is here for considerably more than a quick grab at some nostalgic cash. Just as importantly, there’s serious experience behind the brand locally.
Jeff Leisk knows a thing or two about building a motorcycle brand, having played a pivotal role in taking KTM from an also-ran in Australia to a major player. He knows what it takes, and now he and his team are applying that experience to BSA.
With a focus on the dealer network, parts supply and aftersales support, just as much as the motorcycles themselves, Leisk has put his name and reputation behind BSA. Having ridden the bikes, I can understand why.
Royal Enfield has done an extraordinary job of building the modern-classic market and remains the obvious benchmark, but it now has another old British name coming after a sizeable slice of the pie.
Judging by this first taste of the new BSA range, Royal Enfield might want to start keeping an eye on its rear-view mirrors. To find out more about the BSA range, you can visit the website, or contact your local dealership.
Our test bikes were provided as part of BSA Australia’s model launch. Exhaust Notes Australia was not paid to attend this event.. Images courtesy of RbMotoLens.
