The NSU Scooter and the Girl in the Tight Skirt: A Dating Problem
 

When I was 17 there were, in my mind, three things devoutly to be wished:

1) A scooter
2) A black leather jacket
3) A girl in a tight skirt sitting side saddle on the back of the scooter, Italian style.

All of these elements came together for me during a 15 minute period on Montreal's Sherbrooke Street in 1964. It was a golden era, or at least a golden quarter hour. The girl I haven't seen in forty years although I heard on good authority that she became a militant anti- fluoridationist. The scooter eventually disappeared into the mists of history but was never forgotten. I loved that scooter.

So recently, in a spasm of nostalgia, I found and bought one just like it. It had spent the last twenty years in a storage room in hell, a hell that is partly real and partly embellished by a Hollywood movie company (but that's another story).

Well, I now have a restoration project in the shape of a 150 cc. NSU Prima D, circa 1954-56. Incidentally, in 1956 a British couple rode one two up from England to Australia. They crossed Afghanistan when that country had virtually no real roads and ground their way up mountain passes with no siginficant mechanical problems until they reached Kabul. This machine was solidly built.

The NSU sits expectantly in the garage next to my travelling bike (Kawi ZR-7S) and my work of art ('83 Honda CX650 Turbo). In attempting to gather parts I've encountered a dating issue. NSU built what were basically Lambrettas under licence until that licence expired around 1955. They then commenced manufacturing their own similar looking but mechanically distinct 150 cc. machine known as the Prima D. Parts advertised on line are often accompanied by vague references to the Prima and to years ranging from 1954 to 1957. I haven't been able to figure out when the D actually came out. I just took a chance and ordered a gasket set for a '54 Prima D but some sources suggest there may have been no such model yet in that year.

So, does anyone know when NSU actually began manufacturing the Prima? An esoteric question I realize but I've provided a hopefully entertaining preamble so you have'nt entirely wasted your time.

By the way, the book of the 1956 scooter voyage from England to Australia is being serialized online at "Two-Up" By Scooter to Australia.

Happy trails.

Normw

Try The History of NSU in my words

Also check out the book Classic Scooters - which has a bit of NSU Scooter history in it.

Cheers

SHane

Check out my NSU Prima restoration page as well
NSU Prima Scooter Restoration - Home

Carpe Diem
 

A belated thanks Mister Sholborn.

The trouble with rummaging around on the net is that you occasionally bump into some information you would rather not have. In this case I came across an obtituary for the woman who was the girl on the back of the scooter during the aformentioned golden era. It was 45 years ago but it seems like the blink of an eye.

So as is often said around here in one way or another...carpe diem..smell the two stroke.

Normw

Carpe diem indeed. That somehow became a theme for me on my own Big Trip. You get some good thinking time on a long bike trip.

What would that be? Carpe Diem syndrome? That's a brain condition that everyone suffers from. My 19yr old son was only complaining of it last night and by the time you've added on a few more decades it can become a terminal problem.

Politicians are particularly prone to it where it's known as "old man / woman in a hurry" disease and leads to the introduction of half thought through legislation (not to be confused with "general election on the way" itis which sometimes has similar symptoms).

No real cure but you can sometimes mask the effects by buying a classic bike / car (men) or antiques (women) (valid for my household anyway).
If it advances to the stage where you're writing up your memoirs on a web site you may need medical attention. See pisquick tours link below for example of someone off to see a psychiatrist this morning (my father in law!)

Interesting to see this thread spring to life and its philosophical expansion. I was also surprised to see that it has had over 2600 views. Who's interested in an obscure technical question about an obscure half centrury old German motor scooter (the answer to which is still obscure)? Could it have something to do with the reference to a girl in a tight skirt?

The NSU has been turned over to nice professionals for some mechanical work with the comment..."Its been fifty years so there's no rush". They've taken that advice to heart which is fine by me. That's part of the charm of resurrecting old machines.

Normw

The NSU Scooter and the Girl in the Tight Skirt
 

NORM: I was roving through the web looking at classic motorcycles, came across NSU (I had a prima scooter io the late 50's with a spot light on the front mudgard) and started looking and google dropped me on to this page. It is a long time since this page was active so maybe it it too long, but did you get your scooter up and running. Funnily enough I had a similar experience here in UK with my girlfriend of the time (tight mini skirt and legs that went on forever) however she wasn't willing to go side saddle so straddled the pillion seat with the skirt suitably raised to accomodate, I was hardly able to concentrate... As a footnote to that we met again about 5 years ago and she is now the regular pillion on my Honda ST1300 and she still has great legs !!! :censored:

Surprising how this thread keeps percolating.

The Prima emerged from the Scooter Hive, a local go to vintage scooter repair shop (unfortunately no longer extant), in running shape. Unfortunately it developed a transmission issue. Wiser men than me advised that NSU transmissions are frightening things and I wasn't prepared to go there. So it was sold to a braver and more mechanically inclined soul.

As for historically significant women on motor scooters...more power to them.

normw.

Doesn't everyone love NSU? I love hearing stories about them. I'm sorry about your pillion in the short skirt.

The only NSU I have is a car (Sport Prinz) which was forced into a Moto Melee without enough time to drive it and break it in slowly. The stupid driver replaced the heavily leaking valve cover gasket with cork and when that didn't work, I added just enough gasket sealant to gum up the works. It still got me home.

Eventually, I'll buy an NSU motorcycle to add my crap collection. Someone stop me before I NSU again!

Less Worried Times
 

During these anxious days I recalled another Prima D related story.

On a brilliant summer's day in the mid sixties a young lady and I (not the one in the tight skirt) headed off for a day trip in the Laurentian Mountains north of Montreal. Two up on the NSU we enjoyed a pleasant wander but as darkness approached a couple of issues intruded.

The front tire had developed an aneurysm the size of a grapefruit while the headlight fell out of the cowling and hung by an electrical thread.

We spent some cheerful time masticating significant quantities of Double Bubble chewing gum which was used to more or less glue the headlight back into place. As for the about to burst tire there was nothing to be done short of scooter abandonment so we just hopped on and hit the road,really a stupidly negligent thing to do. But as we rode into the setting sun I remember not having a care in the world.

Useful thing that, being able to shut out real risks you should be worried about.

Sadly never owned an NSU and even more sadly never knew any girls in tight skirts who were willing to go out for a day trip on my Lambretta. The only time I ever got a pretty girl on the back was on a borrowed Vespa and, after we fell off on an icy road, she never spoke to me again. A friend has kept in touch with her though and, given the way the years have passed, that icy patch may have been a blessing in disguise ...

As they say, 'be careful what you wish for'. :rofl:

What a delightful thread to return from the cobwebs. Bittersweet, funny, informative, philosophical and thought provoking. Sadly I have no short skirt or scooter anecdotes, but I hope there are more out there. Thanks folks!

What a great thread ! I happen to be an NSU lover (or just a weirdo perhaps ?!) and recently considered buying a '71 Prinz 4. It did not come to be (this time) but who know what lays ahead in the future.....

P.S. Sorry to hear of the woman's passing in the original story.

You have to be careful buying an NSU. I bought one once and now I have four. A friend might be selling his so then I'll have five, but I'm trying to get back down to two. Currently two Sport Prinzs (one with a 4-cylinder), Typ110 and a major project really early TT (Tetanus Trophy) missing a drive train (as in zero engine or transmission).

That sounds like a fantastic collection....all very nice ! Those Sport Prinz are such a sexy shape.

Accidental collection. Free storage while working overseas. My dream is two weird cars and two motorcycles. I need to drive a Saab 96 and a Citroen 2CV before I figure out what I'll end up with.

My first bike for riding round the fields when I was 11 - NSU Quickly.
Unfortunately, it quickly broke down doh

The Origin Story
 

A decade or so ago I expressed some surprise that a thread, which started with a question about an obscure, half century old motor scooter, was still generating a bit of technical and philosophical interest. And here we are 13 years after the original post and the thing is still kicking.

So, for the few who might wish to spare a couple of literary minutes, here is the prequel to the girl in the tight skirt.

Parts of Montreal in 1964 (as is still somewhat the case today) comprised a virtual island of English speakers in the sea which was the French speaking province of Quebec. A noted novelist of the era coined the phrase "two solitudes" to describe the two communities. So it was with a bit of trepidation that I, an Anglophone kid, answered a classified ad for a scooter which was on offer in the east end of the city, definitely Francophone territory.

Now we're not talking crossing some green line here. This wasn't even remotely the sort of divided city that makes headlines, although a few years later there was a brief spasm of separatist violence complete with bombings. Call it a bit of cultural hesitation based mostly on the expectation that I would need to transact the purchase in French in a part of the city that I and my friends never frequented.

A long bus ride brought me to the home of the owner who indeed spoke only French. Anglophones in Montreal of the time often attributed little importance to learning French but I had attended a school that taught it better than most and my father, unusually. was quite fluent. I thought that I could stumble along well enough. That confidence dissolved as the owner delivered a rapid fire pre-purchase tutorial in very Quebecois French. I understood perhaps every fourth word. This was a problem for someone who had never operated a manual transmission vehicle or a two wheeled one of any kind. The seller, oblivious to my lack of comprehension took my $90.00, slapped me on the back and disappeared.

I beamed with pride as I pressed the electric starter and generated noise and two stroke smoke. Of course, the thing stalled within a few seconds. Repeat many times until the dual six volt batteries were dead as doornails.

No problem, I mused. I'll kick start it. I'd seen all the cool kids doing that with their Lambrettas and Vespas. Thus began a process which today might be described as gaslighting yourself. Searching as diligently as I could given the limited real estate, and feeling increasingly stupid, no kick starter could be found. Of course, the NSU engineers had, in a smirk of self confidence, omitted such a crude device from their design.

Push starting being a concept deeply unknown to me I sighed and proceeded to do what any 17 year old would with a lump of iron far from home. I set off to push the Prima to its new house. Hours of effort brought honking and motorists shouting in French until I crossed that virtual border into Anglo land at which point the harassment by cagers turned to English. Fatigued, I stopped in an Italian neighbourhood for a revitalizing plate of spaghetti.

Finally home I parked the misbehaving, two tone beast and gazed upon it. All was forgiven. It represented the opening road, freedom.