The story of the man behind the JPS Norton, Duckhams racers and a legacy that continues to roar.
By his grandchild.
There are some people who make history, and then there are those who make history without ever seeming to realise just how extraordinary their achievements are.
My grandad, Brian Crighton, is one of those people.
To motorcycle racing enthusiasts, his name is synonymous with rotary engines, Norton racing motorcycles, engineering innovation and some of the most recognisable British racing machines ever to turn a wheel. To those who remember the black-and-gold JPS Norton's screaming around British circuits, or the Duckhams-backed Crighton Nortons challenging the established order, Brian's contribution is part of an era that will never be forgotten.
But to me, he is Grandad.
And while I have grown up knowing that he is responsible for some truly remarkable achievements in motorcycle engineering, there is one particular memory that will always stand out above the rest.
It was the unveiling of his Crighton CR700P at the Festival of a Thousand Bikes.
I remember hearing that machine for the first time. The sheer power of the sound coming from the exhaust was something I genuinely cannot describe properly. It wasn't just loud. It was a completely different kind of noise, a sound that seemed to tell you immediately that this thing was no joke.
When it went out onto the circuit and headed down the back straight, I remember it screaming as it hit the limiter for several seconds. I had chills. I felt an enormous sense of pride watching it go past, knowing that the man responsible for creating this extraordinary machine was my grandad.
Later, I went into the pits to watch from the main straight. I remember seeing the bike coming towards us on the back wheel, seemingly in fourth gear.
That is one of the best memories I have from being a kid.
It is difficult to explain what that moment meant to me. To everyone else, it was an incredible racing motorcycle putting on a spectacular display. To me, it was something much more personal: a moment of seeing my grandad's engineering vision brought to life in the most spectacular way possible.
And that is where I want to begin this story.
Because to understand why that memory means so much, you first have to understand what my Grandad, Brian Crighton achieved, why he believed so passionately in the rotary engine, and how one man's determination helped create a chapter of British motorcycle racing history that remains extraordinary to this day.
A different way of thinking.
Motorcycle racing has always been driven by innovation.
Every generation has its engineers who challenge conventional thinking, question established designs and look for performance where others see limitations.
Brian Crighton was one of those engineers.
His story is inseparable from the rotary engine, a design that has fascinated engineers for decades. Unlike a conventional piston engine, where pistons travel up and down inside cylinders, the Wankel rotary engine uses a triangular rotor moving within an epitrochoidal chamber to produce its power.
The concept offers some significant advantages for motorcycle applications: compact dimensions, relatively low weight, smooth operation and an impressive power output for its physical size.
But it also presents challenges, particularly around sealing, heat management, fuel consumption and extracting reliable performance under racing conditions.
The rotary engine was not the obvious choice for a motorcycle racing programme. In a sport dominated by established four-stroke and two-stroke architectures, it represented a different engineering philosophy.
Brian saw opportunity where others saw difficulty.
He understood that the rotary engine had potential far beyond the relatively modest performance of the road-going machines available at the time. He believed that, with the right development, it could become a serious racing engine.
And he was prepared to prove it.
Brian was not simply an engineer who happened to work with rotary engines. He was a racer himself, a three-time British 50cc champion, bringing practical competition experience together with an exceptional understanding of engine development.
That combination mattered.
He knew what a rider needed from a racing motorcycle, but he also understood what had to happen inside the engine to deliver it.
It was this mixture of racing instinct, mechanical understanding and sheer determination that would eventually change the fortunes of Norton.
Norton in the 1980s: A British name needing a new direction.
By the early 1980s, Norton was a famous name carrying a complicated legacy.
The company had a proud history, but the British motorcycle industry had been through difficult years. Japanese manufacturers had transformed the market, and the old assumptions about British engineering and racing superiority were being challenged.
Norton was developing rotary-powered road motorcycles, including the Commander and the later F1, but the possibility of using the rotary engine to compete at the highest levels of motorcycle racing was far from an established certainty.
Brian joined Norton as a service engineer in 1984 and moved into research and development in 1985.
It was there that he recognised the potential of the company's 588cc air-cooled rotary engine.
The story of what followed is one of the most important parts of his legacy.
Rather than waiting for a fully funded racing programme or a management decision to give him permission to explore the idea, Brian began developing the engine in his own time.
The work was carried out from a caretaker's shed at Norton.
Think about that for a moment.
The foundations of a motorcycle that would go on to win major championships were being developed away from the glamour of the race paddock, without the resources or recognition that would eventually accompany the finished machine.
Brian reportedly increased the engine's output from approximately 85 horsepower to 120 horsepower, but the performance gains alone were not enough to convince the company that a serious racing project was viable.
So he took a different approach.
In 1987, he took his prototype to the Motor Industry Research Association proving ground, better known as MIRA.
The machine reached 170mph.
That was the moment the argument became much harder to ignore.
The rotary Norton was no longer simply an interesting engineering experiment. It had demonstrated the potential to become a genuine racing contender.
Norton committed to racing, and the project that would become one of the most iconic British motorcycle racing programmes of the late twentieth century began to take shape.
It is difficult not to admire the determination behind that achievement.
Brian had not simply presented an idea and hoped someone else would believe in it. He had done the engineering, developed the performance and produced the evidence.
He made people listen by making the machine perform.
The birth of the JPS Norton: Black, gold and unmistakable.
The late 1980s gave motorcycle racing one of its most memorable sights.
The Norton RC588 and its later RCW588 development became the machines behind the famous JPS Norton racing programme.
The black-and-gold livery was instantly recognisable, but the appearance was only part of the story.
Beneath those colours was an unusual and increasingly sophisticated racing machine, built around Brian's rotary engine development.
The early racers used air-cooled configurations before development progressed to water-cooled versions. The machines combined the compact rotary powerplant with specialist chassis engineering, including Spondon frames.
This was not a conventional Norton revived through nostalgia.
It was a serious attempt to challenge the established racing manufacturers using a different technical approach.
The breakthrough came in 1988, when Steve Spray dominated the PowerBike International at Brands Hatch on the racing prototype. The result helped secure the high-profile John Player Special sponsorship for the following season.
Suddenly, the rotary Norton had the backing, visibility and racing platform to demonstrate what it could really do.
Brian became Senior Development Engineer, and the JPS era began in earnest.
The riders included Steve Spray and Trevor Nation, with other accomplished riders contributing to the programme as it developed.
The sight of the black-and-gold Norton on track became an event in itself.
It sounded different. It looked different. It challenged the assumption that a British motorcycle had to follow the same engineering formula as its rivals.
And, most importantly, it won.
In 1989, the Norton works team secured both the British Formula One title and the 750cc Supercup Championship.
The achievement was significant not just for Norton, but for the reputation of the rotary engine itself.
A concept that had required one engineer to fight for recognition had become a championship-winning racing machine.
The JPS Norton was no longer a curiosity.
It was a force to be reckoned with.
More than a racing motorcycle.
When people look back at the JPS Nortons, it is easy to focus on the riders, the sponsorship, the race victories and the unmistakable black-and-gold paintwork.
But behind every successful racing machine is a combination of engineering decisions that most spectators never see.
Engine performance is only one part of the equation.
A racing engine must deliver power consistently, survive sustained high loads, respond predictably to throttle inputs and work within the limits of the chassis, cooling system and transmission.
With a rotary engine, the engineering challenges are particularly distinctive.
Sealing the rotor chambers, controlling temperatures, maintaining lubrication and achieving reliable combustion are all critical.
The rotary's compact design and smooth delivery can offer advantages, but those advantages must be developed into a complete racing package.
Brian understood this.
His work was not simply about chasing a larger horsepower figure. It was about creating a motorcycle capable of translating the engine's potential into results on a race circuit.
That is what separates an interesting engine from a successful racing machine.
It is also why his contribution deserves to be recognised as much more than engine tuning.
He was helping shape the complete engineering direction of the Norton rotary racers.
The fact that those machines could compete against established manufacturers, win championships and become icons of the period is testament to that work.
When the factory chapter ended, Brian was far from finished.
One of the most revealing parts of Brian's career is what happened after his time at Norton.
In September 1990, Brian left the factory operation.
For many engineers, the end of a factory racing programme might have marked the end of the project. The machinery, resources and institutional backing were no longer readily available.
But Brian's belief in the rotary engine had not changed.
If anything, the next chapter demonstrated just how deeply he believed in the concept.
He began developing a new rotary racing motorcycle, one that would eventually become known as the Roton.
The name itself was a combination of Rotary and Crighton.
The machine was developed from a blank sheet of paper, using the Norton F1 rotary engine as its foundation. It was an independent engineering project, rather than simply another factory Norton.
In March 1991, Brian unveiled the Roton, with Steve Spray returning as its rider.
The ambition was enormous.
The intention was to develop a rotary motorcycle capable of competing in the 500cc Grand Prix class, where the regulations permitted four-stroke engines of the appropriate capacity.
In 1990, the Roton reached the Australian Grand Prix at Eastern Creek, with Spray finishing 15th and securing a world championship point.
It was a remarkable achievement for a privately developed machine.
Brian had managed to take a rotary-powered motorcycle into the premier class of Grand Prix racing, something the factory Norton operation had not achieved.
And he had done it after leaving the company that originally employed him.
That says a great deal about the man.
His relationship with the rotary engine was not dependent on a job title, a factory or a particular sponsor.
It was a lifelong engineering commitment.
The Duckhams Crighton Norton: Another chapter of domination.
The next major chapter began when Brian teamed up with the legendary racing engineer and consultant Colin Seeley.
Together, they helped turn the fortunes of the independent rotary racing project around.
Duckhams sponsorship provided much-needed financial support, and the team became known as Crighton Norton.
The familiar rotary engine was back, but this time the project carried Brian's own name.
There is something particularly satisfying about that.
The engineer who had originally fought to prove the potential of the Norton rotary was now leading a racing effort that bore his name.
The early seasons were not without difficulty.
Budgets were tight, development was demanding and the competition was formidable. But the team continued to improve.
Mark Farmer rode for the team in 1992, and following his tragic death, Jim Moodie took over in 1993.
The 1993 season produced 22 podium finishes, demonstrating the competitiveness of the machine and the progress made by the team.
By 1994, the Crighton Norton programme had developed into a serious championship-winning operation.
Riders Ian Simpson and Phil Borley were signed for the two-rider campaign.
The Duckhams-backed rotary Norton was now a sophisticated and highly competitive machine, carrying forward the engineering ideas that Brian had first developed years earlier.
And the results were extraordinary.
Ian Simpson won the 1994 British Superbike Championship on the Crighton Norton.
It was another defining moment in Brian's career.
The rotary engine had now delivered major championship success across different racing programmes, different teams and different stages of development.
The story had come full circle.
The engine that had once required a determined engineer to prove its worth had become a championship-winning platform once again.
The ultimate compliment: When success becomes too much for the rulebook.
There is an interesting and rather ironic aspect to the rotary Norton's racing history.
Its success eventually became a problem for the sport's regulators.
Following the remarkable achievements of the rotary-powered machines, the engine was excluded from British championship competition from 1995.
The precise regulatory history is more complicated than simply saying that one machine was banned because it was too fast, but the timing and impact of the exclusion remain a significant part of the rotary's legacy.
For an engineer, there can hardly be a more frustrating outcome than developing a machine capable of winning, only to see the rules change in a way that removes it from the competition.
But there is also something remarkable about it.
Brian had helped create a racing motorcycle that challenged the established order so successfully that the rotary engine's place in the championship landscape was fundamentally altered.
The results could not be taken away.
The victories remained.
The engineering achievement remained.
And the name Crighton had become permanently associated with one of the most distinctive racing motorcycles Britain had ever produced.
The rotary obsession never went away.
Brian went on to create the NRV588, which was a beast within its own rights, an updated version of the older RCW's with newer tech and more power, this was the last Norton he would design and build.
For some people, a successful career is defined by a particular period.
A championship. A famous machine. A moment when everything comes together.
For Brian, the Norton years were never the end of the story.
His fascination with rotary engineering continued long after the original racing programme had finished.
He remained convinced that the rotary engine had further potential, particularly as materials, manufacturing techniques, engine management and engineering processes advanced.
This belief eventually led to a partnership with Rotron Power, a British company specialising in rotary engines for aerospace applications.
The partnership, established in 2009, brought together Brian's decades of rotary racing knowledge with the engineering capabilities of the Rotron team.
It was the beginning of a new chapter.
The objective was not simply to recreate an old Norton.
It was to develop a modern rotary-powered motorcycle that could take the original concept much further.
The result would eventually become the Crighton CR700 series.
And this is where the story becomes particularly meaningful to me.
Because I was fortunate enough to witness a part of that continuing journey in person.
The Crighton CR700P: A sound I will never forget.
The CR700P (prototype) was the first of its kind in the world, the first motorcycle to have a rotary engine capacity of 700cc.
I remember the unveiling of the Crighton CR700P at the Festival of a Thousand Bikes.
For anyone unfamiliar with the event, the Festival of a Thousand Bikes is a celebration of motorcycle history, bringing together historic racing machines, classic motorcycles and some of the people who helped create their stories.
It was the perfect setting for a machine like the CR700P.
This was not simply another motorcycle being displayed.
It was the continuation of an engineering philosophy that had started decades earlier, when Brian first recognised the potential of Norton's rotary engine.
The CR700P represented years of continued development, experimentation and belief in an engine architecture that many people might have considered a closed chapter.
And then I heard it.
I can still remember that first sound.
The sheer powerful note coming out of the exhaust was something I cannot properly describe. It was unlike anything I had experienced before.
You could tell immediately that this thing was no joke.
There are certain sounds that stay with you for the rest of your life. Not because they are simply loud, but because of the feeling they create.
That was one of them.
The bike went out onto the circuit and headed down the back straight.
I remember it screaming as it hit the limiter for several seconds.
I had chills.
And I felt so proud.
Not just because it was an incredible motorcycle, but because the man responsible for it was my grandad.
I was watching something that represented decades of his knowledge, determination and engineering passion being brought to life in front of me.
It is difficult to put that feeling into words.
To the people around me, it was an extraordinary rotary racing machine.
To me, it was Brian's achievement.
Later, I went into the pits to watch it from the main straight.
And then came another moment that has stayed with me ever since.
I remember the bike coming towards us on the back wheel, seemingly in fourth gear.
It was an incredible sight.
The noise, the acceleration, the sheer presence of the machine — everything about it seemed to reinforce the fact that this was something special.
I was only a kid, but I understood that I was witnessing something extraordinary.
That memory is genuinely one of the best I have.
It is one of those moments you can revisit in your mind years later and still feel the same excitement and pride.
And when I think about Brian's career, I often come back to that day.
Because it showed me something that a list of championships or engineering achievements never quite could.
It showed me what his passion sounded like.
The CR700: Taking the rotary concept further.
The later CR700 development demonstrated just how far Brian's rotary engineering had progressed.
The CR700W, developed with Rotron Power, uses a 690cc twin-rotor engine.
Its published specification includes approximately 220 horsepower at 10,500rpm, with a dry weight of around 129.5kg.
Those are extraordinary figures for a naturally aspirated motorcycle engine of that capacity.
But the important achievement is not simply the headline power figure.
It is the way the cooling system works, a new technology where water could flow through the eccentric shaft, cooling the internal bearing from inside out, further enhancing the engines reliability, the materials and motorcycle had been developed as a complete package.
The CR700W represents the application of modern engineering techniques to a concept that Brian had spent much of his working life developing.
It also demonstrates that the rotary engine is not simply a relic of racing history.
It remains a platform capable of serious performance when developed with sufficient knowledge, investment and technical understanding.
Brian's work with Rotron Power has helped bring that vision into the modern era, with the CR700W intended as a highly exclusive, track-focused machine.
It is the culmination of a journey that began with an engineer who refused to accept that the rotary engine had reached its limits.
And it carries his name.
The engineer behind the legend.
One of the things I find most remarkable about Brian's story is how much of it was driven by personal conviction.
He was not simply following an established engineering route.
He was challenging one.
He saw potential in an engine that did not fit neatly into the conventional racing world. He developed it, improved it, proved it and continued refining it even when the circumstances around him changed.
From the early Norton development work to the JPS racing programme, from the Roton to the Duckhams Crighton Norton, and eventually to the CR700, there is a clear thread running through everything.
A belief that the rotary engine could do more.
That belief produced championship-winning motorcycles, major racing victories and a distinctive contribution to British motorsport.
But it also produced something less easily measured.
Inspiration.
For young engineers, Brian's career is an example of what can happen when technical ability is combined with persistence and independent thinking.
For motorcycle enthusiasts, it is a reminder of a time when an unusual British racing machine challenged the biggest names in the sport.
For me, it is something much more personal.
It is a source of pride in my family.
He also had big dealings with rotaries across the world in many different applications, from Para-jets, to helicopters, my grandad was a rotary expert and people called upon his expertise when no one else could fix them.
Even though my grandad never realised the extent to his worth, he always used to say "Its not rocket science, just read the book" and im yet to find this master engineering book he talks of when you ask him a question on something he always says anyone can do it, its nothing special, but when you look back through the history, it is indeed very special.
Rotary genius.
Remember when bear grylls flew up to mount everest? well with the combination of my grandads knowledge and Gilo industries, they created the para-jet engine to be able to climb to the altitude required. again just showing my grandads extreme talent surrounding rotaries and general engineering.
More than the bikes: My grandad.
It is easy to write about Brian Crighton as an engineer.
It is easy to talk about horsepower, race wins, championship titles, rotary technology and the machines that made him famous.
But there is another side to this story that matters just as much to me.
He is my grandad.
I know that the name Brian Crighton carries weight within motorcycle racing and rotary engineering. I know that enthusiasts recognise the JPS Norton, the Duckhams racers and the CR700 as important parts of British motorcycle history.
But when I think about him, I also think about the personal connection behind those achievements.
I think about the fact that I was lucky enough to be there when one of his later creations was unveiled.
I think about the sound of the CR700P as it accelerated down the straight.
I think about the feeling of watching it go past and knowing that the engineering behind it came from someone in my own family.
And I think about how fortunate I am to have those memories.
There is a particular kind of pride that comes from watching someone you love achieve something that the wider world also recognises as extraordinary.
It is not just admiration for the finished product.
It is admiration for the person behind it.
For the years of work, the dedication, the setbacks, the decisions and the determination that nobody watching from the grandstand necessarily sees.
That is what makes the story of Brian Crighton so special to me.
The motorcycles are incredible.
The history is remarkable.
But the man is what makes it personal.
A fond memory of being out with my grandad, he owned a Red, Mazda RX8 as a kid i remember going to a radio show/computer show with him, on the way back home, we hit quite abit of traffic, I think my nan had the tea cooking, and we were already suppose to be back by then, out of nowhere i hear this roar and ding as my grandad accelerated his car, me smiling as i hear the rotary for the first time like that, high up the rev range, and my grandad turns to me and says "just dont tell your Nan" while laughing. hopefully I too can grab an RX8 before they're too far gone to re live that memory with my daughter.
A legacy that continues to inspire.
When people look at the history of Norton racing, the JPS era will always stand out.
The black-and-gold machines, the rotary engine, the championship victories and the riders who took them to success created some of the most memorable images in British motorcycle racing.
The Duckhams Crighton Norton carried that story forward, proving that Brian's engineering ideas could continue to deliver results beyond the original factory programme.
The Roton demonstrated his determination to keep pursuing the rotary concept independently.
And the CR700 represents the modern expression of that same ambition.
These are not separate stories.
They are chapters in one continuous engineering journey.
A journey that began with Brian recognising something others had overlooked, and refusing to let that potential go unexplored.
I believe that is what makes his contribution so important.
He did not simply help develop a successful racing motorcycle.
He helped preserve and advance an entire engineering concept through changing companies, racing regulations, financial challenges and generations of technology.
He proved that innovation does not always come from following the biggest budget or the most established route.
Sometimes it comes from one person who knows that an idea deserves to be given a chance.
And sometimes that person is working in a shed, long before the rest of the world realises what they are capable of.
My grandad's legacy.
I started this story with a memory of the CR700P at the Festival of a Thousand Bikes.
The sound.
The back straight.
The limiter.
The wheelie.
The chills.
The pride.
I think that memory captures everything that made me love rotaries and my grandads history.
Because although his contribution to Norton and rotary motorcycle racing is documented in championships, engineering developments and historic machines, the impact of his work is also found in the people who have been inspired by it.
For me, that inspiration is personal.
I will always remember standing there as a kid, watching that motorcycle scream past, feeling proud that the man behind it was my grandad.
I may not have understood every engineering decision that went into creating it at the time, but I understood that what I was seeing was special.
As I have grown older, the significance of that moment has only increased.
I now appreciate that the CR700P was not an isolated achievement. It was part of a much bigger story, one that stretched back to the early Norton rotary development, the JPS championship victories, the Roton and the Duckhams Crighton Norton.
It was the latest expression of a lifetime spent pushing the boundaries of rotary engineering.
And that is why I wanted to write this.
Not just to tell people about the motorcycles, but to recognise the man behind them.
The engineer who believed in the rotary engine when others doubted it.
The man who helped put Norton back on top.
The man whose work became part of British motorcycle racing history.
And, most importantly to me, my grandad.
Brian Crighton didn't just build racing motorcycles. He built a legacy that continues to inspire, and I couldn't be prouder to call him my grandad.
I created CR-RS to hopefully start a legacy of my own, to pass down generations to come, and to also carry on a legacy built around engineering, dedication and most importantly family.
Because at the end of the day, Crighton is a family name.