Isolastic

Isolastic (pronounced ahy-soh las-tik)

An engine-mounting system developed for the Norton Commando motorcycle.

1967: The construct was iso- + e(lastic).  The prefix iso- was from the Ancient Greek, a combining form of ἴσος (ísos) (equal).  Elastic (also as elastik) was from the mid seventeenth century French (coined as part of the technical language of chemistry to describe gases “having the property of recovering its former volume after compression”), from the New Latin elasticus (expanding spontaneously), the construct being the Ancient Greek elast(ós) (a late variant of elatós (ductile, beaten (of metal)) and derivative of elaúnein & elân (beat out, forge, render from metal)) + -icus (-ic-).  The Greek elastos (ductile, flexible) & elaunein are of uncertain origin but some speculate the source was the primitive Indo-European base ele- (to go).  Elastic (and elastik) came to be applied to solids after the 1660s in the sense of "possessing the nature to return to the form from which it is stretched or bent after the applied force is removed".  Figurative use to describe things as diverse as the principles of politicians or statistical properties emerged by 1859 and the most widely used modern form, the noun meaning "piece of elastic material" (originally a cord or string woven with rubber) dates from 1847 as an invention of American English.  The noun elasticity (the property of being elastic) dates from the 1660s, either from the French élasticité or else as the ad-hoc construction from elastic + -ity.  The adjective inelastic began in 1748 as part of the jargon of physical science and engineering meaning “not restored to original shape after responding to strain" and was simply the technical antonym of elastic while the figurative sense of "rigid, unyielding" dates from 1867 but general use didn’t endure as the word became associated with fields such as economics.

In scientific use, the prefix iso- was used to indicate “equal (as in isometric, isobar, isocyanic acid etc); having equal measurements”.  As a word and abbreviation, iso had its quirks even before it became popular oral shorthand to refer to the various states of isolation imposed during the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic.  The use to describe the specifications of standards (eg ISO 9001 etc) defined by the Organisation internationale de normalisation (International Organization for Standardization) leads many to believe ISO is an acronym or initializm.  However, the organization notes that when founded, it was given approved the short form “ISO”, a nod to the Ancient Greek ἴσος (ísos) (equal), the implication being the equalization (ie standardization) of rules and terminology across jurisdictions.  Despite that, there appears to be no documentary evidence to support the pedigree of the name and most folk who give the matter a moment’s thought probably assume it means “International Standards Organization”.

In film and television production, an “iso” is an isolated camera (a camera used to isolate a subject, usually for instant replay, a use dating from 1967 in sports broadcasting).  In executive salary packaging, tax minimization etc, an ISO incentive stock option) is a right extended to an employee to buy shares of company stock at a discounted price (the realized profit on which are taxed usually at a concessional rate).  In a number of sports, iso is used as a clipping of isolation to refer to tactical plays and in category theory it’s a clipping of isomorphism (morph a back-formation from morpheme, from the Ancient Greek μορφή (morphḗ) (form, shape).  In optics, isochromatic (iso- +‎ chromatic) refers to "possessing the same colour or wavelength; of or corresponding to constant colour".  Chromatic was from either the French chromatique (chromatic) or directly from its etymon the Latin chrōmaticus, from Ancient Greek χρωματικός (khrōmatikós) (relating to colour; one of the three types of tetrachord in Greek music), from χρῶμα (khrôma), (colour; pigment; chromatic scale in music; music), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European ger- (to grind; to rub; to stroke; to remove), presumably in the sense in which pigments were found.

1966 Iso Grifo Spyder (left), 1971 Iso Fidia (centre) & 1973 Iso Grifo 7 Litre (penthouse).

Iso Autoveicoli SpA (subsequently several times re-named) was an automobile and motorcycle maker in Italy, active between 1939-1974, their most fondly remembered cars from the 1960s & 1970s being sold under the Iso brand.  The Iso name was derived from the company’s pre-war origin in Genoa as a manufacturer of refrigeration units when it was called Isothermos, the construct being iso + thermos, from the Ancient Greek θερμός (thermós) (warm), the implied sense being "something which maintains the correct temperature".  In 2022, the corporate name is IsoRivolta and it continues to operate as a low-volume manufacturer.

The suffix -ic was from the Middle English -ik, from the Old French -ique, from the Latin -icus, from the primitive Indo-European -kos & -ḱos, formed with the i-stem suffix -i- and the adjectival suffix -kos & -ḱos.  The form existed also in the Ancient Greek as -ικός (-ikós), in Sanskrit as -इक (-ika) and the Old Church Slavonic as -ъкъ (-ŭkŭ); a doublet of -y.  In European languages, adding -kos to noun stems carried the meaning "characteristic of, like, typical, pertaining to" while on adjectival stems it acted emphatically; in English it's always been used to form adjectives from nouns with the meaning “of or pertaining to”.  A precise technical use exists in physical chemistry where it's used to denote certain chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a higher oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix -ous; (eg sulphuric acid (H₂SO₄) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulfurous acid (H₂SO₃).

Norton's isolastic engine mounting

Norton Featherbed frame.

Powerful as the engines were, much of the success in competition Norton’s motorcycles enjoyed in the 1950s were attributable to the “Featherbed” frame, introduced in 1950.  Designed with twin parallel rectangular loops, each formed from a single length of Reynolds steel tubing with crossed-over welded ends which met a securely braced headstock at the front and swinging arm mountings to the rear, the Featherbed frame was stiff, strong and surprisingly light and proved resistant to even sever road and transmission stresses.  It was state of the art but that state reflected the technology of the late 1940s and as the years went by, engine speeds, displacement and compression ratios increased so power and torque rose, imposing mechanical stresses and, most significantly, vibration levels became so pronounced that the big Norton twin-cylinder bikes were becoming less attractive to buyers; while all the power and torque was admired, for many it was rendered unusable by all the shaking which had to be endured at a wide range of engine speeds.

Norton Commando frame.

A new engine was the obvious solution but, despite years of success, by the early 1960s, the whole British motorcycle industry was under-capitalized and nothing emerged; Norton’s bankruptcy surprised few.  Re-structured in 1966 as Norton-Villiers Ltd, it was still obvious a new engine was needed to remain competitive and this was pursued but the engineers suggested a new frame might be a stop-gap solution while engine development proceeded.  Most attractive was that a new frame should cheap and fast to create.  Afforcing the engineering staff, even with a German nuclear physicist who had once worked for Rolls-Royce, work proceeded quickly even though the Featherbed’s box-frame approach was abandoned in favor of a single, large diameter top tube that ran from the top of the steering tube to the seat struts with a short, angled gusset (made from a tube of the same dimension) was incorporated to triangulate the steering/top tube connection.  Two smaller diameter tubes extended from the bottom of the steering tube, running underneath the engine-gearbox unit where, connected by the centre stand’s mounting tube, they curved upwards to meet the seat struts at the rear suspension top fixing brackets.  The frame was completed by a triangulation of the rear section, achieved by using two more tubes which ran from the rear engine-gearbox unit mounting bracket to midway along the large top tube.

As intended, the new frame was light and the torsional strength (the resistance to twisting) was even higher than the engineers’ theoretical calculations had projected.  The design imperatives had been surprisingly simple, a kind of “back to basics” approach which (1) ensured the relation between the front & rear wheels remained constant regardless of the roughness of the surface, and 2) the higher loadings were Imposed only on the straight tubes, the bent portions of the frame are stressed.  Most innovative was the isolastic mounting system for the engine-gearbox unit (which the factory initially dubbed “GlideRide”.  Although essentially an admission the vibrations inherent in big, twin-cylinder engines couldn’t (then) be fixed, they could substantially be isolated to the unit and not transmitted through the frame to the rider.  At the core of the problem was that as a crankshaft rotates, the engine’s centre of gravity describes a heart-shaped path around the crankshaft axis, the engine therefore tending to oscillate around that path.  What the isolastic system did was provide the engine with three suspension points: (1) at the front, (2) at the top-rear of the gearbox and (3) at the cylinder head.  The mountings were large because of the vibration they needed to absorb but with a torsional stiffness provided by a rigidity in the side mountings, the idea being that the engine must be free to move in the plane of the crankshaft but without twisting in the frame.

1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat.

When the Norton Commando was launched in 1967, the combination of frame and the isolastic engine-gearbox mounting system proved the inherent vibration problem associated with big twins, if not solved, had been artfully concealed.  The early implementations of both the isolastic plumbing and the frame did reveal some weaknesses but these problems quickly were solved and both enjoyed a decade long life, over 60,000 Commandos produced between 1976-1977.  However, the clever improvisation (driven by financial necessity) really just delayed the inevitable as the manufacturers from the Far East had proven their modern, four-cylinder concepts were a better direction for the high performance motorcycle.  In the ten years the Norton Commando was on sale, the Japanese improved their products while the British tinkered at the edges and by the time the last Commando was made, the superiority it once enjoyed in road-holding and handling had evaporated.  The British industry never recovered from the mistakes made during the 1960s and 1970s.

Isolastic-era advertising: The agencies never depicted women riding Norton Commandos but they were a fixture as adornments, usually with lots of blonde hair and a certain expression.  One reason they may not have been suitable to use as riders was the phenomenon known as “helmet hair” (in idiomatic use, the effects of helmet wearing on those with “big hair”), which, upon removing helmet, manifested either as an unintended JBF or a bifurcated look in which the hair above the shoulders was flattened against the scalp while that beneath sat as the wind had determined.  There was also the challenge of kick-starting the big twins, the long-overdue electric-start not installed until 1975.

Combat

Combat (pronounced kuhm-bat or kom-bat (verb); kom-bat (noun))

(1) To fight or contend against; vigorously to oppose.

(2) In military matters, certain parts of branches of the services which engage in armed conflict with enemy forces.

(3) An action fought between two military forces.

(4) As a descriptor (in the military and of weapos and weapons systems), a means to distinguish between an item design specifically for use in combat as oppose to one intended for other purpose.

1535-1540: From the Middle English intransitive verb combat (to fight, struggle, contend), from the sixteenth century French combat, from the twelfth century Old French combattre, from the Late Latin combattere, the construct being com (with (each other) (an an archaic form of cum)) + battuere (to beat, fight) (source of the modern English verb "batter").  The transitive sense dates from the 1580s; the figurative use from the 1620s.  The noun combat (a fight (originally especially "a fight between two armed persons" and later distinguished as single combat in the 1620s)), emerged in the 1560s and soon was applied in a general sense to "any struggle or fight between opposing forces".  Combat is a noun, verb & adjective, combater & combatant are nouns, combatted & combatting are verbs and combative is an adjective; the noun plural is combats.

Combative and dressed for combat: Lindsay Lohan in boxing gloves.

The phrase hors de combat (out of action; disabled; no longer able to fight (literally "out of combat")) was constructed from hors (out, beyond), from the Latin foris (outside (literally "out of doors")) + de (of) + combat.  It dates from 1757 and was related originally to battlefield conduct (the principle of which which would later be interpolated into the the rules of war) and is now a literary and rhetorical device.  It shouldn't be confused with the French expression hors concours (out of competition) which, dating from 1884, is applied to works of art in an exhibition but not eligible to be awarded a prize.  Given the sometimes nasty battles waged in galleries, perhaps hors de combat might sometimes be as appropriate but in exhibitions it's most often used of works which have either already won a prize or have been awarded the maximum number provided for in the competition rules.  Other sporting competitions sometimes use hors concours to describe entries which don't conform with the rules of the event but are for a variety of reasons permitted to run (notably in motorsport).  The adjective combative (pugnacious, disposed to fight) is from 1819 and by the mid nineteenth century had become much associated with the long discredited pseudo-science of phrenology, the related forms being combatively and the earlier (1815) combativeness.  Combatant (contending, disposed to combat) was an adjective by the mid fifteenth century and a noun (one who engages in battle) by circa 1855, both from the Old French combatant (which survives in Modern French as combattant) (skilled at fighting, warlike) where it had also been a noun.    The adjective combative (pugnacious, aggressive; disposed to engage in conflict (though not necessarily violence)) seems not pleasing to some because the incorrect spelling combatative is not uncommon.

The Combat: Woman Pleading for the Vanquished, oil on canvas by William Etty (1787-1849), National Gallery of Scotland.

Unusually for works in this tradition, The Combat is not a depiction of a historical or mythological event but a kind of morality tale exploring “the beauty and quality of mercy”.  Structurally, the picture is of a woman clutching a warrior who, with sword raised, seems poised to inflict a fatal strike on his fallen foe whose own blade lies shattered on the ground, the woman begging he be spared.  Praised for its technical accomplishment The Combat also attracted the criticism the ahistorical piece seemed just another of the artist’s opportunistic pretexts for painting more nude figures, long his favourite motif, but the painter dismissed the carping, reminding critics such imaginative works had a tradition dating from Antiquity, the Romans calling that school of composition “the Roman Visions, works not having their origin in history or poetry”.  Mr Etty certainly made a seminal contribution to the genre and he’s regarded as the first English painter of any skill to produce a substantial number of nudes, something which, predictably, has overshadowed his catalogue of estimable still lifes.  His life was solitary and in some ways strange and in much of the popular press his output was damned as “indecent” but when in 1828 proposed for membership of the Royal Academy, he was elected, defeating no less than John Constable 1776–1837) by 18 votes to five so his fellow artists rated him highly.  

The Norton Commando 750 Combat

1968 Kawasaki 500 Mach III (H1).

British manufacturers once regarded competition from the far-east with little concern but by the late 1960s, Japanese motorcycles had become serious machines enjoying commercial success.  Kawasaki’s 500cm³ (H1, Mach III) two-stroke triple debuted in 1968 while Honda’s 750-Four was released a year later, the former fast but lethally unstable, the latter more refined.  Three years on, the release of Kawasaki’s 900 cm³ Z1 confirmed the maturity of the Japanese product and the era of British complacency was over though the realization was too late to save the industry.

Nothing ever quite matched the rawness of the original Kawasaki Mach III.  Riders of high performance machines had for decades distinguished between fast, well-balanced motorcycles and those which, while rapid, needed to be handled with caution if used in anything but a straight line and on a billiard table smooth surface but even in those circumstances the Mach III could be a handful, the engine's power band narrow and the entry to it sudden and explosive.  Probably the best comparison was something like the BRM grand prix car (1947-1955) which used a supercharged 1.5 litre (91 cubic inch) V16; it was only marginally responsive under 8000 rpm but at that point suddenly delivered its extraordinary power which could be as much as 500-600 horsepower.  Many Mach III owners were soon noting while rear tyre life was short, the front lasted well because it spent so little time in contact with the road.  Adding to the trickiness, lacking the rigidity needed to cope with such stresses, the frame design meant there was something of a gyroscopic tendency under hard acceleration which could be at least disquieting and the consequences were often worse.  Still, nobody denied they were quick.  Clearly, only crazy people would buy such a thing but fortunately for Kawasaki (and presumably this was part of the product planning), by 1968 the Western world was populated as never before with males aged 17-25 (peak craziness years) with sufficient credit or disposable income to indulge the madness of youth.  It helped that under the Bretton Woods system (1944) of fixed exchange rates, at ¥360 to the US$, the Mach III was quite a bargain; on cost breakdown, nothing on two wheels or four came close and even at the time it was acknowledged there really were two identifiable generations of Mach IIIs: the ones built between 1968-1972 and those from 1973 until 1975 when production ended.  Not only was the power-band made a little wider (at the expense of the top-end) but a disk front brake was added, the swing-arm was extended and the frame geometry improved; while this didn’t wholly tame the challenging characteristics created by putting what was then the world’s most powerful two-stroke engine in what was essentially the light and not especially still frame used for their 350, it did mean the later Mach IIIs were a little more forgiving and not quite as quick.

1973 Kawasaki 750 Mach IV (H2).

As a design, the Mach III obviously had its flaws but as a piece of engineering, it exhibited typical Japanese soundness and attention to detail.  They borrowed much and while little was genuinely innovative, they had started with a clean sheet of paper and buyers found, unlike the British bikes, electrics were reliable and mechanical parts were not subject to the oil-leaks which the British had for decades claimed were endemic to the breed; far-eastern engineering was now mass-producing bikes a generation or more advanced.  However, the British industry was chronically under-capitalized so, lacking resources to develop new models, resorted to "improving" existing models.  While they were doing that, the Japanese manufacturers moved on and Kawasaki were planning something which would match the Mach III for performance but deliver it in a more civilized (and safer) manner.  This project was a four-stroke, four cylinder 750, developed while the Mach III was being toned down (a little) while the good idea of a broader power band and a (slightly) stiffer frame was used on the Mach IV (750 H2), the ultimate evolution of the two-stroke triple which delivered best of the the Mach III experience while (somewhat) taming the worst of its characteristics.

1969 Honda 750-Four "Sandcast".  The crankcases of the early 750s are referred to as being sandcast but they were actually gravity cast.  The production method for the first batch was was chosen because of uncertainty about demand.

However, in 1969 Honda, the largest in the Japanese industry and the company which in 1964 had stunned Formula One community when their 1.5 litre V12 car won a Grand Prix, released the motorcycle which threatened the very existence of the new big Kawasaki and the four-stroke Honda 750-Four was for a generation to set the template for its genre, as influential for big motorcycles as the Boeing 707 had in 1957 been for commercial airliners.  Kawasaki reviewed this disturbing intrusion on their planning, concluding the Honda was a touring machine and that the Mach III had proved there was demand machines orientated more to high-performance.  The board looked at the demographic charts and decided to proceed, enlarging their project to 900cm³ which, with double overhead camshafts (DOHC) was tuned more for top-end power than the more relaxed, single cam (SOHC) Honda.  Released in 1972, almost a year after the Mach IV, the Z1 attracted praise for its quality and performance, all delivered while offering a stability the charismatic but occasionally lethal triples never approached.  Internally, Kawasaki did their bit to ensure a good reception for the Z1 by making sure it was just a bit quicker than the Mach IV over a quarter mile, the 750 never tuned to the extent possible although as some found, more horsepower quickly and cheaply was available.    

1973 Kawasaki Z1.

The big Nortons, named Commando since 1967, had long been a benchmark for high-performance motorcycles and although the Mach III had (on paper) matched its speed, its handling characteristics were such that it could really be enjoyed only in a straight line and even then, was best handled by cautious experts.  The Honda 750-Four and Kawasaki Z1 were both vastly better as road machines and clearly the future of the breed.  The long-serving big British twins, while their handling was still impeccable, were now outdated, no longer offered a performance premium and still leaked oil.  Norton’s response in 1972 was the hastily concocted Commando Combat, the engine tweaked in the usual British manner with a high compression ratio, bigger carburetors, larger ports and a high-lift, long-duration camshaft.  These modifications, while the orthodox approach for racing engines, are not suitable for the road and the “peaky” Combat’s only advantage was great top-end power though it was noted the clever isolastic engine mounting did work well to limit the extent to which the greater vibration transmitted through the frame.  Unfortunately, the gains high in the rev-range compromised the low and mid-range performance, just where a road-bike most often operates.  Indeed, at points, the torque-curve actually went the wrong way and the only obvious way to disguise this was to lower the gearing which (1) restricted the top-speed to something embarrassing low and (2) meant even cruising speeds demanded high engine revolutions.  Sadly, it wasn’t possible for all long to enjoy the pleasures of all that power because the Combat's specification exposed weaknesses in pistons, bearings and crankshafts.  In some cases, main bearing life could be as little as 4000 miles (7000 km) but a small number of engines succumbed to other failures long before.  As a consolation, even if the Combat wouldn’t keep going, it was easy to stop, the front disk brake (designed by Norton and built by Lockheed, it used a hard chrome-plated cast-iron rotor because the heat-dissipation qualities were superior to stainless steel) was among the best in the industry.

So the most of the things that were changed made things worse.  Other things stayed the same including the oil leaks (the joke being seals existed to keep the dirt out, not the fluids in) and the absence of electric starting, the right legs of Norton owners reputedly more muscular than the left.  For the engine's problems the solution lay in engineering and metallurgy, a combination of a self-aligning spherical roller bearing called a superblend and un-slotted pistons.  But, by the time things were fixed, the fiasco had had triggered irreparable damage to market perceptions and Norton quietly dropped the Combat, applying the improvements to their mainstream engines without trying to match its top-end power.  Despite the reputation, there are owners (many of whom with great success used their Combats in competition) who reported sterling reliability from their machines and the consensus is it was only a relatively small number of Combat engines which failed but in mass-production, a well-publicized consumer-level failure rate well under 5% is enough to create  reputational damage.  Norton went bankrupt within a few years but the name has been revived several times over the past decades.

For those who can remember how things used to be done: 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat Roadster (left) and 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat Interstate (with custom drilled disk brake, right).

Introduced in 1972, the Interstate model was a response (as the name suggests) to US demand and was distinguished by the larger fuel tank, some of the additional capacity gained by removing the scalloped knee indentations seen on the Roadsters (which used a 2.2 imperial gallon (10 litre, 2.6 US gallon) tank.  The early Interstates were fitted with a 5.25 imperial gallon (23.9 litre, 6.30 US gallon) unit but in mid-year this was enlarged to a 5.5 imperial gallon (25 litre, 6.6 US gallon) device, the latter size carried-over as an option when in 1973 the Commando 850 was introduced and this remained available until production ended in 1977, by which time only a handful of Roadsters were leaving the line.

1954 Norton Dominator 500 (left), 1967 Norton Atlas 750 (centre) and 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat (right).

When introduced in 1949, the 497 cm³ (30.3 cubic inch) parallel twin was as good an engine as any then available on two wheels and a great success but that popularity was ultimately what doomed Norton in the 1970s.  Over the years enlarged and tuned for more power, it proved adaptable to new frame designs and was an engine which kept Norton in the front rank of high-performance motorcycles but in not even half a decade between 1968-1972, the manufacturers in the Far East advanced further than the British industry had achieved in twenty years.  In 1967, well aware of the antiquity of the machinery from which they were coaxing another generation, Norton's management had been surprised at both the positive critical reception to the Commando and the volume of orders being received and for a while the immediate feature looked bright.  It perhaps could have been because the clever Isolastic engine mounting system had made it possible to absorb much of the big twin's chronically insoluble vibrations before they reached the rider and the Commando was a rewarding ride but what it should have been was a stop-gap while something better was developed.  Instead, it proved but a stay of execution.

Isolastic-era advertising: The agencies never depicted women riding Norton Commandos but they were a fixture as adornments, usually with lots of blonde hair and a certain expression.  One reason they may not have been suitable to use as riders was the phenomenon known as “helmet hair” (in idiomatic use, the effects of helmet wearing on those with “big hair”), which, upon removing helmet, manifested either as an unintended JBF or a bifurcated look in which the hair above the shoulders was flattened against the scalp while that beneath sat as the wind had determined.  There was also the challenge of kick-starting the big twins, the long-overdue electric-start not installed until 1975.

TikToker

TikToker (pronounced tik-tok-ah)

(1) One who is a regular or frequent viewer of the content posted on the short-form video (which, with mission-creep, can in certain circumstances now be up to sixty (60) minutes in duration) sharing site TikTok.com.

(2) One who is a regular or frequent content provider on the TikTok platform.

(3) With a variety of spellings (ticktocker, tictoker, tiktoka etc), a slang term for a clock or watch, derived from the alternating ticking sound, as that made by a clock (archaic).

(4) In computing, with the spelling ticktocker (or ticktocker), slang for a software element which emulates the sound of a ticking clock, used usually in conjunction with digitals depictions of analogue clocks.

2018: The ancestor form (ticktock or tick-tock) seems not to have been used until the mid-nineteenth century and was purely imitative of the sound of mechanical clocks. Tick (in the sense of "a quiet but sharp sound") was from the Middle English tek (light touch, tap) and tock was also onomatopoeic; when used in conjunction with tick was a reference to the clicking sounds similar to those made by the movements of a mechanical clock.  The use of TikToker (in the sense of relating to users (consumers & content providers) of the short-form video (which, with mission-creep, can be up to ten (10) minutes in duration) sharing site TikTok.com probably began in 2018 (the first documented reference) although it may early have been in oral use.  The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought most likely to have been borrowed from the Latin –ārius where, as a suffix, it was used to form adjectives from nouns or numerals.  In English, the –er suffix, when added to a verb, created an agent noun: the person or thing that doing the action indicated by the root verb.   The use in English was reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant -our), from the Latin -ātor & -tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  When appended to a noun, it created the noun denoting an occupation or describing the person whose occupation is the noun.  TikToker is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is TikTokers (the mixed upper & lower case is correct by commercial convention but not always followed).  The PRC- (People’s Republic of China) based holding company ByteDance is said to have chosen the name “TikTok” because it was something suggestive of the “short, snappy” nature of the platform’s content; they understood the target market and its alleged attention span (which, like the memory famously associated with goldfish might be misleading).

A blonde Billie Eilish, Vogue, June, 2021.

Those who use TikTok (whether as content providers or consumers) are called “tiktokers” and the longer the aggregate duration of one’s engagement with the platform, the more of a tiktoker one can be said to be.  The formation followed the earlier, self-explanatory “YouTuber” and the use for similar purposes (indicating association) for at least decades.  So, the noun tiktoker can be a neutral descriptor but it can be used also as a slur.   In February 2024, at the People’s Choice Awards ceremony held in Los Angeles, singer Billie Eilish (b 2001) was filmed leaning over to Kylie Minogue (b 1968), remarking sotto voce:“There’s some, like, TikTokers here…” with the sort of distaste Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen Consort of France 1774-1792) might have displayed if indicating to her companion the unpleasing presence of peasants.  The clip went viral on X (formerly known as Twitter) before spreading to Tiktok.  Clearly there is a feeling of hierarchy in the industry and her comments triggered some discussion about the place of essentially amateur content creators at mainstream Hollywood (and such) events.  That may sound strange given a platform like TikTok would, prima facie, seem the very definition of the “people’s choice” but these events have their own history, associations and connotations and what social media sites have done to the distribution models has been quite a disturbance.  Many established players, even some who have to some extent benefited from the platforms, find disquieting the intrusion of the “plague of TikTokers”.

Pop Crave's clip of the moment, a brunette Billie Eilish & Kylie Minogue, People's Choice Awards ceremony, Los Angeles, February 2024.

There will be layers to Ms Eilish’s view.  One is explained in terms of mere proximity, the segregation of pop culture celebrities into “A List”, B List, C List” etc an important component in the creation and maintenance of one’s public image and an A Lister like her would not appreciate being photographed at an event with those well up (ie down) the alphabet sitting at the next table; it cheapens her image.  Properly managed, these images can translate into millions (and these days even billions) of dollars so this is not a matter of mere vanity and something for awards ceremonies to consider; if the TikTokers come to be seen as devaluing their brand to the extent the A Listers ignore their invitations, the events either have to move to a down-market niche or just be cancelled.  Marshall McLuhan’s (1911-1980) book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964) pre-dates social media by decades but its best-remembered phrase (“The medium is the message”) could have been coined for the era, the idea being the medium on which content is distributed should be the first point of understanding its significance, rather than actual content, the theory being the initial assessment of the veracity or the value of something relies on its source.  In the case of pop music, this meant a song distributed by a major label possessed an inherent credibility and prestige in a way something sung by a busker in a train station did not.  What the existence of YouTube and TikTok meant was the buskers and the artists signed to labels began suddenly to appear on the same medium, thus at some level gaining a sort of equivalency.  Viewing TikTok on a phone, tablet or laptop,  sharing the same screen-space, in a sense, all are rendered equal.

On trend: Lindsay Lohan announces she is now a Tiktoker.

Ms Eilish and her label have been adept at using the social media platforms as tools for this and that so presumably neither object to the existence or the technology of the sites (although her label (Universal Music) has only recently settled its dispute with TikTok over the revenue sharing) but there will be an understanding that while there’s now no alternative to, in a sense, sharing the digital space and letting the people choose, that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy about being in the same photo frame when the trophies are handed out.  Clearly, there are stars and there are TikTokers and while the latter can (and have) become the former, there are barriers not all can cross.

The Tic-Toc Tach

1967 Jaguar 340 (left), 1980 Mercedes-Benz 450 SLC 5.0 (centre) and 1970 Plymouth Superbird (right).  Only the Americans called the shared tachometer/clock a “Tic-Toc Tach”.

Since the inter-war years Jaguar had included a small clock at the bottom of the tachometer but in 1966, phasing in the change as models were updated or replaced, began to move the device to the centre of the dashboard (in the case of the 420 & 420G putting it in a blister in the padded section which had replaced the timber top-rail).  By 1968 the horological shift was almost complete (only the last of the Mark IIs (now known as 240, 340) and & Daimler V8 250 models still with the shared dial) and it was then Chrysler adopted the idea although, with a flair the British never showed, they called it the "Tic-Toc-Tachometer".  Popularly known as the “Tic-Toc Tach”, it was also used by other US manufacturers during the era, the attraction being an economical use of dash space, the clock fitting in a space at the centre of the tachometer dial which would otherwise be unused.  Mercedes-Benz picked up Jaguar's now abandoned concept in 1971 when the 350 SL (R107, 1971-1989) was introduced and it spread throughout the range, almost universal (in cars with tachometers) after 1981 when production of the 600 (W100) ended; Mercedes-Benz would for decades use the shared instrument.  A tachometer (often called a “rev counter”) is a device for measuring the revolutions per minute (RPMs) of a revolving shaft such as the crankshaft of an internal combustion engine (ICE) (thus determining the “engine speed”).  The construct was tacho- (an alternative form of tachy-, from the Ancient Greek ταχύς (takhús) (rapid) + meter (the suffix from the Ancient Greek μέτρον (métron) (measure) used to form the names of measuring devices).

1967 Oldsmobile 4-4-2.

Nobody however crammed more into a tic-toc-tach than Oldsmobile which during the first generation (1964-1967) of its 4-4-2 also included a temperature gauge, ammeter and oil pressure gauge, something necessitated because the instrument panel the stylists were compelled to use contained only two pods.  When the second generation (1968-1972) was released, the dash included a third pod so the ancillary gauges were given their own space and a true tic-toc-tach was used.  Thankfully, nobody seems ever to have attempted to coin a term for five-function device on the early 4-4-2s so those who worry about such things must content themselves with choices like “enhanced tic-toc-tach” or “augmented tic-toc-tach”.  Buyers got the instrument with its “perimeter auxiliary gauges” by choosing option code U21 (Rallye Pac with Tachometer and Clock) for US$84.26 which sounds modest but at the time the bikini-clad and neoprene-tailed “mermaids” who splashed around the coral reef in the middle of Submarine Lagoon at California’s Disneyland Resort were paid US$65 week.  Making a virtue of necessity, Oldsmobile described the cluttered device as a “compact instrument cluster [which] lets driver monitor engine performance at a glance”, not burdening brochure readers with the fact the Rallye Pac wasn’t planned as part of the range and with only two pods on the dash, there was no other way elegantly to cram it all in.

1967 Oldsmobile 4-4-2 Holiday Coupe W-30.

The 4-4-2 was Oldsmobile’s response to the Pontiac GTO, introduced in 1964 by the companion GM (General Motors) division.  The GTO (Pontiac shamelessly “borrowing” the name from Ferrari’s 250 GTO (Gran Turismo Omologato (ie car homologated for competition in the GT (grand-touring) category) was the template for the “muscle car” genre of the 1960s in that it used a big V8 from the full-sized range in the smaller, lighter, intermediate platform.  It was actually an old idea practiced on both sides of the Atlantic since the 1920s but the GTO institutionalized the concept and made it a commercial proposition on a scale never before known because of the then unique conjunction in 1960s America of a large cohort of males aged 17-25 with enough disposable income (or credit-worthiness) to pay for such things.  The GTO existed because Pontiac threaded the configuration through a loophole in the GM corporate rules designed to prevent such things being produced for road use but it sold in such volume at a pleasing profit margin that management’s scruples rapidly were discarded and the crazy years of the muscle car began.  The GTO of course encouraged imitators from Ford, Chrysler and (eventually) even AMC but it also compelled three of GM’s other divisions (Chevrolet, Buick & Oldsmobile) to do their own interpretations.  Only Cadillac stood aloof but in 1970 they did put a 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 rated at 400 HP (gross horsepower) in the FWD (front-wheel-drive) Eldorado which sounds a daft idea but the engineers disguised its inherent tendencies very well and the delivery of the 400 HP was a very different experience than something like that of the 375 Ford in the same year modestly claimed for the Boss 429 Mustang.

1970 Oldsmobile 442 Convertible, Official Pace Car (Indianapolis 500) Edition.

Though not original, GTO was of course a great name and the best Oldsmobile’s product-planners could come up with was 4-4-2, an allusion to the configuration (front to rear) of a four barrel carburetor, a four-speed manual gearbox and dual-exhausts.  Once explained it made sense but it remained a flaky name, something suffered by later imitators, Dodge’s “Super Bee” as good a car as Plymouth’s Road Runner but with nothing like the same brand-appeal.  Like Pontiac’s GTO, the 4-4-2 was originally an option package but such was the market response both became regular production models.  As it turned out, 4-4-2 was “just a name” rather than a promise because in 1965 when, in order to be advertise the things at a lower base-price, a three-speed gearbox became standard with the four-speed moved to the option list but there was no 4-3-2: 4-4-2 they all remained which made sense because at various times it could be ordered also with two or three-speed automatic gearboxes, none of which ever were dubbed 4-2-2 or 4-3-2.  However, in an inconsistency at the time not untypical in the industry, although in 1968 the badge was changed from “4-4-2” to “442”, both descriptions continued for years to appear in documents and sales literature.

1953 Kaiser Manhattan (left) and 1961 Chrysler 300G (left).

Although no other manufacturer put five separate functions in the one circular pod, others did do five-function clusters in a more elaborate housing but while Kaiser just appended a semi-circular surround for the ancillary gauges (fuel-level, coolant temperature, ammeter & oil pressure) Chrysler in 1960 introduced the “Astrodome”, the name one of many influenced by what was going on during the dawn of the space-age.  What the dramatic Astrodome did was offer the driver a “3D” effect by placing the four gauges in a staggered array on the steering column, using space usually taken by the transmission selector lever, that function moved to a push-button panel on the dashboard while the turn-signals were controled by a sliding lever; to complete the “space-race” look, buttons and knobs were prolific so although the ergonomics weren’t ideal, visually, the atmospherics were most fetching.

1961 Chrysler 300G.

The speedometer was calibrated to 150 mph (240 km/h) which was needed because, even in street trim, the most highly-tuned 300Gs easily could exceed 140 mph (225 km/h).  Despite the concerns sometimes expressed today, the tires of the era were safe to use at such speed (much had been learned from the tyres developed for use in aviation during World War II (1939-1945)) but the drum brakes of the era were inadequate.

Adding to the drama in 1960 was what Chrysler called “revolutionary Panelescent lighting” which was a fanciful term describing the use of electroluminescence (EL), an optical and electrical phenomenon, in which a material emits light in response to the passage of an electric current or to a strong electric field.  As implemented for the Panelescent system, as well as the soft blue backlighting, each gauge pointer was also an individual source of red light.  The Astrodome was used between 1960-1962 on a number of Chryslers including the “Letter-series” 300s and the New Yorker while EL remained in use until 1967; it was last seen on the first generation Dodge Charger (1966-1967).

Conventions in English and Ablaut Reduplication

In 2016, the BBC explained why we always say “tick tock” rather than “tock-tic” although, based on the ticking of the clocks at the time the phrase originated, there would seem to be no objective reasons why one would prevail over the other but the “rule” can be constructed thus: “If there are three words then the order has to go I, A, O.  If there are two words then the first is I and the second is either A or O which is why we enjoy mish-mash, chit-chat, clip-clop, dilly-dally, shilly-shally, tip-top, hip-hop, flip-flop, tic tac, sing song, ding dong, King Kong & ping pong.  Obviously, the “rule” is unwritten so may be better thought a convention such as the one which dictates why the words in “Little Red Riding Hood” appear in the familiar order; there the convention specifies that in English, adjectives run in the textual string: opinion; size; age; shape; colour; origin; material; purpose noun.  Thus there are “little green men” but no “green little men” and if “big bad wolf” is cited as a violation of the required “opinion (bad); size (big); noun (wolf)” wolf, that’s because the I-A-O convention prevails, something the BBC explains with a number of examples, concluding “Maybe the I, A, O sequence just sounds more pleasing to the ear.”, a significant factor in the evolution of much that is modern English (although that hardly accounts for the enduring affection some have for proscribing the split infinitive, something which really has no rational basis in English, ancient or modern.  All this is drawn from what is in structural linguistics called “Ablaut Reduplication” (the first vowel is almost always a high vowel and the reduplicated vowel is a low vowel) but, being English, “there are exceptions” so the pragmatic “more pleasing to the ear” may be helpful in general conversation.

Rolls-Royce, the Ford LTD and NVH

Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II, 1959.  Interestingly, the superseded Silver Cloud (1955-1958) might have been quieter still because the new, aluminium 6¼ litre (380 cubic inch) V8 didn’t match the smoothness & silence of the previous cast iron, 4.9 litre (300 cubic inch) straight-six, despite the V8 being remarkably heavy for something made substantially from "light metal".

The “tick-tocking” sound of a clock was for some years a feature of the advertising campaigns of the Rolls-Royce Motor Company, the hook being that: “At 60 mph (100 km/h) the loudest noise in a Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock”.  Motoring journalists did verify the claim (at least in ideal conditions) but given electric clocks can be engineered silently to function, the conclusion was the company deliberately fitted time-pieces which emitted an untypically loud “tick-tock”, just to ensure the claims were true.  The Silver Clouds were, by the standards of the time, very quiet vehicles but in the US, Ford decided they could mass-produce something quieter still and at the fraction of the cost.  Thus the 1965 Ford LTD, a blinged-up Ford (the add-on "gingerbread" in pre-bling days known as "gorp") advertised as: “Quieter than a Rolls-Royce”.

The test conditions were recorded as: “Dry, level, moderately smooth concrete divided highway; light quartering winds.  All cars operated at steady 20-, 40- and 60- mph with all vents closed”.  The two Rolls-Royces were both standard wheelbase Silver Cloud III saloons with the 6¼ litre (380 cubic inch) V8 and four-speed automatic transmissions while the three Fords (a Galaxie 500 LTD, a Galaxie 500/XL and a Galaxie 500 Four-Door Sedan) were all fitted with the 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) V8 and three-speed Cruise-O-Matic automatic transmission.  The test results were certified by the USAC (United States Auto Club).

To ensure what must at the time have seemed an audacious claim couldn't be dismissed as mere puffery, J. Walter Thompson, then Ford’s advertising agency commissioned acoustical consultants Boldt, Beranek and Neuman to run tests, two brand new Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud III saloons purchased for the project.  What the engineer’s decibel (dB) meters revealed was that, under conditions that were controlled but representative of much of the driving experience in the US, the Galaxies were indeed quieter inside than a Rolls-Royce.  Because of the way the dB scale works, the differences (as great as 5.5 dB) were quite large and obvious to the human ear.  It was a reasonable achievement in engineering and Ford, anticipating the ensuing controversy, was uncharacteristically modest in claiming their 2.8 dB advantage at 60 mph was only “slight”, the numbers making the point with no need for exaggeration.  Ford didn’t mention the tick-tock of the clock.

Ford Galaxie 500/XL advertising, 1965.  In the West, advertising has long been an exception to the general prohibition of the use of "child labor" (Lindsay Lohan was signed to Ford Models at the age of three and soon got her first gig!).

Ford did though “stack the deck”, a bit in configuring the Galaxies with their mildly tuned 289 V8 with a two-barrel carburettor; had the test included another variation on the full-size line which used the 427 (7.0) V8, the results would have been different, the raucous 427 side oiler offering many charms but they didn't extend to unobtrusiveness.  Still, the choice was reasonable because the tune of the 289 was more representative of what most people bought.  Amusingly, it wasn't the first time Rolls-Royce was surprised by the way things were done in Detroit.  Years earlier, the company had obtained a licence to manufacture Cadillac's four-speed Hydramatic automatic transmission, then the benchmark of its type.  Disassembling one, the Rolls-Royce engineers were surprised at the “rough finish” on some of the internal components and resolved their version would be built to their standards of precision.  That done, a lovingly built Hydramatic was installed in a car and tested, the engineers surprised to find it didn't work very well and offered nothing like the smooth operation of the original.  They contacted Cadillac and were told the prototype Hydramatics produced with universally fine tolerances had also misbehaved and the “roughness” of certain components deliberately was introduced to ensure the optimal frictional resistance was obtained.     

Ford Galaxie 500 LTD advertising, 1965.

Not much noticed at the time was another intrusion.  Although the trend had for years been creeping through the industry, what the 1965 LTD did was make blatant Ford's incursion into the market territory once reserved for the corporate stablemate, Mercury, the "middle class" brand between Ford & Lincoln.  This intra-corporate cannibalism (which had already seen Chrysler shutter its DeSoto division) would have consequences, one of which was Mercury's eventual demise, another being Ford's competitors, noting the LTD's success, bringing their own interpretations to the market, the most successful of which was the Chevrolet Caprice (which enjoyed the same relationship to the Impala as the LTD had to the Galaxie 500).  Notably, the Caprice contributed to the later extinction of the once highly popular Oldsmobile, squeezed from its niche by Chevrolet (from below) and Buick (from above).  What were once gaps in the market, catered to by specific brands, ceased to exist. 

1965 Ford LTD (technically a “Galaxie 500 LTD” because in the first season the LTD was a Galaxie option, not becoming a stand-alone model until the 1966 model year).

Even before the LTD was released the full-sized cars produced by the US industry featured the world's finest engine-transmission combinations and Ford justly deserves credit for what was achieved in 1965 because it wasn’t an exercise merely in adding sound insulation.  The previous models had a good reputation for handling and durability but couldn’t match the smoothness and ride of competitive Chevrolets so within Ford was created a department dedicated to what came to be called HVH (Noise, Vibration & Harshness) and this team cooperated in what would now be understood as a “multi-disciplinary” effort, working with body engineers and suspension designers to ensure all components worked in harmony to minimize NVH.  The idea was to craft a platform which, at least on the billiard table like surfaces of the nations freeways, would match the powertrains for smoothness and that was a task which would absorb much time and effort because the mildly-tuned V8 engines most customers bough were unobtrusive in their delivery and the automatic transmissions didn't so much change gears as slur effortlessly between ratios.

Ford Galaxie 500 LTD (with "Body/Chassis Puck") advertising with , 1965.

What emerged was a BoF (Body on Frame) platform (a surprise to some as the industry trend had been towards unitary construction) to ensure the stiffest possible structure but the combination of the frame’s rubber body-mounts (which Ford dubbed "pucks" because of their similarity in size and shape to the rubber disks used in ice hockey), robust torque boxes and a new, more compliant, coil-spring rear suspension delivered what even the competition's engineers (though probably not the sales staff) acknowledged was the industry’s quietest, smoothest ride.  To solve the problem of troublesome vibrations, the material had before come to the rescue, a rubber layer for the carburettor mountings proving the solution to the resonance which, at certain road speeds, affected the flow of the fuel-air mix in the MGA Twin-Cam, resulting in pistons melting.  Alas, the fix was discovered too late and the MGA was doomed.  Norton had better luck with their Isolastic, a rubber-based engine mounting which disguised the chronic vibration on the Commando's 750 cm³ parallel twin, allowing the company (as something of a last gasp) to extract a (sometimes profitable) decade from what was an antiquated design.

Ford LTD advertising, 1980.

In geopolitics and economics, much changed between 1965 and 1980.  Whereas Ford had once been able prove their Galaxie range (US$2,800-4,800) was quieter than a US$17,000 Rolls-Royce, by 1980 a LTD (the Galaxie name, dating from 1959 was retired after the 1974 season) sold typically for between US$6,400-8,000, reflecting the inflation which became entrenched during the 1970s.  That was representative of the effect on domestically produced cars but an "entry-level" (the concept really was used even of cars from the more exulted) Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow now listed for a minimum US65,000-odd and if that wasn't thought conspicuous enough consumption, there was the two-door Camargue with a price tag in six figures.  The LTD was looking even better value.  Ford in the era made a bit of a thing of comparing their locally produced machines with high-priced stuff from across the Atlantic, one campaign showing how closely the US Granada (1975-1982) resembled various Mercedes-Benz; these days it's the Chinese manufacturers which are accused of plagiarism although they often are more blatant in their copying.  Reckoning however what worked in 1965 would still work 15 years on, Ford re-ran their tests and, in a regulatory environment which was rather more harsh on advertising claims, asserted only that "The 1980 Ford LTD rides as quietly as a $65,000 Rolls-Royce".  The tic-tock of the clock still didn't rate a mention.