In the 2008 film One Week, a Canadian indie gem, the motorcycle of choice is not just a machine; it’s a symbol, a companion, and an essential part of the journey. The bike in question? A 1973 Norton Commando 850, a British classic that carries the film’s protagonist, Ben Tyler (played by Joshua Jackson), across the sweeping and sometimes desolate landscapes of Canada. It’s not just a prop. It’s a co-star.
The Motorcycle: A Soul on Two Wheels
The Norton Commando 850 isn’t the kind of bike you see every day, especially not in 2008, and certainly not in a movie about existential crisis, cancer, and the search for meaning. This machine represents a particular moment in motorcycling history when British craftsmanship ruled the roost, and names like Triumph, BSA, and Norton conjured images of sleek, powerful motorcycles roaring down open roads. The Commando was the jewel in Norton’s crown, and the 850cc version in One Week is a prime example of why this bike became a legend.
There’s something raw about the Commando. It’s not too refined or perfect, but it hums with a certain energy. You feel every piston stroke, every combustion, and that vibration—oh, that vibration—is not just an afterthought. Norton actually made it part of the experience. The isolastic frame system was supposed to smooth out the ride, but anyone who’s ridden one knows it only softens the edges. You still get the thrill and intimacy of a mechanical beast beneath you, alive, growling, and unpredictable.
The Journey: The Road as Therapy
In One Week, the Norton becomes more than just a method of transportation; it’s Ben’s therapy. Diagnosed with terminal cancer and given a very finite amount of time, Ben decides to ride from Toronto to Vancouver. The Norton, of course, isn’t the most practical choice for a cross-country trek—certainly not compared to the modern touring bikes loaded with panniers, GPS, and ergonomic handlebars. But that’s the point. It’s a deliberate nod to a different kind of adventure, one where the rider and the machine are in it together, facing whatever comes their way: rain, breakdowns, and long, lonely stretches of highway.
Ben’s journey echoes the timeless theme of motorcycling as an escape, a place to think, to clear your head, or maybe even to outrun your demons—at least for a while. For many riders, this resonates deeply. You can’t run from life’s problems forever, but you can buy yourself some time when the road ahead seems endless and the throttle is wide open.
The Norton: A Beautiful Flaw
The choice of the Norton is no coincidence. The bike itself is a bit of a metaphor. It’s a beautiful flaw, much like Ben himself, and much like life. The Norton has a reputation for being temperamental. It leaks oil. It rattles. Sometimes it just decides it’s not going to start, like a stubborn old mule that needs a kick in the side to get moving. But when it does fire up, and when everything clicks, it’s magic. The engine purrs, the wind rushes by, and there’s nothing but you, the bike, and the road stretching to the horizon.
In a way, the Norton reflects the human condition—a mixture of beauty and imperfection, capable of greatness but also prone to breaking down at the worst possible moment. For Ben, riding this classic machine isn’t just about seeing the sights or ticking off landmarks on a map; it’s about understanding himself, coming to terms with his mortality, and finding some semblance of peace on a journey that has no guarantees.
Why the Norton?
There’s a reason filmmakers chose the Norton Commando 850 over any modern bike. It’s not just about aesthetics, though it certainly is a handsome machine. The Norton represents a bygone era—a simpler, more analog time. In a world of hyper-connectivity and precision engineering, the Norton is refreshingly raw. It forces the rider to be present, to feel everything the road throws at them, and to confront their thoughts head-on.
Like Ben, the Norton is on borrowed time. It’s fragile, finicky, and difficult at times, but it’s also alive with character. The Commando, much like Ben’s journey, is not perfect, but it’s beautiful in its imperfection. And maybe that’s the point of the whole film—sometimes, the best rides aren’t the smooth ones, but the ones that make you feel alive.
So, the next time you see One Week, pay attention to the Norton. It’s not just a motorcycle; it’s the heartbeat of the story.
