April 30, 2008
Riding Impressions: 1990 Ducati 750 Sport
Until Saturday, I had only ridden the Sport around town i.e. to work and back and of course to PJ's. Saturday, I was able to take it for a spin up in the twisties and along some of New Mexico's scenic backroads.
First of all, I love the power the bike makes. It does not scream away like the 851, but pulls away cleanly and nicely. The acceleration is doubtless improved by the substantially larger-than-stock headers and aftermarket cans mated with 36mm Mikuni flat-slide carbs. It is easier to use more of what the bike has to offer than on the 851, while the latter bike in comparison is a shot of adrenaline.
The notchy-shifting problem I noticed before the fluids were changed and the clutch adjusted and measured is gone, though it is still challenging to find neutral unless the bike is rolling along. I do wish the bike had a six speed gearbox; an extra gear up top would allow for higher cruising speeds, though I suspect I will rev the engine more freely once I am used to it.
I have been taking the handling slow for the most part, since I am probably overworried about hitting the brakes mid-turn. I noticed no real problems, though I confess I was trained in the old school method of getting all one's braking done before entering the turn. In all the twisties I went through the motorcycle handled flawlessly.
Every review I have read of the 750 Sport complains that the idiot lights are invisible during daylight hours and that the reserve light is more or less continuously on. I echo those criticisms, though I am used to the faults since the 851 is guilty of the same defects.
Overall, this bike is definitely a keeper until such time that I can afford an F1. Given the recent sale prices on eBay, it may take a protracted recession for that time to arrive. In the meantime, I have a nice second bike to ride while the 851 is ridden by a guest or is in the shop being serviced.
Posted by Underblog at 7:25 AM | TrackBack
April 29, 2008
Thrives On Neglect
When I went to drain the oil on the Trail 90 on Friday, about two tablespoons trickled out. This is not the first time this has happened, though each time I check the oil level it seems fine. Anyway, it is a testament to Honda engineering that the bike can keep getting me to work and back on just a few cc's of motor oil.
Posted by Underblog at 7:48 AM | TrackBack
April 28, 2008
How Motorcyclists Get a Bad Name
On the way home from PJ's Saturday, I pulled up behind a Honda Interceptor piloted by a middle-aged man wearing shorts. As Walter Alter used to say, "If you ride a motorcycle while wearing shorts, God will laugh at you." In addition this chap was wearing sneakers with no socks. Needless to say he was not wearing a helmet.
My impression of an underclothed motorcyclist turned from bad to worse when he proceeded to accelerate past everything in sight and commence weaving from lane to lane, slamming on the brakes when he arrived at a stoplight. I guess one is never too old for idiocy.
Posted by Underblog at 1:09 PM | TrackBack
April 26, 2008
Madrid Loop
Saturday, I took the newly serviced 750 for a little spin along two routes I have ridden numerous times, though never in the same day. Oddly, the one time I did such a loop, I was in a car. (I cannot yet bring myself to say "cage" for car.) I began up 2nd St, taking it to the northern terminus of NM 47. From there, I rode a block of Roy Rd to NM 313. NM 313 is a lovely straight stretch along the western edge of Sandia Pueblo to the Town of Bernalillo. Like 2nd St., it is part of the pre-1937 alignment of Route 66. Above Bernalillo, NM 313 turns into Old Route 66 and snakes through larger rural lots and structures whose business for the most part abandoned the road when I-25 came through. Beyond Bernalillo, one enters Santa Ana Pueblo, a small hamlet surrounded by irrigated farms. There are some nice curves on the way to Algodones, but one must be mindful of the presence of vigili. Above Algodones, Old Route 66 opens up to several long straights. And indeed on one of them a sheriff's SUV was parked. Where Old 66 drops off at the freeway, it is possible to squeeze a few more interstate miles in by heading west toward San Felipe Pueblo, and then back east toward their casino on the interstate. After 10-15 miles on the interstate (basically climbing La Bajada grade), it is possible to take a frontage road from the Waldo Crossing exit near the rest area. The frontage road is nearly as fast, though the road is somewhat less maintained than the freeway. Where the frontage roads ends just past the National Guard Armory, NM 14 crosses. After a quick pit stop (45 miles to the gallon!) at the Allsup's, I proceed south toward Madrid.
NM 14 goes up and down several hills, past the prison and the Santa Fe Adult Detention Center (located across the street from one another). A little farther down NM 14 is the Cafe San Marcos, where Roomie and I ate when we drove this loop in the Miata. There are a few curves before passing the village of Los Cerrillos. Madrid is three miles of S-curves away. Motorcycles abound.
After a quick stop to stretch and drink a cuppa Earl Grey in Madrid, I continue down NM 14 to another Old Route 66 segment, now a frontage road for I-40. Right around Carnuel, the odometer reads 100 miles so far. It is only another 2 miles to PJ's, where I am delighted to tell them how well the 750 is running.
Please see the map below for the route information, even though the map displayed does not seem to display properly in Firefox. According to the vast project that is the internet, folks are working to make GoogleMaps and Firefox play better together.
Click and zoom out 3 or 4 clicks to see the route.
Posted by Underblog at 2:40 PM | TrackBack
Sisters
At PJ's yesterday, they had another 750 Sport in for service. Looked identical for mine, but for a different exhaust, stock brake and clutch lines, etc. The world keeps getting smaller. I shall have to drop a card off for the owner of the other bike. Since only 400 were imported, these two represent ½% of all the 750 Sports brought into the country.
I wonder the other owner is doing for tires. . .
Posted by Underblog at 9:29 AM | TrackBack
April 20, 2008
So Close and So Far Away
I took the 1990 750 Sport in to PJ's January 17th, or thereabouts. While I was at a conference in CA week before last, I got a message from Mike that the bike was ready to be picked up. I explained that I had a ride coming up on Saturday, and would get there Tuesday to release it from custody.
It turns out that Tuesday my usual ride over to PJ's was going to be in Portales, so I asked a ride of one of my co-workers. Come lonche, he drove me over stopping once at his brother-in-law's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition new house (airs April 27) and again Bangkok Cafe (IMHO the best Thai in Burque). It was close to 1:00 pm by the time I arrived at the shop.
It took some time for the paperwork to be processed, but it was my understanding that that would be the only delay. While I waited for the bike to be rolled around, I walked around to the back of the shop, where T Technician Shannon was making some last minute adjustments to the cables. The PO (or his mechanic) had installed spark plug terminal screws in line around the choke cable inners. So I waited for about one hour while Shannon removed them. I was 2½ hours into my lunch "hour" by the time I left.
The bike ran great back to the office. In fact the shifting was easier, the clutch action felt lighter, and the carburetion was definitely improved. When I parked the bike at the office I smelled a slight whiff of gasoline. Looking around the bike, I saw no puddles, and so I decided to ride it home (it was my only way home at that point) and see if the smell went away. I mean, these things go away on their own some times, right?
The ride home was worse. The bike ran great, but the gas smell, especially at stop lights, was beginning to make my head light. I worried that a windblown cigarette butt was cause me to torch up completely. I noticed that the smell was stronger on the right hand side of the bike. When I pulled up to the house, Roomie right away asked "What is that smell?" Clearly this bike was going back to the shop where it had just had a large one's worth of service done to it. I called Mike and explained and arranged to bring it back on Friday.
On Friday, I ride the thing over to PJ's, and it took no more than pulling up to the service department door for them to all acknowledge that something was amiss. Mike rolled the bike back into the shop, and Shannon, Mike, and I all put our heads underneath the bike to see what was going on. A fuel "Y" was at first suspected, but then I noticed the overflow spigot from the float bowl (which should have been routed underneath the motorcycle as did the LH carb) was dripping gas onto the case. No wonder the fumes were overwhelming! The gas would pool there and evaporate.
My guess is that the float is not floating or the float needle is not sealing and the bike overflows gas. In any case, it is definitely something they should have caught going through the carbs for its "altitude adjustment."
So the bike is back at PJ's. Roomie noted that the 851 took a while to leave PJ's last year.
Posted by Underblog at 7:00 AM | TrackBack
April 19, 2008
Brake Light Switch
I managed to remember to pick up a brake light switch for the 851 at PJ's when I returned the 750 (a tale for another post). The terminal set up on the new switch was a little different than the old one, but it looked like the holes were in the right place.
This morning, it was off with the old and on the with the new. I noticed in the box the new switch arrived in a small plastic cylinder. Not knowing what it could possibly be, I left in the box. I replaced the switch, but the same symptom appeared (brake light mostly on). So I decided to see if perhaps the switch could be installed wrong way around. Looking behind the lever, I saw a small plastic circle that the lever pressed against to activate the switch. Aha! The cylinder! The white plastic one that came off the bike was substantially misshapen. I got a piece of baling wire behind the lever just enough to make the cylinder grabbable with my finger tips. Once I put the new black one, all worked just fine. Problem solved.
Posted by Underblog at 7:39 PM | TrackBack
April 14, 2008
Brake Light
During the last couple of group rides, someone has told me that my brake light appeared to have been sticking. Yesterday, while the irrigation was finishing up, I finally confirmed the fact. I began by doing a visual check of the switches. Then I looked at the wires for shorts. The wires are not perfect, but there was no visual evidence of wear per se. I removed a side panel and the passenger lid and figured out how the whole lens / tail-light / cover system works, and managed to get it off without breaking anything. Once that assembly was off, I removed the zip tie holding a bundle of wires together in order to look for shorts.
Each time I would take something off and replace it, I would turn on the ignition to see if the brake light was still on. It was. Finally, I disconnected the front brake switch from the brake lever assembly and operated the switch. It worked! Plunged in was off, "default" was on. I reasoned that if I could press the switch closer to the assembly while tightening it down, it might last long enough for me to get a replacement switch. The first time I put the thing back together the switch would not operate, but after blowing air at the switch it appears to operate more reliably. So for the time being, all is well.
When I pick up the 750 Sport, wearing her newly-coated exhaust, I will put in an order for a brake light switch. Hopefully, these are a standard item.
Posted by Underblog at 5:59 AM | TrackBack
April 13, 2008
Familiar Roads and Surprises Found Thereupon
When the Albuquerque Motorcycle Rider's Group chooses a route which I know I will enjoy, I will go with them. I joined them Saturday for a "Passengers" ride. I do not know how it came to be called this, only that about 5 of the bikes on the ride carried passengers. Perhaps it was organized so that folks with an interest in motorcycling would be able to get a ride on the back of someone's motorcycle.
The meetup was for 10:00am, and at 9:38 AMT (Albuquerque Microwave Time) I raced off, stopping first at an ATM. Only three bikes were at Denny's when I rolled up. Turns out I had neglected to read the part where kickstands went up at 10:30, meaning I was going to end up standing around and talking routes and roads for half an hour. Several other bikes arrived in short order and by 10:30, some kickstands were up. Other kickstands took longer, and it seemed that takeoff was delayed waiting for one bike that did not even join us on the ride. In Rio Rancho, we picked up two other bikes.
I have ridden NM 4 several times, and it is one of my favorite routes in the state. Turns out that I have been scooting right past one of the most accessible geological attractions each time. NM 485 is a sharp turn to the west off NM 4 just north of the Jemez Pueblo. It proceeds through Gillman, a collection of old barns, loose cows, and trailers. Continuing past these attractions, the road narrows, gets twistier, and finally ends just beyond two short tunnels which have been rough-hewn from the native rock. A river cascades down a canyon below the little parking area. Needless to say, on this trip the cameras came out. The road does not so much end as the way is blocked by a Forest Service gate. 11 miles up the trail the road connects with NM 126, which connects NM 4 to Cuba.
We stopped at the Old Time Café in Jemez Springs, since the last time Jim went to the Los Ojos Package Store was the last time he would ever go there. There were 16 of us for lunch, so went ate outside where it was just barely warm enough. By the time the food arrived, I was hungry. I was also itching to ride the upper portion of NM 4 (above the NM 126 turn off to Fenton Lake). I lobbied the group and the interest in continuing north was unanimous. We agreed to rendezvous at the NM 4 - NM 502 intersection at the bottom of the hill. The burger was just OK, but the cole slaw was as the waitress promised—delicious.
Outside the café, Benny Shendo (candidate for Tom Udall's 3rd District Congressional seat) greeted each of us. He was running from one end of his district to the other. We had earlier seen portions of his group running along US 550. It seemed unfathomable that he had caught up to us, though lunch and the falls had taken more than a bit of time.
There was still snow alongside the road on shadier portions of the highway, and I was careful to treat the damp spots in the road as if they were icy. I also (without shame, I should add) did not trail behind anyone. On roads like NM 4, the 851 is in its element. She becomes a thoroughbred that knows what it should be doing through each set of twisties. When I got to the rendezvous, I made a point of checking the time. 10 minutes after I arrived, the first of the others rolled up to the bottom of the hill.
While we convened, John mentioned that there is a pretty cool lookout in White Rock. We decided to rendezvous at the gas station on the corner and John would guide us from there. Getting to the Overlook was interesting: One turns right (south) at the signal (White Rock has but one), then left at the first intersection. About half a mile down this residential street is a turn off to the left where a largish park and sporting facilities are located. Just beyond this park is the turn off for a small parking area and turnaround circle. We parked on the most level places we could find, and checked the view. It did not disappoint. Off to the west, a small waterfall released water from the mountains to a canyon below. To the east, north, and south, the Rio Grande appeared as a healthy if brown body of water. The Sangre de Cristo's above Santa Fe loomed to the east, and to the north Wheeler Peak. Miraculously, neither I-25 nor any other limited access facility appeared at all.
They would soon enough. By the time kickstands were going up at the White Rock Overlook, it was 5:00pm. The ride back to town was to be the usual route: NM 4 to NM 502 to NM 285 / NM 84 to NM 599 to I-25 to San Felipe Pueblo (ie the Hollywood Casino), and along El Camino Real / Old Route 66 to Bernalillo. At the 599 turn off, I noticed that a police SUV situated in the median was pulling onto our direction of travel. I paced myself to go no more than 5 mph over the speed limit (55 on this stretch of road). As the po-po passed me, I nodded to him. The two bikes behind me, John (who had assumed the thankless and challenging task of bringing up the rear) and the Oregonian snowbird on the FJ, presumably noticed what I had and were doing the exact same thing maintaining their positions. Along comes a green SUV (Bronco, perhaps?) zipping past us and braking directly behind the cop. Resisting the temptation to pass the cop, he brakes again to avoid coming up too close on the cop (who had been doing 60+ to pass us in the first place). The cop pulls over into our (the right) lane to let the SUV by. Instead the SUV tries to make a left turn. The cop switches on the lights and pulls the SUV over. Free from police presence, we accelerated to join up up with the others.
Keeping a group of 10 riders (2 bikes split off in Santa Fe) together on I-25 is a challenge. Drivers have no compunction about inserting their car into a platoon of motorcyclists. I found myself pulling ahead of cars and slowing down a bit to create space for others to pull in. Eventually, I found myself in a sub group of four: the Oregonian behind me, and Lee and Geneva ahead. As we approached San Felipe (the back way into town), Lee and Geneva overshot the exit. I have no idea whether or not this was by design. In any case, I had had enough of the wind and the traffic on I-25 and I pulled off onto the planned route. I caught up to Bill and Kendra on El Camino Real and passed them up somewhere above Algodones. It was the last I saw this day of anyone from the group.
Posted by Underblog at 7:05 AM | TrackBack
April 8, 2008
Relief and Grief
Another F1 has come up for auction and not made its reserve. On the last day, the seller lowered the opening bid and I was hopeful that the reserve had been lowered as well. No dice. On the plus side, I appear to be single-handedly setting the market value for the model.
I stopped by PJ's to look in on the 750. PJ sold his 888, but he told me to call him first should I ever decide to get rid of the 750 Sport. In other news Parts Guy Chris has resigned, taking a leave of absence to write a book. Good for him. I hope it has motorcycles and is set in Albuquerque.
Service Manager Mike assured me that the 750 Sport was ready to go, but for some paperwork to complete. Mechanic Shannon took the bike for a spin after all its service so he knows that the bike runs. Service Assistant Aaron was acting all disappointed that I was not planning to ride the thing away. Props to him for fessing up that some of the delay was due to his not submitting the proper paperwork to get the stainless lines made. I offered to come back in a cage later in the day to pick it up, but it was already past 3:00pm and I did not want to rush the bike after waiting so long for it.
Mike suggested I take it for a test spin, so I rolled from the holding pen to the parking lot, got Mike to retrieve the key and hit the button. "Click." No woof. No roar. Mike had a pretty good idea of what the problem was. Evidently one of the technicians had left the gas on, filling the lower cylinder with fuel. This in turn points to an inability of the float needles to contain fuel. Evidently Shannon had complained that the angles of the Mikuni's were pretty severe. It must be noted that this was not a problem before I brought the bike in.