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November 17, 2008
Side Stand Shenanigans
The 750 F1 currently on its way to my garage from a garage in Oregon (by way of Wisconsin) possesses neither a center stand (as it came with originally) nor a side stand. The center stand removal was probably a good idea, since a common criticism of the F1 is that the stand impaired ground clearance. The limited-edition Montjuich, Laguna Seca, and Santamonica machines all came with side stands. Fitting a side stand from a Cagiva Ala Azzura using the frame lugs for the center stand would be an easy fix, but for the fact that those pieces of the frame have been removed from my F1.
Ducati TT1 and TT2 motorcycles (predecessors to the F1) came with no provision for a stand of any sort, since they were all sold as track bikes. The TT2 I rode around Italy had a small cavaletto that one installed between the frame and leaned the bike on. One carried it around to have a stand for places where a wall was not handy. I may end up fabricating a stand to be used in the same manner.
Another solution is to mount a side stand to the right-hand engine case lugs. Several of the roadworthy TT1/2 replicas and factory racing machines have had them added. The hitch in this plan is that almost all side stands operate from the left hand side of the machine. The TT2 solution will have to work from the right hand side since the exhaust exits on the left hand side. So: I will have to find a stand which operates from the right hand side or cobble something together that is wholly custom. Perhaps the old side stand from the Morini can be made to fit?
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August 16, 2008
Relief, redux
When I learn that I cannot afford a motorcycle that I am checking out, or that the motorcycle I am investigating turns out to be the wrong kind, or that the motorcycle has already gone to another home, I feel more than anything relief. Yesterday I was relieved when I learned that the 1957 and 1967 BSA twins located somewhere in the neighborhood had already sold. Evidently, rather that $2500 for the pair, the price was $2500 each. So I really would not have been interested unless they were in pretty much ready to ride condition.
As it is, I need to replace the fork seals on the Benelli, replace the swing-arm bushings on the Morini, and figure out what to do about the forks on the 750 Sport.
So the Miata can stay in the garage for the time being (though I am told that it may go away in the spring) and I can continue to find dust seals for the Benelli. Perhaps the failing economy will be responsible for putting a nice Hailwood replica or F1 on the market.
Posted by Underblog at 8:11 AM | TrackBack
March 27, 2008
No One Ever Crashed When We Rode
I heard from KB yesterday for the first time in years. He and I go way back. We met through friends and a common café in San Francisco right around the time I acquired my Lambretta SX200. He remembers (or should remember) when I graduated to "big wheels" and bought first the Honda CB350, then the BSA A65 Lightning, and ultimately the Morini 500. He And he respected my decision to stand by the little wheeled members of the stable.
We used to ride together every couple of weeks, first meeting for coffee and discussing the route then riding either north south or east of San Francisco to the coastal mountains and river valleys. We shared some other interests: fine art, wine, food, real estate, etc, but it was and is motorcycling that formed the real bond between us. I liked riding with Kent because when I tired of riding on large sweeping curves where the Guzzi's 2:1 advantage in displacement became evident, he never complained when I insisted on super-twisty roads where the Morini's flickableness and the road's narrowness prevented his passing me.
At one point, he shared a South of Market flat (with enclosed carport) with my Morini-friend TC. Though that particular arrangement did not work out in the long-run,* the three of us did once manage to ride to Yosemite. The ultimate object was Mono Lake, which happens to be the caldera of a dormant volcano. Walking back from dinner to the little housekeeping cabin, we felt the unmistakable rumble of an earthquake. The next morning we learned that all the roads in and out of the park, save one, were closed due to rock and mudslides. Thwarted in our attempt to photograph Mono Lake, we rode our bikes back to Healdsburg, where my future bride served us dinner.
KB has managed to hang on to his Guzzi CX100 Le Mans the entire time I've known him. He has made some substantial upgrades to his own fleet, adding a Guzzi 750 Sport (euro-model), a Le Mans 1000 (which he keeps in OR for Left Coast riding), and a 850 Le Mans. He was always more ready than I to suffer four-wheeled passion than I and has acquired since I've known him several Alfa-Romeo's, Porsche's, and most recently an Audi A4 Quattro. This last vehicle he deems a nod to practicality, since he needs a reliable way to get from Long Island City to his cabin up in Connecticut.
We talked about riding together again some time, perhaps near his place in the Adirondack's, perhaps in New Mexico. With the 851, he says, I might be able to finally keep up with him.
* After all, as Keynes famously said "In the long run, we are all dead."
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March 1, 2008
Reflections on a Garage Full of Motorcycles
I like having multiple motorcycles. Even more disturbing, I enjoy the thought of having even more. I understand that ownership and upkeep on a veritable fleet is difficult for non-collectors to understand, and indeed I struggle with the idea myself. One rationalization for having several bikes is that they serve different needs. I can ride my Trail 90 to work and back comfortably, since the traffic flow speed between there and home seldom exceeds the 90's top speed. (Every once in a while, I am slowed by a headwind.) However, I wouldn't dare ride the 90 to Cuba and beyond, much less Taos. I have reported here that it is nice to have a spare for a guest to use while they are visiting. This means that a pair of the bikes have to be suitable for the same kinds of roads.
Some bikes (in my case, the Benelli 250 SS and the Morini) simply deserve better than they have now. The Benelli I purchased as a potential lightweight commuter, and the Morini has served me for so long that getting rid of it now would seem more like a divorce than a business arrangement. Come to think of it the Morini has been with me longer than my wife, and it was hardly new to me when we were married. The Maicoletta is my retirement project, should I ever be so lucky as to (a) retire and (b) find the source of its mysterious inability to downshift.
So each bike in the fleet has its purpose, right? Of course not. I can ride only one motorcycle at a time, and as anyone who has bikes (plural) will tell you, there is one bike that ever gets the real miles put on it. In the past year, that is the 851. On the other hand, if I kept the 851 and ditched the others, the battery would go flat, the tires square, and it would seldom get beyond second gear. And rationalizations as above are no help in figuring out why I feel the need to compulsively review the eBay listings for F1's (too expensive so far) and early 90's 900 Supersports.
I will tell you this: When I walk through the garage, snaking between the bikes, I am thrilled in a beaming-smile-on-my-face kind of way. And that is worth something, I think.
Posted by Underblog at 5:46 PM | TrackBack
February 14, 2008
Swing-Arm Bushings
I was planning on taking the Morini out last Sunday, but I noticed that the swing-arm has excessive play. This is a common weakness on Morini's, and once upon a time I replaced the bushings on my 500. At the time, it took all the adjustment the bike offered to remove the free play altogether. This time, I hope to give myself a greater margin for future adjustment. Removing and replacing the swing-arm is kind of a dirty job, as it involves removing the chain, the rear wheel, the shock absorbers (which really ought to be replaced too) and a bunch of other stuff. But now that it is getting warmer, I may be able to stay up later and operate on it.
Posted by Underblog at 6:20 AM | TrackBack
January 27, 2008
Exhaust Coating
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I have been planning to take the 750's exhaust in for ceramic coating. I asked the folks at PJ's who they used, and they could not think of anyone working in the area locally. I asked my welder-neighbor about who they used, and he recommended Southwest Plating, who in turn referred me to a person named "Robert" who picks up specialty stuff once a week and ships it off out the area to be coated. Robert then referred me to Team Synergy (in Albuquerque's Midway industrial park, just across the gravel yard and the North Diversion Channel). "Bobby" was out when I dropped off the header for an estimate, but I spoke for a while with his mom. While there, I picked up a couple of brochures, one for PJ's and one for my gearhead-neighbor across the street.
Mike at PJ's appeared to be glad for the info, though he most often appears to say whatever the customer wants him to say. Turns out my neighbor across the street had already used them for the header on his "Pink Panther" Challenger, which he sold last year. Evidently, a concours-restoration project was too much for him to carry forward. Exhaust headers get pretty hot and they tend to cook off their own paint (and subsequently rust). Moreover, the heat they radiate places additional strain on surrounding components.
But I digress.
Once the folks at PJ's removed the exhaust and the wrap, it became clear that the wrap was in fact concealing a fair bit of rust. The rust was not limited to the header (which I had planned to have coated) but the intake end of the mufflers as well.
I decided to bring the mufflers over to the coater to see whether the mufflers should be disassembled to have the ends coated. The process allows for masking off of parts of pieces but since the only part I was concerned with leaving original was the "Fast By Ferracci" emblem, I decided to have the cans coated as well. After all, they get hot too. The emblems will have their rivets drilled out and will be replaced once the cans are coated.
Having the cans as well as the header coated effectively doubles the cost of the transformation, but I hope the results will be worth it. I am tempted also to have the Morini's header and exhaust coated the next time those pieces are removed from the bike, should it turn out that Team Synergy knows its stuff.
Posted by Underblog at 7:52 AM | TrackBack
July 14, 2007
Stuttering and Puttering
The Fridays when I work at the office, I try to have lunch with W., who grew up in the Valley and rides a motorcycle. We make a point of trying all the various places where we can sit outside. Two Fridays ago, I was mightily embarrassed when the Morini ran only fitfully. So the evening before this past Friday, I changed the spark plugs for two new ones and pulled the float bowls off the carbs. Lo and behold, the o-rings around both pilot jets had deteriorated. I blew out the jets just for giggles, slipped on new o-rings (see why I never throw anything away?), and the thing ran great. Even W. noticed.
If the trouble had been any more complicated than that, the Morini would have been put on waivers, probably for the season. Now I am working up the ganas to operate on the 851, perchance to cure its mysterious intermittent fuel-pissing ailment.
Posted by Underblog at 6:45 AM | TrackBack
March 18, 2006
Stop Right There!
This update brought to you by special requests of Generation Bob and Jonnee's Amerika for greater motorcycle content. By the way Jonnee, many people come to New Mexico to disappear, so you are welcome here. Just stay clear of the Minutemen.
The Morini's brakes have given me trouble for years. After the last time I tore down the brakes and replaced the seals (Minnesota), the RH side still leaked afterward. I had several sets of pistons and seals given to me by friends at Kosman Racing, and at one point (Maryland? Dunsmuir?) I kept the old seals just in case. I think it is time for me to dump all the old inventory (I need those cubic inches in the little plastic parts holding case) and replace the pistons and seals with fresh. For added performance and an abundance of caution I am replacing the 19mm GriMeCa master cylinder with a 14mm.
Brakes are a messy job. The sweet-smelling fluid is sticky and it removes paint quickly. Also, air gets trapped in the various parts and must be "bled" out. Really, it is more like burping than bleeding, but gearheads are far too macho to burp their brakes and clutches. "I am sorry sir, but before your car goes back on the road, the brakes must be burped." In any case, for a normal mechanic it would not be anything resembling a full-day job, but for me it will be.
The parts arrived yesterday (thank you Storz Performance, once more you have proven yourself reliable; I am looking forward to building up my XR750 repli-roadracer with your products and Jonnee has been bugging me to reveal in greater detail what my plans are for it), and I am penciling in Sunday as the big day. A project like this will require me to put the garage into greater order than it is now. Hence my excuse to put the brakes in sooner than later.
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February 22, 2006
Italy, 1989: Part Two
I picked up the cheapest ticket from SFO that I could find, one that required an overnight stay in Vancouver (which the airline paid for), a stop in Calgary, and a change of planes in Amsterdam. Finally, I arrived in Rome, where the first order of business was (after recovering from my first ever bout of jet lag) calling Maurizio and asking him to assemble a list of possible candidate motorcycles for me to purchase.
I got directions from Maurizio to take the train up there; "You can stop at either Bassano del Grappa or Castelfranco Veneto." I chose the latter because it seemed more convenient. At Termini I had no sooner completed the word Castelfranco then the clerk began to interrupt me with the choices. "Veneto. Castelfranco Veneto." From Rome to Padua the train is an express, or at least quite fast. At Padua, I changed to a local. This train was filled with schoolchildren, folks with shopping bags, and moved very slowly. It also passed through much more beautiful scenery. Maurizio picked me up at Castelfranco in the Fiorino. I threw my bags in the back and off we went to the restaurant. We probably stopped several places along the way and did errands. Somewhere around here I have journals that better recall exactly where we went.
Maurizio instructed me that an important local phrase was "Vai in mona." I asked if this was an Italian phrase or Veneto slang. He responded that it was originally Veneto slang, but that the rest of the country had adopted it. One of the first places we stopped (I believe it was the butcher, who has a fondness for prosecco) Maurizio kept asking me what phrase I had learned. Knowing that it was probably slang for "Go fuck yourself" or some such brute parole I finally turned to Maurizio and said "Vai in mona."
After dinner my first night at San Liberale, I helped clear the table and learned where the dishwasher was. I then asked if anyone would like a caffe. This felt perfectly natural to me since I had been working behind the counter of espresso joints in the Bay Area for years. It was this first night I learned that in Italy, cappuccini are a morning thing. Only Germans have them after dinner.
The next day, we drove around and looked at used motorcycles. I was astounded at the inventory in these places. Each place had dozens of Italian motorcycles. There were several Laverda triples, but they had been too modified for my taste. I thought that a more or less original bike would be less likely to have been abused. At one of the shops, we found a 1971 Laverda SF750, or as they are called in Italy sette-mezzo. It still had the original Laverda saddle bags, which were too small and too brittle to carry much. The price was L1.000.000, or roughly 750 American dollars. We trailered the bike back to San Liberale, and the next day I set about getting the battery charged, the oil changed, the tires inflated and so forth.
While in San Liberale, Maurizio and I arranged that I would return after my sister's wedding to help out at the Ducati rally he was hosting in April.
T. had called me at my sister's place in Rome, and I had called Maurizio and arranged to get us into the Morini factory. As it happened a friend of his from Israel was going to be picking up an 851 from the Ducati factory around the same time, so we would be able to visit both factories. I was amazed by this, since my friend L. had been turned away from the Ducati factory when he visited Italy. I rode the Laverda to Bologna, blowing fuses along the way until I replaced the last burned fuse with a L500 coin. Problem solved. I arrived at the hostel exhausted; in the morning, I would meet T. out front of Via F.lli Bordoni, 6/A.
A draftsman named Paolo guided us past the old race bikes and 500 Turbo prototype onto the factory floor. I have a few photos up here, and many more in albums.
[To be continued.]
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January 1, 2006
Viva Italia
A new brushpile composed mostly of tree prunings now dominates the compost-mulch-chickenpoop ghetto between the cottonwood and the fruit trees. The chipper prefers dried sticks to green ones, and so we will decimate the pile later in the winter. In the meantime, I still have the urge to use power equipment. So after digging a culvert hole deeper and replacing the galvanized pipe, I performed our first act of tilling the soil in preparation for planting.
Roomie and I mapped out the general confines of the Rose Garden some months ago. In the past week, I have installed culverts to carry irrigation water forward to the roses. Beyond the roses will be largely drought-tolerant and xeriscape plants. Presently, the culverts reside in trenches in the ground that connect nothing to nothing else. Roomie will dig trenches around the roses and I (adhering to my rule that I only handle jobs too big for Roomie to do herself) will operate the Ditch Witch to deepen existing trenches and dig a few new ones to carry water forward.
I cleaved off the chipper from the tractor and installed the tiller. The only other time I had the tiller going was when I was checking to make sure it worked and nearly killed myself when the tines grabbed the earth rather than chew it up and the thing ran out of the irrigation ditch. And that it is why these tractors have a safety switch built into the handlebars. Since then, I read the instructions and raised the tines. Rule of thumb: first pass, tines high; second pass, tines lower.
Our Italian BCS tractor chewed up the clay soil and bermuda grass commendably. Nothing like a commercial-grade piece of equipment. The remarkable thing was the speed with which crappy soil was converted to easily-plantable soil: I think the entire process from shallow-run, switchover to deeper tines, and second pass took less than 30 minutes. On the deeper setting, the tiller still has a tendency to run off. But the soil is fairly pulverized and ready for amendment. Roomie will distribute some compost on top and I shall make an additional pass to till in the organic matter.
After I had come in from tilling, I got a phone call from PJ's, where the 851 is getting some work done. I told the service writer Mike that I had scored some Gold Series Brembo's for the bike and since they were still sourcing the braided stainless lines for the bike could I have them install them as well. Sounds great, said Mike. I quickly dismantle the brakes from their hoses, drain the fluid from them, insert a large screwdriver between the pads and twist to force the pistons back into the caliper to squeeze out the last of the fluid, and carefully wrap each caliper in newspaper before placing them in the small box which I would later place in the Timbuktu bag.
Riding the Morini is fun, and definitely less work than the Ducati. Partly, it is easier to ride because I have ridden it for approaching 20 years, and its quirks have become part of the way I ride. Also, the Morini with its narrower tires is more flickable than the 851. Response to the Morini at PJ's was one of general approval. I think as mostly new bike dealers they are less inclined to respond affectionately to older Italian iron. But Mike seemed to like the 500, and one of the other employees said "That's a nice one!" as I was on my way out.
At PJ's I learned conclusively that my bike had the older style valve with cannot take the new improved collets. Additionally, I learned that the shims (if necessary) are special-order things and may take a while. Finally, I received confirmation that the tires really are shot, cracked, and probably original. But as far as trips to the mechanic go, this was pretty painless. They let me into the shop where I saw the 851 on the stand half-apart, its bodywork hanging from padded holders overhead. It was kind of like seeing someone you know in the ICU. As I was just about to leave, Mike and the mechanic were talking about how hard it was to find documentation on my motorcycle. "You don't happen to have a factory service manual, do you?" asked Mike. "Sure do!" So I will be going back to PJ's sometime this week to drop it off.
When I got back from PJ's, I picked the skins the 851 will be wearing when she comes home: Michelin Pilot Powers. I think something about having them put on the new old brakes got me excited about the day when her service is all done. After all she will have:
- Her valves adjusted
- Fresh oil
- Braided stainless brake lines
- Brembo Gold Series brake calipers
- A Yoyodyne clutch slave cylinder
- New fork seals
- New tires.
When I got home, I decided that in honor of all the Italian machinery with which I had been dealing I would make polenta and sausage for dinner. Actually Roomie cooked the sausage. And in a sad reminder of the transitory nature of all things we hold dear, my beloved Beifa® Free Ink Roller (purchased in Italy and sent as a gift to me a number of Christmases ago), finally croaked. It was my Number One Pen; Number One Pen auditions are now open.
Posted by Underblog at 9:11 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
November 2, 2005
A Time to Reap
It seems as though everything I was waiting for last week is here this week. Parts for the Honda, the Ducati, the Morini; the tractor, the toaster, and now a job interview that I never expected to get in the first place. The interview is something of a long shot, but it is worth it. One of these days I may have to decide between (a) a "straight job" where the pay is good and I can save us about $500 / month on health insurance, create and fund a retirement plan, and have the kind of stable income which makes it possible to fund the creation of the studio out back and (b) a flunky-type job where the benefits are non-existent, the pay crap, the hours long, the emotional involvement and stress high, and I really love what I do. My modus operandi is typically to take the first somewhat attractive offer, ie one that gives me marginally better employment than what I had before.
The tractor is super. I tilled up the main irrigation ditch just for fun. It can get a little squirrely when it rides on the tiller blades though. Took me for a ride once. The chipper attachment is harder than the tiller to get on and off the tractor, but it does a super job on the brush pile stuff. I have not tried mulching leaves yet, but they are falling at a prodigious rate and whatever little sticks I throw in the hopper appear to get mulched in short order.
Posted by Underblog at 6:35 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
October 16, 2005
I Am An Idiot Chapter 427
I finally got around to getting the Morini going the other day. I fitted the instruments, charged up the battery, filled up the tires, and got a new jerry can for straight gas. (This raises the number of half full jerry cans present in the garage to 3: pre-mix for the Letta, pre-mix for the weedwhacker, and straight gas for everything else.) I even lowered the needles in the Dell'Orto's to lean out the fuel-air mixture. I lowered the Morini off the lift and gave it a few kicks. It popped and sputtered and eventually fired up. When I tried the throttle, however, it would cut out. The same scene played out several times.
I change the spark plugs: no change. I begin to balance the carbs, reasoning to myself that moving to a higher elevation may have precipitated a need to adjust them. The bike is getting harder to start, making carb-balancing (which requires a running engine) impossible. My foot gets tired, and I am getting frustrated. Then I see the jerry can. It has too much fuel in it to have contributed to the Morini's tank. I thought for sure I had filled the tank. I add the fuel, and it starts right up. Sounds great; sounds like relief. However, not all the stars aligned (see previous post about windows opening and doors closing): one of the carbs throttle slides is not adjusting properly so I will have to order new carb tops to go with the leaner jets.
Posted by Underblog at 9:44 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 13, 2005
Oh Happy Day
I am reliving the excitement I used to feel when I received a shipment of goodies from Midland Scooter Centre back in the Lambretta days. A package arrived from North Leicester Motors yesterday containing two instrument cups. The Morini has been out of commission since April, when the instrument bracket failed in the alley coming home from school. As I removed the rubber cups from it, I noticed that one of them was damaged as well. I had stainless brackets made (see http://morini.mayoreric.com), but I have dawdled on getting the cups. Really no big deal, but for the fact that British Sterling is expensive. The shipping was much faster than I recall from the olde MSC days.
But the real good news is that barring any unforeseen problems (didn't I just post that there are always unforeseen problems?) the Morini should be roadworthy by this afternoon. Then it is off to the local Harley shop to show them what a real V-Twin looks like!
Posted by Underblog at 8:40 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 7, 2005
Dreaming
This morning the alarm clock woke me from a blissful slumber. I suppose for many people, blissful slumber is what the clocks wake them from every day. But for me this is unusual: as often as not I beat the alarm clock in waking myself up, sometimes by an unfair margin. This dream was bringing me great joy, though I cannot now figure out what is so great about it.
What I remember of the dream is this: I was talking to some young man about his motorcycle, which as it turns out was a Ducati 500 GTL. I told him that when I visited Gia.Ca.Moto way back when they had a roomful of GTL engines wrapped in the original factory plastic stacked in a storage room. I promised to show him pictures. [I actually do have a picture of this; people often ask me why there are no people in my photographs, only bikes and buildings.] I proceeded to root through the secretary to find the right photo booklet. The books of pictures included some real photos and some that were of factory tours I had been on, only better. That is, they included nice restaurants and catered lunches. We did eat in the Ducati cafeteria, but not in the nice albergo from the dream. And I am fairly confident that they did not have for decoration a little model of the Morini GP250 racebike that the Moto Morini kept in the lobby of their factory.
Posted by Underblog at 6:38 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 6, 2005
Weather Permitting
Now that spring has arrived, I find myself checking the weather incessantly. Can I take the scooter to school, can I, can I? Going to the grocery store at half past six in the morning is something of a treat when the bike runs as well as it does. I may give it a "2-stroke tune-up" by changing the spark plug and touching up its mysterious triple set of points with a small piece of sandpaper, but otherwise she is pretty fit.
I have a major hankering to do some major wrenching on Old Silver. Even better, I think I have a line on an instrument bracket for the Morini. I am tempted to take the old one and send it off to a friend to have a replicate made in stainless. I reckon the prototype would go on the 500, and additional copies would go on the Morini Parts Page.
Posted by Underblog at 6:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 12, 2005
L'Air du Printemps
The big thaw is on. It got up to about 50 degrees Fahrenheit today, and the sun was out all day. The garage was finally warm enough to spend some time in, which is good because the fleet was in pretty sorry shape.
I am not one of those hardy people who keep their bikes ready for the first day of clear roads, like the guy we saw on on his Harley on the way back from Cabela's on our infamous Gore-Tex hunting trip. It was ten degrees outside and this guy was barreling up Hwy 35. No, I am not like that. However, I have seen people zipping around campus with their Zuma's, and I am encouraged to begin commuting ala moto again.
The Morini is awaiting an instrument holder from England, for which I am exchanging a pair of reproduction air filter boots. Because the Morini parks in school parking lots and the Honda 90 in the bike racks, I will not be picking up a parking permit for the former any time soon. At least not until the Morini is back among the rideable fleet.
The Honda is the most reliable of the pack, and it fell apart on me last fall. The throttle was slipping, and so I had ordered a new cable. I also ordered a new neutral light to replace the bulb that blew when the 90's battery exploded. The third operation was the replacement of the muffler with one I bought off eBay. I took out the battery, topped it off with distilled water (which had frozen, cracked its container, and thawed just enough for me to fill the battery). Replacing the cable was a little trickier than I thought it would be. And it turns out that there was nothing wrong with the old one, except some seriously cracked and bent outer cable. I eventually got the new cable on and the bulb replaced, and by this time the battery had been charging for a couple of hours. The bike started right up and ran nicely.
Then I remembered the muffler. The muffler I got off eBay was a two-piece affair, and the one on my bike was a single tube. If maintaining the 90 in its original condition was important to me, I would have stopped there. But I just wanted a muffler that did not have a dime-sized hole in it. The new old muffler was rustier than the one on the bike, which was the first disappointment. But I figured I could take the shields off the old one and the surface rust would be hard to see. So I took off the old muffler and switched it for the new. Unfortunately, the new muffler did not line up exactly right. So I loosened the pipe from the muffler, and the header from the exhaust port, and forced the muffler into position and bolted it in. Then I tightened everything up. I started the 90 and I heard a louder exhaust leak than I had had with the old pipe. Turns out the new old bike has a cracked header pipe; it is an easy fix, but it is disappointing to have to do it nonetheless. I am considering replacing the entire assembly with a new replacement from the Little Honda Folks.
Leaky exhaust header notwithstanding, I felt very hardy riding to the store for cookie materiel while the alley was still piled with (albeit melting) snow. I made a point of riding directly over some icy patches, just to live a little dangerously.
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June 22, 2003
Clutch Time
Time speeds up the older you get. Kitty Carlisle says that by the time you reach 70, it seems like you are having breakfast every fifteen minutes. The clutch on the Morini had always slipped a bit, or at least it had as long as I have had the thing (since 1986). While it might have been possible to find a mechanic with the proper tools, willingness, and experience in 1986, it is no longer.
Two or three years ago, I got new oil seals for the bike from Herdan. I was then thwarted in my conscientiousness by a lack of a special tool with which to remove the clutch basket springs. On one of my many trips as a homeowner to Home Depot, I bought a vise with which I was to fashion such a tool from an auto body trim tool.
But this week past, I got the garage into shape. In order to replace the cam belt (the old self-destructed a block or two from the Mississippi), I had to order a special tool from Germany. While waiting for the tool and replacement belt to arrive, I bought one of those large rolling toolchests. Once I replaced the timing belt, I realized that I finally had all that I needed to get on with the project I had started and aborted earlier. I mounted the vise to the workbench and hacksawed and filed the auto body trim tool into a clutch spring removal tool.
So I dug into the clutch. Getting the basket off was no great challenge, once I ran all over town chasing down a large enough socket to get the nut off. After first giving up on the larger project of getting behind the clutch to the primary case, I tore it into it once I realized that I could do so with the engine in the frame.
Removing the primary drive case presented some new challenges. First, I necessarily destroyed the old gasket in the process. Next the I heard a fateful "click" as the kickstart shaft unsprung itself. I made the gasket with the technique taught to me by Walter Alter back when I was puppy in San Francisco. It took a few tries to get the gasket, shaft, and cover aligned properly.
But I got the new seals in and within the first half a dozen attempts, the case, gasket, and kickstart shaft all played together nicely. Once I rotated the rotor magnet 180 degrees, the thing ran beautifully all the way to Dunn Bros. and back.
In one of the deleted scenes from Comedian Jerry Seinfeld says that everyone has to have an interest in something really stupid -- in his case Porsches. For me, it's the Morini (and -- I admit -- the rest of the fleet). But it was cool seeing Jerry Seinfeld fixing a oil sender on his old VW; VW fixin was a sideline interest at the Batcave.
Maybe fixing the clutch after a decade and a half of neglect will show me that I can accomplish some of the goals I have been recently complaining about having committed myself too. I only hope that I don't have to wait as long to achieve them.
Can you spot the blogger in "Scooter Pix 2" at the bottom of this page? Hint: you likely wouldn't recognize him today.
Posted by Underblog at 1:42 PM | Comments (0)