Miss The Road, Jack

A few months ago, I did something very rash indeed. If you’ve been reading this for any length of time, you’ll know that I buy shite old bikes that have been neglected, crashed, and left to rot in the corner of a derelict garage for twelve years. However, at this time I was in a bit of a period of change, and I went out and bought a (very nearly) new bike. It wasn’t quite brand new, but in this case I was more than happy with that – the first owner was an old friend, Garf, who had bought the bike new, and immediately dived in there with a new cam, end can, air filter and inlet, and a fuel-X unit to remap the fuelling to suit all the go faster bits. Oh, and also a set of properly gnarly footpegs from a KTM or something. Now, normally, I’d be wary about picking up a bike with 200 miles on the clock with all these mods. But I know Garf from my days hanging around Cambridge Motorcycles – he was the owner. He is also an absolute first rate motorcycle engineer, and he wasn’t selling the bike out of necessity, it just didn’t quite suit his needs at the time, so after a couple of rides, when he heard what I was looking for, gave me a call and offered it to me at a price I just couldn’t refuse. So, without further ado – a picture:

Yup. It’s a Royal Enfield Scram 411. In stock form, 24bhp. With all the mods that I have, well, about 28 maybe. So what’s the story then? Why did I spend more on a slow, outdated 400cc aircooled single than I’ve ever spent on anything in my life (other than my house)?

Well firstly, just look at it. Phwwwwooar. I think that’s an exceptionally handsome bike. But I was after something that I could use for commuting to and from work, but importantly, I wanted to do some off road riding. Not seriously slimy challenging off road. Just some light gravel trails that would get me to a nice campsite at the end of a hot summers day. That kind of thing. You see, I had made a bit of a deal with myself that I needed to spend more time out and about, and getting back to nature. Over the past couple of years I had been caring pretty much full time for my dad, and without realising it, had left behind quite a large part of myself, as I couldn’t just clear off for a weekend with a tent and a couple of pork pies. It was time to put that right. As such, I needed a bike that could get me to work easily and cheaply, and then at weekends, I could point it at a campsite somewhere and just go. First thing then, was a set of panniers. I turned up completely unannounced at the the super Haywards in Cambridge, to see what they had. As it turns out, Royal Enfield don’t make a set of panniers for the Scram, but they do for the Himalayan, and they’re nearly the same bike – and they *did* have a set of those in stock. So the next challenge became could I fit them in the car park using only the tools in the under-seat toolkit? Very nearly…

I needed to borrow an allen key, as one of the fasteners in the mounting kit uses a size (5mm I think) which isn’t used elsewhere on the bike. But otherwise, with a bit of leaning on long bars, I got things fitted. And this taught me a lot about the little Scram. While it’s definitely got character, what it doesn’t really have is build quality in any great quantity. Nothing is about to fall off, but some of the mounting holes didn’t line up just perfectly as they would on, say, a BMW or a Honda. And thinking about it, when I say “nothing is about to fall off” – I’m wrong. The bash plate under the sump did indeed break a few weeks ago and while it didn’t actually completely fall off but it’s currently back with Haywards awaiting a replacement under warranty. When I handed it over they just said “that’s the third this week” so there’s obviously a problem with them. I mean, it’s not a big deal, as the bash plate is pretty much just cosmetic on the road anyway.

Right, where were we? Oh, yes – I wanted a bike for going off-road. And I now had one. At this point, I need to admit that my only (intentional) off-road experience on two wheels was the Isle of Man end-to-end mountain bike race about 10 years ago now. It didn’t go well. I fell off six times before reaching the start line. And countless times once I’d actually started. And I can’t blame the equipment as I had a very posh top of the range Trek mountain bike with proper suspension and gears and all that. Which I immediately sold when I got back home. As we’ve ascertained then, my off-road experience was virtually zero, and the bit that wasn’t zero was very lacklustre indeed. But this morning I teamed up with another couple of mates, Sol (on a Yam Tenere 700) and Spike (on a GasGas 250) and we went around some local green lanes to gently get my feet wet in the offroad world. It may have been a bit unfortunate that the county has been under water for three weeks since the last two Atlantic storms of the season piled in, but hey, there’s no time like the present right?

Of course, I fell off. And we laughed, pulled a spanner out of the toolkit to put things back again, and carried on. It was brilliant to be out in the country with a couple of mates, just arsing around on motorbikes and enjoying the fresh air and the scenery. We didn’t go far – only a couple of hours around the Cambridgeshire/Suffolk border lanes, culminating in a lovely coffee and cake in a Portugese cafe. And this is exactly what I wanted from this little bike. It’s not perfectly suited on the road-oriented tyres, and it’s a bit of a heavy old lump. But I don’t care – slithering around in the mud taught me that the bike is perfectly capable of taking me to new and exciting places.

What a flippin’ brilliant way to spend a Sunday morning. Of course, there is also a bit of a bigger plan around wanting something capable of a little off-road action, which will become apparent later. But right here, right now, I’m happy in my pink and fluffy little world that I’ve done a Good Thing, which will lead to another few years of adventures and misbehaviour.

New Faces

Consider the ways of the mountain. A watchword for steadfast, reliable presence. I’m sure there are well known sayings to describe their unflinching presence in the face of all adversity but I can’t think of any right now, and resorting to Google feels like plagiarism. Well, if not plagiarism, at least a bit of a cop out. So rather than thinking about what other people have said, I’m just going to dive in. This one is going to be very introspective. And nothing to do with motorbikes.

Every so often, mountains shed their outer layers. This doesn’t always happen cataclysmically in a massive rockfall. It may take tens, hundreds, thousands of years in a series of small, delicate actions. Frost, rain, wind, clumsy mountaineers, goats, all will leave their mark. What will be revealed won’t be anything new – it was always there, but to the outside observer, things will have changed. There will be a new face. Or if not a whole new face, a changed feature on an otherwise familiar friend. This is the way of nature – it has no preference over the way the mountain looks, as it will eventually be washed into the ocean anyway. These changes are just a part of the natural course of things. There is, at best an unstable facade.

Over the past couple of years, it’s safe to say that I’ve been going through a series of these small changes. Nothing to do with goats in my case, I’m glad to say. But bits of my outer layers have been falling away, slowly, gradually, revealing some parts me that in the past have been well hidden. And as with the mountain, it’s still the same me, just with a few scars here and there, but a fresh exterior, ready to face whatever nature throws at me until I, too, am washed into the ocean as part of the carbon cycle. Now, as anyone who has spent any time around mountains knows, it’s not the change itself that is dangerous, rather it’s the fallout from the process. You shouldn’t get too close to a mountain that is shedding bits of itself – this is a primal, deep-rooted fear. One that we do well to listen to, and understand. And so it’s been – I realise that I’ve driven people away who may have wanted to sit with me. I can see that now.

Have my own personal little rockfalls stopped happening now? I don’t know – but as I sit here I can honestly say that I feel more stable and dependable than I have done in quite a few years. Yes, bits of me are now apparent that I’ve kept will hidden for decades. And while it’s tempting to make analogies with a new face, that’s just stretching things a bit really. It’s still me. I’ve just dropped some old loose choss that needed to be thrown away.

(And before anyone mentions it, yes, I know the mountain analogy is a bit far-fetched given my physical stature. But it doesn’t work so well with a small drumlin).

Soul Doubt

Last time I wrote anything, it was all looking so straightforward. The Ducati would be sold, the FZ would be coaxed back into life, but firstly, there was a summer to be enjoyed. Days on the beach, ice creams, barbecues, cold beer. And motorbikes. I like a good plan, and this one looked very good indeed.

Things got off to a good start when I weighed up the options on the front brake calipers. If you remember, the original Yamaha ones were firstly seized solid, but also, on further inspection both turned out to be cracked. They were definitely fit only for the bin. The options that I could see were:

• Buy another set of original calipers
• Upgrade the forks, and fit a set of blue spot calipers

Obviously, option 2 was by far the most sensible, but after the trials and tribulations I had when mucking around with the front end on the 750 Sport, I didn’t want to dive straight into this, as once I’d changed the calipers I’d need to change the forks. And then the discs. And the wheel. And probably the spindle and bearings. I’m sure that someone out there will say “but an R6 front end just drops straight in!” and I’m very glad if it does, but I didn’t want to go that route really. And then, a little bit of digging revealed that a set of calipers from a Triumph 955i fitted straight on. And wouldn’t you know they do:

Inspired by this, I went out and bought a new set of HEL brake likes to suit – and after a bit of faffing around when I realised that the thread on the lines and the calipers were a different pitch, they fitted perfectly, and looked lovely. Yeah, this plan was definitely coming together well. I could almost taste the ice cream and smell the French countryside.

And then my father was taken to hospital, and I was given the simple message that if he deteriorated in the next day or two, there would be no way back. Obviously, this knocked me a bit. Well, a lot if I’m honest. I’m very close to my dad – he taught me how to fix things when I was young. So what you’re reading now is directly descended from his devotion to me as a wayward teenager, trying to inspire me to do constructive things with my time and energy. He made it through the first few days, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be discharged home any time soon, and so I spent the next month travelling to the hospital every day to be with him. All thoughts of the bikes and workshop kind of took a back seat, until one day when chatting my dad asked me how things were going in the workshop, and I had no update to give him. He seemed disappointed in this, so I booked a day off work to do something so we could talk about it.

It was a disaster. My head just wasn’t in it. I just kept on making a longer and longer list of things that were wrong, things that needed replacing, and reasons not to continue. This is what the list looked like:

• Clutch – m/cyl?
• Tank rust
• Fuel level sender
• Screen
• Rear brake
• Fuel tap
• Fuel filter
• Front brake calipers*
• Front brake hoses*
• Coolant leak
• Rear brake torque arm floppy
• Oil & filter
• Exhaust studs
• Choke cable
• Discs x 3
• Fork rebuild
• Battery
• Reserve switch
• Inner fairing panels
• Chain rivet link
• Carb rebuild
• Clutch reservoir diaphragm
• Tyres

I made a decision at that point to scrap the project. To fail. I mean, it’s never going to be a show winner, I’m not interested in making a track bike, and so why spend so much time and energy on a simple hack. I dropped into a bit of a bleak place. It wasn’t a full on pit of despair – more a dimple of irritability. But my soul was taking a right good shoeing, and my normal safe and happy place wasn’t safe and happy any more.

I went back to the workshop one more time, to start the process of stripping the bike down, ready to sell the bits. I don’t mind admitting, I was pretty bloody low at this point.

My dad died yesterday. So today I did the only thing I could:

I put it all back together so I could run it again. This one’s for you dad. Thanks for teaching me.

Roots Bloody Roots

Let’s start at the end. I like doing that, not merely because I’m a contrary git (although certainly, I am) but also because it removes any stress from the situation. I never liked the cliffhanger endings that seemed to be a staple of everything I watched on TV as a child. I mean, I wanted to watch TV for pleasure, to escape reality. Having additional stress put into my life wasn’t what I wanted at all. The end then. The Ducati. It is now done. It has a years MOT test. It runs, all the gears work, the brakes work, the electrics work, and as a final step I fitted the tank breather that I always said I would. It is, in short, ready for a road trip.

It is also up for sale. I had a bit of a long dark night of the soul a few weeks back, and among the things I wanted to sort out was that I seem to be collecting things again, rather than using them. There’s no way that I need four bikes. I don’t have the space for four bikes, I don’t have the money to run four bikes, and honestly, I don’t need the complication either. And while it’s an option to just put it in the corner for a few years, well, what’s the point in that? A decision was easy then – the Morini is staying. The 748 is staying (for now). The FZ is my current mental health project, and so needs to stay. The Ducati then needs to go. If you’re interested, let me know. But be quick, as I’ll be consigning it to auction in the next few weeks.

Right then. That’s the end of one chapter, just as we open another one with the FZ. I mentioned last time out how I came to have it in the garage, so there’s no point going over that again. Rather, let’s go over what it’s thrown up so far… I guess the first thing to state is that it runs. It took a bit of work to get it there, but last weekend, with some fuel and a booster pack on the battery, it burst into life, and sounded lovely and smooth. There’s a coolant leak, so I couldn’t run it for long. But that proves that the engine is good enough to start, and the carbs and electrics are good enough to support that. This made me very happy indeed. Wheeling it around the garage revealed that the brakes were dragging pretty badly, and the clutch was completely absent. The initial prognosis then, is actually pretty healthy. We have a running bike with working brakes.

Let’s dive into things in a bit more depth then, just to make a list of what needs doing. Firstly, the fuel tank. Let’s pull the fuel level sender out, just to get a feeling for if there’s any corrosion in there…

Right. that’s looking pretty shonky, but how bad can it really be?

No, I’ve not emptied the coffee machine. Bollocks. A little further investigation revealed a hole completely rusted through the bottom of the tank, and a previous repair which actually, was really rather good. I wasn’t too despondent about this, as there was a tank on eBay in the right colour, for £70. I hit the buy it now button. And waited. And waited. And contacted the seller, and waited, and tried tracking the package through DHL, and eventually, just went back to eBay for a refund. As far as I know, it’s still sitting in a DHL distribution warehouse somewhere. Onto plan B then. Let’s see if we can rescue what we have. The small hole was filed out to get back to solid metal and I didn’t fancy welding anything so I just threw a couple of washers on a nut and bolt and snugged it down tightly. Some blanking plates were then made up from a bit of nylon (actually an old chopping board that I recycled for the purpose) and the thing filled up with water and left for a couple of hours.

I was as surprised as anyone when it held fast – which enabled me to go for the test run as mentioned previously. This isn’t the end of the story – I need to give it a good rinse in deox-C and then a coat of POR-15 (I’ll give you a call about this Oggy!) to keep it fueltight for a bit longer. But for now, plan B seems to have come up trumps and the original tank might just live to fight another day.

The rest of the fuel system seems to be usable at least. The level sender was cleaned up and seems to work. The fuel spigot works, but will need a new O-ring. The filter will get replaced as a matter of course. And the pump just works. That’s all good, quantifiable progress. We know what works, and what needs to be worked on. I like a good plan – so this one went straight onto the whiteboard.

Onto the brakes then. I like servicing brakes – I know that it’s snotty dirty grubby work, but again, it’s therapeutic to take something that’s worn and dirty and turn it into something clean where things just slide over each other nicely. And taking the calipers off gives us the advantage that the bike can be wheeled around the garage easily, so it’s was a good choice for the next thing to work on. The rear caliper took quite a bit of time and effort to get apart, but eventually, the pistons popped out with some compressed air, and the whole lot spent a happy 30 mins in the sonic cleaner. The pistons aren’t great, someone has clearly removed them with a set of mole grips before now, but 10 mins with some wet and dry paper and a bit of Solvol has brought them up if not perfect, then certainly good enough to use again. Some new seals then and we’re all good to pop the rear caliper back together again. The front calipers are on another level of dereliction:

Yeah, that’s the dust seal making a bid for freedom. It seems to be a weakness in the caliper there as you can see from the photo, a piece is completely missing. The other caliper has a crack in exactly the same place. And no matter what I’ve tried so far I’ve not been able to shift a single piston. Next step is to bolt them back on the bike and run some new fluid in there and see if I can at least get the pistons moving that way. Will these calipers be recoverable? I don’t know. I’m actually not too unhappy about the dust seal not being usable, as it’s perfectly safe to use a brake without the dust seal. In fact, when I was racing TZRs I used to purposely remove the dust seals as they just made the pistons drag and stick. For sure, if I was using the bike for commuting every day I’d want a dust seal, but this will only ever be a sunny day bike so I’m not too bothered if I need to rebuild the calipers without dust seals. Now, that said, I have options here – I could easily just pick up a set of refurbished calipers from someone like Powerhouse. That wouldn’t work out a huge amount more than replacing the seals and pistons anyway. (I’m budgetting on replacing the front pistons as they’re so wedged in there that there’s clearly something amiss). Or, I have a set of forks from a later model FZ that will fit the later four-piston calipers and I’m 99% sure that a set of blue-spot calipers will just drop in there with no modification necessary. It’s testament to how good these calipers were 25 years ago, that they are still considered a viable and effective upgrade to many stock systems. Right now then, I’m just going to weigh up the options, and see if I can at least get the original calipers moving again. Even if I don’t end up using them, the act of getting them working again is enjoyable work.

Bodywork then. This is a 36yr old bike, and so it’s never going to be in great condition. That said, pretty much every tab and mounting point is still there, the v-piece in the front of the bellypan is still there (for some reason these *always* seem to get lost) and the mounts are all good. The left hand fairing panel has been repaired at some point, but whoever did it made a pretty good fist of it, so I’ll happily reuse what I have there. The one thing that won’t be staying is the absolutely gopping blue screen. That’s already been thrown in the corner where the really big spiders lurk. I never want to see it again.

Electrics I’ve not gone into in any detail yet, other than to note that they are good enough to get the bike running, and all the lights and indicators work. The battery isn’t great, but then again, it’s a second hand scrapper of a bike so I’m amazed it works at all. I’ll leave the electrics alone for now, as I know they’ll be fixable.

The engine then… as mentioned, it runs. And sounds smooth. But interestingly this bike came with a spare cylinder head as one of the exhaust studs has a chemical metal repair. It works, and doesn’t seem to blow when it’s running so I’m not unhappy with that. But I decided to get the spare head up on the workbench today for a good look.

It’s a little scabby – but all present and correct and I reckon with some cleaning will come up just fine. And I had a bit of a moment looking at this, as it was the death of the TRX850 motor all those years ago that led me to building the workbench and learning how to rebuild an engine properly. It was so nice to get back in touch with my roots on a sunny afternoon that I opened a bottle of beer, and immediately forgot about any further potterings in the garage. Which is why you’re reading this now, as I decided it’s time to write about some of the happenings in the workshop.

Lots to do then. And lots of plans already in place. The Ducati will be sold. The Yamaha will be finished. And then it will probably also be sold, for broadly the same reasons. But that’s ages away yet. As with last summer, I’m now going to put the bikes on a bit of a back-burner while I enjoy the summer with friends and The Lovely Faye. There are plans afoot. There are beaches to be sat on. There is ice cream to be eaten. There is beer to be drunk. There is La France profonde to be savoured.

Never Stop

I can’t quite remember if I’ve used this title for a blog post before – but anyway, it’s a great song [1] so I’m happy to use it again. Right then – it’s a month since the last update, and if a week is a long time in politics it’s safe to say that a month is kind of the standard unit I use for the passing of time now I’m getting on a bit. So, let’s take stock.

The Ducati, as mentioned last time, was very nearly ready for an MOT. Only of course it had the last laugh… everything was working, I fitted a new rear brake light switch as promised, and it worked faultlessly first time. The headlight fairing was reshaped to fit the TZR250 unit which was wired in and working, the new indicators were fitted and working, it ran, it stopped. It was, in short, completely ready for an MOT. To celebrate, I refitted the rear seat cover with some new bolts to look nicer than the old plumbing fixings that were holding it on.

At which point, the electrics failed. No indicators, no horn, no dash lights, no brake lights. Now, I’d like to think that this was the soul of the bike lamenting the end of our relationship of love and spanners. But I suspect it’s just that it’s a shite old Italian bike with shite old Italian electrics. A bit of following the wiring diagram showed that all the failed circuits met up at the same connector on the fusebox (yes, I’d checked the fuses, of course) so I pulled the fusebox out, cleaned everything up, and put it all back together. At which point I realised that in all the excitement, I’d forgotten to buy possibly the most important component of the entire build…

…which is of course the FZ750 in the background. Because once the Ducati is finished, well, what am I going to do with my time? And now I can say that with one proviso, the Ducati is finished. That one proviso is the tank breather – I’ve tried everything I can to unblock the stock breather, but it’s just so chock full of rust that I can’t get through it all. This culminated in a bizarre session this afternoon with some bass guitar strings chucked up in a drill in an attempt to force my way through the rust that way. No chance. Eventually, one of the strings (I think was was an 85 gauge RotoSound if anyone is interested) snapped off inside the tube, and that was that. There’s no way I can recover that, so it’s on to plan B and a through-tank breather has been purchased and will be fitted.

What of the FZ750 then? In the photo, it looks to be in reasonable shape, and truth be told, for a 36yr old bike, it is. But don’t let appearances deceive you, there is a lot of work to be done. I’ve always had a soft spot for 750s (as should be obvious by now, with the 750 Sport, the 748, and the four ZXR750s that I’ve had previously) and the FZ was really the start of the second generation of Japanese sportsbikes after the GPz900R kicked it all off. There are a lot of things about it that are just right. The beam frame (albeit steel, rather than the alloy of the ZXRs etc. that came after). The location of the airbox and fuel tank to centre the bikes mass. The subsequent canting of the cylinders to 45 degrees and vertically aligned carbs. The 11000rpm rev limit. It was, and remains, an icon of motorcycle engineering. For sure it’s not as pretty as the Ducati (particularly that absolutely gopping aftermarket screen, which has already been consigned to a particularly dark corner of the workshop) but the engineer in me is really looking forward to this one. And it’s already given me a huge amount of pleasure with the long drive down to Somerset and back to collect it. I’ve been having a bit of a tough time at work, so taking a day off for a road trip was just what I needed. And to make things even better, the seller of the bike turned out to be an ex-racer with the BMCRC, and back in the days of shared grids he raced a TRX850 while I was on my TZR250. In other words, we’d raced against each other several times back in the late 1990s. Of course, we chatted for hours. And that one day of pure relaxation and enjoyment has already made the FZ worth way more than I paid for it.

Ready for the next round? I rather think I’m going to enjoy this one.

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlPfD9-fRFY

New Test Leper

A quick recap: as at the end of the last instalment, the charging circuit had been fitted but not tested, and I’d stripped one of the crankcase bolts with my hamfistedness. So a day of mixed fortunes really. I did pop back to the workshop a couple of days after to run the motor and check the charging circuit, and the good news is, all seems well there. I’ve not put a multimeter across the battery (the terminals are a right pain in the neck to get to, as the battery is tucked up under the front of the tank) but the charge warning light now goes out when the bike is running, so that’s as good a test as I want for the time being.

Todays target then, was to get the bike up to an MOT test standard. Which sounds a grand plan but really only involved lights, indicators, and bolting on the (extremely illegal) numberplate. I was also determined to tap and helicoil the stripped case thread and replace the alternator cover gasket while there, and fit the lovely new screen which recently arrived from the marvellous chaps at Stein Dinse. Firstly though, as it’s a Sunday, I spent a good hour lazing around in bed drinking tea before getting up and eating sausages for breakfast before loading up the car and heading out across the fen. The journey was made more interesting by the car upside-down in the ditch at the top end of the Great Fen Road with a bit of a crowd around it. I can guess that it had only happened a few minutes beforehand, as the driver was out of the car standing by the side of the ditch looking rather bedraggled, but there were already quite a few people around helping out. There was nothing practical I could do, as the emergency services had already been called and nobody was in any immediate danger so I pottered on to the workshop. First job then, was to drill, tap and helicoil the crankcase so I could fit the new gasket, and pop some fresh Motul 10W-40 in there. I fitted a new oil filter previously, so this should have been a simple enough task. Of course, I’d left my tap wrench at home. So I made a mental note to bring it over next time, and popped the new gasket back on the shelf.

Next up, lights. If you remember, I have a TZR250 light fitted to this, as the original Ducati light unit is completely unobtainable now. Well, that’s not *strictly* true. I’ve seen one in a breakers yard, in Tasmania. But I’m not going to pay £250 for something that’s already broken and then fly it half way around the world. However, I did decide to adapt the TZR unit to fit the loom, rather than the other way around. That way, if I ever do find an original light unit, I can still fit it to the stock loom. After a fair bit of searching I found the six-way connector at Kojaycat, so set about crimping the pins onto the TZR unit so I could fit the connector:

Yes, that’s a Dogs D’Amour shirt there from about 1987 or so I’d guess. Not actually mine, but I can’t claim total innocence as I went to see them about a million times back in those days. The light unit was then bolted back in place for hopefully the last time, and the instrument panel then fitted. If I’d done this the other way around (fitted the instrument panel first) I think it would have been a lot easier, but anyway – eventually everything was fitted, and tested. Parking light, headlight, and main light all worked as expected. This was cause for no small celebration:

The new speedo cable was also fitted at this point, so hopefully that should be the last time that I need to get into this lot for the foreseeable future. I fitted the top fairing unit, but it was pretty obvious that although I could bodge the bolts in, it would be much better to cut a bit of relief into the back of the unit with a Dremel. Again, not a problem, but just a bit of an unforeseen delay to progress. No worries – I have all the tools at home so I just popped the fairing back in the car.

Onto the next item, the indicators:

If you’re thinking “hold on, that’s not an indicator”, well spotted. I got a bit distracted by fitting the newly refurbished seat pad. If you remember from a million years ago, the seat pad that came with the bike was made of plywood and looked like it had been buried at sea for a decade or two. I made a new one from an old bit of nylon I had kicking around, and as I was passing the back of the bike it just seemed a good time to see if it fitted. As you can see, yes, it does. And I reckon that looks pretty nice. Anyway, back to indicators. The rears had been fitted a few weeks ago, but I couldn’t actually fit the front ones until the side panels are fitted, and I can’t fit the side panels until the top fairing is fitted, and if you remember from about five minutes ago I’d just taken that off again and put it in the car. Not to worry – in the spirit of getting something constructive done, I connected up the front indicators and just checked that they work. And with no drama whatsoever they both worked first time.

Now then, with lights and indicators all present and correct, there was only one thing left to get the bike up to MOT standard. The numberplate:

I deliberately left this until last, as it’s just a nice little finishing flourish. And if by any chance the thing passes the MOT, it will be coming straight off to be replaced by something less likely to get me pulled.

And now sitting here, taking stock and drinking tea, I remember that I also need to replace the rear brake light switch. Bollocks. Oh well, that’s a small and easy job, and I can do that at the same time as I finally fit the fairing – I’ve already modified it as necessary, but it’s now time to start cooking a big roasty dinner rather than heading back to the workshop. So really now, there’s very little to do before booking it in for the MOT and taking the first ride: fit the new alternator cover gasket, fill the oil, fit the bodywork, new brake light switch. And then if (and it’s a big if) it passes the test I need to determine whether I’m going to keep it (in which case, new tyres will be swiftly ordered) or sell it. Exciting times ahead then.

The Charge [1]

Well, no sooner did I attach the bodywork than I needed to remove it all again. But that’s OK, I always knew that it was only a trial fitment, and would need to come off again anyway. Particularly, for the charging system, as the left panel needs to come off to get to the generator, the right panel needs to come off to drain the oil, and the seat unit needs to come off to get to the reg/rec. Pretty much a full house then,

And if I’m really honest with myself, I’d been putting off the work on the charging system. Yes, it was going to be expensive, which was problem number one. But also while I like doing stuff with wiring, I don’t like the stiff lumps of three-phase high current wire that comes with the charging circuit. Sure, I understand how (most of) it works, but it’s just a pain in the neck to deal with, compared to say, the brake lights which is all thin cables that can be routed and terminated easily and elegantly. But, I had to bite the bullet at some point, so last week I ordered a new generator and reg/rec and they turned up promptly a couple of days back, thanks to the chaps at electrexworld. Then again, seeing as I paid nine quid for postage on top of a £320 bill for the parts, they bloody well should have done.

First thing then, strip the bodywork. I’m really looking forward to fitting this properly with some stainless fasteners rather than the shoddy bits of stale cheese that’s currently holding it all on. But that’s OK, I’d rather deal with a rounded out fairing fastener than a snapped exhaust stud any day, so I’m just being picky. Anyway, the bodywork all came off the bike easily enough, so I popped a bowl under the sump and removed the plug. The oil, which was new before the dyno runs looked pretty shonky already, and there were a few bits of sludge around the sump plug already. I shouldn’t be surprised at this as the engine came to me on about three pallets and so was open to the elements for gawd knows how long. But anyway, that’s another bill to add to the list – another sumpful of oil and a new filter. I think it was about this time that James wandered into the workshop with a cup of tea and a big smile and informed me that bacon was being cooked in the house and I’d be a welcome guest for breakfast. That’s a pretty good start to any weekend.

And I’m more than happy to report that as well as the bacon, I also had a bonus sausage.

Once the oil was drained, the l/h engine cover was removed

I laid up the generator in the cover to check that it would fit OK. Yes of course, it was a good fit. Snug – so I needed to make sure that I lined it up properly before knocking it into the casting as it would be a git to move, but a good fit nonetheless. I also took the opportunity to twat out the end support bearing for the crank and make sure that was all good and smooth and of course it was. I shouldn’t be surprised about this really, as it’s only done two dyno runs since being fitted, but it’s always good to check these things.

At this point, for whatever reason, I got a bit distracted and so started working on the DC side of the charging circuit. I have no photos to show of this, which is a Good Thing as it’s pretty routine stuff really. The reg/rec was mounted and the decision was taken to run the DC output straight to the battery rather than going through the live side of the solenoid to the live side of the battery and chassis to earth. This meant I needed to extend the leads by about 40cms or so, but that’s easy enough with a good crimp connector. I know, wars have been fought over more trivial things than whether to solder or crimp a connector but I’m crap at soldering (or soddering if you’re reading this in The Land Of The Free) so I crimped these ones. I also wired the connector to the charge warning light on the dash. I’m not sure why I bothered with this really, as it’s a 30yr old Ducati, so I may as well have just wired that to be always on.

Finally, I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I turned my attention back to the AC side of the circuit. The generator needed a bit of a twatting to seat it fully into the case but nothing too untoward really. The case was popped back onto the side of the turd of an engine, and of course one of the bolts immediately stripped out the thread when I tried to torque it to spec. Sigh – so I guess at some point this lot will be coming off again to helicoil that thread and bolt it all up properly. Anyhow, the AC lines were connected…

There was still quite a bit of stuff to do, refilling the oil, reconnecting the battery, refitting the twat of a fuel tank and bleeding the air out of the fuel system, tidying up the last bits of wiring, drinking more tea etc. But eventually, everything was ready. The charging circuit was all in place, the battery was connected, the fuel system was installed. Time to get the fire extinguisher ready and press the Big Red Button.

Of course, seeing as it had just done two dyno runs with no charging system, the battery was as flat as a slow hedgehog. I put the battery on charge, locked my door on the way out, and went home for another cup of tea. It’s been a good day as far as tea is concerned.

[1] I know, there’s a million songs. This is the one I was thinking of: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XocNk9IjQlA . No-one needs morality when there isn’t enough to eat.

Dress You Up

Very quick post, just for the photo opportunity:

The bodywork is only a trial fit, as I still need to sort out the charging system. But with a bit of tweaking here and there, it all went on. There’s a little bit more work to do around the headlight (hardly surprising, as it’s off a TZR250, remember), the seat pad, and I need to pick up a screen. But the bodywork all fits, and with a bit of elbow grease should look pretty alright I reckon.

The fasteners, however, are a shambolic collection of whatever I could find in the shed and workshop. I think I’m actually just going to give the whole thing to the lovely chaps at Cambridge Motorcycles when it’s done, and ask them to just fit shiny new matching fasteners all around. There are so many different sizes that trying to buy them all would be an exercise in frustration and ultimate disappointment.

Anyway – that’s all for now. Next update will, I hope, be regarding the charging circuit. Or maybe I’ll write something about getting the headlight fitted properly and wired in. Or maybe another project may come along. Stay tuned for the next installment.

Monkey Spanner

I like pictures. Well, if I was to be more precise, if I try to describe something I quite often resort to pictures rather than words. It’s why I have a whiteboard in my shed, and another in the workshop. I’ve always got a pencil to hand too. I suspect that I’m showing my age here, as I’m sure that the new generation uses an iPad and stylus or something similar. [1] And so, a picture to start this episode:

That’s the first dyno run for the 750 sport. And the good news is, that as you can see it pottered up to 9000RPM, and I can confirm that it didn’t leave any of the engine internals on the dyno room floor. That’s the good news. The bad news is the lower trace – that’s the fuel/air ratio, and it should be around 13.5:1 under load, as shown by the dashed red line. [2]. Below the line is rich, above it is lean. Up to about 7K RPM, it’s pretty much spot on. But then goes disastrously lean all the way up to 9K, where Spike shut the thing down out of pity. We had a good look, scratched our heads, and both thought that the most likely culprit was fuel starvation, rather than anything jetting related. I always like chatting with Spike, he’s a lovely bloke. But importantly, in these situations, he’s run thousands of bikes on the dyno, and seen it all before. And because I’ve not replaced either the pump or filter in the 750, we agreed that the best course of action was to hook up an external fuel supply and try again. And this is what happened:

That’s a million times better. Slightly rich in the midrange (which is fine by me) and then right in the ballpark all the way up to the redline. And a genuine 60bhp, which I’m happy about. And before anyone says that a Ducati 750 should make about 70bhp, firstly, don’t believe everything you read in the manufacturers literature, but secondly, I’ve not not optimised anything yet. The timing is still just statically set approximately according to the workshop manual, plugs are the originals that came with the bike, two different coils, etc. etc. This dyno run was never about chasing power, I just wanted to make sure it was capable of running through the gears before going any further.

So, was it the external fuel supply that sorted things out? Errr, no. Spike sheepishly admitted that the O2 sensor had fallen out the back of the pipe on the first run at 7K. He wodged it back in with a bit of tape and the second run needed no changes to the bike at all.

This is a major milestone. The bike works. The gearbox works, the engine runs cleanly up to 9K, the clutch works, the brakes work. It is a motorcycle, rather than just having the potential to be one. There is still plenty of work to do, and many happy hours spannering in the workshop ahead, but this is definitely something to stop and take note of. And as we’ve already gone through the lists of remaining tasks a couple of times before I’m not going to do it again. Suffice to say the next two things will be the charging system and tyres. Both the stator and reg/rec are humped, and need replacing. The more I look into this bike, the more I realise that this is what took it off the road in the first place, rather than any “it was running but then I stripped it to restore and ran out of room/money/spousal tolerance shenanigans” that I’m sure the advert said. I have a couple of options – I can get the stator rewound and attempt to match it with a more modern reg/rec and hope for the best, or I can buy a matched pair from a specialist in motorcycle charging systems. Clearly, the latter option is the most sensible, but I do like a good adventure, so expect the next exciting installment to recount tales of the emergency services from the scene of the fire. Tyres are easier – there is only one manufacturer that still makes a fitment for the rear, so that’s what’s going on there. Other than that, it’s bodywork, and a tidy-up. Oh, and indicators. The bike came with just rear indicators, and they were gopping pieces of mank:

These have been replaced with something that at least looks half decent, with a matching pair for the front. I really would have preferred orange lenses, but original indicators for the bike are now completely unobtainable.

However, they were cheap (just as well, as the stator and reg/rec look set to account for about £300 of the budget, and the same again give or take for the tyres) and available off the shelf from the super Cambridge Motorcycles when I went to pick the bike up from the dyno runs. It seemed churlish not to pick them up there and then.

That’s the state of the 750 for now then. It works. If I wanted to, I could slap the seat on it and ride it up the A142 tomorrow. At least as far as the battery would allow me anyway. Mind you, given the 30yr old tyres on there, I suspect I’d highside it long before the battery went flat even with 60bhp.

In other exciting news, the Morini. Of my bikes, this is my favourite. I still wander out to the garage, where it sits next to the 748, and probably 75% of the time if I’m just going for a potter in the country to clear my thoughts and refresh my outlook on life, the Morini will be the bike I take. I know it’s not for everyone – it’s slow, clunky, firmly rooted in the 1980s, but heck, just *look* at it:

And therein lies a problem. That bodywork is completely irreplaceable. Not irreplaceable as in you need to buy another bike to find any. Completely irreplaceable. I’ve only ever seen one other Dart up for sale in three years. And so, whenever I ride the thing, my enthusiasm is tempered somewhat by the consequences of an accident. The bike would be permanently off the road if I was to break the bodywork past the point of repair. Enter, then, the Morini Riders Club. A few weeks ago I got a note, asking me if I’d like to pay a deposit to secure my place in the queue for a small run of replacement body panels. These will be cast from moulds taken from an existing Dart, and finished in white gel coat ready for paint and decals. And the best thing is, the complete set will come to around £500. This represents a total bargain, as I’d normally expect to pay that per panel for good quality bodywork. Whether I paint this in Morini pearlescent white and apply some decals (which again, I can get from the riders club) or just pop it on the bike and wrap the originals in cotton wool and place them in the loft I’m not sure yet. But the brilliant news is that the bike now has the chance to survive the inevitable incident at Hall Bends.

All in all then, things are looking very good for the summer. As well as the 750 being potentially on the road, and the Morini having a new set of bodywork, I’ve just booked the 748 onto the train to France for a summer holiday. So plenty to look forward to then, but one thing I’ve mentioned here, and learned the hard way, is never to lose sight of the present by concentrating on the future. To ensure this doesn’t happen, a couple of things are ongoing – firstly, a rather super G&T which The Lovely Faye poured for me, and also the ongoing little fiddly bits around the 750. Lots to enjoy, then, and lots to look forward to.

[1] A few years ago I was on the mailing list for a brilliant looking device called a Noteslate. It looked great – a thin, flat, e-ink display with a stylus for writing/drawing, and software for optical character recognition, output as .pdf etc. It was slim, light, easy to use, and promised to be reasonably priced. Sadly the chap behind the scheme was a thunderous bullshitter and it never actually existed outside of his imagination as far as I can tell.

[2] As in, the line that’s composed of dashes, not the one that’s being vexatious.

Gravity Rides Everything

Blimey. Things have been moving on rather quickly in the workshop. Last time I had the enthusiasm to write anything, I ended up with this list of things to do:

• Charging system
• New screen
• Fuel system leak
• Rear brake
• Kill switch wiring
• Tacho cable a bit shonky
• Seat unit work
• Fit rear pegs
• Mirrors?
• Headlight
• Bodywork
• Battery strap
• Oil sensor wiring – tidy
• Brake light?
• Chain & sprockets

Everything struck out is now done – I’ll take that the headlight is only 50% done as I’m not there completely with the wiring yet, but from what I can tell, it fits, and works, I just need to fit a proper waterproof connector.

In fact, things have progressed so far that I actually managed to ride the thing this weekend. Not far, and not fast – just a little putter in first gear around the yard. But it’s important, as it showed that things like the clutch and brakes worked as expected, and I can put a (very small!) load on the drivetrain without any horrible graunching noises, or third gear exiting the bottom of the crankcase. And just to prove a point, before I put the chain on I ran it up and down the gearbox a few times on the stand just to test that all gears engaged and there were no unwanted side effects. Other than an overwhelming desire to make myself a really good cup of tea to celebrate, no, there were no side effects that I noticed. So then, as is becoming customary, let’s start at the end with a photo of the current state of affairs.

That was taken immediately before the first tentative test ride around the yard. And, complete disclosure, wouldn’t have been taken at all had I remembered to turn the petrol tap on. Still, as the moribund turd had spluttered to a halt I grabbed the photo as I made my way back from the workshop with a pair of pliers that I need to turn the fuel on. (Note to self – add ‘fix fuel tap’ to that list above). And what else should be immediately apparent from that photo, even if I missed it from the list of things to do, is that I cleaned and fitted the sidestand. This is hardly NASA level engineering, but still, if it stops the bike from falling over I’m calling that a win.

Right then, so let’s look back at the list, and what was necessary:

Headlight – this was the big one really. The bike came with no headlight, and they are now completely and utterly unobtainable. However, as mentioned previously, a TZR250 headlight seemed to be the right size, so I set about modifying the mounting bracket to fit. and while it took a fair bit of attention from the angle grinder, I can now mount the headlight, oil cooler, and front fairing as intended:

This was cause for no small amount of celebration (I may even have had a hobnob with my tea) as if anything was going to make the bike impossible to put back on the road, it would have been this. As previously mentioned, I still need to finalise the wiring connector, but I’ve proven that a) the light fits, b) it works, and c) I get 12V to the right part of the loom when I press the lightswitch. So the only thing stopping this from becoming a fully functioning headlight is now my own ability, rather than any incompatibility of components. Expect, then, the next episode to be full of stories of fire engines racing to the scene of the incident.

Fuel system – this was pretty straightforward really, with one proviso. But basically, I just needed to fit little hose clamps on the unions to stop the drips, and give the tap a little tweak to line up the spigot more accurately with the fuel hose run. It’s good enough for the test runs now, but it still needs work. Firstly, as already mentioned, the tap itself is broken and needs a pair of pliers to turn the fuel on and off. Now, I’m a bit old fashioned so I’m actually more than happy to carry a toolkit on the bike so that’s not the end of the world. Secondly, and more seriously, the fuel tank breather is totally blocked so I need to find another way to let the tank breathe. I’ve got a couple of plans (and also I’ve got the tank from a works RSC world endurance racer from the 1970s in the workshop, complete with a completely irreplaceable and unique tank breather…) so watch this space. And no, I’m not going to cannibalise the completely unobtainable works tank. Although if I could make it fit the Ducati, that would be a plan.

Brake light – yup, this works from the front brake, but not the rear. Simple fix – the pressure switch is broken. As far as I know, it’s not an MOT requirement for the brake light to work independently on the rear brake (I’m willing to be told otherwise!) [1] so I’ll probably just leave this for now. The rear brake works, but I never use it on the road anyway.

Chain and sprockets – I can see some opprobrium incoming here – but I’ve just reused the chain that came with the bike and fitted a soft link for now. Please, hear me out… the original plan was to nail the bike back together, put an MOT on it, and just use it. However, I’ve had a bit of a rethink. Rather than going straight into a road test, I’m going to put the bike on the dyno at Cambridge Motorcycles for the first test run so I can check the fuelling and make sure that if anything breaks, it’s going to do it at 0mph rather than 53mph on the A142 in front of an Eddie Stobart. I reckon that there’s no way the thing will make any more than 70bhp, and a softlink will easily handle that. For the first test run then it’s perfectly adequate.

Oil sensor wiring – tidied. Nothing else to say about this really.

Tacho cable – this was a bit of a trial, as it’s in pretty bad shape. But with the tactical use of a small hose clamp, I think I’ve got this just about done now. If I wasn’t such a massive tightwad I’d just buy a new one, but I am, and that’s all there is to it. And actually, now that I write this I realise that there’s no speedo cable with the bike, so I’ll need to buy one of those anyway. I may treat myself to a new tacho cable at the same time. Then again, I may not, and spend the money on tea and cake instead.

Rear pegs – now cleaned up and fitted. These were quite disgracefully manky, and needed a lot of love and attention to get the little detent bearings working properly again. If I was going to do a proper job (more on this later…) on this bike I’d get the thrust plates re-plated to make the snicky-clicky-inny-outy action a lot smoother. As it is now, however, they work, and they cost me nothing to repair. Dans son jus.

Kill switch wiring – blimey, I’m starting to run out of memory now of what I’ve done and when I did it, and my typing finger is getting quite sore and I may need to dunk it in some cold water soon. But yes, I fitted a proper waterproof connector to this one as it’s exactly the kind of connector that can leave you stranded by the side of the M6 in a monsoon when it fails.

Right then, that’s as much as I can be bothered to type now about things that I’ve done. Let’s instead, talk about things that are yet to happen.

• Charging system
• New screen
• Mirrors?
• Bodywork
• Battery strap
• Fuel tap
• Rivet link in chain

Blimey, that list is getting pretty short now. But before any of that happens, the next stop is an appointment on the dyno to let Spike work his magic on the carbs and laugh when it catches fire or launches a rod out the side of the cases. But, we’ve reached that point again where money rears its ugly head, and I need to put this on hold for a couple of months while I let the credit card recover a little. But that’s OK – it’s cold and dark outside, so I need to go and hibernate. Finally then, one last photo showing where we are now:

One (even more) last photo… I teased a little earlier with a ‘more on that later’ comment. This image recently turned up:

Now, the plan right now is very definitely still to get this lump on the road at minimal expense, and to enjoy it with all the foibles and scrapes and scuffs and bodges. But blimey, I reckon that looks flipping lovely – and if (and it’s a big if) I enjoy riding this one, I could be tempted to at least give the frame and bodywork a bit of a cosmetic seeing to. I’m 99% sure that I’m not going to do this – because of course, on the first ride with the lovely fresh paint there would be a marvellously predictable episode of gravity overcoming ability.

So, I think for the next couple of months, that’s about it really. No point in going any further until I’ve had a session on the dyno, and even when that’s done, the next stage (the charging system) is yet another big bill, and then I’ll need to put some proper tyres on it, so these really need to wait until we’re well into the new year. There may be some sporadic action cleaning up bodywork and so on, and I still need to fit a connector to the headlight. But there’s no way that I can write an essay on fitting a small four-way connector.

[1] From https://www.gov.uk/guidance/mot-inspection-manual-for-motorcycles/4-lamps-reflectors-and-electrical-equipment – “Motorcycles first used on or after 1 April 1986 must have a stop lamp that switch on from both brake controls. However, a small number of motorcycles first used from this date were approved with the stop lamp switching on by only one control. You should fail the stop lamp only if you are certain that it was originally manufactured to switch on from both controls.” – well that’s cleared that up nicely then. I think I’ll just fit a new switch to be on the safe side, and spend the next three bloody days bleeding the thing again.