nr's blog

This Corrosion 22 February, 2017

Filed under: Motorcycling — nr @ 10:29 am

Time for a long overdue update, as things have been progressing rather quickly over the past few weeks. You could blame a slack period at work for me having the extra time on my hands, but nothing could be further from the truth. I’m actually working all the hours under the sun at the moment (which is a shame, as I don’t get paid by the hour…) and am feeling rather stressed right now. So, a few bike rides, lots of tea, and a quick bit of creative writing will hopefully go some way to sorting that out. If not, I always have a plan B. There’s always a good plan B.

p1060195

Anyway. Enough of my mental health. Although if anyone would like to make me a cup of tea at any point, I’m all for it. Strong, white, no sugar please. Onto the bike. If you look closely at the picture above, you’ll see a few nice things. Firstly, the gearbox sprocket nut looks lovely and clean. And the fact that it’s there is the largest milestone on the bike really, as that was the thing that took it off the road in the first place, when the thing (along with half the output shaft) fell off. The Öhlins shock, nestled in there, looks lovely. But you already know about that. No, the most important thing about the photo above is the jump leads hanging out the back of the bike, running to the battery of my car. This photo was taken on the day of the first test run of the engine. As you can probably guess from the position of the tank, it wasn’t successful on this particular occasion, but that was just a sticky float in one of the carbs allowing petrol to escape through the carb overflow. However, once that was sorted, the engine coughed, sputtered a bit, and then rumbled into life. With hindsight, ‘rumbled’ probably isn’t the right word. ‘Violently exploded into an assault on the eardrums’ would be better. Those Renegade pipes really don’t do much in the way of keeping the noise down. I did get a video of it running, but as I’m a tightwad, I don’t pay enough for this WordPress package to facilitate the hosting of videos. Just imagine an eighty-ton whale farting in a bowl of custard for now, that will give you an idea of what it sounds like.

So, what did it take to get to this momentous state of affairs. Well, firstly, the fuel system. As mentioned earlier, the tank was pretty rusty inside. From what I could see, it was a pretty light surface rust rather than anything really deeply set in, but it was covering most of the inside of the tank. First step to getting this out was to throw a good handful of nuts, bolts, screws and washers in there and give it all a good shaking around for a few hours to knock off the loose stuff. This was a) surprisingly effective and b) a good workout for my limp and baggy biceps. A whole lot of rust came out when I tipped the tank upside down, along with about 1/3 of the hardware that went in. The TRX tank is full of little nooks and crannies, and a lot of the stuff was still stuck in there. It all came out over the course of the next few days (I think – there may be a few more ancient fasteners lodged in there waiting to surprise me in future). Next step was a good cleaning – some POR-15 cleaner and degreaser was poured in, along with some hot water, and the whole lot shaken around every few minutes, then left overnight, then shaken around next day a few times, before emptying out. What came out was a fantastic dark brown sludge, which reminded me very much of the gravy we used to get at school. Tasted pretty similar too. Oh, and a few more nuts and bolts. Next step was a really good rinse through with a hosepipe and clean water to get the last of the sludge and detergent out. And a few more screws. Finally, a bottle of POR-15 metal-prep was thrown in, and again, the whole thing shaken every few minutes, and left overnight, then shaken a whole lot more, before draining, rinsing again, and recovering more bloody screws. And while the finish isn’t perfect, it’s OK for now I reckon. I put some new filters on the tap spigots to catch any remaining rust flakes (and random nuts and bolts), and buttoned it all up again. At this point I should have put a new gasket between the fuel tap and tank. I didn’t – lesson learned, as it all needed to come apart again a few days later. I could (and maybe will, one day) use some POR-15 tank sealer to fully line the tank, but for now I’m going to leave it as a half-arsed job and hope for the best.

The fuel hoses were replaced where necessary, and reconnected. And then I started finalising the work on the loom. I’d previously removed the alarm system, and generally started to tidy things up a bit, but a bit of investigation revealed that the sidestand cutout switch was goosed, and needed either replacing or bypassing. Obviously, I took it out of the circuit, threw it in the corner, and shorted the connector in the loom rather than buy a new one. Other connectors were cleaned or replaced, the whole lot plugged back together, and a battery was purchased (ouch) and fitted. First turn of the key showed the expected neutral light (there’s no oil pressure light on the TRX, which is stupid) and all the circuits work as designed. One of the bulbs in the tacho has failed, but as I don’t plan to ride this much at night (firstly the headlight is known to be pretty awful, but also, I think I’d likely annoy my neighbours, their neighbours, and pretty much anyone in about a 12 mile radius of where I am if I ride it late at night) I’m not too worried by this.

Brakes have had the usual strip and clean and re-filling, along with the hours of bleeding that you get with a completely dry system. New pads fitted, and I think they’re ready to go. Or stop, if you see what I mean. Bodywork is refitted, and I needed to recover the little bum-stop pad, as it was particularly manky. This simple sentence belies the hours of work and swearing that went into the job. The fabric I used (a kind of fake Alcantara sort of thing) is pretty horrible to work with. Still this was worth doing well, as it’s a very visible part of the bike. And I don’t want anyone to think I’m the kind of chap who’ll do a half-arsed job.

What’s left to do? Firstly, the exhausts need a really good cleanup and sort out. They work, but things don’t really line up all that well at the moment, and are completely filthy. A few hours of work will sort that out, I hope. Well, enough to get it through the MOT. Talking of which, I’ll also repack the cans to at least drop the noise a touch. I may well end up fitting some db-killers for road use (and maybe to get below 105dB for the Cadwell Park noise limit) but we’ll see what happens with the new packing. New tyres (probably Contis) will be ordered when I have a few bob, and then just chain and sprockets and it should be good to go. I’m actually a little bit undecided here. Obvious thing is just to buy the stock 17/39 525 kit. But I’m not convinced it needs a 525. I think a 520 will be more than strong enough, and lighter and cheaper. And at the same time I may change the gearing to 17/42. The stock gearing is pretty long, and although I should have the power to pull it with the FCRs and shouty pipes, I think I’d rather have the shorter gearing for giggles and wheelies.

In other news, I was at the dyno on Saturday with the splendid chaps from Cambridge Motorcycles, running up Sol’s Katana after the insertion of a GSX-R1100 motor. Any worries that I had about the TRX being a bit noisy went out of the window. This thing is shatteringly, painfully noisy. Even standing outside the dyno room, wearing ear defenders, I could still feel my eardrums buzzing. Still, 120bhp on the first run wasn’t too shabby.

No doubt the next installment of this drivel will be lamenting the fact that we’ve both been nicked for noisy pipes.

Advertisements
 

This Wreckage 5 February, 2017

Filed under: Uncategorized — nr @ 10:49 pm

So. Here’s what’s left of the TZR250:

p1060197

Now, most normal people will be thinking “bloody hell, that was a big accident”. The TZR brigade will be thinking “hold on… that doesn’t look like any one of the 357 fasteners that I recognise”.

So, TZR fetishists, take a rare, and well deserved moment where you can think “Yes! I knew that 18 years of studying Japanese part numbers would pay off! I have my moment at last…”

Those bits were drilled into the knees of my daughter. You see a few months ago, I was faced with one of those stark moments that made me realise what was important. My youngest daughter needed surgery. And the NHS wouldn’t do it. So, we’ve had a bit of a fraught few months with Millie going under the knife and having these bits firstly screwed in, and then taken out again once they’d done their job. I won’t go into details, but you can only imagine how much this has cost to have done privately.

I would have done it a lot cheaper with the Black & Decker.

Anyway. The good news is, that Millie is now dancing again. Seriously, within two days of getting the plates taken out, she was back at dance classes. The bad news is that I needed to sell the TZR to throw some money at the surgeon. It’s a karma thing. I loved rebuilding the TZR, and it gave me great happiness to ride it through the summer. And now, the time has come to share some of that happiness.

 

 
%d bloggers like this: