As we left things last time in MoriniWorld, we had a running engine with a new cambelt. And on the other project, I was starting to believe that I had something worth saving. This in itself was definitely a cause for celebration, but it needs to be put in context. Really, a running engine is only the very start of the process. It proved that we at least had a viable project, but other than that, it didn’t mean that I was about to hit the road in a fury of 30bhp hooliganism. However, now that I knew that the engine was a runner, I could set the valve clearances, and button it all up again for the next 12000 or so kms. The rear cylinder is a doddle to get to, and setting the valve clearances is a beautifully simple and agricultural process, thanks to the pushrods and rockers rather than the five valves per cylinder and overhead camshafts of the TRX850.
The Morinisti among you will notice as well that the fuel hose was replaced with some lovely Tygon hose. The original Pirelli rubber tubing had long ago ossified into a solid lump. I took the opportunity also to fit the dry-break into the fuel supply hose to make tank removal easier in future. That said, I suspect that engine maintenance on this thing will be a once a decade affair, so I probably didn’t actually need to do that. I also replaced the plug leads and caps while I was in there, but I may have already mentioned that in the last instalment. The clearances were every so slightly tight, but nothing to worry about. And it’s lovely to work on a European bike where clearances are in tenths of a mm, rather than cubic fathoms of a perch, or whatever it is that my other feeler gauges measure. The front cylinder was slightly more problematic, as I came to the only seized fastener on the bike so far – holding the oil cooler on. This is a bit of a bind, but nothing terminal as I was able to loosen the other three, and swing the cooler out of the way, no worries. Front clearances were bob on. Nothing to do there, other than marvel at the fact that only one fastener (so far…) has turned out to be problematic.
With the valve clearances set, I popped the rocker covers back on, refitted the air filter and tank, and gave it another quick run just to check that I hadn’t broken anything. And completely unexpectedly, this time the oil level indicator stayed resolutely off when it should have been on, but the neutral indicator light started working perfectly. I have a feeling that these kind of episodes will be par for the course with this bike. Anyway, I’m not complaining. Again, I know the bike has the correct amount of oil in there, and a quick tweak of one of the oil cooler union banjo bolts showed that there was plenty of oil pressure. And honestly, a reliable neutral light is of way more use than an unreliable oil level indicator.
Next stage should have been easy, but turned into a complete trial. The rear brake needed bleeding. Simple, right? Well, yes, if the designer hadn’t put the bleed nipple at the absolute lowest point in the system. And to make life more complicated the caliper is on the left, unlike every normal bike in the world. This makes it really difficult to pump on the lever while opening and closing the bleed nipple. After two fruitless evenings of increasingly frustrated dry-pumping (minds out of the gutter people) I finally unbolted the caliper, and managed to raise it and clamp it to the subframe to put the nipple at the top of the system. Five minutes later everything was bled, so I put the caliper back in place and bolted it all up. And I hope never to see the bloody thing again. I wouldn’t mind, but I only use it for the MOT anyway. It’s not as if I’ll need it to control a rampant tendency to wheelie in second as the motor bites into its vicious powerband. You can’t have a powerband if you have no power.
At this point I was feeling pretty smug, having both the ability to go and stop. In theory, I could book an MOT and let Spike laugh and tell me the other seventeen things that are wrong with it. However, I want mirrors as well before I go anywhere near a road. On most bikes, you don’t need to worry so much about what’s behind you. On this, however, you need to check carefully behind before making any moves just in case there’s a tractor half way into an overtaking manoeuvre. One of the mirrors is OK. The other is completely rogered. It came to me in two pieces when I picked the bike up (the auction dood actually chased me up the hall as I wheeled the bike out waving it around saying that he’d found it behind a box of bits. I’m really glad that he did, as obviously trying to buy a mirror for a Morini Dart is like trying to find unicorn poo. It’s impossible, and what you end up with isn’t that pleasant anyway). Really, I need to replace both mirrors, but for now I’m going to try to reuse what I have. Firstly as I mentioned, I like bikes that wear their scars with pride so a pair of battered old mirrors suit me just fine. Secondly, these projects are about me rebuilding things. The broken mirror was painstakingly reassembled but it was always apparent that as soon as I bolted it down to the fairing, the cyanoacrylate glue holding the mounting lugs on would give up. And indeed, that was exactly what happened. I tried again using the last of my super-nasty but stupidly strong acrylic but this suffered the same fate. It’s amazing just how much force you can apply just by tweaking an extra 1/4 turn on a thread. I sat down and pondered on this for a bit, and worked out that if I bolted the mirror mount down to a flat bit of aluminium (or carbon fibre, but I’m not that posh) it might offer enough support to give me a fighting chance to bolt the thing down to the fairing. I looked around for a suitable bit of ally, and found the ridiculously illegal numberplate from the 675. I spent a wonderful hour or so with the snips, files, drills, emery paper , and hammers making a suitable plate.
It’s been a long long time since I did any sheet metal work, and sweating away in the hot sun with manual tools was a brilliant way to waste an hour. Of course, as soon as I tightened the bolts the thing failed again, but I don’t care. I’ll get a thicker bit of ally and try again. The idea is sound, but the execution was poor.
To sum up where I am at the moment: the result of this initial phase is that things have gone from overwhelmingly crap with the occasional nice bit, to mainly OK, but still with with the odd crap bit. There is something good there, it just needs to be slowly uncovered. And actually dealing with the setbacks is as important as enjoying the successes.
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