Post by thanetspeedshop on Jul 31, 2010 23:29:12 GMT
So, finally worked my way through to the motorbike at the back of the shed (and by "the shed" I really mean "my bedroom"; ahhh, the joys of singledom), a cute little Honda CB125S of about 1973 vintage.
This bike hasn't been out of the house in ten or twelve years, but after a bit of fettling and a good carb clean, battery charge and some fresh juice it fired up okay - it really smells bad in the shed (bedroom) now; should sleep well tonight.
It always amazes me how many diverse things go wrong with a laid up bike (or car) when really it has only been sitting there doin' nothing. Obviously the carb was gummed up (I know I should've run the carb dry last time I rode it, but one never thinks it's gonna be 10 mins let alone 10 years...), but as soon as I turned on the petrol tap the internal gasket fell apart and I spent a loooong time stopping petrol pouring expensively all over the workbench (futon). Pumped the cracked tyres up and threw some old Yamaha shoxs on it as I kinda remembered that the originals were ferked, but the stiction and absence of damping in the front forks and the lack of braking effect with the front brake took me a little by surprise.
Anyhow, after a quick blast up the road I parked it up and took a look at the electrics. Behind the bike bay outside my flat, is, as I'm sure you know, a low wall and then a thick hedge. When the screwdriver I left on the wall fell off under this hedge I was rooting around in the undergrowth trying to retrieve it when I found something far more sinister secreted therein. A large pair of boltcutters. Directly over the wall from where I always park the Exup secured only with a cheap chain passed through the back wheel.
I'm feeling really paranoid now that someone's gonna steal the Yamaha now, or even the little Honda. Maybe as my bed now stinks of petrol and exhaust gas I'll just stay up all night with a baseball bat - know what I mean...
None of this is what I wanted to say though. What I was going to say was; having managed to get the horn and lights to work - although not the indicators or, puzzlingly and annoyingly, the neutral light - I decide to take a quick spin to our local bike-meet at the Adelaide Cafe, Hacklinge (very friendly, but, shall we say, interesting people there). Anyhow the little bike roared along over there, albeit quite slowly. This is a 37 year old lightweight bike and I am a 47 year old heavyweight bloke with all the aerodynamic properties of a spinnaker, so we struggled to do much more than about 55-ish on the flat. In fact it was while thrashing the poor little thing through the gears to try and get some speed up that I vaguely recalled the reason the bike was parked up all those years ago: New piston rings. Does running in work like that - no more than 4000rpm for 500 miles or 10 years, which ever is the soonest? Oh well...
The thing is though, with all thoughts of rings and running-in banished from my mind, and in-spite of a pathetic top speed, I still managed to stuff it round the outside of a Transalp being ridden by a bloke even fatter than me (yeah, I know...) on a roundabout and when I got to the caff' loads of people came up to look at the bike and chat (not necessarily a good thing in my book) and stuff.
Anyway, that's it.
Just thought I'd share.
Sorry.
I'll go now.
Night...
This bike hasn't been out of the house in ten or twelve years, but after a bit of fettling and a good carb clean, battery charge and some fresh juice it fired up okay - it really smells bad in the shed (bedroom) now; should sleep well tonight.
It always amazes me how many diverse things go wrong with a laid up bike (or car) when really it has only been sitting there doin' nothing. Obviously the carb was gummed up (I know I should've run the carb dry last time I rode it, but one never thinks it's gonna be 10 mins let alone 10 years...), but as soon as I turned on the petrol tap the internal gasket fell apart and I spent a loooong time stopping petrol pouring expensively all over the workbench (futon). Pumped the cracked tyres up and threw some old Yamaha shoxs on it as I kinda remembered that the originals were ferked, but the stiction and absence of damping in the front forks and the lack of braking effect with the front brake took me a little by surprise.
Anyhow, after a quick blast up the road I parked it up and took a look at the electrics. Behind the bike bay outside my flat, is, as I'm sure you know, a low wall and then a thick hedge. When the screwdriver I left on the wall fell off under this hedge I was rooting around in the undergrowth trying to retrieve it when I found something far more sinister secreted therein. A large pair of boltcutters. Directly over the wall from where I always park the Exup secured only with a cheap chain passed through the back wheel.
I'm feeling really paranoid now that someone's gonna steal the Yamaha now, or even the little Honda. Maybe as my bed now stinks of petrol and exhaust gas I'll just stay up all night with a baseball bat - know what I mean...
None of this is what I wanted to say though. What I was going to say was; having managed to get the horn and lights to work - although not the indicators or, puzzlingly and annoyingly, the neutral light - I decide to take a quick spin to our local bike-meet at the Adelaide Cafe, Hacklinge (very friendly, but, shall we say, interesting people there). Anyhow the little bike roared along over there, albeit quite slowly. This is a 37 year old lightweight bike and I am a 47 year old heavyweight bloke with all the aerodynamic properties of a spinnaker, so we struggled to do much more than about 55-ish on the flat. In fact it was while thrashing the poor little thing through the gears to try and get some speed up that I vaguely recalled the reason the bike was parked up all those years ago: New piston rings. Does running in work like that - no more than 4000rpm for 500 miles or 10 years, which ever is the soonest? Oh well...
The thing is though, with all thoughts of rings and running-in banished from my mind, and in-spite of a pathetic top speed, I still managed to stuff it round the outside of a Transalp being ridden by a bloke even fatter than me (yeah, I know...) on a roundabout and when I got to the caff' loads of people came up to look at the bike and chat (not necessarily a good thing in my book) and stuff.
Anyway, that's it.
Just thought I'd share.
Sorry.
I'll go now.
Night...
