I have been creating posts and them not finishing then off which is lame. Today I decided to pump them all out seeing how I’ve finished class and signed up for class next semester (Auto 123 - Body Repair and Refinishing and Moto 72 - General Service and Repair)
Moto 72 is the next motorcycle class for the certificate and I’m going to see if I can use the auto body class to work on the fenders and gas tanks on my motorcycles. I'm also going to try to slip into a Biology seminar called The Biology of Point Reyes. It's one weekend long and is mostly and excuse for me and the lass to head out to a bed and breakfast for a weekend.
In any case, there should be a couple post you haven't read below. Don't expect much in here till the end of January, when class picks back up.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Another Semester, Another Bike Running
The big deal about the last day of class is that you have to have your bikes out of the Cage and off campus by the end of class. I wasn't sweating it though because I had been able to get the interceptor started last week and expected the same result today.
So you can imagine my dismay at the fact that I couldn't get it started again. I tired all the tricks that Ken had showed me to no avail. After about an hour of zero results, and with panic setting in, this grizzled old dude walks by and asks what the problem is. I explain I had had it running last week but now it is doing the same old thing, turning over but not catching. And he asks the first question anyone should ask when a bike won't start, "is the gas on?"
See, on a motorcycle, for reasons still not adequately explained to me, there is a switch on the gas tank that turn them on, off and to the reserve tank. The reserve tank is effectively that light that comes on in cars telling you that the car is almost out of gas. On a motorcycle you run till the bike dies, flip the switch to reserve and get your tail to a gas station (you usually have a gallon or two at that point). This is a really fun trick on a freeway as you are splitting lanes trying to pass semis on either side of you. Off has been a mystery to me, I suspect it is probably there to make taking off a gas tank less of a fuel splattering exercise. I dunno. In any case, a bike will not run, or maybe only run for a minute with the switch in the off position. Mine was in the off position. I turned it on, cranked it a couple of times and she roared back to life.
Great, it was running, I had all my gear packed and said my goodbyes, then I noticed the rain. Pouring rain, Portland rain, rain that you can feel in you bones isn't going to stop for the next week.
The plan had been I'd ride the GPZ home (the bike I had ridden to class) and Jackie would drop me back off at class to pick up the Interceptor. Now I would be taking two trips through the poring rain, something I had vowed I would never do. I was thinking of maybe just parking the interceptor in the parking lot and picking it up later in the evening in case the rain broke for a bit. Dave Miller recommended against it. He pointed out that campus was located in a very poor neighborhood with lots of homeless people, that a quarter mile away there was a scrap metal yard that bought metal for recycling and lastly, that my former piece of scrap metal could easily be rolled there.
To compound all my problems I had grabbed a new pair of gloves that I had bought at a garage sale that, on the way to school, I realized were way to small for my hands and which preventing me from really riding safely (e.g. being able to reach the breaks, etc.) So I mounted the GPZ in the pouring frigid rain and began my ride home. On the freeway it takes about ten minutes. However, while I was now breaking my vow to never ride in the rain there was no way I was getting on the freeway. I instead took the side roads. It took a half hour. By the time I got to Jackie's I couldn't feel my fingers enough to take off my helmet strap. I walked into the bathroom and filled the sink with what I hoped wasn't scalding water and just massaged my hands in there. I had to replace the water three times because my hands were cooling the water down room temperature. It took five minutes before the burning started and ten more before it quit.
After pickup my gloves we set off to pick up the interceptor. Riding back home on the interceptor I determined that the front and rear breaks need A) new break pads and B) had to have the break cylinders rebuilt. But I made it home and all is well.
Also for any of you that have ridden in the rain, what is the deal with all the water funneling down to you crotch. It is so odd. You take off all you water proof gear and the crotch on you pants is just totally wet even if the rest of you is dry. It is bewildering and really difficult to explain to someone believably.
So you can imagine my dismay at the fact that I couldn't get it started again. I tired all the tricks that Ken had showed me to no avail. After about an hour of zero results, and with panic setting in, this grizzled old dude walks by and asks what the problem is. I explain I had had it running last week but now it is doing the same old thing, turning over but not catching. And he asks the first question anyone should ask when a bike won't start, "is the gas on?"
See, on a motorcycle, for reasons still not adequately explained to me, there is a switch on the gas tank that turn them on, off and to the reserve tank. The reserve tank is effectively that light that comes on in cars telling you that the car is almost out of gas. On a motorcycle you run till the bike dies, flip the switch to reserve and get your tail to a gas station (you usually have a gallon or two at that point). This is a really fun trick on a freeway as you are splitting lanes trying to pass semis on either side of you. Off has been a mystery to me, I suspect it is probably there to make taking off a gas tank less of a fuel splattering exercise. I dunno. In any case, a bike will not run, or maybe only run for a minute with the switch in the off position. Mine was in the off position. I turned it on, cranked it a couple of times and she roared back to life.
Great, it was running, I had all my gear packed and said my goodbyes, then I noticed the rain. Pouring rain, Portland rain, rain that you can feel in you bones isn't going to stop for the next week.
The plan had been I'd ride the GPZ home (the bike I had ridden to class) and Jackie would drop me back off at class to pick up the Interceptor. Now I would be taking two trips through the poring rain, something I had vowed I would never do. I was thinking of maybe just parking the interceptor in the parking lot and picking it up later in the evening in case the rain broke for a bit. Dave Miller recommended against it. He pointed out that campus was located in a very poor neighborhood with lots of homeless people, that a quarter mile away there was a scrap metal yard that bought metal for recycling and lastly, that my former piece of scrap metal could easily be rolled there.
To compound all my problems I had grabbed a new pair of gloves that I had bought at a garage sale that, on the way to school, I realized were way to small for my hands and which preventing me from really riding safely (e.g. being able to reach the breaks, etc.) So I mounted the GPZ in the pouring frigid rain and began my ride home. On the freeway it takes about ten minutes. However, while I was now breaking my vow to never ride in the rain there was no way I was getting on the freeway. I instead took the side roads. It took a half hour. By the time I got to Jackie's I couldn't feel my fingers enough to take off my helmet strap. I walked into the bathroom and filled the sink with what I hoped wasn't scalding water and just massaged my hands in there. I had to replace the water three times because my hands were cooling the water down room temperature. It took five minutes before the burning started and ten more before it quit.
After pickup my gloves we set off to pick up the interceptor. Riding back home on the interceptor I determined that the front and rear breaks need A) new break pads and B) had to have the break cylinders rebuilt. But I made it home and all is well.
Also for any of you that have ridden in the rain, what is the deal with all the water funneling down to you crotch. It is so odd. You take off all you water proof gear and the crotch on you pants is just totally wet even if the rest of you is dry. It is bewildering and really difficult to explain to someone believably.
An Ode to Ken(ji?)
In the last week of class I had managed to unbreak everything I had broken on the interceptor. I had also replaced all the fluids, filters, spark plugs, battery, etc. All was as it should be. Except when I pressed the START but, start it would not. Lots of click-click but no start. Same problem always. Then up walks Ken. You could hear the birds quiet down and the wind pick up for just a moment. Dark clouds began to form. "What seems to be the problem he whispered" eyeing the unsuspecting motorcycle with disgust. "It won't start" I replied plaintively. "Won't start? Let's see."
He took out the fuel filter and sprayed Carburetor cleaner in the intake port. Carb cleaner is like a commercial form of a Thermobaric weapon and the intake port is where the engine gets the air it is going to mix with gas. The mixture is then ignited by a spark plug.
By replacing the air in the normal mix with Carburetor cleaner what I imaged Ken had done was set the stage for a nice sized explosion, with the engine forming large chunks of shrapnel and myself supplied as the Darwin award recipient. "Hit START" Ken said. I reflected on my life, reflected on that one day when I should have let lust over power reason, took a deep breath and hit the button as I gunned the throttle. VRRRROOOOMMMMMMM!!! sez the engine. It is running loud an nasty but it is running. I was jubilant! The universe is Just! All is well in the world!
And then the engine dies and I was back in the emotional void that is my life.
Ken said, "Let me see a [spark] plug". "They are brand new", I tried to explain. His cold, dead eyes say no more. I looked down and muttered, "but they are brand new..." as grabed my tools and took one out. He looked them over and said, "Anti-Seize", handed it back to me and disappears as mysteriously as he appeared (and by 'disappeared' I of course mean walked to the other side of the room).
What had happened was, in my zeal to replace the spark plugs, I had smeared anti-seize grease all over the contact points of the spark plugs. Anti-seize is applied to the thread of a bolt to make sure that they don't lock in place, a serious problem with spark plugs as they heat an cool frequently. The contact points are where the spark forms on the spark plug. Thus fouled (ie, coated in anti-seize) they were only sparking erratically, not enough to cause the normal fuel-air mixture to ignite. Ken having added carb cleaner (very volatile and combustible) to the air supply, allowed the plugs to ignite the mixture and burn, thus running the motor. As the carb cleaner burnt off the engine returned to trying to burn air and fuel, failed and shut down.
After cleaning the spark plugs, the bike started up just fine, though a bit smoky. Actually much more that a bit. It was smoking so much that after a minute I started looking for fire. I cut the engine and asked Dave Miller if that was supposed to happen. He said for a bike that has been sitting it is pretty normal. The heat from the engine is burning off all the grease and oil that has built up externally on the bike. So I started it up and began to panic again and think, yeah maybe it is supposed to smoke a little but it was getting a little out of control. After checking with some of the older folks who concurred with Dave I took the bike outside so as not to pollute the inside of the building. After about half an hour all the grease burned off and it ran with no smoke.
All looks well for taking the bike how on the last day of class.
He took out the fuel filter and sprayed Carburetor cleaner in the intake port. Carb cleaner is like a commercial form of a Thermobaric weapon and the intake port is where the engine gets the air it is going to mix with gas. The mixture is then ignited by a spark plug.
By replacing the air in the normal mix with Carburetor cleaner what I imaged Ken had done was set the stage for a nice sized explosion, with the engine forming large chunks of shrapnel and myself supplied as the Darwin award recipient. "Hit START" Ken said. I reflected on my life, reflected on that one day when I should have let lust over power reason, took a deep breath and hit the button as I gunned the throttle. VRRRROOOOMMMMMMM!!! sez the engine. It is running loud an nasty but it is running. I was jubilant! The universe is Just! All is well in the world!
And then the engine dies and I was back in the emotional void that is my life.
Ken said, "Let me see a [spark] plug". "They are brand new", I tried to explain. His cold, dead eyes say no more. I looked down and muttered, "but they are brand new..." as grabed my tools and took one out. He looked them over and said, "Anti-Seize", handed it back to me and disappears as mysteriously as he appeared (and by 'disappeared' I of course mean walked to the other side of the room).
What had happened was, in my zeal to replace the spark plugs, I had smeared anti-seize grease all over the contact points of the spark plugs. Anti-seize is applied to the thread of a bolt to make sure that they don't lock in place, a serious problem with spark plugs as they heat an cool frequently. The contact points are where the spark forms on the spark plug. Thus fouled (ie, coated in anti-seize) they were only sparking erratically, not enough to cause the normal fuel-air mixture to ignite. Ken having added carb cleaner (very volatile and combustible) to the air supply, allowed the plugs to ignite the mixture and burn, thus running the motor. As the carb cleaner burnt off the engine returned to trying to burn air and fuel, failed and shut down.
After cleaning the spark plugs, the bike started up just fine, though a bit smoky. Actually much more that a bit. It was smoking so much that after a minute I started looking for fire. I cut the engine and asked Dave Miller if that was supposed to happen. He said for a bike that has been sitting it is pretty normal. The heat from the engine is burning off all the grease and oil that has built up externally on the bike. So I started it up and began to panic again and think, yeah maybe it is supposed to smoke a little but it was getting a little out of control. After checking with some of the older folks who concurred with Dave I took the bike outside so as not to pollute the inside of the building. After about half an hour all the grease burned off and it ran with no smoke.
All looks well for taking the bike how on the last day of class.
One Bolt
One bolt.
Problem: Rust inside the tank.
Options: A) replace or repair tank B) Mickey Mouse something until A) could be completed
Selection: B)
That pretty much involves replacing the fuel filter with a shiny new one and getting as much rust as feasible out of the tank. This involves filling it with gas, throwing some bolts in it and then shaking the living crap out of it. The bolts both dislodge the rust and, according to Lisa Duke, bind the rust to them to some degree. Since the tank already had old gas in it ("Hey Lisa how do you know if gas has gone bad", "You can smell it" "Yeah but what does it smell like if it is bad?", "Just smell it," "OMG what the hell is that crap" *retch, retch, retch* "Bad gas...what does OMG stand for?") I just added bolts and shook the living crap out of it, and then drained the gas out of it. Then there was the issue of the ten large bolts in the tank which would not shake out. Apparently in most old tanks the shape of the hole where you put the gas in would be not unlike a shape of a 2 liter bottle, thus turning the tank upside down would have lead to the bolts sliding out. Unfortunately the shape of that hole is engineered to prevent gas from sloshing out. Additionally it keeps bolts from easily exiting a gas tank. Rather than go into great detail, using a large magnet (Trevor you ain't never seen something like this) and a couple of small mechanics magnets (think a telescoping antenna with a magnet on the end) I managed to get all nine bolts out while inhaling vast quantities of gas vapors.
Lesson learned: Use option A) on newer gas tanks.
Problem: Rust inside the tank.
Options: A) replace or repair tank B) Mickey Mouse something until A) could be completed
Selection: B)
That pretty much involves replacing the fuel filter with a shiny new one and getting as much rust as feasible out of the tank. This involves filling it with gas, throwing some bolts in it and then shaking the living crap out of it. The bolts both dislodge the rust and, according to Lisa Duke, bind the rust to them to some degree. Since the tank already had old gas in it ("Hey Lisa how do you know if gas has gone bad", "You can smell it" "Yeah but what does it smell like if it is bad?", "Just smell it," "OMG what the hell is that crap" *retch, retch, retch* "Bad gas...what does OMG stand for?") I just added bolts and shook the living crap out of it, and then drained the gas out of it. Then there was the issue of the ten large bolts in the tank which would not shake out. Apparently in most old tanks the shape of the hole where you put the gas in would be not unlike a shape of a 2 liter bottle, thus turning the tank upside down would have lead to the bolts sliding out. Unfortunately the shape of that hole is engineered to prevent gas from sloshing out. Additionally it keeps bolts from easily exiting a gas tank. Rather than go into great detail, using a large magnet (Trevor you ain't never seen something like this) and a couple of small mechanics magnets (think a telescoping antenna with a magnet on the end) I managed to get all nine bolts out while inhaling vast quantities of gas vapors.
Lesson learned: Use option A) on newer gas tanks.
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