Premonitions and warnings about riding a motorcycle would have me posthumously writing this blog. Concerned family and friends made an effort to inform me of the dangers of a “donor cycle.” Listening to their assessments, I gained an understanding of the fantastic properties that make motorcycles so lethal: they are at once highly magnetic and invisible.

In one story after the next, the bike’s power of attraction was described causing cars, trucks, pedestrians, road debris and even potholes to find themselves drawn to the front of it – in its path of travel. It seemed a sheer certainty that I would be hit by something if I rode the motorcycle.

The second property was as dangerous and disconcerting as the first: no one would see me riding the bike. I was told the cloaking would be such that caused responsible drivers to dart in front of me, unaware of my presence. I began to understand the responsibility that came with this awesome power. I would use the bike for good, I thought.

Fortunately, my experiences on the 1,000 mile round-trip from rural New York to Massachusetts and Rhode Island were largely positive. In this post, the final chapter of Tour 13, I’ll recount the highlights of my trek and introduce my friends.

Deliverance: Better Late Than Never

My motorcycle finally arrived on the evening of August 10. Prior to delivery, I’d texted Chris, the shipper, for updates. I explained that my vacation was ending and the window of opportunity to complete my tour was closing. He was responsive to my inquiries, but could only travel so fast and was delivering his cargo in a logical progression of stops. He delivered at 10PM on Saturday, making a special effort so I would be able to start my trip the next morning. He was apologetic and explained that a mechanical failure caused a 3-day delay which cascaded to become a larger deficit due to missing weekday pick-up and delivery targets requiring him to wait over weekends.

Chris used mobile broadband to enable his tablet computer to serve as a communication platform and route planner. His brother was the second driver at the delivery. The bikes were well-packed and handled well. Chris mentioned that he had enough shipments to fill his trailer for the return trip. He was doing the work day after day. He looked forward to spending some time at home to unpack more after a recent move from Tennessee to Texas. Thanks again Chris.

Dollars and Sense alert: I debated whether I should ask Chris for a partial refund, considering he missed the target delivery date on my uShip.com auction item. Regardless of the binding terms of the agreement, which I didn’t care to explore, I considered the realities of the transportation business (fuel charges, tolls, labor) and decided to provide Chris an ‘opt-in’ choice. I gave him a inkjet-printed business card with the Tour 13 logo and the URL to “buy me a virtual beer” I said. Whether the concept even registered with him or he wasn’t interested or lost the card, I don’t know as he isn’t on my contributor list (yet?). Completing the delivery, he expressed I could consider him a friend in the motorcycle business. The transaction was personal. The delivery was recorded at uShip.com, triggering my eligibility for a $25 rebate. It was relatively simple to print the online rebate form and send it via snail mail to Rebate Promotion Department, 205 Brazos Street, Austin, TX 78701 (I mention the address to remind myself of the real people in real places that supported the process.) A $25 PayPal payment was made to my account. The onshore processing of my rebate form was almost immediate (allowing time for the USPS). A far cry from the 4-6 weeks typical of manufacturer, etc. rebates.

In hindsight, my delayed tour departure turned out to be a good thing. I spent the last four days of my vacation on the road. There were family events in the previous week I wouldn’t have been able to attend. My brother Joe and his wife Karen are a duo among their bands. I watched their performance at the King Ferry winery (in the photo Joe closes the gig with “Stuck in Lodi Again” ). The shifted tour dates allowed me to visit friends who were unavailable the previous week. The weather was clear for the most part. It was fortunate that my planned departure date gave me the time I needed.

Nuance alert: The power of serendipity should not be underestimated. There is an intelligence to self-assembly. My trip schedule was not self-assembled insofar as I was involved in an ongoing dialog with my friends via e-mail and phone, but the solution was evident at each point due to the constraints that presented themselves. Eventually, I had no choice of the dates I’d be riding, since they were the last possible days I could complete the tour. With known dates, I set off with two of my three overnight locations known.

Onward Ho, Hey

Wallet. Check. Phone. Check. Underwear. Check Web Server. Life is about staying out of the path of your own wheels. What happens to the momentum of wheels already set in motion? Was I committed to the ride? I wasn’t questioning what could happen, it was the next step. Considering what could happen to each of us at any time, it’s amazing any of us gets on the freeway of life with our bouts of distraction and daydreams, and careless drivers among us.

I rose early on Sunday, August 11. The weather was sunny and mild. The dew was thick on the grass. It was quiet. Rural quiet is the same as rural dark, there is an absolute quality to them. In urban areas, there’s a perpetual din of traffic and other sounds. You may become accustomed to it to the point of not noticing, but it’s there. When you visit an area with space and sheer stillness, the silence is deafening. The nights without moonlight are black, with no street lamps or light diffusing into the sky from nearby cities.

My mother Dorothy provided a hearty breakfast including fresh eggs and kefir made from a local farmer’s milk. The harvest bounty is full of fresh vegetables. Gardens are always planted to provide food. I have to mention my mom. And my dad. I can start to thank them for the sacrifices of parenting.

While my trip was still ahead of me, I realized the tour had already started. I was with my family. My siblings are my first team, my first collaborators. They are hard-working and helpful. They have a diverse set of perspectives and abilities. They’ve taught me a lot.

Steve and Joe are older brothers (shown at right). I won’t even try to explain who they are or what they ‘do’. My brother Steve (in tie) doesn’t have a LinkedIn profile and a congregation is his idea of a chat room. He’s a welder at his blue collar job. At home Steve’s a farmer, builder and inventor. Joe is a musician with a 10-piece band who also raises grass-fed beef. Joe and I continue to collaborate for the brotherly bond and the dream. I serve a website for his band The Destination and we produced the Blue Collar Man video with his original song. Other brothers to be mentioned: Mike, Tom and Ed. My sister Anne, sadly, was only there in our memories.

I began my ride at 9 AM on Sunday, August 11. The gas in the tank barely registered on the gauge. It was what remained of the gallon I’d added in California to test the bike. I rode down the hill to fill up at the Pit Stop in Genoa. It was my first fill of the tank. I topped it off for $15. The bike started well. I was confident that it was up for the tour. It had been over nine years since it burned a tank of gas and I was excited about turning the fuel into combustion into rotation into forward motion.

I set off to see Randy in Aurora, a local village with a small college and spectacular lakefront property. (He rents next to the house in the background.) Randy has a day job that provides for his two daughters, but not his personal expression. He’s writing a novel and posts humorous content regularly to his Facebook site “Strange WOOD: The Ruminations of Randall Hess”. Randy is a well-read student of literature. Imagination is one of his assets. He gives form to his tragi-comical thoughts. He shares the angst of playing a role without the benefit of a script. The show must go on, but who is writing it? This is a shout-out to Randy. A blue-collar, white-collar man with a kind heart and a profound existence. He’s contributed to my life by being who he is. Thanks for collaborating. Welcome onboard.

I Would Ride 1,000 Miles. . .To Be Back At My Door?

I left Aurora on Route 90 through Locke to Homer. I then took sleepy Interstate 81 North to Route 20. Route 20 was my route to Albany. It was Sunday and traffic on Upstate NY roads was not intense. Local/regional “blue” highways connect directly to the main thoroughfares of small villages. If you’re not in a hurry, it’s a refreshing change of pace to ride down these Main Streets (at the village speed limit) seeing the storefronts from the seat of a motorcycle.

I wasn’t in a hurry. The day was clear and it was comfortable riding. I passed numerous other riders enjoying the same thing. I belonged to the club and waved in solidarity with them. When I found myself approaching the suburbs of Albany at 3 PM, I phoned Herb to discuss my arrival. He convinced me that I needed to pick up the pace to drive across Massachusetts before nightfall. That meant only one thing: use the NYS Thruway and Mass Pike, riding on Interstate 90 for over four hours.

The Interstate had none of the relaxed, journey-is-the-reward feeling of traveling the blue highways. I was on the road to go fast without stopping, deliberately or otherwise. The cruising speed was typical of the other Interstates I would ride on the tour: 70-75 MPH with bursts to 80 MPH overtaking trucks. At these speeds, there wasn’t much point in considering a failure. I had faith in the bike’s tires and mechanical integrity, the road conditions, other drivers and my ridership.

When in MA, Do as the CA-ns Do

What are rules, really? Are posted speed limits merely suggestions when so many drivers exceed them regularly? While I don’t make a habit of being reckless, I recognize there are many instances where you can be safe while breaking the law. The law sets targets. Targets have tolerances. In the instances where laws merely provide convenience rather than a substantial correction for dangerous or destructive behavior, there is less basis for them. Imagine bending or breaking Byzantine codes that are not reasonable or appropriate. You take a calculated risk and prepare to deal with the consequences, if any.

At several points on the Eastbound Mass Pike I encountered bumper-to-bumper traffic. The traffic slowed to a crawl and I could see a long line of cars ahead. I considered the advantage of splitting lanes with my motorcycle. This IS legal, right? Not exactly. In California, where my license is issued, it is legal to split lanes such that a motorcycle can ride beside a car in the same lane. I considered that a progressive state like MA would have the lane splitting law as well. I was in no position to Google the MA DMV, so I proceeded to enjoy the benefit of my blissful ignorance of the law. I was able to shave an hour or more of slow-moving traffic by bobbing and weaving between cars and trucks as I moved forward. It was a great feeling, though I can now imagine the stares of outrage and horror that pelted me from the bewildered drivers as I passed them. I didn’t look back.

I reached the I95 interchange at about 7PM. Stoneham was close, I just had some late commuter traffic to contend with. I was able to make up for lost time in the previous two hours after refilling with fuel at the Blandford Service Area. Fuel was burning at the rate of a tank every 3-4 hours of riding. I leave enough in the tank instead of being caught without it. I set the petcock to ‘RES’ and watch the gas gauge. The average fill is $11 – $15. Service Areas are motorist oases along tollways. I’m amazed at how our culture has evolved these gathering places, bristling with activity. There are so many exotic foods to sample, brightly packaged and heavily processed. No thanks, I’m just there for the fuel.

The homemade soup was worth the wait. I exited I95 at Stoneham around 7:30PM. In my navigation-dissociated moment, Herb came to meet me at a local shopping center and I followed him home. We picked up where we left off years ago as we sat on the deck, more mature as we are. The conversation about hopes, dreams and accomplishments. Reminiscences. Herb and Stephanie dance a tango lifestyle. The hearty chowder was a team effort. I found balanced appreciation and respect throughout their space. I was energized with familiarity and friendship as I enjoyed a special welcome.

On Monday morning, I was up with the couple for their workday. My five-star treatment continued with fresh-brewed coffee and breakfast cereal. Herb was making lunch and would be taking the train to Suffolk University in Boston that morning, one of several variations on the theme of his work routine. (Herb is pictured in his commute attire at right – he transforms into Professor Ramy at the school.) Stephanie commutes to her job in IT (and occasionally a therapist) at a health care facility nearby. She doesn’t have the parking issues that Herb confronts. I was refreshed and ready to continue my journey. After Herb and Stephanie left, I spent an hour with my laptop using the wi-fi connection from the table on their deck – the epitome of a mobile office to respond to clients and continue to reach out to friends in the area.

Nuance alert: Physical proximity opens a wireless network of information exchange between people. Call it what you will – body language, non-verbal communication, clairvoyance, vibe, intuition, hunch, feeling… Personal exchanges are much richer with some synchronization on a physical plane. Phone, e-mail and text exchanges are how we manage a multitude of modern relationships. These modes of communication cannot wholly substitute for the much more primitive physical connection.

Boston: More Than a Feeling

I rode into Boston a commuter, albeit a late morning one. I had planned one step: take I93 South to Boston into the “big dig” tunnel and exit somewhere in the city. I would end up near Chinatown with a sense of where I should go. Riding a motorcycle, that’s all I needed. Downtown streets weren’t busy. I rode in an available direction and spontaneously adjusted based on the available choices. On a meandering ride, the biggest concern is selecting a path that allows you to continue to meander. Unaware, you can select an on-ramp or other access point that commits you to traveling an undesired highway, bridge or tunnel until you can undo the choice by turning around at an exit.

I rode streets that were vaguely familiar. I quickly reached Boston Common, took Beacon Street to Kenmore Square and then Brookline Avenue to Fenway Park. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking at names so much as traveling in a trajectory, though I was familiar with Commonwealth Avenue. I’d lived on Commonwealth Avenue in the late 80s (“in a shoebox in the middle of the road” – Monty Python). Actually, a studio apartment only slightly larger than a shoebox.

I rode to Cleveland Circle and found a gas station in the location I remembered, though the brand had changed. As I was fueling, another biker came roaring in. The roar was an on-bike stereo system blasting music of some metal or other heavy element. He refueled and rode up from the pump behind mine to make a bike owner’s introduction: comments on ridership and the vintage of my bike,  showing solidarity. His cycle was a newer, more powerful Suzuki with a scuffed, bright green cowling. When Lawrence mentioned the top speed he’d ever ridden a bike, I pictured him traveling on his bike at 195MPH in a grip of sheer terror and exhilaration. Why do we possess this need for wresting survival from the throes of self-inflicted abuses? The “T” (Boston Transit) emblem on his shirt suggested his work was slightly less tolerant of an unrestrained pursuit of speed.

Continuing my ride, I discovered the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, a massive urban body of water that I was unfamiliar with, though I had commuted past it for years. It was a simple left turn from Commonwealth Avenue onto Chestnut Hill Driveway that I’d never even considered taking until I noticed it as an interesting entrance from a cyclist’s viewpoint. In juxtaposition to the urban landscape, the vista along the road was especially expansive. Rather than circumnavigating the reservoir, I turned around at the corner of Boston College on Beacon Street, retracing my path to take in the view a second time. Cloaking alert: The only instance of invisibility during the trip occurred as I was approaching the Chestnut Hill Driveway entrance. An SUV darted in front of me and I adjusted by moving into the other lane. There was no traffic and the lane was clear. It becomes a habit to ride defensively. The car always has the advantage in an accident.

I’d arranged for a late lunch with Chris, a friend and current client. She’d capped off a weekend in New Hampshire with a Monday morning client visit and would be back in Boston around 1:00. It was serendipitous that our schedules overlapped. Serendipity enabled by wireless communication. I needed to finish Boston siteseeing to continue my ride to Rhode Island after lunch. I failed in a quest to find my shoebox apartment. I couldn’t find familiar landmarks – the stores, building textures and landscapes were different. One thing had markedly changed: there was an absence of trees. Who doesn’t like trees? Apparently, an urban landscape concerned with simplified maintenance and liability over mitigated earth-island heat absorption and naturist preferences.

I traveled back downtown for another photo op before meeting Chris at Steve’s Greek Cuisine at the corner of Hereford and Newbury Streets in Back Bay. I decided the Prudential building was sufficiently monumental and didn’t involve the complication of navigating around the impressive buildings of the financial district. (The photo, right, was taken at the corner of Ring Road and Route 9. It was a quick stop along the curb as no parking existed there.)

Greek to Me

I’m not a foodie, but I can appreciate food. A gyro. I hadn’t eaten Greek cuisine for a while and I knew that I wanted one. Chris and I met through her older sister who I worked with when I lived in Boston. Over the years and the distance, we’ve stayed in touch. In 2005, when Chris started Open The Door as a marketing and public relations professional, I helped with her website. Since then, she’s been steadily building her business and continues to use my hosting and e-mail services. Among other data transfer, I provide her an image upload and retrieval solution facilitating the distribution of PR images. It’s a modest, yet critical demand on my server.

The gyro was good. Chris was kind to claim the meal as her expense. Interpreting a map on her iPhone, we determined directions for the next leg of my journey. It started with I93 South and mid-afternoon traffic leaving Boston would be congested. No splitting lanes. Following simple directions from the restaurant to the on-ramp, I was on my way to Rhode Island. Thanks for the collaboration and support Chris. Geographical nuance alert: Greater Boston is very accessible. Built on a peninsula, the city has a center of gravity with large buildings giving way quickly to the Charles River, Boston Harbor and lower structures South and West. You can easily find your way around. Unique landmarks assist you in your orientation. It’s America’s Walking City™, not that the trademark makes it any more or less so.

Traffic became considerably lighter when I reached the interchange. I would take I95 past Providence to Route 4 and then find a smaller road. . .I could consult my smartphone map again nearer the destination. The riding was more of the same, though I was feeling a commuter vibe. Urban Boston quickly changed to more rugged New England landscape. East coast highways cut through forests and hills.  I imagined the difference in my trip and that of the drivers commuting home. I noticed the light of early evening. I smelled the ocean.

All States Are Not Created Equal

The eastern seaboard is incorporated into the borders of 14 states. The west coast (excl. Alaska) has a mere 3. The New England states are small and well-connected. The sizes make sense in historical context as they were the first to be settled by our forefathers necessitating smaller territories to self-govern using the existing modes of transportation and communication. As the U.S. grew westward, efficient, bureaucratic thinking shifted to define states as big boxes with long, straight lines.

State-hopping to Rhode Island was quick. In 2-1/2 hours, I’d traveled from Boston through Providence and was on Route 1 South. I realized I’d missed a turn to North Kingstown, when I began seeing signs for South Kingstown. I called Scott and found that he and his wife Cheryl had just docked in East Greenwich after sailing from Block Island. With Scott’s directions, I rode up Route 1 and found his home. The coastal communities I passed felt comfortable.

I met Scott in community college. We edited a newspaper together. After college, we parted ways for other schools and other lives. It took phone calls to his father and brother to find updated contact info for him. From the outset of my visit, Scott and Cheryl made me feel welcome in their fine home. I was there for chicken wing night at the local pub. Scott was up early Tuesday with his young yellow Labrador, Scout, while Cheryl prepared for her workday as an interior designer for commercial space. I’d planned on leaving in the morning to ride home, but changed my mind after Scott advised me on current weather conditions. Since Scott sails, he is weather-minded by necessity. There’s nothing fun about sailing in a storm. A sage piece of advice on motorcycles: do not ride in the rain. The animation of current local conditions at accuweather.com (Scott’s choice) showed a storm intersecting my route for most of the morning. I abandoned the idea of reaching Central NY that day. I was able to sync new plans with my friend Bill, who had offered me a place to stay earlier, among the original tour dates. Scott hadn’t yet started a new job as an account executive at a microscopy company, so we had time together and met Cheryl for lunch. After lunch, the storm passing, I was prepared for my ride to Groton, MA.

Scott and Cheryl are do-it-yourselfers. They add tangible and transcendental value to their lives through sweat equity. By no means limited to Yankees, there is an ingenuity required of rugged lifestyles in rugged climates. Rugged can also be the terrain of self-determination. The human condition manifests itself in many dimensions and depths. Visiting Scott and Cheryl illuminated my perspective. They comprise years of experiences different than mine. I’m fortunate to consider them resources in my life. Scott’s advice on dogs: Keep dogs in pairs, they will “play” with each other, rather than the furniture cushions, clothes, etc. The couple’s second dog is an older chocolate Labrador named Cayden. I experienced Scout playing roughly with Cayden, annoying the senior dog. The snipping and barking directed at the “father” was modulated and returned as an occasional, loud groan of frustration. This is energy all young dogs and children have.

All Systems No: Failure to Shunt

Diverting briefly, I will reveal that the system I installed to charge my cell phone and iPod using the motorcycle battery was not working. I was using my cell phone regularly and it reached a low charge capacity that was not being replenished by the lighter adapter. It didn’t appear the adapter was providing the 2.1A of current as specified. I normally charge the phone using a Rhino 2A USB lighter adapter without a problem. I also discovered that my laptop USB port did not provide the required current. I ended up charging my devices via friends’ USB power sources. The output of USB power supplies varies and the charge indicator on a device may be misleading. I resorted to powering up Bill’s desktop computer to charge my phone and iPod, even though the phone had been “charging” overnight using a wall adapter.

Au to Groton

Riding in the afternoon on the outer ring was easy going. I was set to be at Bill’s in time for cocktail hour. I arrived to one of the usual greetings and had a tour. Bill was rightfully proud of his property. Well maintained with German discipline. We went for a swim in his immaculate pool. Amy was a consummate host. They provided me a fine meal and fine bed. In his tree-rich community with large parcels, there was no danger of upsetting the neighbors with our Ping Pong grudge match in the garage. I must concede defeat at the jaws of Bill’s steely serves and saves. I felt at home when Bill remembered my visit with Sophie and Christian many years prior. The homestead had changed, but in a well-managed way. The important details were the same: family, diligence, sharing. Bill is in a state of limbo between jobs. He was severed from Motorola after the Google acquisition. He was managing developers in a networking division. Now he’s making progress on home improvement lists. The ability to work with construction materials is a skill you don’t see on a tech resume, but it is fundamental to maintaining a house.

Another morning routine. Amy was off to the beach with Caroline and William, their children. Jillian wasn’t going. Bill was looking forward to working on his windows. I appreciated Bill anticipating my need for gas and giving me directions to the cheapest local station. I would have been aimlessly looking for one. After some fresh coffee, I was ready to get home. I had a long trip ahead – I’d be on various Interstates for six hours. The plan was I495S to I290, which would take me through Worcester. The Mass Pike/NYS Thruway would then unfold toward Weedsport.

The day was clear with scattered clouds. The weather wasn’t threatening. I wasn’t considering the forecast partially because I had no choice, my flight to California was leaving at 7:45 that evening from Syracuse. There was a necessity to move myself 350 miles on the bike. I was refreshed and focused as I took the on-ramp. Getting in the zone meant balancing the exhilaration of the act of propulsion with the technical calculations of traffic responses, changes in conditions, etc. The zone is a busy one that distorts the feeling of time lapsing. It’s continuous work. The long ride remained fresh with my enthusiasm buoyed by its novelty.

I’ve traversed many more miles in 4-wheeled vehicles for good reason. I encountered wind sheer near Albany. Ideally, we travel with the wind at our backs, gently pushing us along. With a headwind, there is a resistance pushing us back, requiring more force to push into it, but with some control. When strong winds pushed perpendicular to my direction of travel, I compensated by maintaining my trajectory firmly, leaning the bike into the wind to help course corrections. The bike undulated as a result of wind gusts and reflex responses. It’s a little unnerving to feel yourself being blown into a neighboring lane, much like the feeling of passing a large truck.

Country Roads

The exit for Weedsport was a welcome sight. I approached this toll booth as the others, anticipating a transition. The motorcycle didn’t idle well. The complexity of taking the ticket out of my pocket and paying the toll was increased by the necessity to hold the throttle to keep the engine running. The wallet in my right jeans pocket and ticket in left jacket pocket. Right hand, then left hand crossing over to the throttle as I handled the money. The engine stalled. No line, no rush. It started easily as it had throughout the trip. I was back on the blue highways. The end of the tour was near.

Route 34 was a straight shot from Weedsport, through Auburn, to home. I was riding on a well-worn path of my youth, my destination roughly equidistant between Auburn and Ithaca. I’ve been in both cities numerous times. Auburn is a second-city to Ithaca. The cities are distinctly blue- and white-collar, respectively. Ithaca is home to Cornell Unversity. Auburn is home to a correctional facility. I attended Cayuga Community College in Auburn. Curley’s, one of the watering holes frequented with friends during college, stood near the southeast corner of the prison. Not that Auburn is a prison town, some areas are majestic, but the influence can be felt. Parts of the city are a mixture of industrial and light-industrial businesses and services with a working-class aura. As I eluded to in my last blog post considering the Auburn DMV (“DMVNY: To Protest and be Served“), lifestyles, perceptions and attitudes have geographical underpinnings.

Final Odometer Reading

I’d reached the Weedsport toll booth at 3:43PM with roughly an hour left to travel. I had a comfortable window to make it home and return to Syracuse for my flight. I traveled light, so packing my luggage wouldn’t require much time. The stress accumulated on the Interstate melted away in the final miles of the ride. A hearty meal prepared by my mother awaited. A series of goodbyes and a car trip later, I was flying out of Syracuse John Hancock International Airport in the evening twilight. A connecting United flight from Washington Dulles to San Francisco and I would be in California after midnight.

Sophie welcomed me home after two weeks. I’d left her school-year preparations to juggle alone and she was due some help. Steffan started his sophomore year in high school the day I returned. Our oldest son, Christian, was settled in at UC Davis thanks to his mother. Aidan is still enjoying some vacation before beginning classes at Foothill College later this month. I’ve been partners with Sophie for 20 years. She has been an inspiration for growth. The fires of love and respect require continuous attention. Repairing neglect involves stoking and warming the hearth.

Why the Tour?

I’m approaching an age where I will have lived half of my life in California. The “second half” of my life has been a different journey than the first. I’ve been fortunate to become a husband, a father, a resident of Palo Alto. The tour was a connection to the first “half” of my life, a resident of NJ, NY, PA, NH and MA. It was primarily an excuse to take serendipitous steps toward a shifting goal that I chose to document. The reason you’re reading this is as much the reason I’m writing it. If we can connect to each other with a simple touch of a key, why can’t we find so much more utility in our exchanges. My sharing and collaboration site is collab.us – I invite you to join.

I hope that the wisdom I’ve gained is greater than that I’ve lost. We all have compartments in our lives, whether separated physically or psychically we change frameworks as we navigate and invent meanings and associations.

I believe in the power of making connections. Familiarity is the currency of networking. I’m not an exhibitionist – wallowing in the mundane details of my life is not my motivation. I’m all for sharing in others successes, but not TMI. Consider these reflections a thoughtful digest, not an unedited stream. You pick your channel. Tune into your own.

In my previous post, I described the initial stages of repair necessary to ready a neglected motorcycle for Tour 13, a tour of New England in August 2013 to visit friends. The tour is promoting support for collaboration and membership on my website, collab.us

In this post, I continue my journey through the mechanical and aesthetic milestones in the rehabilitation. The annotated picture below identifies the remaining areas of consideration:

7: Failing the Clutch

A part fails as the result of usage and limitations in its design. Design is the vocation of people who use skilled judgement to determine how to accommodate the stress inflicted on a part performing a function and maintaining the appropriate interface to humans and other parts. An accident (compression, extension, etc. from an action such as a collision) can cause a catastrophic failure where a part deforms or breaks. This is an abnormal stress and the failure is excusable. Repetitive stress applied as a result of normal usage (pulling, pushing, lifting, etc.) can also cause a part to fail. Design is more to blame for parts failing under normal conditions. Well-designed products consider appropriate longevity.

Weakness of a material under repetitive stress is manifested as wear (diminishing thickness) or cracks that develop over time. Cracks in a part that has not yet failed may go unnoticed. Imagine the material along the line of eventual failure. Due to strain, atoms are moving away from each other on opposite sides of the eventual fissure. The material is weakening, but there is no visible crack. Eventually, enough atoms have separated far enough from each other to cause the break. Repetitive stress is also applied by time. In addition to the corrosion of chemical processes, aging weakens parts along unnoticed strain lines by expansion and contraction as parts heat and cool with usage or environmental conditions.

At right is an illustration of the clutch lever on my motorcycle. An image of the actual failed lever is below it. The lever failed as I was engaging the clutch during initial tests in static conditions. Occurring after only a small number of repetitions, I attribute the failure to the influence of age on the lever weakened by the repetitive stress applied over the bike’s history. The lever is constructed of an aluminum alloy. Considerations that resulted in this choice of material may have included durability, but weather-resistance, weight, price and production are also factors. I’ve encountered steel brake levers on bicycles that seemed indestructible. If durability were paramount to the clutch lever design, a stronger material may have been more suitable.

Weakness is also attributed to a part’s shape. The lever’s area of failure is indicated by a circle on the diagram above. Having experience replacing broken parts, I was not surprised where the clutch lever failed as the stress on the part is ‘visible’ to anyone considering how the linear pull of the cable is transferred to a rotation around the mounting bolt. Failure analysis is a specialty. It’s difficult to believe that the institutional knowledge of Suzuki or any other large manufacturer does not contain the details of part failures. The physical record of broken junkyard bikes is also a reference. Parts that fail on one motorcycle will fail on others for the same reasons. Design deficiencies are apparent in a simple observation – parts with obvious weaknesses or vulnerabilities are well-stocked by suppliers. Is faulty design the result of ignorance? Planned obsolescence? Deliberate motivations that promote premature failures are the scourge of responsibility and sustainability. Unfortunately, knowing how and why parts fail does not necessarily lead to better, more reliable design in subsequent revisions.

I obtained a replacement lever online for $16 plus $10 shipping. I thought I was buying from Xtreme Powersports, the OEM parts source I found for my first parts order. The receipts for the orders were markedly different. Both receipts had a URL in the upper-right corner suggesting the orders were printed from a web browser in the fulfillment center. The URLs of the first and second receipts, respectively:

• https://client.wss-pro.com/partforyamaha_com/nt/pages/ecommerce/…
• https://kawasakioemparts.vnextech.com/admin/cart/#/printorders

Ah, the wondrous, wacky world of e-commerce. . .

8: Twisted Switcher

An obvious reason for material failure is design with disregard for usage. Related to the consideration of a part’s purpose, the utility of a part is in its service to human users, directly or indirectly. There are always human factors to be considered. The ignition switch of the motorcycle is made with a cast polymer (hard plastic) housing that encloses an electrical switch and mechanical steering fork lock. The switch provides an easy-to-use interface between a key lock mechanism and a series of contacts which create active electric circuits when solid pieces of metal bridge between them at the correct rotary position.

Turning the key to the far left or right, the electrical circuits are inactive and the switch deploys a small, square metal bar, pushing out from the polymer housing to catch on the edge of a metal strip welded to the motorcycle frame. The purpose of the fork lock is to confound theft of the bike by fixing the front wheel in the position of an extreme left or right turn. However, the material of the switch housing lacks the strength to restrain the potential force a human could apply using the handlebars to turn the wheel. The installed switch was broken as a result of its frailty in the face of intentional or unintentional abuse. The manufacturer’s solution for the switch was under-engineered and optimistic that such an abuse would not occur.

I found a used replacement switch on eBay. The original part was still intact, suggesting that the the fork lock was not regularly engaged or its strength was not truly tested. The motorcycle dismantler ‘cyclejunkie999’ accepted my offer of $35 (plus $10 shipping) for an ignition switch, seat lock, helmet lock and gas cap (the seller’s photo is shown here with the ignition switch outlined). A new OEM switch was $142. A new aftermarket switch was over $100. The eBay parts fit correctly and operated well with the exception of the gas cap, which was the wrong type for my bike. It was a satisfactory eBay experience. I’m not always satisfied with eBay purchases, but I consider the website for unique used parts and sales offering a substantial savings over other sources. Any service that promotes the reuse of resources is making a positive impact.

Nuance alert: There is a grace inherent in having ample time for repairs. I was fortunate to discover weak and broken parts in my process of rehabilitation rather than later on my trip. Working on the bike over many months, I was able to study the bike, test the components, contemplate repairs and study the bike more. Testing the operation of the bike at various intervals after repairs, I used the clutch lever and ignition switch (until eventually they failed). Even in a static state (not running), turning the key and throttle with actions simulating a ride gave me a feel of cable and linkage motions. Studying the owner’s manual combined with physical manipulation of components described therein provided a deeper understanding of the motorcycle’s condition and operation.

9: Signal of Invention

The damage of aging and abuse on parts has been previously discussed. Replacing broken parts with identical, serviceable parts is the obvious solution. However, in the rehabilitation process there are opportunities to be innovative and creative with repairs. A custom assembly can be implemented to fix limitations of OEM parts or simply give the bike a more unique, personalized style. Creative modifications can employ any materials or other parts to function as a suitable replacement. Utilizing scrap materials saves money.

The original signal lights on my motorcycle were badly worn due to age. The lamp assemblies mount to the frame with pleated, flexible rubber arms. The rubber was severely degraded by age and environmental conditions (UV light and heat from the sun is an enemy to many materials and coatings). The original rear signal lamp is shown at right. Notice the cracking along the rubber arm. Some of the dry and brittle rubber is missing. A front lamp was in even worse condition, with the arm completely broken and dangling from the wire harness.

Since the beginning of my restoration of the motorcycle, cost-effectiveness has been one of my primary goals. The bike is not particularly special. From these posts, I expect readers will realize that it is not pristine, mechanically or otherwise. Returning it to legal useability was a path to be traveled, a peak to be conquered. When I considered that a proper restoration would require replacing all four of the signal lamps, I couldn’t justify spending over $120 ($30+ for each aftermarket replacement lamp). OEM replacement lamps were even more expensive. I decided to repair them.

The decision to repair the signal lamps was facilitated by their design. The hard plastic signal lamp lens and enclosure units could be separated from the rubber mounting arms. The hard plastic resisted the aging and weathering that had damaged the rubber arms. The lamp units (lens, enclosure and bulb socket with wiring) were the starting point of the repair. I needed to determine the best way to replace the rubber arms.

My workshop is a collection of tools and materials collected over many years. Broken appliances, toys and other machines contribute to this bounty. A landscape of wood, plastic, metal, nuts, bolts, connectors, straps, spools, adhesives, supports and other purchased or received or extracted things combine with experience and imagination to become a physical object, a solution to an environmental need. The need to hold the lamp units firmly on the motorcycle frame was solved by shaping and combining a subset of these materials. Among other things, the solution incorporated aluminum square stock cut from a piece of household TV antenna (saved from an analog antenna which was replaced with a much smaller, more-effective digital one). An important step was to seal the unit with silicone, which provides weather resistance as well as keeping the square stock in position.

Nuance alert: At one point, I had mounted the lamps and everything seemed to be finished until I tested a turn signal, the bulb flashed and the fuse protecting the circuit failed. I was confounded that the marker lights (always illuminated along with the headlamp) did not cause a failure. After a few attempts at reconfiguring wires and consuming more fuses, I considered what was different between my solution and the original lamps. In addition to flexibility, the original rubber arms insulated the steel bulb holder from the motorcycle frame. My new mount incorporated a bolt that physically and electrically connected the bulb holder to the frame. This ground path was causing a short in the turn signal circuit. Squares I cut from a mouse pad as weather seals also insulated the aluminum square stock. I fashioned insulators for the mounting holes from drywall anchor bases, a bonus being that the lip of the insert insulated the mounting washer and nut from the frame. With the lamp units electrically insulated from the motorcycle frame, the turn signals blinked continuously.

Mounted Signal Lamp

10: Shock Therapy (Going with the Flow)

As Newton postulated, any action is balanced by an equal and opposite reaction. When a motorcycle is slowed using the front brake, the momentum (moving energy) of the bike is transferred to the front wheel. The front suspension is compressed by this action. The front fork on my bike is oil-filled, designed to dampen this compression. Gentle compression is a desirable, controlled motion instead of a more violent transfer of energy that would be absorbed by other movable parts on the bike (including the rider). Within the shock absorber, oil flows between chambers to achieve a ‘fluid’ feel. Metal springs are incorporated to add resistance against compression and reset the shock absorber to its resting state.

Gaskets and seals are required anywhere gaps and channels exist between the interior of an assembly (where a fluid is contained) and the exterior (where the action of the assembly is utilized). Gaskets are barriers between static parts. Seals of rubber or other flexible material are used to manage fluid around interfaces that twist, rotate, slide, etc. Seals provide a fluid-tight seal, but they are vulnerable to wear from the constant contact required to maintain the barrier. A worn seal will reveal itself as a fluid leak.

Initially, the front shock absorbers of my motorcycle did not leak oil. The fluid, dampening action was diminished due to a low oil level. The dampening action returned when they were filled, but then they began to leak. When the shock absorbers were compressed, worn seals allowed the oil to squeeze out as it flowed between the internal chambers.

There are many forks along the path to rehabilitation. Decisions at every point vary between making the bike ‘as good as new’ or simply functional. New parts add integrity and freshness. Rebuilding parts by adding new subsystems, seals, etc. is almost as good as replacing them. Sometimes, however, resigning performance to the ease of doing nothing is ‘good enough’. While the front shock absorbers on my bike could have been improved by fixing their seals and maintaining the recommended oil level, I decided to do nothing and accommodate their deficiencies. I adjusted my riding style to slow down with a combination of downshifting, rear braking and a greater appreciation of forward momentum. Oil eventually stopped dripping onto the front wheel and has not been replaced.

11: Heading Forward

A helmet is an extension of a bike. It is a windshield and safety housing. Choosing the correct helmet requires some of the same decisions as outfitting the bike. The fit and durability of the helmet are important characteristics. My primary goal was comfort. The style also mattered: I didn’t want to ride around with flames or skull-and-crossbones decorations adorning my head.

I wanted to try the helmet before I bought it, so I only considered local sources. I decided to buy a used helmet to save money, since I was only planning on using it for a short time. Motorcycle helmets are universal, but not ubiquitous. Rollerblade and bicycle helmets are readily available at second-hand merchandise stores, but motorcycle helmets are not. I found local sources on craigslist.org. Patience and persistence are the secrets to successful shopping on this site. I checked for new listings regularly.

A low-priced HJC helmet in my size was listed. In the listing picture, it appeared to have a damaged shield. I was unfamiliar with the brand, so I visited the HJC website. Convinced that the brand was reputable, my next step was to find out if a replacement shield was available. I discovered the CL-10 is an older model helmet. No online seller listed the model for a replacement shield, but customer feedback on motorcycle-superstore.com indicated the shield for the CL-11 was identical. Visiting the craigslist.org seller, I checked the fit of the helmet. Knowing the shield could be replaced (for $18 + $7 shipping), I negotiated to buy the helmet for $40. It was an easy negotiation as the helmet was well-used, but it was relatively clean and its integrity was intact.

The CL-11 shield was an exact match. The helmet has some scratches and wear, but the new shield has given it a second life. I repaired a worn lining with the elastic of a sock. I replaced a missing pad at the top of the helmet with a small piece of fabric-covered polypropylene padding (a scrap saved from some packaging). For both repairs I used contact cement to glue the fabric. It created a strong, flexible bond that eliminated the need for stitching. I have a greater appreciation for the HJC brand, considering the comfort of the helmet. An attribute I found particularly well-designed is the allowed space for breathing in front of the mouth and chin, also an intuitive place to handle the helmet.

12: Power Point

There is a vista point during every journey, a point where you can relax and enjoy the view, if only for a moment. During the moment, you have the clarity to assess where you’ve been, where you’ve yet to go. The view is expansive, evoking a calm feeling that it was worth making the steps that brought you to that point. At the point I was finishing necessary repairs, I started thinking of the physical journey, the tour I would be taking.

While any part of a project can be fun, the creative, auxiliary accoutrements depend upon enjoyment as a prerequisite. As I wrote in my previous post, a bike’s electrical system is the center of its civility. Having replaced the battery, my thoughts were liberated as to how I could use these available electrons, a life force that would be continuously rejuvenated as I rode. I’ve always enjoyed 12-volt accessories for their portability and possibility. The cigarette-lighter plug is so crude, yet it is a symbol of independence. I decided to make playful use of the storage box on the motorcycle by installing a cigarette-lighter jack.

The lighter jack I installed was saved from the dashboard of my brother-in-law’s Volvo station wagon before it was recycled. I efficiently housed the jack in a small section of aluminum conduit (an impulse buy at Weirdstuff Warehouse, an eclectic second-hand and surplus parts and electronics store in Sunnyvale, CA). I was amazed at the fit. The experience was one of others I’ve had where serendipity trumped foresight in a combination of physical objects. The wiring of the jack was simple – I connected the 14-guage red and green wires directly to the battery using crimp-style loop terminals fastened by the terminal bolts. Inside the conduit I applied insulating tape to prevent the always-live electrical contacts from short-circuiting.

Possibilities of the power source stretched out before me. I purchased a $10 2.1A USB power converter (see photo above) to charge my Motorola phone. I also have a small 75W power inverter that will allow me to use the 110-volt charger for my Norelco electric razor. The bike is a power station for the open road.

13: Flourish to Finish

The motorcycle is an ES model, which was originally equipped with a cowling. The cowling had been repainted blue (along with other parts of the bike) and the windshield was opaque, fogged from sun damage. It wasn’t attractive. I expressed this to my son and he removed the cowling. I liked the simpler look of the bike without it.

The cowling covered a tubular structure on which it was mounted. Retaining the structure was necessary, since it was also the mount for the headlamp and front signal lamps. Toward the end of the bike’s rehabilitation, with the plan for Tour 13 becoming a reality, I decided that the structure should to be covered to make the motorcycle look finished. I was committed to replacing the cowling as it had been discarded months before.

I created a cardboard shape template that covered the mounting structure. I found that sheet metal I’d saved from a water heater offered an appropriate rigidity for the motorcycle components. I considered that cut sheet metal would be sharp and a rolled edge would be necessary. I cut the sheet metal shapes larger than the finished sizes to cut and bend tabs of metal in short segments around the outlines of the final shapes. I attempted and then abandoned this idea. Smooth curves could not be achieved by bending the metal along the outlines in segments. I discovered that filing the edge of the metal made it sufficiently dull and safe, so I cut the shapes to the actual sizes. The sheet metal was bowed since it was once a cylindrical appliance. This yielded more shapely covers. The headlamp was covered with a piece of aluminum salvaged from a baking tray for weather protection and aesthetic purposes.

The covers were canvases to be decorated. I spray-painted them simply with a clear, white area to accommodate the Tour 13 logo I designed. I had two logos laser-printed on a sheet of label material at FedEx/Kinko’s and then laminated the face of the sheet. I carefully cut-out the printed shapes and applied them to the covers. The bike was now complete.

DMVNY: To Protest and Be Served

Thanks to my brother Joe. I sent him the California title when I had the idea of shipping the bike to NY for him to register and insure it. I’d filled-out the transfer information on the title with my name and CA address. Since I didn’t complete the California registration process, the title listed Ahmad Z. (not me) as the owner.

Joe insured the bike in preparation for its delivery. When I arrived in NY, he informed me that he hadn’t completed the registration process. My flight arrived in the morning, so we visited the DMV in Auburn on the way home. We anticipated there might be an issue with the title transfer, since my name was only written on the CA document and we had no statement from Ahmad transferring ownership to Joe. At the DMV, we handed the clerk a stack of forms and documents, explaining that the bike was given to me and I was giving it to Joe. The clerk kindly informed us that a different form was required along with a written, signed statement that I was giving the bike to my brother. She did not raise alarm or concern. Excited, we left her window to complete the documents at a counter in the office. With the additional documents completed, we returned to the waiting line a short time later. When it was our turn, the clerk we had previously spoken to was not available.

The second time was not a charm. The clerk, less confident in the paperwork provided for the transaction, consulted with a supervisor for guidance and judgement. Authoritatively, she informed us that the California title needed to be issued in my name for me to give the motorcycle away. I was unclear on CA titling requirements, but I assumed that transfer of title happened only when the vehicle was registered by the new owner, an expense I was trying to avoid. Besides, there would be no way I could expect an official document to be issued and arrive from the CA DMV during my short stay in NY, regardless of whether I paid for it or not.

Crestfallen, I left with my brother to consider our options (we didn’t feel that going back to the first clerk would be a good idea in light of the second clerk’s consultation with the supervisor). We all have expectations based on previous experiences. In this case, the Auburn DMV lived up to my brother’s expectation that registering the bike would be difficult there. Joe suggested that we would have a different experience in a different office – in Ithaca.

Joe was right. With the same paperwork, we approached the gray-haired clerk. She was affable, but again unsure of the proper procedure. Fortunately, the Ithaca supervisor interpreted the prerequisites for our request differently than the supervisor in Auburn. That I was present with my California driver’s license allowed them to notarize the transfer statement I’d written. The gray area of ownership was not an issue. After paying an $80 registration fee, Joe was promised to receive the NY title within three months and we left with a license plate and current registration sticker.

Gratuitous DMV Moral: If at first you don’t succeed, try a different office. Our government is by the people, for the people. People make a difference.

Rolling with It

I’m still awaiting delivery of my bike. It’s a week beyond the target delivery date I specified in my uShip.com auction. I’ve contacted the shipper who has promised the bike by end-of-week, if not earlier. I’ve had to adjust my expectations and the departure date for the tour.

The picture above is a stretch of rural road near my childhood home in NY. This countryside is the delivery destination for my motorcycle. It’s a long way from Palo Alto, CA where the bike started its trip. I consider Chris, the shipper transporting my motorcycle. He is a businessman carrying my bike and others to destinations across the U.S.

I’ve driven across the country in a car twice. Disappointed about the delayed arrival of my bike, I considered my experience as a traveler and the sobering reality: space that we can easily comprehend intellectually and traverse electronically is far more foreboding physically. At right is the route map calculated by uShip.com for my shipment. The distance of this direct route is estimated at 2813 miles. Chris informed me he would be traveling a west to east route past his home in Texas (to drop-off his family who traveled with him to San Francisco). This adds even more miles to his route. He enlists a pickup truck pulling a cargo trailer to transport his freight. I imagine the sheer strength and will required to endure the trip, a continuous attention to the momentum of tons of metal. I appreciate the effort.

I’ll be riding my motorcycle soon. I’m committed to traveling hundreds of miles on it to visit friends I haven’t seen for years. I will gain an even greater appreciation for the endurance of traveling. The physical ride will be a continuation of my journey thus far. I’m grateful for the warm receptions and invitations I’ve received by phone and e-mail. If I can reach you physically on this tour, I’ll see you soon. For those I’ve reached with my words, thanks for reading.

A motorcycle tour would have been impossible for me without the existence of a reason for a quarter of a ton of metal to be in my possession in the form of a device with the singular purpose of propelling a human body through space with minimal baggage. The story started with my son being given a “gift,” a motorcycle, 1985, and not ridden since 2004. Wide-eyed, we weren’t considering the rehabilitation process, nor had we undertaken a project like this in the past. Our first attempts at starting the bike quickly unearthed a recovery path that began stretching out before us.

In this 2-part post, I’ll be considering what it takes to make a neglected 28-year-old bike run with the confidence that it will take you on a tour of New England. The tour is Tour 13. I’m promoting my collaboration website by visiting friends I haven’t seen for years. Join the network at collab.us

The picture shown here is an annotated photo of the bike in its final days before shipping from California to New York. The repairs completed, it awaits the shipper. The numbers are a rough skip and jump through the major costs and efforts. Initially, the troubleshooting of an older bike is mere observation of critical failures – definite problems that hinder the basic operation. Working on the critical problems helps to uncover subtler issues.

Steps in Bike Rehabilitation

0: What goes around comes around

The friend who owned the bike lived within a few streets in suburban Palo Alto. He was moving back to India and needed to clean up his rental property. I expect he was grappling with the profoundness of the reality: you can’t take it with you. My son was happy to drag the bike home, literally, as the rear wheel master cylinder (see 4) was frozen and the rear wheel was flat. The valve stems (0) of both wheels were weather-checked. The rear valve stem had failed. The front valve stem was about to fail. The remedy was OEM Suzuki Genuine valve stems. $16 for 2 at a local dealership. Remove the wheels from the motorcycle. Use hydraulic bottle jack to break the bead of the tires. Remove/replace valve stem. Inflate with air tank. Re-mount wheels with cotter pins in castle nuts of mounting hardware.

Nuance alert: The valve stems that were previously installed showed critical failure as a crack in the rubber near the exterior of the hole in the rim. The valve stem was bulging. It was a tight fit that deformed the rubber and caused this natural place of failure over time. I discovered that the valve stems used were for automotive rims, for a slightly larger hole. Seeing this, I could only justify replacing them with original equipment that were designed for the Suzuki ‘non-(SAE)standard’ rim specifications.

The tires now inflated, I assessed the damage that time and weather had exacted on the sidewalls. Very reasonable. I took a moment to reflect on the favorable environmental conditions of Northern California. It is a haven for older vehicles. The bike had minimal rust and corrosion, although some preventable rust in the wrong place was a hidden obstacle (see 2).

1: Heart of Lead

The battery is the heart of the motorcycle. It isn’t big or even noisy, but without it, the bike is lifeless. Bikes with kick-starters can be started without a battery. The electrical starter is required for motorcycles with large engines. Regardless of the necessity, the electrical system is what makes the bike civil. The headlamp beacon signals your approach, it illuminates the road. Cryptic electrical schematics in Owner’s Manuals only serve to increase homage to the exalted electrons.

Cycle-Tron YB14L-A2

The battery shown here was installed in the motorcycle. There was no electrolyte (battery acid) in any of the cells as it had long since evaporated. I filled each cell with distilled water and charged the battery. My experience with lead-acid batteries was telling me that there was no way the battery could be serviceable, but it seemed to be holding a charge. I held out hope – this one could saved, I thought.

It turned out the installed battery was only serviceable enough to coax me along the path of rehabilitation. The charge allowed the starter to work, with the roar of combustion only a faint promise in the future. Through subsequent steps, the battery showed its fatigue and I could no longer justify keeping it when I considered the [cost savings]/[do I really want to be stuck waiting for jumper cables?] comparison.

After comparing online prices and quotes from local motorcycle stores for different brands, I decided to stay with Interstate Batteries. Since a distributor was nearby, I was easily able to match it with the help of a salesperson. Some local sources were selling cheaper brands, but I felt $10 was a small price differential between the Cycle-Tron and a Chinese brand. The new battery was sold dry with a bottle of sulphuric acid. The battery charged quickly. The bike starter spun more vigorously.

Nuance alert: The installed battery was a YB14L-A2. Part No. M2214Y. Made in U.S.A. The replacement battery was an IB14L-A2. Made in Taiwan. I had a twinge of lost patriotic pride in noticing the originating country had changed, but then there are many bigger, more powerful batteries that are proudly stamped: Made in U.S.A. Considering the origin of the premium Yuasa battery brand, I think that Interstate is sourcing for quality.

The biggest insurance policy for the trip, the battery, was $64.

2: A Fuelish Assumption

Gasoline has an expiration date. A small quantity of gas in a ventilated gas tank for 8 years is not an ideal condition. The VOCs (volatile organic compounds) of the gasoline dissipate, the gasoline loses its ability to explode, making it harder and harder for explosion in the cylinder, thus becoming harder to start. In my first attempts to start the bike, I used the original gas. In hindsight, it couldn’t have started even if the carburators weren’t in need of some tuning. I eventually drained and refilled the gas tank. I could have done this sooner, but I started by fixing mechanical problems with a carburator, considering that unless the fuel can flow into the float bowl, nothing else mattered.

Examination of a stuck needle valve revealed it was stuck due to corrosion. Some TLC and cleaning fixed the problem and saved the expense of another part. Fortunately, the three (3!) other carburators’ float mechanisms were not jammed. The difficult part of rehabilitating a carburator while the engine is on the bike is the lack of room to use tools around the float bowls. It was a painstaking process to loosen and tighten the phillips-head machine screws. Seeing the underside of the inner carbs was difficult.

Working with gas is my least favorite part of working with engines. The most advanced technologies of manipulating the fuel still do not change the fundamental nature of the hydrocarbon: it smells bad for you. On many occasions I’ve breathed its fumes and had it on my skin.

With the proper operation of the float, the float bowl fills with gas. Removing this bowl means gasoline can spill. Vinyl or rubber gloves are welcomed. By the time the float has been installed, tested and removed for the fourth time, the smell of gas is familiar. Add to that the occasional mishap and you’ve probably had it on your hands or legs. A float valve stuck open will quickly allow a combustion cylinder to fill with fuel, requiring it to be ejected from the cylinder via the spark plug hole. Doing this, I was surprised at the velocity of the fuel when it erupted as the starter was engaged. Even with a paper towel over the hole, the gusher managed to spray me.

An upstream problem like rust in the gas tank can be mistaken for a float or other carburator problem. Determining that rust is in the tank is easier with experience, but clues are available to everyone. Eventually, even without knowing it, the brute-force action of emptying the old gas to replace it yields the evidence of rust scale that can’t be ignored. Even considering that the screen in the tank will keep most offending particles out of the fuel, reducing the loose rust scale in the tank is a good thing to do.

Nuance alert: One of the spare parts provided with the bike was a used petcock (the mechanical valve you turn to select the Reserve, On or Prime fuel flow). I ended up using the part to fix a problem that the previous owner diagnosed – the reason the part existed. I finished a process that was started with the acquisition of the part. The part was a physical avatar of an item on the bike’s to-do list.

With new fuel and a cleaner fuel system, the engine finally started with the help of starting fluid and continued to run. The bike was breathing on its own. At this point, I felt we’d accomplished a milestone. It was motivation to continue. My son’s interest in the bike was waning due to a busy schedule and an unclear path to its utilization. He officially gave it to me on Father’s Day in 2012. Since then, I’ve stuck with it on the principal of reuse – I was still thinking of riding it in California, or selling it if I didn’t.

3: Seal of Integrity

The luxury of buying OEM parts for a motorcycle is a blessing and a curse. The efforts of workers spanning the globe creating parts within the brand and tolerances of the original machine makes swapping parts a most rewarding process. There is the feeling that a refurbished cycle is ‘as good as new’ when the necessary parts are changed.

The curses of buying motorcycle parts are distribution, selection and price. The curses of distribution and selection have been reduced with the rise of e-commerce. The curse of price is variable. There are common bikes as there are common cars. The main master cylinder for my ’68 VW Bug was $10 at a Kragen auto parts store a few years ago. Just the rear master cylinder piston for my motorcycle (see 4) was $29 and I consider my Suzuki year/model a common bike. Prices go higher from there.

Buying online means finding as much wrong as you can before you order parts to save shipping costs on things you need, that you just don’t know yet. Ordering a valve cover gasket was the result of the diagnosis of an oil leak. Other worn or broken parts reveal themselves under examination. Another reason to order a part is preventive maintenance (see 6) for things such as air and oil filters.

Nuance alert: I am impressed by the utility of replacement parts websites. I’ve ordered parts for appliances as well. In both instances, the ease of navigation to reach a parts diagram with annotated pieces and ease of ordering have provided me a dashboard that feels like a power user. In one instance, I was at the parts counter of a local Suzuki dealer and inquired about obtaining an oil temperature sensor. I’d checked and it was unavailable (out-of-stock and end-of-life) from online sources. The service person checked his sources and couldn’t find the part. One of his search tools was a website that looked familiar – the same interface I’d seen for online vendors.

Bonus nuance: This image is a snapshot of the parts diagram at www.suzukipart.com (ostensibly ‘Xtreme Powersports’ of Kinderhook, NY). The valve cover gasket is highlighted. I arrived at this page by drilling down make, year, model and category of part. The appropriate category choice was labeled ‘ES, (GS700E)’. The part categories Frame Cover, Front Brake Hose, Front Master Cylinder, Handlebar, Headlamp and Steering Stem were subclassified as GS700EF or GS700ESF. A part category Cowling (GS700ESF) existed. I deduced that the ‘F’ was redundant, but considered how the acronym artifact was propagated. The make of my bike is GS700ES. It had a cowling (the ‘S’ as ‘Sport’ or ‘Special’ option became clearer when considering the part categories that varied, listed above). Whatever reason a name or model isn’t listed exactly, an appropriate alternative may exist. The tolerance or gray area of some alternate selections is acceptable, other times it isn’t. On the uShip.com website, the closest selection for make of 1985 Suzuki motorcycles was ‘GSX 750 EF’. I selected it considering that the difference in weight of the motorcycles was most likely negligible where a shipping carrier fee is concerned. Interface extra: Note the social media icons at the top of the page. . .evidence that every opinion does not count. Are Facebook, Twitter and Google+ widgets appropriate for your web pages? If no one ‘Like’ you, that doesn’t mean you aren’t liked. We are better for pieces of advice from friends, but when the institutionalization of recommendations feels like a corporate come-on, I prefer them to be one-to-one, quiet, offline. I mention brands in this blog as signposts I saw on my journey. There are many choices to explore and cull. Your results will vary.

The need to replace the valve cover gasket also justified checking and adjusting the valve clearance. These branches and possibilities of the job were only recognized with understanding. Without guidance or the previous experience adjusting valves, I could have considered the oil leak the primary and only goal of removing the valve cover and missed the opportunity to check the valves when it was most convenient.

4: Braking Loose

Considering that coming to a stop is at least as important as going forward when riding or driving any vehicle, brakes are fundamental. Brakes for bicycles, lawn mowers and other small, light vehicles are likely to be mechanical – the pressure of pressing a pedal or pushing a lever directly applies friction to the wheel(s) via a redirection of the force through a cable or linkage. The force is stepped up by applying lever and fulcrum mechanical advantage.

Brakes on more powerful, heavy vehicles are largely hydraulic. Master cylinders work with calipers and wheel cylinders using fluid equations to increase the advantage of pulling the brake lever or pressing the brake pedal. My motorcycle has two, independent fluid-driven brake systems. The front brakes (two disks and calipers) are applied by a brake lever attached to a master cylinder on the handlebars. The rear brake (one disk and caliper) is engaged via foot pedal. The front brakes were intact and working correctly. The rear brake cylinder was frozen.

Considering brake problems, they will usually not go unnoticed. With any routine inspection, a leaky hydraulic (i.e. brake-fluid driven) system will reveal itself upon checking the fluid level over time. Normal fluid usage will result in a slightly lower level as brake pads or shoes wear and more fluid stays in the calipers or wheel cylinders. Abnormal fluid drain is indicated by a very low level that continues to get lower, even after refilling. Silent brake problems can cause anxiety without an understanding of the tolerance of braking systems in general. Regularly adding brake fluid is a stop-gap solution to a slow leak, however leaking fluid may find its way onto the brake lining, reducing its braking efficiency. The leaking fluid is wasteful, but not necessarily dangerous. Adding fluid to a system without a leak indicates the brake linings are becoming thinner and, without replacement, the metal of the pad/shoe could contact the metal disk/drum. This results in a disturbing noise and more expensive repair.

The normal operation of a braking system is analogous to breathing. Pressing the fluid in the master cylinder is breathing out into the wheel (caliper/cylinder). When the lever or pedal is released, fluid flows from the wheel back into the master cylinder (breathing in). Corrosion is an enemy of brake components as it is for any precise system. A symptom of corrosion in a brake system is that breathing becomes harder. Eventually, a breath out is not returned. This results in a condition where the brake lining is applied to the rotating disk/drum continuously. When I pressed the rear brake pedal, it stayed down, with master cylinder compressed (stuck breathing out). The back wheel would not move.

At right is a diagram of the rear master cylinder of the bike. The plunger (highlighted) fits with tight clearance in the aluminum cylinder. The corrosion of either plunger or wall inhibits the smooth reciprocation (breathing out / breathing in). The counterpart of the master cylinder is the hydraulic mechanisms at the wheels, also vulnerable to corrosion. The plunger on the bike was stuck. I determined that sacrificing the plunger was the only way to remove it and save the cylinder. A No. 7 wire gauge tap drill was used as the pilot for the 1/4 x 20 bolt to become the handle for removing the plunger. Removed in this manner, the plunger became useless. A replacement plunger was $29. I buffed the cylinder with steel wool and the new plunger and cap fit snugly and slid easily.

I reviewed and cleaned the rear caliper. Both ends of the rear brake system were working in concert. My examination of the system revealed that the rear brake pads were thinning. Since I like to use the rear brake when I ride, a new pair will be well-used. I found new pads on eBay. There was no reason not to consider the $11.14 upgrade. Tz-Bing Lin was the eBay seller ‘sokbrake’. There were other listings of comparable price. I was convinced of the purchase by the split-pad design.

5: Chain of Commands

The bike was now rolling smoothly with minimal effort. The open and not-so-open roads of Northern California were calling. If I eventually wanted to ride them, I needed to take care of DMV paperwork.

The Damage: I approached the clerk with Pink Slip in hand, nervously. The license plate tag was 2004, so I knew it wasn’t currently registered. What I didn’t know was if the previous owner had written the bike off years ago and neglected to pay the lower PNO (planned non-operation) fee in lieu of registering each year. The fee is paid to avoid penalties if the vehicle is registered after a period of inactivity. This image is the DMV printout that summarized the registration penalties and fees. The good news is that they fit on one page. Barely.

The $610 CA registration fee dazed me. The value of the bike that I declared in the transfer document was $0. At this point the utility of the bike came into focus. Considering the value of the bike in Palo Alto, it was severely limited by its age. It would be more valuable where there is a larger market for bikes in its condition. I grew up in rural New York. I began to consider shipping the bike to the east coast. My brother would register and insure it and I would borrow it during my visit. The title is transferred to NY, making it easier to sell locally (with current local registration, etc.).

I began exploring shippers to move the 500-pound motorcycle from one side of the country to the other. I found multiple sources online. I chose to compare two: motorcycleshippers.com (J.C. Motors) and uShip.com. They were different businesses with the same target. J.C. Motors has an established, regular shipping process. uShip.com is a shipping buyer bazaar where you solicit shippers based on origin and destination. You provide a fixed offer or solicit bids via auction. I decided to offer the shipping job via auction. There is no obligation to accept any offers. uShip.com charges a service fee if the shipping offer is accepted (via a customer web portal).

Before the uShip auction was finished, I talked to a sales representative for J.C. Motors who quoted a fixed price. Their website was easy to use and filling out the online form provided the same quoted price as the salesperson. I would save $50 on the shipping if I could drop-off the bike at a transfer station. I could save an additional $50 for picking up at a shipper-specified location near my rural destination. I considered that I could drop-off the bike, but not pick it up. For station to residence delivery, the quote was $698.

The drive chain is a series of rugged steel links that are essential to transfer power from the engine to the rear wheel. This exterior chain is exposed to the elements. I cleaned the bike’s chain with kerosene and a wire brush. The black deposits on the chain melted away to the brighter metal. I applied a coat of motor oil after the chain dried. Much of refurbishment is cleaning. Cleaning parts gives them a second lease on utilization.

6: In the Details

I road-tested the motorcycle around my neighborhood. Without proper registration or insurance, shifting and acceleration were tested by bursts of speed between residential blocks. I soon wanted to adjust the clutch linkage in an attempt to make shifting smoother.

An access plate covered the clutch adjustment screw. The plate was loose with only one mounting screw installed. I was curious why two screws were missing until I attempted to remove the remaining screw. It was stuck. The steel machine screw was fused to the aluminum chain housing.

Corrosion is the bane of every restoration project. The still-installed screw indicated that the previous owner stopped short of doing what I knew I must do to reach the clutch adjustment mechanism. I twisted the head of the screw and it snapped where it met the aluminum threads. With the screw broken, I removed the cover and discovered one other screw had been broken and one threaded hole was empty. I added a replacement screw to my growing list of parts to order.

With only one screw, the access plate would be vulnerable to loosening with engine vibration. I was determined to add a screw where one had broken. The embedded screw was small enough that a screw extractor couldn’t be used. In the past, I’ve had mixed luck extracting broken bolts anyway, even with the best conditions. Bolts that break due to corrosion are virtually welded to the tapped threads. Penetrating oil and heat, etc. will sometimes help, but you give up on these when, considering experience, your chance of success is slim. Sometimes the required fix is more drastic.

I decided to drill the lower screw and tap the hole to accommodate a larger 1/4″ bolt. The threaded hole wasn’t quite centered on the broken screw, but it was close enough. The repair was the difference between just getting by and a solid solution.

To understand something is to get a feeling of what is essential about it. Being confident in the mechanical integrity of the bike, the form is gravy. The utility of the motorcycle transcends its style. I was less concerned with polishing the metal as I began to appreciate its inner beauty. At what point do our fetishistic relationships with objects end? Visit any junkyard and look at the scrap. Imagine how the owners of scrapped cars or other objects revered them when they were new. They were only a scratch, dent or mechanical failure away from being considered junk.

Changing engine oil is preventive maintenance that I perform regularly on my car. Oil damaged by heat and use offers less protection against the friction of metal-to-metal twisting, turning and sliding. It was good to replace the motorcycle engine oil and oil filter installed 8+ years previously.

At the end of a 10-day uShip.com auction, I had one bid. The door-to-door price quoted by Rocky Top Transport (Moto Express) to ship the bike from Palo Alto, CA to Ledyard, NY was $600. uShip would add a $48 listing fee. A uShip promotion for first-time shippers promised a $25 discount. The real total would be $623. This beat J.C. Motors’ station to residence delivery fee by $75. I accepted the bid.

The bike is in transit as I write this. Within a day of accepting the bid, I received a phone call from Chris Terry to discuss when he expected to pick-up the bike. It was loaded for shipment in the front of my home on July 22. Chris was driving the large pickup pulling a covered trailer. He was courteous. His operation looked efficient, maximizing the number of motorcycles he could carry safely. He was a professional driver and had crossed the country numerous times.

The steps described above are only half my journey. There were some unexpected mechanical failures and design solutions that remained. I will conclude this blog next week with steps 7 – 13. Thanks for reading. And collaborating.