Baffling 1970s British Wheel Engineering

I had a go at mounting new tires on the 1971 Bonneville project rims today, and what a pain in that ass that has turned into.  The rear tire is a mess of strange engineering decisions, including 3 holes for the inner tube valve, two of which are filled with rubber/metal pads with valve stem sized bolts sticking out of them.  Why they would do this is beyond me.  It creates a needlessly heavy wheel just where you don't want it (where centrifugal force amplifies it at the rim when it spins).  Perhaps it has something to do with the spokes and creating a true (round) wheel by adding weight?  The rear tire went on easily enough, but the inner tube was a pain to get the valve in place and it doesn't seem to be taking air.  I'll have to take that apart again and figure out what the hell is going on.

Also in bizarro British '70s engineering world, the front wheel has the valve stem hole drilled in the worst possible location, right near two spokes, which makes putting the compressor's tire inflation nozzle on it impossible.  There are spaces all around the rim where the hole could have been drilled to allow for easier access, but the Meriden Triumph 'technician' threw it in there.  If there is an engineering reason for it, it's beyond me.  Putting the hole in the space between more distant spokes shouldn't hurt the durability, but they didn't do that.

I've done inner tubes and tires for my modern Triumph Tiger recently, and just did a tubeless tire on the Kawasaki (complete with tire sensor hack), so this shouldn't have been the faff that it has turned into.  I ended up leaving both rims sitting in the garage.  I'll come back to it another day when I'm less frustrated by it.

Period tires from Revco look good on the rims, but the rear won't take air and I can't get any into the front.  Damn it.

Here's some old Triumph 'character' and a bit of moto philosophy to remind me why I'm doing this...

Moto-Crafting: Motorcycle Helmet Art

It's so stupidly hot out that even working the garage on the Bonneville is making me drip, so I'm back inside doing motorcycle crafting instead.

I got an LS2 Spitfire helmet last year and always figured I'd do something artistic on it (it's flat black and I'm not into the angry pirate look that seems to inspire so many 'bikers'). Since it's black, I was initially thinking about a lightning pattern over the black using metallic paints. I saw an exceptional lighting storm a couple of years ago that provided the inspiration. On in particular I've always wanted to immortalize: the lightning dragon!

I'd need to get some metallic purple to make that happen.

In the meantime I'm still partial to the art-deco art in the Rudge Book of the Road.  So I pulled the graphic out, cleaned it up and made a stencil to get the dimensions right on the curved side of the helmet.

I used a silver sharpie making dots around the edge and then painted connect the dots with chrome-silver metallic modelling paint...

The Concours makes riding with an open faced helmet less bug-crashy thanks to the transformable windshield, so I'll give this a whirl next week.  If anyone in Ontario recognizes it for what it is, I'll be amazed.

Rudge art-deco graphic design is still alive in 2022!   Rudge Book of the Road, well worth a read!

Summer Workshop Sortout

 

It's probably just a summer thing but the garage was filling with flies after our trip out to Jasper, so a deep clean was in order.  It ended up producing a car load going to the dump and space has been restored.  More importantly I feel like I can get stuck in on mechanical work without tripping over disorganization.  The Triumph Bonneville project has reached an apex with the engine out 

I've had a couple of longer rides this week on the Concours and that resulted in some more ergonomic adjustments.  This video talked me through how to adjust the gear lever (without wasting my time with a lot of youtube blahblah), so I did and now I'm not lifting my foot to change gears.  Even with modified pegs, new saddle and handlebars I'm still struggling to feel the kind of 'it-fits' feeling I get on the Tiger though.  It isn't a Kawasaki thing, it's a sports-touring thing.  The big Versys I rode 8 years ago fit the same way.  Perhaps what I'm looking for is a shaft drive big adventure bike with a big load capacity, like the newer 1200cc Tiger or the BMW GS.  Though if I wanted to get really eccentric I could consider so Italian options like the Moto Guzzi V85TT.

***

The Motorcycle Electrical Systems book I got last winter suggested popping a voltmeter on your bike if it didn't come with one.  The Kawasaki has one in the digital display but the analogue Triumph Tiger doesn't, but now it does:

There was a relay under the dash that had full voltage only when the ignition was on, so I slipped the wires for the voltmeter in there and it only comes one when I'm riding.  The Tiger showed a steady 12.4v when I rode it up and down the street, suggesting that the reg/rectifier fix I did last year is working well.

It was a busy week, but after dropping off the boy at camp one day I went for a ride and ended up at Higher Ground Café in Belfountain where even mid-week you'll find an interesting assortment of bikes, this time including an old C10 Concours!

I'd like to work an extended ride into the summer and I still have a few weeks to go before the school year picks up again so hopefully I can figure something out.

1971 Triumph Bonneville T120 Sensible Bodywork Bolt Replacements

I'm in the process or stripping the last bits of hardware from the frame and bodywork in order to clean up and paint the frame and bodywork on the 51 year old Bonneville project bike.  The bolts holding the licence plate holder onto the rear fender were 4 different sizes with the longest ones protruding so far toward the wheel that they'd be a safety hazzard on a big bump (the tire would make contact with them on full suspension compression, especially with me on it).

I was talking to a friend online who made a career out of flying helicopters for the military and he said he's found wrong sized hardware in controls that have actually jeopardized flight safety.  One of the rhings I enjoy about motorcycle mechanics is that it feels closer to aviation than four wheel appliance repair where an error like this might cause you inconvenience as you roll to a stop on the side of the road.  If you're up in the air or out on a bike and you have a catasrophic mechanical failure, it's a very different consequence.

Another pilot friend (the perils of being an air cadet), when we were going up for a flight in a Cessna, brought it back around and landed when the engine didn't feel right.  Everyone was impatient at the delay, but he said something that is simply true that many people don't consider when their flight is delayed:  "it's better to be down here wishing you were up there, than being up there wishing you were down here."  It's a shame more people who work on bikes don't think the same way.  I've seen even professional work that was half assed to save time/money.  Incompetence like that puts a rider's life at risk needlessly.  It can end up costing you far more than you saved.

Pretty sure that last one isn't a stock Triumph bolt.  These'll all get replaced with metric bolts because they're easier to find, but they'll be the right length, matching and be staineless steel.

The 14-0101 bolts used to fasten the fenders on the '71 Bonneville are 1/4" X 1/2" X 28 UNF, which are a bugger to try and find a match for.  The longest bolt on the bike was an inch and a half - way too long for where it was.  Working with SAE/imperial sizes on this bike makes it a real pain to match hardware out of what I have on hand, but stuffing a bolt that long onto a bike where it can interfere with the wheel isn't sensible.

SAE Wrench Size	Bolt Size (SI)	Metric Wrench Size
5/16″	1/8″	8 mm
3/8″	3/16″	10 mm
7/16″	1/4″	11 mm
1/2″	5/16″	13 mm
9/16″	3/8″	14 mm
5/8″	7/16″	16 mm
3/4″	1/2″	19 mm
13/16″	9/16″	21 mm
7/8″	9/16″	22 mm
15/16″	5/8″	24 mm

1/4" bolts can be replaced with an 11mm metric option and finding stainless steel versions of these are easy.  I can also get four matching that are the correct length for the job at hand rather than bunging whatever I have in the toolbox onto the bike.  Compared to other costs in this restoration, hardware costs are trivial (for under $40CAD I can get a 900+ piece kit).  When I'm dropping $600+ on a new head, spending a bit on properly sized bolts seems like a no-brainer.

Of course, body panel fasteners are a different proposition to what you put into a motor or transimssion - in those cases I'd always use stock pieces to manage the heat and pressures involved as decided by the engineers to designed the thing, but for bodywork there is a bit more latitude, you just don't want to be a pratt about it.

While sorting the
frame I've cleaned
up the oil in frame
drain system.

The Amazon bolt set arrived in less than 24 hours.  It is (of course) snowing today in mid-April in Canada, so moving the other bikes out of the garage to paint things isn't likely, and I can't paint outside if it's snowing.  You need 10°-30°C temperatures, no direcf sunlight and good ventilation.  If I can get the other bikes out of the garage, open the door a foot and run the fan, I might be able to retain enough heat to do it, but Canada's 'spring time' isn't helping things along.

If had a wee outdoor shed I'd use it as a paint booth, heating it to the required temperature and then having a fan to move the overspray out.  This DIY paintbooth would be a thing if I had a larger workshop, but a shed outside is a real possibility.  It could provide storage, freeing up space in the garage, but with some crafty ventilation it'd also be a paintbooth.  If I don't get to painting today, I can at least finish prepping the frame and body panels and hope for warmer temperatures later in the week.

New tires and innertubes are on hand.  The frame is being prepped.
I've still got some other body panels to clean and prep for painting.

1971 Triumph Bonneville: More Bike Archeology from Tires, Wheel Restoration & Rear Brakes

I got the rear tire off the rim today in the ongoing '71 Bonneville project during a late March snowstorm. It had a Lien Shin tire on it. I'm unfamiliar with that brand and I can't find a heat pressed time stamp on it. Tires produced before the year 2000 use a 3 digit code that makes it difficult to determine which decade they were made in (first two digits are month of manufacture, last digit is the year). Tires after 2000 use a four digit code (week # of manufacture followed by a the last two digits of the year, ie: 0501 would be the fifth week of 2001).  A 511 would be the 51st week (December) of a year ending in 1, ie: 1981, 1991.

While I couldn't find a stamped date on the Lien Shin tire, there is a three digit date stamp on the Inoue front tire: 511.  Based on the bike's last sticker on the SATAN license plate ('84), this probably dates the front tire to the 51st week (December) of 1981.  I was 12 when this tire was manufactured.  I'm still amazed that it works at all and the inner tube holds pressure.

Taking a tire this old and stiff off was tricky, but as with the TIger tire change last year, a judicious application of heat really helps soften the rubber and makes removal easier, especially in the winter.  It was -17°C outside so I put the shop heater next to the tire and let it warm up, then removing it with the irons was pretty easy.

Once I had the old rubber out of the way, I went at the rim with a wire brush and it cleaned off the surface rust well.  Some SOS soap pads and then a bout with the pressure washer out in the snow storm and the rim came up nicely.

Next time I have some time and space I'll get the front tire removed and prep that too, then it'll be time to order some wheel hardware (bearings and brake pads).  With the wheels rebuild, I'll clean up the frame and repaint it and then it's time to start putting the rolling chassis back together.

While I had the wheels off I took the rear brake apart.  I keep being surprised by how simple this bike is.  The rear brake is a mechanical mechanism, no hydraulics in sight.  You press on that big brake lever (it's big because you need the mechanical advantage for it to work) and that pulls the rod connected to a spinner on the top of the rear brake drum.  The drum spins and applies the brake.  When you let go, a spring on the drum spinner disengages the brake.  You must get pretty good feel out of a direct mechanical system like this, and you're not carrying any extra weight from a hydraulic system (fluid container, piston, pipes, caliper cylinders, etc), but I bet you've gotta have big calves to lock it up.

I'm back at work this week so it might be a few days before I take another swing at it, but it's exciting to get to the point where the bike is enough pieces that I can see how it'll go back together again.

1971 Triumph Bonneville Restoration Project: Frame Breakdown & Rear Brakes

I'd initially planned to do a rolling restoration of the 1971 Triumph Bonneville project, but the state of the engine and my desire to get it back to a place where I can enjoy an updated, dependable but mechanically sympathetic restoration (I want the bike to retain its patina, but I also want it to be dependable) made a rolling restoration impractical.  The engine is lined up for a new 750cc head and electronic ignition system, but before all of that I have to get the frame and wheels sorted out so that I can put the upgraded engine back into a sorted rolling chassis.

To that end, it was finally time to take it to pieces, which also gave me a lot of space back in the one car garage once the bike stand was stacked to the side:

The frame out means I don't need to fill half the garage with the bike stand.

Black rubber bands cover the frame to swingarm joints (to prevent water getting in?).

Way more space in the garage with the Bonnie in pieces.

With the bike in pieces, I'm restoring all parts that I can reuse.  This usually involves some WD40, a toothbrush or wire brush depending on how filthy it is, and then a dip in a hot ultrasonic bath for small pieces to get them back to fresh.

The front wheel Smiths speedometer.

Into the rear brakes. Like everything else on this old bike they are much simpler than modern hydraulic brakes.

Bringing old parts back from the brink is very satisfying.

The entire rear brake system - the brake lever is so long because it is the only mechanical advantage you have when applying the rear brakes.  Instead of using hydraulics to amplify your push on the pedal, the old Bonnie is a simple mechanical system.  You press the brake lever which pulls that long metal bar which rotates the top of the drums, pressing them into outside of the drum.  No hydraulics, and I bet you have to press that lever like you mean it to lock the rear wheel.

Motorcycle Book Review: The Rudge Book Of The Road

I was reading Classic Bike Magazine last month and one of the auctioneers in the back of the mag suggested getting my hands on a copy of The Rudge Book Of The Road if you are looking for an historical read that'll get you through a long winter and prime you for the coming springtime.

I had a look around and finally found a 1926 version of the book on Amazon for about thirty five bucks.

If you have a thing for art deco drawings, the Rudge Book of the Road will scratch that itch!

My copy was once owned by.. a W. Chapman?

Reading a book that's almost 100 years old gives you a perspective on motorcycling that you might not have considered before.  At one point the author talks about how much Rudge has learned from building motor-bikes over the past 17 years.  I found myself becoming conscious decades of development that since went into my current 1971 Triumph Bonneville project and then continued on for decades more as found in my modern Triumph Tiger and Kawasaki Concours.  A bit of historical perspective is a powerful thing when you're hands on with the engineering found in modern motorbikes.  With nearly a century of continuous development, reading about motorcycling from the dawn of the sport is good mental exercise.

The Rudge Book of the Road takes me back to a time when my grandparents were children and, as a modern reader, I'm left struggling to find a frame of reference in our overcrowded and mechanized world.  There were a quarter as many people on the planet when this book was written and internal combustion engines were in an early phase of rapid development as they revolutionized and democratized travel for more than just the wealthy.  This book makes a point of recognizing this exciting period in history:

Traffic jams and the expectation that everyone be commuting in motor vehicles in an increasingly crowded and polluted world makes this perspective feel particularly alien in 2022.  Can you imagine thinking about motorbike travel like this?  If anyone could do it, it's motorcyclists - we may be one of the last vehicular subcultures that clings this kind of romance, even as the vast majority drive their appliances without a second thought for how they work or experiencing any inherent joy in the activity.

Having lived with rough 'colonials' for most of my life, some of the language in this very British book made me smile.  It was written for Rudge Whitworth as a sales tool but it leans toward the romance of riding as a theme throughout.  Rudge themselves lasted until 1946 before they stopped production, so you're reading a book by a company that hasn't existed in over seventy years, which further makes reading this feel like an echo from a distant and unknown past:

The state of the art in terms of motorcycle engineering was making major steps in the 1920s.  Earlier bikes had you oiling the motor as you rode it.  Too much and it would clog the spark plugs and leave you on the side of the road having to clean your plugs, a job most modern vehicle operators would have no idea how to do.  Too little oil and the engine would seize, possibly tossing you down the road.  This degree of involvement in motor vehicle operation was being phased out in the mid-nineteen-twenties bringing more people into the moto-fold.

The idea of sitting down with your new machine and understanding what it needs and how it works is a foreign one in 2022, but Rudge makes this process seem almost meditative.  The idea of lighting your pipe and comprehending your new machine in your shed still appeals to a few of us.  Perhaps this is another of those colonial distinctions.  I have no trouble finding programs on industrial history and engineering when I watch British television, but Canadians seem more focused on resource extraction and office work than they are with understanding how things work and then manufacturing them.  This sort of mechanical sympathy will sound particularly foreign to Canadian ears:

Sit on a can of gasoline and light your pipe!  Those were the days...

This old book doesn't limit itself to motorcycling mechanics.  If you've never camped before they offer advice for those new to sleeping on the ground.  Rudge made sidecar outfits and even a trailer/caravan for people interested in taking everything with them.

When your trusty leather bound Rudge Book of the Road isn't teaching you how to moto-camp, it's explaining how the roads you're riding on might be built on top of old Roman roads or how to identify the architecture of the historical buildings you're touring past.  This makes me wonder whether Rudge's target audience was perhaps a bit more educated than your typical rider, but it also makes me wonder if maybe people were just a bit smarter back then without a phone to immerse them in social media in all the time.

The book doesn't stop at camping or architecture and goes on to teach you how to forecast the weather, tell direction and even tells you where the biggest hills on the island are so you know what gear to tackle them with.  It then provides charts on when the sun rises and sets so you know when to turn on your new-fangled electrical light.  Rudges were one of the first to go electric.  A few years earlier you were lighting a gas powered lamp on your motor-bike before proceeding into the dusk on mostly unfinished roads (while remembering to give the top and some oil).  There are (many?) riders now who have never turned a wrench or put a wheel off pavement.

You'll learn more from doing things than you will from "all the books or professors in the world".  Something we've forgotten in our screen-fueled information revolution?

There is another chapter written by F.A. Longman, Rudge's rider in the 1927 Isle of Man TT road race.  He writes with a racer's urgency and puts you in the rider's seat as he talks you around the T.T. mountain course while it was still young and relatively new.  It's amazing how little has changed in the racer's mindset even while they're using machines that have only just recently become mechanically self contained.  They were seeing huge leaps in speed as technology improved and riders came to terms with what this new technology was capable of.

After teasing you with the Isle of Man TT, the RBotR then gives you some 1920s style advice on how to get ready to compete in trials and perhaps even go road racing with your motorbike:

Civilisation continues to makes fools of us all in 2022...

Give up the cigarettes and alcohol entirely, but do keep the pipe smoking!  Can you imagine modern, liability-driven manufacturers encouraging riders to do this sort of thing on their new motorbike?  It's difficult not to get swept up in the enthusiasm and possibility of riding at a time when it was still new to so many people, including the people who built the things!  The lack of caution is exhilarating.

The book ends with a complete set of colour maps of the United Kingdom, but not before it talks you through buying your Rudge (this is a marketing piece, remember?).  Your fifty pounds (about $1350CAD in today's dollars) gets you the base model of the Rudge Four - for ten pounds more you can get the sport model.  New bikes were much more accessible back in the day! 

The final gift this old book gives you is a list of future readings if you're interested in motorcycles and travelling on them:

Unknown Norfolk is on my shortlist.  I wonder how many places I'll recognize from growing up there fifty years later.

The Rudge Book of the Road was such an interesting read that I'm going to keep digging for some of these other historical moto-reading options.  The RbotR suggests slipping one of these in your (tweed?) jacket pocket to read when you get to your destination and finally put your feet up - with your pipe, of course - after another exhilarating day of riding in the dawn of motorcycling.

A more modern motorcyclist philosopher, Matt Crawford, described riding as "a beautiful war", the Rudge Book of the Road shows that it has always been thus.  If you ride, you'll find this a familiar and enjoyable refrain.

No rear suspension other than springs on the seat and a tank that hangs under the frame: state of the art motorcycle engineering in 1927 seems archaic but these machines were a huge step forward in dependability and hint at the evolution motorcycles would take.

Art deco inside cover wallpaper!

Riding in the dawn of motorcycling...