Last Light Of The Sun: 2020 Edition

Without putting too fine a point on it, 2020 has been a steaming heap of shit.  I can't put it behind me fast enough.  One of the only breaks in a year that seemed more interested in trying to break me than providing opportunities was a series of warm days into November.  Last year the snows descended on Hallowe'en and we were under it for five months, only to emerge into a world wide pandemic.  This year I've been able to steal rides here and there right up until the end of November.  I'll take what I can get at this point.

We looked like we were corked November 1st when we got our first big round of snow, but only three days later the snow was on the side of the road and I was able to take the Tiger out for a late season ride.

Nov 4th:  By Black Power Bison Company

Long shadows in the West Montrose Cemetery

That weekend we were up in the high single digits so I jumped on the Tiger and went for the last long ride of the year, up to the edge of Georgian Bay to have a look a blue horizon before heading back to my landlocked existence. This is close to where the year started off with a banzai ride up to Coffin Ridge Winery out of the endless winter to pick up some pandemic supplies early on in the lockdown, so it was nice to close the loop.  It ended up being about 300kms of the twistiest roads I can find in the tedious riding desert that I live in:

The Beaver River in the Beaver Valley before the snows fall.

Highland cattle grazing in Glen Huron.

With less than six weeks to mid-winter solstice the sun is never that high in the sky in mid-November in Ontario.

I thought that was the end of things.  The Honda had flooded itself and I ended up having to pull the
carbs which led to an inside out cleaning and installation of new airbox boots that I'd been waiting for winter to do.  I spent a warm Sunday afternoon on the driveway doing all that and when it was back together I took this athletic work of art for a shakedown ride and discovered that it was even sharper than it had been.  Honda Fireblades are something special, and this particular generation was ahead of its time. 

With everything sorted I shut off the petcock and ran the bike dry before wrapping it up for the winter knowing that it was ready to roll again in the spring, many months hence.  Surely I wouldn't get another chance to ride again this year.

I got home from work the next day and it was still well above zero and sunny, so I primed the carbs and off I went again.

The Fireblade, already an impressive piece of engineering, felt like a sharpened pencil with the carbs cleaned and the airbox rubbers replaced.  It was a nice final ride.  I once again shut off the petcock and ran the carbs dry before covering it up for the winter.

Of course, things weren't done yet.  We got a couple of weirdly warm days around November 21st so once again I primed the Honda and took it for a blast.  By this point the Tiger was up on stands and getting ready for a deep winter maintenance, but with the Fireblade so frisky I wasn't feeling bike poor.  Running a 17 year old European bike as my regular ride and a 23 year old Honda superbike as my spare, I'm often frustrated if both are sidelined, but not this long autumn.

When I got home I (can you guess?) shut off the petcock and ran the carbs dry before wrapping it up in blankets again for the long, cold winter.

Now I was really done. The Tiger was wheels off and up on blocks and the Honda was in hibernation under a sheet.  No more riding this year. Time to get my hands dirty. The Tiger needs some deep maintenance this year if I'm going to get it to one hundred thousand kilometres by the time it turns 20 years old in 2023. This past summer we did alright miles and it's up over eighty-thousand now, so I have three more riding seasons to put in 20k kilometres to hit my target.  With any luck things will be opening up over the next year and I can get back on track to putting on some miles on longer trips.

Meanwhile, the weather looked like it was getting wintery.  Snow was closing in on the forecast but never seemed to land on us with any real weight.  I ended up priming the Fireblade one more time for a very cold, end of November ride.

One of the benefits of having the sports bike is that it makes even a short ride a thrill, and this one was that.  The 'Blade's telekinetic handling and explosive engine in a very lightweight package shot me down the road.  It was nice to find that feeling of being on two wheels one last time before finally putting things away for the winter.

I couldn't feel my hands when I got home after 40 minutes out, but it was totally worth it. By late November we're typically looking at minus double digits and knee deep in snow.  Since then we've had multiple blasts of snow, a snow day at school and the roads are thick with salt and sand.  The Fireblade is sleeping under its blanket and the Tiger is in the spa.  Today I used my new tire spoons to remove the 10k squared off Michelins on the Tiger.

Changing my own tires may fall into the more-trouble-than-it's-worth category, but it's still a good thing to do at least once just to look things over.  I think I'm going to take the tires in to the autoshop at work to mount them next week rather than try and do it by hand with tire spoons.

Here's a winter moto-themed video to get you in the dark season's maintenance mood:

WAITING OUT WINTER from Andrew David Watson on Vimeo.

Flooding Fireblades: Sorting the fuel system on a '97 CBR900RR

Butterfly is under-gasoline...

Weather's closing in on us up here in Canada.  I had the 'Blade up on the bike lift last week thinking the riding season was over as we got buried in our first snow storm.  The next week suddenly warmed up due to a tropical storm somewhere, so I primed the Honda and got it going again (I'd run it dry in preparation for winter hibernation).  Unfortunately, it flooded itself and ended up with the first two carbs full of fuel.  You can see the wet in carb bell on the left.

I think from now on I'm going to turn off the fuel tap from now on whenever it's sitting rather than trust this touchy carb set to do the right thing.  Instead of taking the Fireblade out for a weirdly warm ride on Sunday, I was sitting on the driveway removing the carbs and changing the oil.

On the upside, pulling the carbs gave me a chance to replace all the rubbers (airbox and engine side), which needed doing (I'd been holding them together with some cunning chemistry).

New rubber bits on old bikes make a huge difference.  Even the engine side ones (which still looked good after 23 years of service) were hard and unyielding compared to the new ones.  I'm curious to see how the new ones seal in comparison.  I got the airbox rubbers from KW Honda in Waterloo, who were very responsive on email which hasn't always been my experience with local dealers.  They got four rubber airbox boots for a 23 year old bike that's been out of production for decades in less than a week, during a pandemic.  It's good to know my local Honda dealer supports older models.

I picked up a second carb set from NCK Cycle Salvage in Woodstock last fall for less than the price of the broken bits I needed to replace on the one that came on the bike.  I now have an entire second set of carb hard parts I can go to if I need any other bits.  The set they gave me (other than needing a choke pin on one of the carbs) was complete and balanced, and when I threw it on it worked a treat, so I ran it all summer having never gone through it.

With the carbs off in the late autumn sun last Sunday, I finally took the float bowls off and discovered that they were pretty grotty (when I emptied them the fuel came out brown).  It didn't take long to clean everything up, and I got carb cleaner deep into the jets and upper parts of the carburetors too.  It all went back together nicely and I was also able to lubricate and clean up the throttle action with the unit out, though it already moved sweetly.

With the new rubbers on, I put the carbs back on after work this week and they came back together nicely.  It's a good idea to attach the two throttle cables to the carb set while it's still loose.  Once the carb set is on the bike getting the cables on is a real bugger.

I went over all the fasteners as I went making sure everything was snug and leak free.  I've still got to put new oil in it, but we have a above zero day this Saturday so I'm hoping I can take the 'Blade out for an end of year run to make sure everything is five by five before I hibernate it for the winter.  Months hence after the winter of second-wave COVID pandemic, the Honda will be ready to go with fresh oil and a clean and capable set of carburetors.

This forgotten Honda is a real treat to ride this summer and is a very different thing from the Tiger.  One is a long distance tool built for pretty much anything, the other is more like an aeroplane designed for the road.  The 'Blade weighs over 20% less than the Tiger and makes almost 40% more power.  On interesting paved roads the Fireblade is in a class by itself.  Unfortunately, I live in a place deficient in interesting roads and track days in Ontario, even when there isn't a pandemic, are needlessly complicated (you basically have to show up with a race bike or rent something, there are no ride-on days for road bikes here).

The other nice thing about the Honda is how it's built for a single intention.  That focus on light-weight means getting in to work on it has been accessible and enjoyable.  Honda's aren't just designed ot run well, they're designed to be worked on too.  As my first Honda this bike has been a positive introduction to their engineering and design philosophy.

If I lived somewhere with interesting roads and reasonable track days I'd be hanging on to the Honda indefinitely as it was designed to express the dynamics of riding, but living in South Western Ontario, devoid as it is of interest, means I'm going to try and move the Honda on in the spring... assuming anyone is left post second-wave to buy it then.  I'm going to miss what it can do though.  Having this bike has opened my eyes to what a motorcycle is capable of dynamically.

FOLLOWUP

We've got a major winter storm (100km/hr+ winds, rain and snow mixed) rolling in, but I got out yesterday afternoon for an hour and the 'Blade is even sharper than it was before.  The new rubber seals tighter, making the engine even more responsive, and the cleaned carbs are razor sharp in responding to throttle.  When I got home (cold, it was only a degree or two above freezing), I closed the petcock and ran it dry before parking up the 'Blade and wrapping it up for the winter.

After our long cold winter with second wave COVID19 piled on top, it'll be ready to go in the spring...

SMART Adventures: What Trials Bikes Can Teach You About Motorcycle Control

I'm still thinking over our day this past July, 2020 at SMART Adventures Off-Road Training.  This was our third year taking off-road training with this fantastic program that runs out of Horseshoe Resort just north of Barrie in Ontario, Canada.  If you're interested in expanding your bike-craft, this program will do just that, and they're open during the summer of COVID with all appropriate safety in place (masks, social distancing, temperature testing of all people prior to starting, etc).

Last year Clinton Smout, the owner and head instructor at SMART, had us all try balancing on a stationary trials bike, and that got me thinking about doing a session with them this time.  I'd watched Ross Noble take a run at the Scottish Six Days Trial on TV which was gruelling and battering to his ego and always wondered just how different trials bike are from dirt bikes, so here was my chance!

What is 90 minutes of trials riding like?  Very difficult.  Just to get going you have to give it a bit of gas and let out the clutch and then lift your foot up as you start moving.  Screw it up and you're hoping along on one foot trying to keep the bike upright as it tries to jump out from under you.  Starting to move on these bikes is harder than any other bike you're ridden, and that's just the beginning.

I was on a GasGas 250cc two stroke trials bike, and it was like trying to hang on to a wild horse (I presume, I've never tried to ride a wild horse because I'm not crazy).  It weighs about half what I do, has way too many horsepower and tries to squirt out from under you at every opportunity.  I got Clinton as an instructor this time and he made a point of highlighting just how mad these things are.  The brakes have thrown people over the handlebars and the acceleration has had people wheelie the machine on top of themselves, so if you're going to touch the gas or brakes expect it to respond way more suddenly than any other bike you've ridden.

How do you handle this madness?  The clutch!  A finger on the clutch and a finger on the front brake will reduce the arm pump you're going to experience (Clinton was right, I've gotten good at dirt bikes and can stay loose, but on this crazy thing my forearms were throbbing after an hour).  Without supreme clutch control you're going to launch yourself into the sky on a trials bike.  If you crack the throttle to make it go it'll try and throw you, if you hit the brakes too slow down it'll try and throw you.  You need to modulate the clutch to manage these inputs with any kind of finesse.

I like to think I picked this up pretty quickly.  The GasGas never threw me and I handed it back in the same condition I got it.  Like everything else I've ridden my long body meant my back was what was taking the brunt as I had to bend over the machine.  If I were ever to get my own trials bike it'd have risers or modified handlebars so I can stand straight up on it.  Were I to go after trials riding (and a part of me is very trials-curious), I'd enjoy the violent focus it puts on your control inputs the most.  Once you catch up to what the bike expects, it raises your clutch control to god-like levels.

In the afternoon I took out a Yamaha 250cc dirt bike and couldn't believe what that intensive morning on the GasGas had done to my clutch hand.  Instead of too much gear changing or braking I was modulating the clutch constantly to ride smoother than I ever had before.

It takes a trials bike to make dirt biking seem easy.

Suddenly situations that might have made me stop and adjust my gearing didn't matter.  Between clutch and throttle I could manage deep sand, mud, 30° inclines (in deep sand) and axle deep puddles without hesitation.  I couldn't believe the difference.  When we stopped my son's ATV instructor said, "ok, you know what you're doing", which was a fantastic thing to hear.

If you have access to SMART Adventures (you can get yourself to Ontario, Canada in the summer of COVID), go.  It'll improve your bike-craft even if you're a pavement focused rider.  After you've got the off-road basics down take a swing at trials riding.  It'll give you an appreciation of clutch control and drill you so aggressively in it that your left hand will come out of it with the twice the IQ it came in with.

I even notice it while riding on the road.  I was out on the Honda Fireblade the other day and noticed that my clutch hand was modulating the bike in new and interesting ways.  In mid-corner as I'm winding out power my left hand is helping the bike deliver drive smoothly without me realizing it.

I'm a strong advocate of life long learning and applying it to your bike-craft should be every motorcyclist's main purpose.  If you want to keep enjoying the thrills of riding you should be looking for ways to better understand the complexities of operating these machines.  A couple of hours working with trials bikes did that for me.  I wish I had the means to chase down an ongoing relationship with these visceral, demanding and ultimately enlightening machines.

Tiger Brains

The other day I was once again going over the details on the Tiger after taking the tank of for the billionth time.  Even though the stock pipes for the vacuum controlled idle system for the electronic fuel injection hold vacuum when I test them, I can't test that when they're on the bike, so they might be leaking where they join.  I happened to have some fuel line in the right size, so I've taken out the Triumph hoses and put these clear ones on instead to isolate another possible point of failure.

Once I got them in I fired up the TUNEBOY software and figured I'd run the idle control system test since it would move the plunger up and down and with everything off I could check to see that it's all working as it should,  except the ECU wouldn't connect to the computer.  I've done dozens of TUNEBOY adjustments now and know how the bike syncs with the PC over the serial port, but it wasn't connecting.  While trying some variations I turned the ignition on on the bike and the ECU made unfamiliar popping noise, and then none of the dash lights would come on (the running lights still do though).  The ECU no longer clicks off when the ignition is switched off either, which suggests it's not coming on either.

The intermittent nature of this failure always made my ass twitch in terms of it being electronic rather than mechanical.  Mechanical failures tend to be more consistent and easier to diagnose, and I've replaced everything around the idle control system now, so unless Triumph sold me a dickey idle control motor, which seems unlikely since the first one lasted 17 years and did over seventy-six thousand hard, Canadian kilometres and survived seventeen -40°C Canadian winters.  Assuming all the new parts are working as they should, an ECU that was losing the plot is as likely a culprit as anything else I've been chasing, and now it seems to have popped entirely.

So what do you do when your old Triumph's bike brain loses the plot?  Get another, I guess.  Used ones seems to be extraordinarily expensive and look to be in rough shape out of US used parts suppliers on eBay.  And for some reason they're charging twice what European suppliers are for shipping.  With that and the fact that The States seem like they're on the edge of a civil war, I think I'll be looking to the dependable Germans who have COVID19 well managed for a replacement Tiger brain.  If I'm thinking that, I wonder how many other people are avoiding business with the US right now.

But before I go that far, I'm a G.D. computer engineering teacher, so I'm hardly going to let an ECU go in the bin without having a go at it first.  If this is a short or something simple, I can solve that easily enough.  If nothing else I can see how the ECU is set up architecturally, but more often than not I'm able to get electronics I have to open up working again.  Time to flex my soldering prowess.

The most frustrating part about this is that I may well have solved the idle problem with replacement hoses, or maybe I didn't.  Maybe I chased down all of these hoses and parts for nothing and it was the ECU losing the plot all along.  Electronic Fuel Injection (EFI) is a wonderful thing, but the early systems were fragile.  There a lots of posts online about early Triumph EFI headaches, and I've added to them.

Guy Martin does a good special called The Last Flight of the Vulcan Bomber.  They grounded the last of these nuclear bombers in 2015 because they no longer had the expertise and technology too keep them safely air worthy.  In the show Guy talks about why there are plenty of older planes like Spitfires still flying when the Vulcan has to be grounded.  He says the Spitfire was made from bicycle parts you could fabricate in a shed, so they're relatively easy to maintain.  The Vulcan was an industrial machine with early electrical and electronic systems that were many times more complicated.  He goes on to talk about how the Vulcan looked like it came from another planet when only seven years earlier an Avro Lancaster was the state of the art.  There are performance advantages in these leaps forward, but there are also maintenance headaches that mean these early jets will never fly again.

Early fuel injected bikes are a lot like that Vulcan - they can do things earlier bikes can't like get better mileage, not need parts changed to ride at altitude and generally require less maintenance.  I just fixed up one of the last carbureted bikes, a 1997 Honda Fireblade, over the winter.  EFI was around then, but Honda wisely went for highly evolved carburettors rather than new, fragile and poor performing EFI systems.  I rebuilt the carbs, which are a complex but highly evolved four-carb set, and the bike runs like a Swiss (or rather Japanese) watch.  The EFI on the Tiger did the job without any attention for 17 years and seventy-six thousand kilometres including two rides into the Rockies - something no carburetor could do, but when it finally broke, boy did it break.  It's things like this that will make these first generation EFI bikes rare in the future.  Like the Vulcan, they're so complicated and difficult to maintain when they go wrong that they'll get retired from service where an older, simpler bike might still be fixable.



RESOURCES FOR CHASING DOWN ECU PROBLEMS ON A TRIUMPH 955i MOTORBIKE:

https://www.ebay.com/itm/Triumph-Speed-Triple-955-2000-2004-ECU-Steuergerat-CDI-S1000T3/324154967093?hash=item4b79244435:g:BCEAAOSwZrteryUL

There are early Triumph EFI issues aplenty online:
https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/ecu-repair-refurbishing.525873/
https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/bad-ecu-on-my-2006-speed-triple.159082/
https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/955i-idle-hesitation-porblem.971699/#post-2004081361
https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/ecu-unit.80778/
https://www.thetriumphforum.com/threads/s1000t3-ecu.22000/
https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/1999-955i-ecu-needed.93566/#post-1107942

Used Parts, not of the vintage I'm looking for though:
http://www.rubbersideup.com/triumph/tiger?p=2

https://www.bikebandit.com/oem-parts/detail/triumph/t1291000/b1389042?m=121594&sch=565828
Wahay!  A new ECU is two-grand, AMERICAN!  That's over $2500 Canadian!  The whole bike cost me three grand.  See what I mean about the costs of keeping emerging, fragile old tech active?

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Mechanics

After another fraught week remote working in a pandemic working twice as hard to do half as much, I was at it again all Saturday morning before finally springing free for the afternoon, but I had a lot to do and I was already off-kilter from a two hour meeting.  I walked into my happy place (the garage) after once again spending too much time trying to work with people badly through screens (one of the joys of a pandemic is WAY too much screen-time) and went about reassembling the Tiger, which was causing anxiety by occasionally not holding an idle and stalling.  

The Tiger rebuild began poorly.  I couldn't find one of the two retaining bolts for the spark plug top I'd taken off the week before.  In the days between taking it apart and waiting for Amazon to get its finger out and deliver new spark plugs, the bike must have been jostled in my too-small garage and the bolts rolled off the head where I'd evidently left them.  I know better than that.  If I remove fasteners I usually put them in a container in groups or loosely reattach them to where they came from so they'll be there when I come back.

While that was going on I got Lloyd's message from Mostly Ironheads saying that I could bring the Fireblade in for a safety, so I cleaned up and got it over there for that.  He has some fantastic projects going on, I've got to see if he'll let me do another round of photos - that shop is half working garage, half motorcycle museum.  (He did let me do another round, they're here).

Back in the garage I was now frazzled with things going on in multiple places and the Tiger rebuild frozen by a lost bolt.  I found a replacement, but doing things half-assed means doing them for way longer than you need to.  It makes me feel like I'm my own make-work project.  I was angry at myself and swearing as I put it back together.  I took it out for a ride in the clearing afternoon weather (it had been threatening rain all morning), but the intermittent stall still happened, even after all the pain in the ass parts ordering waiting during a social distancing slow down.

I put the Tiger up on its stand and figured I'd take a run at it again the next day.  Then Lloyd called saying the 'Blade was all good except tires - so now I have to try and find some tires, in a pandemic (I did, Revco is fantastic).  I brought the Honda home got into a ridiculously complicated plan for suspending it so I could remove both wheels at once.  The end product looked more like a roof mounting for a sex swing when I finally gave up on it and locked up the garage for the night.

***

The next day I spent the morning brain storming ideas for a work project and then finally got to the garage mid-afternoon.  My mind-set was completely different this time.  Instead of being weighed down by worries from a meeting, I was buoyant from just having thought my way out of them.  In a good mood and with the importance of keeping my shit organized clearly at front of mind, I went about fabricating chocks for the front wheel of the Honda and attached them to Jeff's motorcycle stand.

They worked a treat and before I knew it the CBR was suspended and the wheels were off.  The brakes were pretty grotty, so taking it all apart, even if the pads and rotors do all meet MoT safety standards, wasn't a bad thing.  The music was playing, it was a cool, sunny afternoon and I was getting shit done.

As I disassembled the Fireblade, I was Sharpy marking parts, taking photos and batching fasteners together so I can find everything when I reassemble.  I've been mechanicking for too long not to do this, but a callous disregard for shop etiquette gave me the result I knew I deserved the day before, but not this time.  The jigs we create make the jobs we do possible, and vice versa.

What had taken me twice as long to do badly the day before, took me a fraction of the time to do better the next day.  Instead of spiralling into anger and frustration, I was in the zone.  Problems still occurred, of course.  This is mechanics where I'm dealing with immutable reality, I have to bend because reality won't, but rather than succumb to those problems I was agile and adaptive.  I can hear the sound of one hand clapping when I'm in the zone like that.  It feels effortless and completely engaging.

The Honda was sorted so quickly I turned to the Tiger and began the astonishingly fussy job of taking the fuel tank off (again).  What was tedious the day before became a matter of minutes the next day.  With the tank and air-box off (again), I looked over the idle control valve under the air-box and discovered one of the tubes going into the back of it was loose.  I cleaned up all the connecting and ensured they were tight and put some gasket compound on the rubber gasket to help it seal where it was squashed.

The whole thing went back together again equally quickly and the bike started and ran, so I shut it all down and cleaned up (some more good shop etiquette I'd been ignoring).

I'd gotten two days of work done in one, but it didn't feel like it.  Disappearing into the garage is one of my favourite things to do, but doing it when you're frazzled and fraught can mean you're bringing a lot of negative energy in with you.  That negativity can make you ignore best practices you'd otherwise follow and might result in simple jobs becoming much more frustrating than they need to be.

Just like when you're riding, you need to find your inner zen when wrenching.  Not only will it make you a better mechanic, but it'll also make the work itself a joy.


Followup:  

A couple of days later I was working through week six of the Science of Well Being course I've been taking and it went over the state of flow and how it induces a sense of happiness.  There is a lot of research into flow states, especially in terms of peak performance in sports, but any complex task, from painting to mechanics, will offer that moment when you're balancing your skills with your situation in a way that's so engaging you forget yourself.  That's actually what you're doing in a state of flow, you're so immersed in what you're doing that you don't have any mental acuity left to self realize.

Sony's mission statement:  what a place to work that would be!

If that doesn't clear it up for you, maybe the TEDtalk by the guy who invented the concept of flow will: