Pushing 360° Video Quality on a Motorcycle

I've been messing around with 360° immersive video at work.  One of the best ways to quickly get familiar with the technology is to use it in a difficult circumstance so you can find its limitations.  At work we're building immersive video to show a virtual walk-through of our school.  If the gimbal and camera we have will work on a motorbike, it'll work stuck to a kid's head as they walk through the school.

There are a number of barriers to admission with 4k video and image stabilization.  Fortunately, the 360Fly4k windshield mount I have is so over engineered that it easily handles the weight and motion of the gimbal and camera rig.

I've previously done 4k video with the 360Fly4k, but it has a big blind spot on it, so this would be my first true 360 4k video.  The Fly is a tough thing that takes great footage, but I'd describe it more as a 300° camera than a true 360 one.

This 4k 360 camera is the Samsung Gear 360.  I'm running it off the camera because the app won't run on my Android non-Samsung phone because I guess Samsung don't want to sell many of these cameras - it's kind of a jerk move on their part so if these things don't sell (because you have to have a Samsung phone to access it remotely), then they're getting what they deserve.

The Gear 360 has a small screen so you can see settings and using the buttons is fairly straightforward, though you'll find yourself constantly accidentally pressing buttons while you're handling it.  The Ricoh Theta 360 is still my ergonomic favourite in terms of control and handling, and they just came out with a 4k version of the Theta - perhaps they'll lend me one to test.

The gimbal is a Moza Guru 360°Camera stabilizer.  The typical gimbal design has weights to the left or right of the camera to keep things balanced, but on a 360 camera that means you're blocking all sorts of sight lines.  The Moza gimbal is vertically stacked with the weights hanging below, mostly out of sight.  It has a power button and a push button joystick that lets you set shooting modes and centre your camera so it's looking where you're going rather that looking down the 'seams' between the two cameras.

Most 360 cameras are actually two or more cameras working together.  The resulting footage is then stitched together in software to make an every direction video.  The raw footage from the Samsung looks like this (on left).  A front and back facing fish-eye camera capturing separate footage.

Because both cameras are capturing different scenes, you can often see where they are stitched together because of a difference in ISO which shows up as a clear line of brightness difference (on the right).  They all tend to be identical, fixed-lens cameras, so the aperture and shutter speed tend to be identical.

The first test video has the Samsung camera set at highest resolution (4096x2048 pixels in video) and 24FPS.  The gimbal is in locked mode, so it's always looking in the same direction even if I go around the corner.  The gimbal provides smooth video by taking the bike's motion out of the video (it's always looking in the same direction as the bike and I rotate around the shot), but a bike's motion is one of the best parts of riding, so for the second shot I set it in tracking mode so it followed the bike's motions.


Uploading it to YouTube out of the Gear 360 Action Director resulted in a flattened video that doesn't allow you to pan.  In order to produce that kind of video in the G360-AD (what a ridiculous name), you need to PRODUCE the video in the software and then share it to YouTube from within the program.  My issue with this is that when you bring the program in it takes an Intel i7 VR ready laptop the better part of twenty minutes (for less than ten minutes of footage) to process it before you can do anything with it.  When you produce it (again) for YouTube you end up waiting another twenty minutes.  The Ricoh Theta saves the video (albeit 1080p equivalent) in a fraction of the time and the resulting saved version is 360 ready for YouTube; the 360Fly software is likewise efficient at 4k.  I'm not sure why I have to wait forty minutes to produce less than ten minutes of footage on the Samsung.  I know it's a lot of data to work through, but it isn't a very streamlined process.

So, after a lot of post processing, the 4096x2048 360° video out of the camera shows up on YouTube at 1440s (s stands for spherical rather than p - pixels - spherical footage is stretched across a wider area and tends to look less sharp).  I'm not sure where my 2048s footage went - I imagine part of that big post processing was to shrink the footage to fit on YouTube more easily?

 If you click on the YouTube logo you can watch it in YouTube and adjust the resolution (bottom right) to see how it looks (make sure to do it full screen to use all your pixels).  If you're lucky enough to be watching it on a 4k display, this will come close to filling it.

The quality is excellent, the microphone remarkably good (they get beaten up pretty badly on motorcycles), but the awkwardness of post processing and the ergonomics of the thing don't make it my first choice.  Trying to manage it with gloves on would be even more frustrating.  What you've got here is a good piece of hardware let down by some weak product design and software.

The software does offer some interesting post processing options in terms of wacky arts filters, but if you're shooting at 4k all this does is drastically reduce the quality of your video.  If you're going to use those filters film at way lower resolution so you don't have to wait for hours while they process.

I'm aiming to go for a ride tomorrow to look at the fall colours after our first frost.  I'll bring the Samsung along and see how well it photographs.  It's promising 15 megapixel 360 images and high dynamic range landscapes, so I'm optimistic.  Photography is timeless and my preferred visual medium anyway, I find video too trapped by the continuity of time.  Maybe the Samsung will be a good photography tool.  Of course, I won't be able to fire the thing remotely because I don't have a Samsung phone...

Follow up:

The next morning I set up the camera on the gimbal for the ride to work.  The camera epically failed to catch any of the magic of the morning mist.  The video I got was starting and stopping every minute and the footage was a mess, full or artifacts and unusable.  

Compared to the robust Ricoh Theta (which I've had out in light rain with no problems) or the bullet proof 360Fly4k, which I've left filming through full on storms, the Samsung gave up the ghost at a bit of fog on an otherwise sunny morning.

This is not a tough camera by any stretch.  Dainty might be a better way to describe it.  For something that's supposed to catch the world around you, it's best used indoors.  Yes, I'm bitter that I couldn't catch anything of that glorious morning ground fog.

Simulated image indeed - this camera wouldn't work that close to an ocean!  If you're looking for a resilient, tough, outdoor camera, this ain't it.

The Always On Motorcycle, or: to scramble or not to scramble, that is the question!

Time to put the bike away, right?  Not so much... 
it's 10°C and sunny out today!

I was all proud of myself for pushing into late November on two wheels this year.  When they finally laid down salt and sand after the first real snowfall I put the Concours away and stripped it down for winter maintenance.  I like having a twenty year old motorbike, but it isn't a hop on and go kind of machine, it needs TLC.

A bigger mistake was putting away the KLX even before that.  A newer machine with no need for heavy maintenance, it would have made sense to keep it handy just in case.  The past week I could have ridden in to work several times, but I'm finding myself bike-blocked by too early hibernation habits and a single purpose motorbike.

Riding into the frost line is a good time!
Next year I'm going to keep an iron horse
saddled just in case.

I coulda been riding in this!

I wouldn't be going on any long rides, just commuting, but that means 2-up with my son to drop him off at school.  I got the Concours because it does this job well while still letting me fly when I want to.  The KLX just manages the job of carrying me (it struggles to run at speed on the road with my 250lbs), but with storage and a second passenger?  I think it would be fairly miserable.  Perhaps that's what's stopping me from hauling it out of the shed again.

It's away too soon!  Too soon!

The Concours isn't going anywhere, but the KLX, while a good introduction to off road riding isn't the Swiss Army knife of a bike I was looking for.  Come spring I'm going to liquidate some biking assets and go looking for a more multi-functional alternative.

I think I'll clear $1000 on the XS1100 I'm currently fixing up, and I think I'll be able to get what I bought the KLX for ($2000).  Getting the $600 back I spent on the little Yamaha should also be possible.  With $3600 on hand I have some interesting choices when it comes to a Swiss-Army knife bike I can keep handy for multi-surface riding while also being able to ride 2 up while commuting.  The 650cc dual sport class of bikes has three contenders worth considering...

$1700  sitting in Kingston.  an '01 with 55K, well maintained,
KLRs are cheap and plentiful.  It'd also be more generally
usable than the KLX.

I'm thinking once again about a Kawasaki KLR650.  A tank of a bike.  Not fast, but fast enough, able to carry two up, and rugged.  If looked after it'd hammer along for a long time.  The KLR is the darling of the cheap adventure rider and has an awful lot of after market accessory clobber as a result.

$3400 over in Waterloo.  Top of the price range, but it's an  '05
in immaculate condition with 24k on it.  Nice photography too!

Honda makes an equivalent bike, the XR650.  It looks more off road focused, and it'd be my first Honda.  Other XR650s hover around $3000 with low kilometres.  They seem a bit more expensive than either the KLR or the Suzuki, but Hondas are famous for holding value like that.

An '05 with 33k out in Brockville going for $3200...

I looked at a DR600 last year, but shied away from such an old bike (this was an '89 in poor condition).  The DR600 evolved into the DR650 which is still in production today.



All three of these 650cc dualsports have enjoyed strangely long production runs with minimal changes.  That gives them a deep and well supported parts availability though.


I could creep into the adventure bike genre proper for about twice what I've got.  At under ten grand I'd consider the current crop of mid-sized adventure touring bikes, especially the ones with some off-road capability.  The Honda NC750x rolls out for just under $10k.  Suzuki's V-Strom 650 is five hundred bucks cheaper, and the Kawasaki Versys 650 is a grand under that, though it isn't much of an off-road machine.  The Honda CB500x rolls out for seven grand, making it an even cheaper option.  These bikes tend to put on the airs of an adventure bike without delivering any real off-road abilities.  Being new they'd all handle the job of an always-on/Swiss army knife bike better than the venerable Connie though.

Triumph's new Bonneville
Scrambler is a pretty thing.

Yep, we look good on that!

At just over ten grand I'm into Triumph Scrambler territory.  This would scratch both the classic itch as well as the multi-surface riding itch.  I'm not interested in MX riding.  My off roading would be dirt roads and light trail riding.  Staying away from the brightly coloured, long shocked dirt bikes would be OK with me, especially if I were on a classic looking Scrambler.

My kind of off-roading... very civilized!

The Scrambler genre has picked up as of late, with Ducati and BMW both entering the fray.  Yamaha is also doing it (though overseas), and Scramblers have long been a favourite of the custom crowd.  But unless I can make more space, a home made custom isn't the dependable always on machine I'm looking for... though that hasn't stopped me before.

Rather than just jumping into another dual sport that puts function before everything, maybe I should just start working toward the Scrambler I'd rather have.

However, the adventure bike rabbit hole goes all the way to the 1%er land.  On the way to Silly-Rich World you've got some multi-faceted mid-level adventure machines that are both stylish and capable.

With much disposable income I could go with the new Triumph Tiger 800cc XCx (about $16k).  With more cash on hand I'd be onto the new Triumph Tiger Explorer (north of $20k) or perhaps Honda's newly re-released Africa Twin (maybe $17k?).  In this territory you can get a stylish, long-distance able, off road capable machine.

Once you get into the high end adventure market things get silly quickly.  Suddenly you're thinking about Ducati Multistradas and superbike fast KTM Super Adventures.  Bikes with more computers than a moonshot.  Every time I read an article about these bikes they are described as fantastic, followed by a long list of all the things that broke on them but were covered under warranty.  I guess that's an adventure of a sort.

These kinds of bikes wander into more than just disposable income.  If I'm buying a bike like that I'd better be at my leisure.  Dropping upwards of $30k on a motorcycle that can handle dirt roads (but needs expensive TLC every time you do) should mean you've also got a stable of a dozen other bikes and lots of time to ride them.

Back in the real world I'm motivated to expand my riding season and have a machine on hand that can do more than one thing if the Connie is feeling her age.  Come spring I'll be considering options to scramble or dual sport, but it'll be scrambling unless I can afford an actual adventure bike.  If I'm going to look for a multi-purpose always on bike, I'd also like to get one that tickles an aesthetic itch.

Sabbatical Rides: North America

The idea of a year's sabbatical has come up a few times recently.  I'm ten years away from my retirement date.  My job has a four out of five option where my salary is stretched over five years while I'm only paid for four.  It means a slightly smaller paycheque, but then a paid year off at the end of it.

My wife has ideas of going back to school in that year off, but I'm disinclined to take a year off teaching in school to go to school.  What I'd really like to do is the EPIC MOTORCYCLING TRIP with the intent of writing and producing art and photography out of it.  When people do this they typically line up the RTW ('round the world) ride and then spend a lot of time in poor countries making unintentionally Western-superiority statements about how hardy they are and how backwards non-Europeans are.   I'm reluctant to follow that pattern.

We recently spent a summer driving most of the way across North America and back again.  I had a number of moments when I saw North America for what it is:  a place that has almost no human history in it.  At the Canadian Museum of Human Rights I started thinking about how native aboriginal people are to North America (there were lots of displays on how poorly Europeans integrated with the first immigrants to this place).  A few days later at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Drumheller I discovered that most of North America's mega-fauna disappeared right after humans first arrived; we're an environmental scurge no matter where we go.  It got me thinking about how North America must have looked before we got here and unbalanced it all.

The Americas were blissfully free of human beings for all bit a trivially small, recent moment in time.  They separated from the massive Pangea landmass between two hundred and a hundred and seventy million years ago, long before anything remotely human walked the earth.  For millenia upon millenia North and South America were unique ecosystems with animals not found anywhere else, all of it safe from the human migration out of Africa two to three million years ago.  Earliest estimates now have humans crossing the northern ice bridge during an ice age about fifteen thousand years ago.  That means that, conservatively, humans (aboriginal and later settlers) have claimed North America as theirs for less than 0.0086% of its existence.

One of the few mega-fauna left after the humans got here.
It's hard not to see a tragic species memory in those eyes.

This framed much of that trip for me.  I kept trying to see the lands we were travelling through without the recent influx of foreign species.  Humans appeared and immediately started filling this place with invasive species from where they came from.  This became especially evident when I was looking into the eyes of a truly native species in Yellowstone Park.

This human free view of the Americas is something we tend to ignore as we're all so busy justifying the pieces of it we divide up between ourselves.  Most of North America's history had nothing to do with us.  There are other parts of the world that have had humans living in them for hundreds of thousands of years, but those places aren't here.

This sabbatical ride would be to circumnavigate North America and try to see the place itself without its invasive and destructive recent history.



The trick would be to time this ride with the weather.  I'd be off work beginning in July and then have until the end of the following August.  Heading east to Cape Spear (North America's easternmost point) would mean avoiding the early winters that hit Newfoundland.  Spending a summer at home would be a nice way to start the sabbatical, then, as my wife heads off to school, I hit the road.  We could arrange meetups when she's off school through the fall.

I'd start in Newfoundland in September and then head down the East Coast to Key West before riding around the Gulf of Mexico to Cancun and then crossing the continent at its narrowest point before making my way up the West Coast.  I'd try to time my pause for the holiday break, servicing and then parking up the bike in storage for a few months in California.

I'd fly back out and release the bike from storage in the late spring and aim to be taking the long road to the Arctic Ocean as the days become infinite over the Tundra.  Ideally I'd be back home by mid-July.

From tropical rain forests to mountains, plains and tundra, this ride would show the staggering range of geography to be found in North America.  At well over thirty-three thousand kilometres, this would also be an epic ride in terms of distance (RTW rides are typically 20-30,000kms).

The only downside would be the cost of travel in the USA and Canada, but there are ways to manage that without breaking the bank.  With the idea of getting to know the North America under the human migration, wild camping as often as possible would be a nice way to get closer to the land and to meet the people from all over Turtle Island who now call it home.

Taking my old Tiger on a North American circumnavigation
would be brilliant!  This old thing would be long distance
ready with only a few upgrades.

With a dearth of freeway travel on this trip, it would be about a lot of coastal roads and staying to the edge of the continent.  With potentially rough roads in the far south and north of the trip, something that is capable both on and off road would be ideal.  It wouldn't need to be a high speed touring cable unit, but it would have to carry the gear for at least occasional wild camping.  There are a number of mid-sized adventure bikes that would fit this need, though I'd be just at tempted to take my current Tiger.  Perhaps I could customize it as a sabre-toothed Tiger in relation to the America's apex predator (made extinct when humans showed up).

Riding tens of thousands of kilometres in a relatively short period of time means some challenging logistics, especially if I want to spend breaks with my significant other.  The ride out to Cape Spear on the easternmost coast is a thirty-two hundred kilometre all-Canadian opening to the trip.  All told, the ride out to Newfoundland and then back to the US border to head south down the Eastern Seaboard is nearly five thousand kilometres.  Breaking the trip into pieces is how I've blocked out the timing of it.

Canada East:  Elora to Cape Spear, Newfoundland and back to St. John, New Brunswick.  Mid-September.  About five thousand kilometres.  With potentially interesting weather (this year the east coast of Canada has been hammered by the remains of hurricanes) even this opening section might be challenging.  With ferries involved, doing an average of 400kms a day seems like an eminently doable thing that would also give me reasonable stopping time so I'm not always rushing past moments of insight.  Five thousand kilometres at four hundred a day works out to twelve days on the road.  Giving myself a fortnight to do that would mean being able to spend a bit of extra time where necessary (hopefully on Newfoundland).

The East Coast:  New Brunswick to Key West.  End of September/early October.  This four thousand kilometre jaunt down the East Coast would be happening in the fall, while dodging hurricanes.  Sticking to the coast would be occasionally tricky in a road system designed to put you onto an interstate, but I'd stubbornly cling to it.  Four thousand kilometres at four hundred a day average is ten days riding south.  I could easily compress that by doing it on freeways, but that's not the point.  Being on back roads gives me a better chance of seeing the place for what it is instead of just seeing the travel industry.  I'd be aiming to get to Key West still fairly early in October and then start my circumnavigation of the Gulf of Mexico.


The Gulf of Mexico:  Key West, Florida to Cancun, Mexico.  From early October for the month.  The Gulf coast means I'm travelling through some culturally unique places.  New Orleans has long been a desired destination, and Texas is often described as a country in and of itself.  Crossing into Mexico puts this trip well into an adventure mind-set as I'd have to find my way through a unique culture in a language I'm not familiar with.  The fifty-three hundred kilometres of this leg of the trip should take roughly two weeks, but with borders and other hold ups it would probably be better to settle on an end of October arrival in Cancun (giving me 5-6 days of padding in there to let things run at Mexican speed).

Pacific Mexico:  Cancun through Baja to San Diego, California.  This six thousand kilometre leg up the west coast of Mexico and the Baja Peninsula will eventually lead me back to the USA.  If I'm beginning this leg in early November, it should take me fifteen days at my 400/day average to make my way north.  Giving myself the month means extra days, hopefully with a reading week meetup with Alanna somewhere in Mexico for a few days off together in the warm.  Even with that relaxed schedule I should be able to make my way to San Diego, service the bike and put it into storage for a few months before making my way home for the holidays.  A handy winter break means I could collate my photos and notes from part one of the trip.  

West Coast to the Arctic Ocean:  San Diego to Tuktoyaktuk.  This seven thousand kilometre ride to the northern edge of North America would take 18 days, but with multiple ferries, borders and coastal barriers I'd pad some extra time in there.  I'd be aiming for a late June/early July (midsummer, midnight sun) arrival in Tuktoyaktuk on Canada's Arctic coast.  A month back from that would mean flying back into San Diego around the beginning of June and then riding north for many weeks.

From Vancouver Island on north this would be a rough and tumble ride with hundreds of kilometres of gravel roads.  The bike would need to be sorted and ready to take on that kind of abuse.

The Long Way Home:  Tuktoyaktuk, Northwest Territories to Elora, Ontario.  It's nearly seven thousand kilometres diagonally across Canada back home again to finish this trip.  That's another 18 days at 400kms/day.

I'd try to be home by mid-July and enjoy some downtime before getting ready to go back into the classroom.  The first nine hundred kilometres of this trip would be long days on permafrost and gravel, but from the Dawson Highway south it would be back on tarmac and I would be able to make better time.  There is no over land passage that traces the northern coast of Canada through the tundra, so a diagonal slash south and east would be the final leg of this trip.

Wrapping my head around this continent on which I live would not only give me great material for writing, but it would also let me tick off a bucket list item:  complete a truly epic motorcycle journey before I'm too old to manage it.

Motorcycle Media: Ride with Norman Reedus

A well made piece of motorcycle documentary!

I've been watching Ride With Norman Reedus on AMC over the past few weeks.  What you have here is an incredibly approachable celebrity who is obviously a giant bike nerd doing all the rides in the continental U.S. that he's never gotten around to doing.

This isn't some Harley-or-nuthin kind of biker exercise either, Norman throws his leg over everything from a Rolands Sands BMW R9T Special to a Zero electric bike, and that's just in the first episode!  By the end of the season you've seen over a dozen machines from half a dozen different manufacturers.  Norman obviously loves his bikes and he isn't particular about the flavour.

He likes his customs, but you'll also find him riding
everything from state of the art Ducatis to 1950s
BMWs, often in the same episode.

Another nice touch is that this isn't a boy's own/Charlie & Ewan masculine and manly bike trip.  Norman goes out of his way to find motorcycle subcultures when he's riding, and that often includes female riding groups and partners.  You don't notice what a change this is from the usual testosterone charged motorcycle media until you see it done this differently.

The production values are excellent.  With aerial establishing shots and a wide variety of atmospheric images used throughout the ride, it doesn't feel like you're following a map so much as actually being where the ride is (much like you would on a bike).  Norman himself has directed film and published a book of photography, and he's frequently stopping to take photos of his own or bragging on the nice little SLR he's using.  A camera geek after my own heart!

In stark contrast to the hard man he plays in Walking Dead, Norman has an easy going Californian vibe that makes him both approachable and a joy to watch.  When a woman at Deal's Gap says he looks like Darryl from Walking Dead he shoots right back, "yep, that's me!" with a big smile on his face.

This show is going to get a lot of people interested in trying out motorcycling.  I hope to goodness AMC is already planning for another season (though calling five episodes a season is a bit much).  This show can't cost that much to produce and it has a ready and expanding audience.  Ducati and Triumph should both get a nod for obviously ponying up new bikes for use in this, but it was money well spent.  The others should be lining up to provide bikes for the next round.  A surprise riding partner or two (Valentino Rossi?) would be most excellent.  Having Vale show Norman around Tavullia would be epic.

In case it isn't clear, I'd highly recommend this if you enjoy travel documentaries.  If you're into motorcycles at all you'll love it.  Norman in Europe?  Norman in Japan?  With so many motorcycle subcultures to explore, this could easily become a world wide phenomenon.

Beautiful Sunset Ride

T'was a lovely evening and everyone was napping or having quiet time, so I pulled the Tiger out and went for a cool, sunset ride up and down the Grand River.  Almost no traffic at the end of the day, but lots of bugs on my visor when I got back.

Here are some photos of the ride.  If you're curious about how I'm doing this, I'm getting an article on it published in Adventure Bike Rider, but in the meantime you can find the how-to on my photography blog here.

All photos taken on a Ricoh Theta clamped to the wing mirror.  Screen grabs were post-processed in Adobe Lightroom.  The 'little planet' photos were uploaded through the Theta software to the Theta website and then it's a one button click to get the tiny planet look:

Post from RICOH THETA. - Spherical Image - RICOH THETA

Post from RICOH THETA. - Spherical Image - RICOH THETA

Triumph Tiger sunset ride - Spherical Image - RICOH THETA

Motorcycle Destinations: Mostly Ironheads In Elora, ON.

There was a time when every motorcyclist was also an amateur mechanic.  Getting your hands dirty was the only way to keep early motorcycles running.  We're over a century into the evolution of the motorized bike now and, as in all places, digitization has taken over.  Modern mechanics are now called technicians and have to be as adept at communicating with the computers on a modern motorcycle as the old school types were at diagnosing a mechanical fault with their senses.  Both are complicated, but in quite different ways.  There are obvious advantages to modern bikes in terms of efficiency, ease of use and dependability, but motorcycling is inherently a compromise in convenience, and many of the iconoclasts who escape the clutches of automotive transport to ride in the wind question the replacement of human skill with automated assistance.

Back in the day the motorcyclist themselves performed many of the tasks that a modern day technician does, so what was left to the old school mechanic?  What you'd typically find in a pre-war motorcycle repair shop looked more akin to a machinist's bench than the antiseptic, electronically focused diagnostics bay of a modern day garage.  That ability to manufacturer your own parts and diagnose problems without computer support, using only your senses and your hands might seem simplistic and archaic, but it was nothing of the sort.  There is a secret art to working with pre-electronic, analogue motorcycles that trips up many modern technicians who, while adept in leveraging digital tools to diagnose digital machines and replace parts, struggle to diagnose and repair mechanical faults.

***

If you're into restoring older machinery, this vanishing skill set is hard to come by, but I'm fortunate to live near one of these rare, independent, locally owned shops.  Lloyd Gadd is the owner and operator of Mostly Ironheads in Elora, Ontario.  With decades of experience in mechanics, he approaches motorcycle repair old school.  His shop is part machinists, part mechanics and part historical ode to The Motor Company.  Lloyd focuses on older Harley Davidsons, but as the name of the shop implies, it's not an exclusive focus.  Lloyd is also a qualified mechanic who can do everything from MoT safeties to changing a tire.

I was in there most recently getting last winter's Fireblade project safetied, and in the process Lloyd's prompt service got me looking at a better way to do motorcycle tires that will save me a significant amount of money.  While I was over there I also did a round of photography to give you a sense of what goes on in this old school shop.

Multiple engine rebuilds of air cooled Harley twins were ongoing in this small but dense workspace.

Unlike like most modern shops that simply refuse to work on long term mechanical or machinist driven repairs in favour of high turnover/quick to repair parts replacement, Mostly Ironheads will actually machine parts and rebuild a motor from the ground up.

It's a whole other level of mechanical commitment when you are prepared to turn your own parts out.

Lloyd has a number of customer projects on the go, and also makes a point of collecting older and vintage parts.  If you're fan of Harley Davidson you should make a point of riding up to Elora and checking out what's on hand - in many cases you'll see parts that are so rare that you may never have seen them before, even if you're into classic hogs.

Lloyd told me the story of a 1950s Harley racing motor he'd come across.  Only one of the two heads is accurate, but he's on the lookout for a replacement - though seven decades old serviceable racing parts don't survive well, as you can imagine.  When he has this rare piece of motorcycling history back together it'll be one of the few remaining complete Panhead racing motors in existence.  You might think that's a one off, but not in this shop.  Even if you're not into HD, this place is an ode to moto-mechanical history and worth a stop.  Air cooled bikes have an aeronautical aesthetic to them that modern bikes often miss.

The machining needed to sort this head out is impressive.  It had worn down below spec so is now being built back up and reground to specifications.  When you can machine your own parts, you're as much an engineer as you are a mechanic.

 Being a restorer, Lloyd is always on the lookout for parts, and the shop is an ongoing work in progress, with parts coming in and getting sorted and stored until needed.  Previous customers, online and estate sales and various other connections like the Harley Owners Group mean Mostly Ironheads are able to draw in older parts, often found in boxes of 'stuff' that get dropped off.

Lloyd mentioned a customer who dropped off a box of stuff while clearing out space at home.  In the process of going through it they discovered an unopened complete carburetor assembly still in the original factory packaging from the mid-sixties!  There is a joy in bringing a piece of history like this back to life, and the joy is alive and well at Mostly Ironheads.  If you're in Southern Ontario, it's an easy ride up north of Guelph to the shop.

This is that racing motor - one of the heads is incorrect, but the rest is intact and very rare!

 These are the cam lobes for that racing head compared to a typical one.  Not only is the racing cam lobe lighter with hollowed shaft, but it's also heavier duty in terms of strength.  Here and here are good primers on cam profiles if you're curious.  Whereas the right side regular cam is designed for long term use and efficiency, the more radical racing came on the left is designed to stay open longer, rev high and produce more power, though it wouldn't idle well, get good mileage or run smoothly.  But when you're aiming for all out speed, you'll put up with that just so you can wind it up and go.  You're unlikely to see mechanical history like this anywhere else in Ontario.

In addition to the restoration work going on, you'll also find an eclectic mix of older, finished air cooled Harleys ranging from customized choppers to more standard rides.  If you're into older, air cooled machinery, this will really float your boat.

Lloyd's area of interest extends from post war bikes all the way up to the last of the air cooled, carburettor fed bikes.  If you're into graphic design, you'll see everything from post war art deco to sixties and seventies disco and eighties futurism in the logos and bike designs.

There are some core elements to Harleys (like v-twin engines), that evolve slowly, but design wise they're much more in tune with their times than you might have assumed.