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Discussion in 'New Zealand' started by Padmei, Aug 13, 2010.
Free the fork! No more forking slavery!
I jogged back from town on Thursday.
Now my back/neck feel like someone has jammed a sharpened salad fork in there...
Hang on, didn't I see a book on voodoo at Chez Crayfish the other day?
i ran along the maitai the other nite to decompress & have been on antiinflams with my back now - bugger this exercise crap.
Well the gearbox saga is still ongoing. i went to an engineer customer who i thought may have the correct measuring utensils to work out the shimming for the shafts to allow for the maximum of 0.05mm end float. Yes that is correct 0.05mm as per the manuals & guru wisdom.
Unfortunately everyone in the motorcycle & engineering industry that I've talked to have looked at me first with suspicion & then incredulity when I insist the run out isn't supposed to be greater than 0.05mm.
"No not 0.5mm, 0.05mm! Yes I know how small that is - thinner than a film of oil? - yes I suppose so. Yes deformities in the shims would prob be more than that. Yes that is what it says & what all the gurus say.
Yes it is an old airhead agricultural type gearbox. OK lets just give it a go & see what measurements we see."
So as you may have gathered the tolerances are bloody small. Unfortunately I believe the discrepancy from the human measuring factor is greater than the 0.05mm.
I measured with said engineering customer with a set of verniers - Yep wrong device but I was already there. Every time we measured the measurement was different. if the bearing was spun a 1/4 turn the measurement was way out - too far out to be worthy of trusting.
I came home & tried it myself with my own digital verniers. I seemed to get a reasonably consistent set of readings however once again the discrepancy was higher than the 0.05mm
I felt sort of confident & shimmed as to what I worked out it to be however upon buttoning up the gearbox & stupidly tightening up the flange I felt the input shaft was too tight. Luckily the old Berlina box was right beside me to compare & that one spun right round easily in 1st compared to Schmidts box.
I kicked Schmidts box to the side & lifted the R65 box out to where Schmidt had been sitting for weeks covered in leaves & debris & bolted it on. I was sick of buggering around. I want to ride again.
A couple of hours later Schmidt was up & running again albeit with a box with a few false neutrals.
For now I want to ride - I'm sick of all these bloody motorcyclists going past on holiday while I'm laid up. I'll look at the box at a later stage. i'm tempted to take it to a good proper engineering setup like Topliss & get an old school pommy type character to help me out using good quality measuring tools.
Can you not use a dial gauge? or is that not possible. Trying to measure .05mm (.002 thou in correct language) with a vernier is asking for trouble.
Where did the salad fork go?
Yes you can use a dial guage & this is what I thought we would have been using. I will be making sure the measuree will have the appropriate equipment next time.
i do not know where it has gone. It was here on Tuesday, Nordie came around to fix my computoter & then I couldn't find it again.
There were signs of a struggle & a trail of blood leading to some tyre tracks - 1989 Shinko 705s with 50 000kms mileage on them, side wall cracked 30mm from the valve stem- well that's what my indian tracker neighbour tells me anyway
I think I might drop my soulless/reliable/comfortable bike off for a service this week
Is there a reward for the salad fork ?
I resent the implication :ddog
yes but I've got $15 000 worth of gas to use (well actually I need a new driveshaft, final drive will prob need rebuilding at some stage, new electrical system, repower 1070 kit, fork change to grunty smooth forks, rear disc conversion, panel & paint, beard trim, slipper resole ) OK lets make that $4.50 worth of gas to use so suck on that flash guy.
Should have most of that stuff in The Emporium somewhere...
As I recline out back of Casa del Crayfish the smoke from my Te Amos cigar curls then hangs above my head in the cool evening air. It is peaceful above my village. The ninos are settling in for the night reading & the silence they leave me with is punctuated by the prayers from the pajeros in the trees.
Laurel my faithful perro laps at her bowl the sniffs around for any morsels of food left after the cenas. She coughs, turns around then flops to the comfort of her favourite old poncho.
I had been reading a most excellente ride report set in Mexico from 1981 & it stirred me to ride once more. A ride with no purpose other than to embrace the feeling of freedom of the open carretera.
I dug thru the cupboard till I found appropriate attire. My old fringe jacket felt right for this ride. It hung around my shoulders like an old drunk amigo. Next, of course, my leather gloves. Years of working in the fields harvesting the choclo moulded them to my hands. Alas the policia will be around so my hat could not make the journey with me.
It was time to coax my ol burro into life & wind my way down the treacherous trail from the hacienda to the road.
The old burro ran rough at the start. The engine stumbled along, old fuel moving into the engine & out the exhaust as new fresh gasoline pushed it thru. The old tyres cracked & hard, rolled complaining at each revolution. The suspension creaked & groaned over the coarse rubble & pot holes
The engine grew hotter, it began to breath easier as the miles mounted up.
Tear tracks ran down my face caused by the sand blown into my eyes from the Santa Ana winds coming off the desert. The warmth that wind brought eased the pains of an old body bent & ravaged from riding thru the cruel winters this region experiences. My body responded . Tired muscles loosened as they warmed heat from the sun & remembered the joy of riding again.
The sweet aroma of engine oil rose from the exhaust pipes. Months of seeping oil- congealing then hardening began to liquify and burn off.
My ol burro was alive again. Together we rode thru the mountains & along the plains. Many other travellers passed us. gringos with delicado shiny steeds sped past with nary a nod to this vaijero. Bandidos took more notice. They understood the call of the highway. Still, no gestures were passed between us - they knew lines could be crossed with the wrong interpretation from such a hombre on a mission.
Si! the mission - a border run with a motorcycle & a considerable amount of cocaine. An all or nothing chance for a man to earn the valuable pesos to repay the mortgage on the rancho & redeem the love of his life taken captive by the evil drug baron.
Looking into the shaking mirror on the 'bars I could see the tassels from the jacket rippling in the wind. The sleeves had blown back up my forearms & the fine hairs were catching the dust & grit. My eyes stung but I held a steady 50MPH.
A patrulla de policio sat at the side of the road. My eyes looked straight past it. I had too much at stake. My face stayed locked in a stern grimace. i rode on & on.
The plains gave way to lush green plants bordering the Rio Pelorusio. Holidaying gringos looked up, children ran from the noise of my backfiring exhaust, men stared & spat into the dust, women flashed beseeching eyes at me as I pulled into the cantina.
I laid my beast carefully over on the stand. Stepping off my burro I stretched & farted. My gait grew steadier as I made my way to the facilities. Aliavarsed, I studied the cantino, coughed a raucous laugh then fired up my burro for the return to my rancho.
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Some of mui familia singing the song better than Bob Dylan does.
Mui bueno hombre, soon you will have to ride to casa de Kokopelli for a warm cervesa.
Can't compete with your style, man..
Gunna give photo credits?
Pajeros in the trees? Tassles?:huh
Could be that your preload needs to be wound up a little, those tassles look heavy.
It was a 100 000 hit celebratory post. Boring stuff will resume later. I thought once you went around the clock the post speedo went back to zero on these old things- ahhhhh I know, I've got one of those fancy electronic speedo.
Don't you worry my lil Speightsy friend, rugby will be starting up again after its 3 week hiatus- things will return to normal shortly.
The only thing heavy was the look from THE Man, man
So did you rescue the lovely Ensalada de Tenedor?
It's spelt "burrito".
OK I was all giddy at the thought of a surprise chrissie pressie
Then I realised somone was taking the piss....
They'll clash with the tan tassels on the jacket...
cool, tasselled salt and pepper shakers