Lots of old Soviet nuclear stuff near Semey… There wasn’t much left of this one. It had been vandalized and burnt, over and over again. I’m fairly certain those canisters are air filters. <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/r1Yar7nA1Krer3ubfRKDRrwCuK8bWDvWWqLJzgQkUDE?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_UM7LZMS8D0Q/TKJjdMGfouI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/ORFK8Jx04Tk/s800/tn-IMGP5025.jpg" /></a> My old Ural took a real beating on the Kazak roads. The mirror fell off in two pieces and the top of the tank cracked open, spraying fuel everywhere. I had to ride around for three days on a half full tank to avoid leakage. This is the welder used to seal the tank for around $5. The repair was very good and lasts to this day, but the welding machine was interesting. It had a hand crank at the top which varied the distance between the coils and therefore the voltage to the weld. There was a 30 liter jug I carried in the trunk which got me through the long stretches without gas stations. 80 Octane was sold everywhere and the Ural seemed to run quite happily on it. I used it to light fires on several occasions and it is more like a light oily diesel than gasoline as we know it to be. When using it to light a fire, it the flame would sort of crawl rather than engulfing whatever it was poured onto. Surley it was watered down as well.. Cow shit for heating and cooking. Very common in central Asia, China. Mmmmmm! There must have been a fire sale on used train cars after the Soviet days as everyone seemed to have one as an addition to their home. More social networking with a stubborn Ural in Kazak! The wire leading to the points had corroded and was completing the circuit intermittently. The old fellow that owned this one and was quick to show me his ran superb. Which actually it really did sound healthy. 1962 M72 Ural flathead. This was one of the GPS spots I wish I could have passed on. I met this fellow Constantine and his buddies drinking vodka and feasting on Sheslik by a fire out in a field. I was looking for a place to camp when happening upon them. So after the usual invite, we settle down for the night, etc. In the morning Constantine says we should go bath. Sounds great. After 20 minutes of unwanted exercise getting the Ural fired up, I follow him into the back and beyond to this little brick shack where he proceeds to strip. Inside is a pipe, with a big hand crank valve which he turns. Out of a pipe on top, water starts gushing out and after a minute turns warm and stinking of sulphur. He tells me the Soviets drilled a mile down to tap into this, although it does not go to any of the homes for heating. Matter of fact, he says it doesn’t go anywhere and the locals just use it for bathing. Russkie homebuilt trike.