One Leak Closes, Another Opens

The plan for today was to get the air filter installed in the Triumph (finally), go buy a new vacuum cleaner, and work on my new, super-secret business plan of utter genius.

But before starting any of that, I sat down in my reading room with a copy of Living Aboard magazine.  I've been amused with the similarities between boaters who live on their boats, and hardcore bikers.  Sorry to use the cliche, but we both do more with less.  Also, as I learn more new and interesting and entirely unrelated things (my true hobby: learning new stuff), I'm amazed at how much everything is the same.  

So, I was reading about some lady trying to repair the ten foot hose between the head and the storage tank on her boat, when I had a revelation.  I realized that the tool I used to adjust the valves on the VX800 would probably fit in the horrible little spot where the troublesome bolt is.

Naturally, I bolted from the reading room straight to the garage.  Lady Luck asked where I was going as I passed by, and I muttered something coherent like, "I'm a GENIUS."

Out in the garage, I dug out the valve adjustment tool, and finessed it into the space between the front and rear cylinders on the VX.  It popped, more or less, right on to the bolt.  Alas, there wasn't room to move it, because the carburetor was in the way.

So, I pulled the carburetor off, and tightened the bolt right up.  I then spent the next three hours getting all the parts I've pulled off the VX back on the bike.  Once everything was assembled and tight again, I poured a couple liters of water into the radiator to see if the bike can hold its water.

Well, the original leak I had set out to fix, no longer leaks.  HOORAY!!

Of course, there's a new leak, mocking me.  It's on the bottom of the motor, on the clutch side, and I can't figure out if it's a case of a missing bolt, or if something horrible has happened.

So, take a look at this picture and tell me what you guys think.  The coolant is leaking out of the hole on the top of the photo, slightly to the left of center. 

Whaddya think?  Stuff a bolt in there?  Weep inconsolably and scrap the bike?

Update!   Well, if I'd been paying attention, I'd have noticed the hole is on the water pump housing.   So, probably a bad mechanical seal.  Yay for new parts!

Just a few random things

• The dude on the 883 sporty said "Hi" this morning. He is now OK.
• Last Friday it rained. Because it does not rain here, I didn't bother with my rain gear. Therefore, I got soaked. Of course, if I had worn my rain gear, it would not have rained and I would have been soaked anyway from the suffocating heat inside my rainsuit. There is no victory in the desert.
• I was the only motorcyclist parked in the garage at work on Friday. As such, I took over the Fearsome Accounting MC's turf and marked it as my own with a big "No Wussies" sign.
• The "No Wussies" sign was actually just my Triumph, parked all alone.
• It was still awesome.
• We're headed for Oregon again. We'll be up there in the end of June and beginning of July. It will rock and I can't wait.

More Plans for Oregon

When I get to Oregon, I will be starting my very own sidehack-based guerilla drive in.

I've even got a 16mm projector already.

Hate To Admit It

Have I mentioned recently how much I hate SUVs?

Because I really, really do. I've never ridden in an SUV I've liked, much less driven one worth the effort of getting in.

For about six months back when I was in college I owned a Ford Bronco II. I think it was a 1986, but I can't remember for sure. It was a fun truck to drive, when it actually ran. Reliability-wise, it was a complete P.O.S. I had to walk backwards around it two times and knock on the hood thirteen times under the light of the waning moon just to get it to start. You don't want to know what I had to do if I wanted to go on the freeway.

It was two-tone ugly brown, with rust in all the right places, and a fading Megadeth sticker on the back window. The radio didn't work, the doors didn't lock, and it couldn't climb steep hills without belching black smoke out the leaky exhaust and some fancy footwork between the clutch and the gas pedal. I've never owned a more terrible car.

But it was fun because it was a truck, not a souped up station wagon status symbol. I could actually haul stuff in the back.

Ignoring the bad driving habits of their latte-swilling, cellphone-yapping, utterly oblivious drivers, modern SUVs, to me, seem to be too much car and not enough truck. Are you REALLY going to take that Escalade/Navigator/Expedition up an unmaintained dirt road to go camping?

Due to a fluke NRA-convention in town this weekend, my usual car rental establishment was sold out, so I had to use another. We were planning to go camping near Flagstaff, and we don't really like to take the Mustang on long, mountain drives anymore since it's reaching the age where breakdowns are more and more common. Anyway, I wanted to rent a full-size car, because if you're going to rent a car, why not get something nicer than what you usually drive?

Well, the rental place was out of full-sized cars (and I'd really been hoping for a Dodge Charger, too), so they upgraded me to a full-size S.U.V.

The truck they gave me was a Nissan Xterra. When I saw the ugly behemoth waiting outside, my heart sank a little.

I climbed up into the damn thing, got situated with the mirrors, put it in gear and, accidentally, tore ass getting out of the parking lot and into traffic.

It had a V-8 in there. Who knew?

I hate to admit it, but I warmed to it's monster-truckiness pretty quickly. It ate up the mountain grades to Flagstaff with no trouble, and there was room to spare even after loading all our camping gear in - and we travel heavy.

But the best part was getting out on to the previously-hinted-at unmaintained dirt road. I was chasing another truck with our camping buddies in it, and they were in a hurry. We slid through curves and powered up steep, gravelly hills without complaint.

Later, I discovered the switch to engage 4WD, which made the dirt roads even MORE enjoyable.

Man, I hate it when I have to concede that maybe, just maybe, not all SUVs are ALL bad.

All the same, we're not going to buy one.

Harley Hecklin'

So there's this dude that used to park his Sportster next to me every day at work.

Generally speaking, when I see another biker in the parking ramp, I say "good morning!" or "have a good one!" depending on if I'm arriving or leaving.

Sportster dude hasn't replied once. I guess he's too cool for me.

Except he's on an 883 and, as everyone knows, that's a girl's bike. [At least, that's what I think if you're on an 883 and you're a douche. If not, you can ride a bright pink 883 with barbie dolls for spokes and still be the manliest man on the block.]

I haven't seen him for a while, but I have daydreamed a bit about harassing him a little the next time I do see him. For example, "So! Riding the wife's bike in today, huh?" Or "So are those things highway legal?" Or "Planning to join the Shriners?"

It'd be fun, except he knows which bike is mine. Besides, I think he started parking with the "Hell's Clerical Staff" gang in another part of the garage where all the cool guys with obnoxious pipes and stupid/no helmets park. I think the Speed Four made his girly little bike cry.

Return of the Triumph

The shop finished up my bike yesterday.

Or so I thought.

See, I called (note, they did NOT call me. Nice!) to make sure it was done, and they said it was. I went straight from work to the shop to settle up and get my key back. While I was there, I found out the air filter had NOT been replaced, because they had to order one.

Y'know, like the brake pads.

I took the Triumph home, but I've got to go back in a week or so to get the air filter installed.

I'm a little confused as to why they didn't just order the air filter at the same time as the brake pads. I mean, it's not like I surprised them with the request for a tune-up AFTER I asked about having the brakes done.

Whatever.

Anyway, they washed the bike, so it'll be all pretty for the next couple of days. They also adjusted the freeplay in my clutch, which has totally messed up my clutch control. Right now, when I accellerate it sounds like REEEEEEEEE-rrrrrrrrRrRrRrRRRRRR (pause) REEEEEEEE-rrrrrrRrRRrRRRRRR (pause) and so on. You'd think I was a noob.

Plus I've got new brake pads, which means every stop takes an extra long time for now. For those of you who don't know why - new brakepads take a while to "break in" and conform to the grooves in the rotor. During the break in process, actual braking power is significantly reduced.

The important thing, though, is that I've got my bike back. As much fun as scooters are, I was suffering from attitude-withdrawal.

Don't Tell Anyone

I've been riding the Vespa ET4 to work. It kicks ass. It's still for sale, but my stable is running out of motorcycles in rideable condition.

The Triumph is still in the crappy shop, because they had to order brake pads. Seriously? At a dealership? I'm annoyed because I've had to call the shop every day in order to get a status update. Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't think it's so much to ask for a quick call to let me know they're going to have to keep the bike a while longer.

I'd be a lot happier to get that call than to find out they're keeping it when I call them to make sure it's ready as I head out the door on a sunny afternoon to go pick it up because they said it was going to be done first thing in the morning.

So, no Triumph for me until tomorrow night.

Also, Lady Luck reported that her Vespa's check engine light came on briefly during her ride home. So, it's to the shop with that one. It's due for service anyway.

That leaves carpooling, mass transit, or the ET4.

The ET4 won. It's the happiest solution for everyone involved.

An Explanation

So, no, the Triumph didn't actually kill anyone. Nor, so far as I'm aware, has it ever demanded human sacrifice.

Nope, the gory red mess all over the ground in my photos from yesterday is coolant. See, this cute little plastic connector must have developed a crack, which then leaked, which then led to a catastrophic failure (of the connector).

All your intrepid reporter knows is that I got off the bike seconds before my nuts got steam-grilled (or "White Castled").

See, I was on my way home when I noticed the check engine light was on. I thought "Aw, hell," and assumed I'd make it home and take the bike in to a mechanic at my leisure.

Well, then I noticed the temperature climbing all the way to 119 degrees Celsius. This is also when I noticed my radiator fan wasn't running.

So, I pulled straight into a McDonald's parking lot and shut the bike off. As I said, I had time to get off before the steam started pouring out from under my seat and the bike gushed coolant all over the parking lot.

It was pretty awesome to watch, really. Sometimes, when things are just fucked, all you can do step back and and enjoy the show.

Anyway, I got the local Triumph shop to come get the bike (none of the non-Triumph shops, most of which were closer, would take it.), and it's being operated on as we speak.

I'm a little ticked about the breakdown, but massively relieved it happened in such a convenient area.

Why I Never Turn My Back on the Triumph

The Triumph demands bloody tribute.

Random Car Crash

I witnessed a car crash the other day. A single car lost control and wrecked, without hitting anyone else, in dense traffic.

There is a bunch of new roadwork being done on the freeway I use to get to work. I hear they're extending the HOV lane, which is a good thing. As it is right now, there is a nasty bottleneck just before the HOV lane opens up. It's kind of fun because I get to accelerate hard when I finally reach the HOV lane, but losing the bottleneck would be more fun overall.

Anyway, the road has been squeezed down until there is just room for three lanes. Traffic gets bunched up pretty tight because 98% of drivers on the road don't understand how to merge.

I was riding in the center lane behind a black Chrysler 300 and very much looking forward to enjoying the thermos full of coffee I had in my courier bag. In the right lane, just barely ahead of the Chrysler was a white compact car of some variety.

I couldn't see the driver of the white car, so I don't know if he/she was on the phone, drinking coffee or fiddling with the radio. However, I did see him (we'll assume it was a guy for ease of writing) turn on his left turn signal and start drifting towards the center lane. He was NOT far enough ahead of the Chrysler to actually change lanes without giving us all a basic physics demonstration (two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time). He noticed at the last second that he was about to damage a car a whole bunch more expensive than his, and abruptly swerved back into his own lane.

Which is where things went all to Hell.

His dramatic swerve sent him hurtling towards the breakdown lane. Naturally, he did the thing people do when they panic and over-corrected. His over-correction was enough to break his back tires loose, and he started fishtailing in perfect weather on a clean road.

Frankly, I was impressed.

He continued over-correcting, and the fishtail got worse and worse until he'd spun all the way around. At this point, his car careened into a concrete barrier on the right side of the road. It made a mighty crunching sound, and sent car parts flying across the road. Parts I had to dodge.

Incredibly enough, his car was still spinning around at this point. Traffic had not yet stopped, and I found myself faced with flying car fragments and a newly-bashed, white, compact car sliding towards me.

I didn't really have time to think, but swerved left and grabbed a big handful of throttle to get away and past the car.

Luckily, it worked. I managed to avoid the tumbling, scattered car parts AND the still-mobile wreck.

So far as I could tell, everyone else managed to avoid his sphere of destruction. I would love to know what happened, exactly, to cause that crash. I'm going to leave it in the "doesn't know how to operate vehicle at speed" category for now.