Joe Gresh

The Fix Is In

In an oddly satisfying way, climate change activists and good old fashioned mechanics have found an issue they can both agree on. The BBC News recently published a story on the Right to Repair.

Manufacturers, in an effort to comply with government rules and plain old greed, have been locking out consumers’ ability to repair the trinkets of modern life. Using proprietary software, draconian warranty rules that prohibit anyone else from opening their widgets, and glue, builders have stifled our repair and reuse ethos. Throwing the damn thing out has become easier than fixing the damn thing.

I’ve been gravitating to older motorcycles mostly because they are so fixable. There’s nothing sealed or secret on a 1975 Kawasaki. Performance wise, if you ride anywhere near the legal limits any old Japanese bike from the 1970s and 1980s will exceed your riding skills. Not many modern cars can run with a 1000cc 4-cylinder bike and you’ll never have to go to the dealer again because they don’t work on your bike or stock parts to fit it.

YouTube has been on the forefront of cracking open the cradle-to-grave marketing machine. The video giant’s users have filled its files with how-to instructional vids on locked-out products. Recently, I replaced the battery in my iPhone for $6 and then replaced the front-facing camera I broke replacing the battery for $7. With new phones running $600 I’ll be nursing this old iPhone for as long as I can. It’s rare I do anything without checking YouTube for a how-to video. Even If I know how to do a job I like to see other people’s ideas. They may have a better way.

Here’s hoping the environmentalists and the wrench-spinners can convince the powers-that-be we need the Right to Repair. Yeah, it could be looked at as more Nanny-State intervention in business but once you buy a product why does the builder have any say in what happens to their widget? Who gets to say what you can do with it? You, or the manufacturer?

Dream Garage

If I had all the money, I’d be one of those crazy collector types, like Jay Leno or Anthony Hopkins, the Silence Of The Lambs guy. You know, the kind that has 177 motorcycles, their Great Paw-Paw’s washing machine motor and 42 washed-up old cars stored in three aircraft hangers. All of my bikes would be in neat rows, I’d have every color of every year of each model and they would all sit in my gigantic storage shed and slowly seize up. And when I die there’d be an auction where the stuff would sell for pennies on the dollar to a bunch of soulless flippers intent on making old motorcycles as expensive and annoying as the collector car scene is today.

Maybe I’d organize both cars and bikes by engine type. There would be a Kawasaki 750 triple, a Saab 93 triple, a Suzuki 750 triple next to a crisp, modern Honda NS400. Flathead Row would have a Melroe Bobcat with the air-cooled Wisconsin V-4, and all three Harley flatties: The 45- incher, the Sportster KH and that big block they made (74-inch?). You’d have to have an 80-inch Indian and the Scout along with most of the mini bikes built in the 1970s.

I love a disc-valve two stroke but I’ve never owned one. First bikes in that section will be a bunch of Kawasaki twins (350cc and 250cc). I’d have a CanAm because with their carb tucked behind the cylinder instead of jutting out the side they don’t look like disc bikes should. A Bridgestone 350 twin without an air filter element would be parked next to a ferocious Suzuki 125cc square-four road racer, year to be determined.

Besides the two-stroke Saab I’d have a two-stroke Suzuki LJ 360cc 4X4 with the generator that turns into the starter motor like an old Yamaha AT1-125. I’d need a metalflake orange Myers Manx dune buggy. It would be that real thick kind of metalflake that looks like some kind of novelty candy served only on Easter or found in table centerpieces at wedding receptions. A few Chevy trucks from the 1960’s would make it into the collection also. A mid-60’s Chevy van, the swoopy one, would be a must-have to go with one of those giant steam tractors, the ones with the steel wheels and the chain wrapped around the steering shaft and then to the center pivot front axle to make the beast turn hard.

To complement the Bobcat I’d have a gas-engined backhoe, something from the 1950’s with all new hoses and tires. I’ll paint it yellow with a roller and then hand paint “The Jewel” in red on both sides of the hood with the tiny artist’s brush from a child’s watercolor set. The backhoe would be a smooth running liquid-cooled flathead with an updraft carburetor and it would reek of unburnt fuel whenever you lifted a heavy load in the front bucket.

No one would be as into my junk as me, so I’d have to hire a guy to feign interest in the stuff. I think $10 an hour should get me a sidekick who would always be amazed at what I had found. We’d both marvel at how little work or parts the item would need to get it running and then we’d push it into an empty space. After a cold beer from a refrigerator plastered with Klotz decals he’d run his card through the time clock with a resounding clunk, leaving me and the shop cat sitting in my beat-up brown vinyl recliner to stare at my collection and wonder if I really had all the money.

Mr. Bray

I didn’t start out working for Mr. Bray. He was a deep red construction foreman who had been baking in the Florida sun all his life. His nose looked like Bob Hope’s except God had pressed his thumb into Mr. Bray’s right nostril and kind of smooshed the thing to the side. Mr. Bray ran projects all around Miami. I was a laborer helping my dad who was an equipment operator. The main job of labor for an equipment operator is to never let the operator get off the machine. Anything that needed to be done in order to keep him in his seat was my responsibility.

Mr. Bray had hired my dad to do the earthwork on a shopping center he was building in North Miami. I was a hard worker because I wanted to make some seed money and go back to California. I was taking growth hormones and steroids at the time. It was all I could do not to tear the footings out of the ground with my bare hands. The meds were prescription: Starting with a 5-foot tall, 98-pound body the pills added 6 inches in height and 27 pounds in acne over 3 years. I had abundance of energy, man. I tore around the construction site like a banshee. Mr. Bray liked a hard worker, drug-induced or not, so he hired me away from my dad just by offering twice the money.

The job was Union, which meant I had to join one. Mr. Bray had connections at the carpenter’s local so he arraigned for my union card. This was a big deal because normally you’d have to wait in line to join and then you’d have to wait in line until the Union sent you out on a job. It might take several years to clear the backlog. I was a First Period Apprentice without missing a paycheck.

When I got that paycheck it was a disappointment. The Union dues sapped a lot, then the federal and state deductions sapped some more. My dad paid cash, you know? I ended up making less money than before. Mr. Bray had pulled strings to get me in but I showed him my pay stub anyway. “That’s not so good, is it?” Mr. Bray said. I told him that it wasn’t but that I would carry on. I mean I had taken the deal; I felt obligated. “Lemme see what I can do about it,” Mr. Bray told me.

The next paycheck I received my rating was Third Period Apprentice (equivalent to 1-1/2 years of experience and passing several written tests) and I was making 8 dollars an hour. This was more money than I had ever made in my lifetime. From then on my loyalties were clear. I was Mr. Bray’s boy. If he needed a body buried on the site I would do faster it and better than anyone else.

Mr. Bray’s crew consisted of a journeyman carpenter, a mid-level carpenter, a laborer and me. In practice, we weren’t tied to a trade. I might have to do a little wiring, relocate pipe or dig a foundation. We formed all the foundations, then the steel workers would tie the steel and we would pour the concrete. These were non-cosmetic jobs. For slabs we hired a crew of finishers.

It didn’t set well with the other guys when Mr. Bray made me the foreman the few times he had to go off site. I only had like two months of construction experience but had absorbed a lot more knowledge just by being around my dad. The journeyman carpenter got sulky taking orders from a third period apprentice.

I have never been a leader of men. My approach to management is to tell everyone to stay the hell out of my way and I’ll do it myself. Surprisingly it worked in this instance because these guys still had remnants of a conscience. We usually got more done when Mr. Bray was gone.

Mr. Bray used my size to motivate the crew. Whenever there was something heavy to move the guys would bitch and want a crane. “Gresh, put that plank on the roof.” That was all I needed to hear. I was a greyhound shot out of a gate. I’d shoulder the 10-inch wide, 20-footer, run full tilt at the building, spear the end of the board into the ground like a pole vaulter and walk the board vertical onto the wall. While the rest of the crew shook their heads in pity I’d run up the ladder and grab the board, hand-over-handing the thing until I could rest it onto my shoulder. Putting the wood onto the roof took about 45 seconds.

The whole thing had a creepy, Cool-Hand-Luke-when-he-was-acting-broken vibe but I wasn’t acting. It was more an act of unreasonable anger. I wanted to get stuff done. It was all that mattered to me. Mr. Bray would turn to the guys and say “Look at Gresh, he did it easy. You don’t need a crane. Now put the rest of those damn boards up there.” Picturing the guys pole-vaulting the boards up one by one I’ll never understand why they didn’t beat the crap out of me when Mr. Bray turned his back.

Another Union trade on a construction job are the bricklayers. They would put up walls on the foundations we poured. The floors were left dirt to allow new tenants to choose the interior layout. After they put up the walls we would tie the steel and form the gaps between sections of wall then pour them full of concrete. The poured columns made a sturdy wall. Unfortunately, being only 8 inches wide, the wall is very fragile until the concrete columns are in.

Mr. Bray was always looking for ways to save the company money and as my dad’s equipment was still on site he would have me do small operator jobs rather than have my dad drive to the site and charge him. We needed a trench for something, I can’t remember what but since we only had a 14-inch bucket it didn’t matter. I was digging inches away from a wall with the backhoe at 45 degrees to allow the bucket to dump the spoil. I could only put one outrigger down because the wall was too close. The whole setup was wobbly and when a return swing ran a bit wide the boom tapped the wall. Not hard, it didn’t even chip the blocks.

It happened so slowly. The wall teetered. I pulled the boom away. I was wishing it to settle down. The wall tottered. More thoughts and prayers were directed at the wall. Slowly the wall went over and smashed into pieces. After checking to see that I didn’t kill anyone I went to Mr. Bray. “Um…we have a problem, Mr. Bray.”

He was marking stuff on his critical path chart. “What is it, Gresh?”

“You better come take a look.”

We walked over to the crushed wall. I explained everything like I just did. Mr. Bray was fighting some inner demons for sure. Finally his face relaxed and he said, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll tell the bricklayers the wind blew it over.” Man, I loved that guy.

From my dad I learned a perfectionism that I have rarely been able to equal. From Mr. Bray I learned that perfection is a great goal but the job needs to get done because another trade is waiting on you. Mr. Bray would let a lot of things slide that my dad would obsess over. Working for Mr. Bray was much less stressful and customers inside the finished shoe store could not tell the difference.

The shopping center was nearly done. I had worked for Mr. Bray 6 months. I had a couple thousand dollars saved and told him I was going back to California. “Why don’t you stay on? I’ll train you in construction management, you’ll be a journeyman carpenter in 5 years and you’ll be running jobs like this.”

Mr. Bray was offering me his most valuable gift. He was offering me everything he had: To pass his lifetime of knowledge on to me. I had to go back to California though and I left feeling like I had let Mr. Bray down in the end. And even today I’m not settled. I’m still trying to finish the damn job.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 14

Zed’s electrical system was in sad shape. There were a bunch of melted wires and saving the harness seemed like more trouble than it was worth. The $139 Z1 Enterprises harness came with the small 4-plug harness for all the various circuits under the right-hand side cover. I was surprised at how complete the Z1E harnesses was, and highly recommend it for any Z1 project with an iffy harness. It will save you many hours of half-assing an old corroded harness.

The positive battery cable was swollen like a snake swallowing a pack rat. I cut the jacket away to reveal a green, copper powder. This is never a good sign and even though the cable will still read ok on an ohmmeter, under high current the flow of electricity will be restricted.

I de-soldered the original battery lugs and re-crimped and soldered a new 6-gauge positive lead. The original battery terminals are shaped to lay flat alongside the battery and you won’t find anything to match them at your local Home Depot. The terminals are solid copper so they clean up and take solder nicely. I also added a new 30-amp, inline fuse holder to replace the melted original.

This 3-way connection is the heart of Zed’s power supply. One lead is to the 20-amp fuse from the battery positive. One lead is charging current from the rectifier and the last lead supplies power to everything on the motorcycle (except the starter). This connection takes a beating and Zed’s was discolored, and overheating had taken the spring out of the female bullet connectors.

I decided to go off-script here because the three-way connection is one of the few bad design choices Kawasaki made on the Z1. Instead I used 3 soldered ring terminals and bolted the connection together. Then I insulated the connection with electrical tape and thick red heat shrink tubing (not shrunk).

With the new fuse holder, jumper harness, battery cable, grounds to the block, blinker relay, brake light switch and tail harness everything under the right-side cover is complete. It’s not the prettiest wiring and may not faithfully follow original Kawasaki wiring practices but it should work and hopefully not melt down.

Hardcore Zed’s Not Dead fans will recall the hokey swing arm zerk fitting that was gnawing into my Zen. The main issue is the swing arm is metric thread and I’m too lazy to find a stock metric grease fitting. I pulled the offending fitting and cut the entire top off of the thing then drilled and tapped the part that fits into the swing arm for a ¼-28 zerk fitting.

The new set up is much cleaner looking and even though no one will ever see it I’ll sleep better at night knowing it’s there. Oooooommmmmm…

The left handlebar switch cluster was a cluster. The blinker switch was stuck and no amount of WD40 would free the lever so I dismantled the switch and cleaned all the tiny, rusted parts.

The switch now moves in all the right places. It remains to be seen if it actually directs the electrons where they are supposed to go. The last major electrical challenge on Zed is the instruments and the connections inside the headlight shell. I’ll tackle those in Zed 15.

Catch up with Joe’s Z1 resurrection…read the rest of the story here!

The ExhaustNotes Review: Cycles South

Easy Rider was a great movie that captured a restless time in America. Captain America and Billy cruising the country on their choppers inspired a generation to get out and see the world. But there’s another, less slick movie that more closely reflects my experiences with motorcycle travel: Cycles South. I’ve watched the film seven times and still enjoy going back for another session.

In 1975 I took off with two of my high school friends and we rode all over the USA. The bikes we used were a first year Gold Wing, a Kawasaki Z1, and a BMW R75/5. Our ride lasted 3 months and we covered 20,000 miles. Cycles South is a lot like that trip except we didn’t take any drugs stronger than beer. I think the parallels to our long ago trip are why I like this movie so much.

The no-budget, Cycles South is on YouTube in seven parts and blows Easy Rider away. Three friends and a cameraman load up their custom-painted BSA 250 singles and head out from Colorado to see what exactly is up in North America. They eventually end up in Mexico where the hijinks never stop. The film is mostly narrated, as recording and editing good audio was not cheap before the digital revolution came along. The narrator’s jokes are corny but are of the same size, variety and groan-inducing type found on any motorcycle road trip you’ve ever taken with your jerky friends.

While the film is low budget the crew that made Cycles South knew a thing or two about filmmaking. This is no shot-with-a-phone, amateur YouTube production. There are some really great motorcycling in the late 20th century shots and wild, drug-crazed scenes mixed in with the excellent off-road action shots.

In hindsight, BSA 250cc singles were not the best choice for a long, multi-country road trip but the boys came up with the perfect solution to their problems and burnt a few extra dinosaurs in the process. Trust me, you’ll be green with envy.

Cycles South ends in an unsatisfying way. It appears as if they just ran out of money and stopped filming. No matter, 6/7th of Cycles South is still better than most other motorcycle movies so get some popcorn and fire up the computer; you’re gonna love it.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 13

I’m not superstitious but the 13th installment of Zed’s Not Dead ran into a few problems. I’ve been having good luck misting a light coat of Krylon black spray paint onto bare metal sections of Zed. It really freshened the frame without looking like the frame had been completely repainted.

Until I misted the swing arm, for some reason the transition zone between bare metal and original paint bubbled up making a mess out of the thing. I don’t know what the difference was but after trying to remedy the situation four times I gave up, sanded the swing arm and shot it with primer. The black paint laid down nicely after that but so much for keeping it original-ish.

I started on the front brake system and noticed this cool little eccentric bolt that adjusts the free play on the master cylinder. There are so many nice touches like this on the Z1. Kawasaki tried to build the best motorcycle they could. The master cylinder was in good shape. These things are a bear to reassemble but after five tries I managed to get the plunger in the bore along with the c-shaped travel stopper and the snap ring. The only complaint I have against the Z1 Enterprises master cylinder kit is that it didn’t come with the rubber bellows (the part that keeps brake fluid from sloshing in the reservoir) so I’ll have to order that bit.

The metal brake line to the caliper was stuck mightily. I tried heat and penetrating oil and even bought a set of metric line wrenches but in the end it took a vise and brute force to remove the line. It’s not destroyed but I’ll be buying a new metal line along with both flexible hoses and the little bracket that holds the line away from the front fender.

Once apart, the caliper was in excellent condition. I sanded the bore to remove corrosion and the Z1 Enterprises rebuild kit had everything I needed to reassemble what I hope is a good slave cylinder.

The previous owner had the rear axle assembled wrong and my book was illustrated with the spacers reversed so a quick message to Skip Duke and I had the spacer order correct.

The sprocket side gets only the seal spacer while the drum brake side gets the long, necked-down spacer. The thick washer-spacer (that was jammed into the drum brake side) is actually a washer. It spaces the castle nut the correct distance for the cotter pin or hitch pin hole.

The stock swing arm grease nipple would not accept my grease gun fitting resulting in grease all over the place. In this photo you can see the differences. Rather than get the correct tool I tapped the fitting for a standard nipple and screwed the mess together.

I’m not happy with the grease nipple set up although it did allow me to grease the swing arm. I’m going to remove the fitting and have another go at making it look better.

Zed’s rear end is coming along nicely. I think the 4.10X18 tire looks a little puny on the bike so you may get a Smokey burn out video after all. Next tire I get will be a 4.50X18.

I’m making a list for my next Z1 Enterprises order and this list should cover most everything I need to get the bike rideable. Those new bodywork sets they sell sure look nice and only $1300 for a tank, tail and side covers, all beautifully painted in stock striping. You can’t get your original stuff painted for $1300!

Want to see the rest of the Z1 resurrection? Just click here!

The Short List: 5 Reasons You Should Buy a Jeep YJ

Reason 1: Leaf Springs

The YJ, built from 1987 until a somewhat vague date in either 1994 or 1995, came with leaf springs. Next to no suspension at all, leaf springs are the simplest way to attach four wheels to a frame. The addition of a hydraulically dampened shock absorber is the only thing separating the Jeep YJ from a Conestoga wagon.

In 1987 Tort Lawyers at American Motors Corporation wrested control of Jeep’s design offices from the guys that actually knew what they were doing. In an attempt to cut back the number of Jeeps rolling over on America’s roadways, the Sons, Sons and Sons-a-Bitches law firm decided that restricting the Jeep’s already stiff wheel travel to no travel was the answer.

AMC-Law’s track bars and sway bars were configured in such a way that the various components were in constant mechanical opposition to each other, eliminating wheel movement. Naturally this bind produced extreme loads on the hot attachment points causing the rod and linkage connections built into the Jeep YJ’s frame to self-destruct. Oddly, the more things broke on the frame, the better the YJ rode. How many cars can you say improve dramatically by removing 50% of the suspension parts?

Reason 2: Square Headlights

If ever a vehicle cries out for square headlights it’s the Jeep. The whole car is a box with a slightly smaller box set on top of the first box. With square fenders, square gauges and square tail lights it’s only fitting that square owners dig the headlights. Less hard-core Jeepers (anyone who dislikes square headlights, really) complain about the YJ’s face but never bother to spend the extra effort on their own face. A little concealer, maybe a dash of rouge and a finely cut-in set of lips would go a long way towards making themselves more presentable down at the Mall. And they’re always at the Mall.

Reason 3: We Still Wave

Jeep YJ owners are the last generation of Jeep drivers to wave at each other. There has been a long-standing tradition of Jeep people waving which indicates to other Jeeps passing in the opposite direction that they have bits of their bodywork falling off. Or that the Jeep is on fire. Newer Jeep owners, coddled in their climate-controlled interiors and bedazzled by multi-color dashboard displays going haywire have lost the ability to see other Jeeps. With automatic transmissions and soft, coil-sprung axles their bodies and especially their arms have atrophied from disuse. And the newer the model, the worse the prognosis: buyers of Jeep’s latest model, the JL, are kept alive in a nutrient-rich petri dish until a help-mate smears their gelatinous bodies onto the JL’s driver seat. They aren’t even sentient; how could they wave?

Reason 4: The 2.5-Liter 4-Cylinder

Many YJ’s came with a 6-cylinder engine and that’s fine if you like that sort of stuff. YJ connoisseurs know that the 2.5-liter, 4-cylinder is AMC’s gift to off-roading. Weighing 100 pounds less than the 6 it produces 25% of the power while consuming the same amount of fuel. The extra power of the 6 is futile because with its boxy shape top speed on a Jeep is limited by wind resistance. Under ideal conditions, dropping a YJ out of a cargo plane will see the thing reach 80 miles per hour as long as it doesn’t start to flutter or break up.

Reason 5: The AX5 Transmission

This transmission gets a bad rap from Jeep haters because it disintegrates from time to time. What they are too dense to grasp is that Jeep engineers planned the AX5 to act as a fuse between the 35-horse 2.5 engine and the Dana 35 rear axle. The combination of a weak engine, weak transmission and a weak rear axle, like the trinity, is an economical mixture that transcends the sum of the components. The Internet is full of stories about YJ’s that have gone off-road and survived. I’ve only broken my transmission once and the rear axle once. It’s that good.

The Jeep YJ is the last of the real Jeeps, the hard-core Jeeps that keep you awake at night wondering what that sound was. YJ’s can draw a direct line to Jeep’s military past and have a sort of Stolen Valor way of conking out when least expected. That’s all part of the fun. Sure, modern jeeps may be smoother off road but if smoothness is what you are looking for, stay on the pavement. And get some exercise because you really should start waving.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 12

When I took off Zed’s rear wheel I noticed two spacers on the brake drum side. This isn’t very Kawasaki-like and I suspect it was assembled wrong. The long spacer probably goes on the drum side with the short spacer keeping the sprocket side from rubbing against the chain adjusters. I’ll try it and check alignment.

While I’m busting a new tire onto Zed I figured I might as well replace the rear wheel bearings. I could have cleaned them and re-greased them and if I was broke I would have. Z1 Enterprises carries the All Balls brand and they have fit well wherever else I’ve used the brand. I stick with what works. I don’t like change.

Kawasaki made a nice motorcycle when they built the Z1. Stuff like a brake shoe wear indicator was rare back in the 1970’s. Mama K even went to the trouble of recessing the brake shaft opening to fit a felt dust seal. That’s class, man. I’m not sure it does any good because the brake shoes generate more dust than you’d get kicked up from the street. Maybe it helps the shaft grease stay clean.

Kawasaki threw everything at the Z1. The sprocket carrier has its own bearing so that gives a total of three rear wheel bearings. Pretty sweet; I wish my Yamaha 360 had a better sprocket carrier design. The hub wears out and I have to feed spring-steel from a ¾-inch tape measure to take up the slack.

Part of the fun of working on motorcycles is setting up the exploded parts shot. I like to get all the parts clean before reassembly because they will never be cleaned again. Rear discs are mostly standard now but a husky rear drum like this will stop a bike just fine.

Changing tires is a lot of stress for me. If you don’t plan to use the tube or tire you can cut the work involved in half by cutting the old tire off. Use a razor, utility knife and lube the blade with a little oil. Then plunge in and pull the knife. Don’t saw at it. As you cut move around a little and you will find the thinnest part of the tire. Once you’re there, ride that sucker all the way around. After you do both sides the tread falls away leaving two beads. They pop off easy with no tire to create resistance and you can peel the remains off the rims without a tire iron.

I removed the swingarm to check the bushings and lube the mess. Zed’s battery box is pretty rusty so I removed it to clean and paint the thing. I looked at the rear of the bike and decided there wasn’t much more to take everything off and give the rusty frame tubes a lick of paint. So I did.

Reassembling the rear of the bike is going well and the Z1 Enterprises rear fender wiring harness fit perfectly. The original blinker stalks are slightly bent back. I’m going to leave them as they are. It gives the illusion of speed.

Almost time to make another parts order. I can get a seat cover or an entire new seat from Z1 Enterprises. Maybe Santa will drop one down the chimney.

Zed is coming along! Read the rest of the Zed’s Not Dead series here!

Double Vision

Water Canyon Road, west of Socorro, New Mexico is paved all the way to the Water Canyon Campground. The Campground is beautiful, wooded and self-serve: You put your fees into a pipe and pitch your tent. There are clean pit toilets and yodeling coyotes along with bear-proof trash cans. I’d like to hang out here but we are heading to The Magdalena Ridge Observatory.

Water Canyon Road continues on for another 13 miles of unpaved road. It’s not a terrible road: a regular car could do it if you didn’t mind cutting a few low-profile tires and maybe bashing the undercarriage. The sign says 4-wheel drive only and I guess that’s the best way to go. The drop-offs are wonderful and steep, the views towards the valley are eye-twisting.

Even if the scenery was terrible Water Canyon would be worth the drive because the road ends on top of Mt. Baldy and one of the newest, gigantic telescopes under construction. When completed, the Magdalena Ridge Interferometer will have ten 1.4-meter optical telescopes interconnected to provide the resolution equal to a 340-meter diameter mirror (at max zoom). That’s over one thousand feet and that’s a big mirror, my brothers; for comparison the Hubble Space Telescope is 2.4-meters or 8 feet. Nine of the 1.4-meter telescopes will be movable allowing the mirror to reduce in equivalent size to 7.8 meters for those cool, wide-angle shots. One mirror remains in the center.

It’ll be a clunky system. There are no tracks to smoothly zoom in and out. A crane will lift the telescopes and relocate them on pads so changing focal length will be a several day operation. Clunky or not, it will be a huge telescope limited only by the Earth’s atmosphere and the small amount of light gathering surface relative to the size of the array.

The ten telescopes will send an image through pipes to the control room. A vacuum will be maintained inside the pipes to reduce distortion and all ten feeds will be reassembled inside the control room to produce what should be some spectacular space photography. Think of the whole operation as a Very Large Array except in the visible wavelengths.

This pipe will be joined by 9 more. Inside each of the ten pipes in this section will be a shuttle to adjust the information beam’s timing. This adjustment is needed because the light source will always strike the individual telescopes at slightly different times due to their distance from the source. From here they shoot into the control room and the open air.

At the moment the Interferometer has only one mirror. Any high-rollers reading ExNotes who can contribute 11 million dollars to finish the other 9 telescopes would find little resistance to naming the whole damn place after their recently deceased cat. Or themselves.

Like Popeil’s Ginsu knife deal, that’s not all! A short distance away on the same mountaintop is the Magdalena Ridge Observatory, a 2.4-meter, fast reacting telescope presently engaged by the government for tracking Earth orbiting objects. I imagine the idea is to identify and locate the other guy’s space stuff for future elimination in times of war. They can also track missile launches and aircraft as the gimbal is ten times faster than a garden variety telescope.

The mirror at the MRO is an ex-Hubble part of which there were three built; one is inside Hubble floating around space, the other is at The National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC.

Tours of the Magdalena Ridge facility are infrequent, but don’t let that stop you from taking the ride up to the top. Check online for times and dates.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 11

Zed is missing its chrome seat bar and rather than finding a stock replacement I grabbed this $50, period-correct luggage rack from eBay. All my motorcycles have rear racks. I need a place to strap stuff because I get around, you know? I dig the square tubing and the big-hair, 1980’s plastic plugs filling the open ends.

Zed’s 41,000 mile, front wheel bearings are probably stock and I could’ve cleaned them up and re-greased them but a new set is not that expensive so I popped the old ones out and fitted new bearings.

I had an old-ish Dunlop tire in stock. I bought it new to put on Godzilla for a run from Hunter’s place in Oklahoma to Florida and that’s all the miles it has done. I guess I should worry about the rubber aging. In my defense, it’s been stored in a dark trailer and the Fingernail-Probe test reveals a fresh feel to the rubber. Anyway, the Dunlop is about 20 years newer than the tire that came on Zed so I call it a win. No one will believe this but I did install a new tube in the front and managed to get the tire onto the rim without pinching the tube.

The grease inside the speedometer drive was hardened so I cleared out the muck and squished new grease into the worm drive parts. I also had to swap the disc to the opposite side of the wheel as Zed came with the caliper mounted backwards. They tell me this mod improved handling but I’ll not ride around listening to Z1 experts constantly telling me my brakes are backwards.

My latest order from Z1 Enterprises showed up. It’s like Christmas in November around here. This pile may not look like $600 bucks worth of stuff but $600 doesn’t go as far as it used too. Hell, if you take your motorcycle to a dealer for an oil change and a tune up it’ll be $600 easy. The sprockets and chain are wear items so knock those off Zed’s repair bill. The brake pads and shoes also shouldn’t count against the bike’s total cost either as those would wear out if the bike were running. I’m changing them as a prophylactic measure. I don’t want old brake linings coming unglued at 130 mph.

The most expensive part of the order was the ignition advancer @ $159. My buddy Skip sent me a couple advancers in the hope one would fit but as luck would have it there must be 537 different advancers for the Z1. The left advancer fits the crankshaft bolt (loosely) and looks close from this side but the advancer has timing marks only for cylinders 1 and 4. Also note how close the “T” (top center) and the “F” (ignition fire) marks are. The center advancer unit has all the correct cylinder markings but the bolt hole is too small for the crank bolt. This unit also has “F” and “T” close together.

On the right is the new advancer from Z1E. This one fits the crank bolt snugly. Check out how much more ignition retard there is between “F” and “T”! The new unit also has all four cylinders stamped into the metal.

Moving to the backside of the three advancers we see that the left unit has a cup that prevents the advancer from sitting flush onto Zed’s crankshaft end. The middle unit will marry to the crank ok but note the slight degree angle difference on the locator-pin hole. Finally the new unit, like the bear’s soup, is just right.

To attach the points plate I had to shorten 3 screws. The best way I’ve found to do this is to run a nut onto the screw, cut the screw, grind the screw making the grinding wheel cut towards the center of the screw (or dragging the metal away from the threads). Removing the nut will clean any swarf left in the threads. The nut should start back on the screw without problems, if not, I’ll clean the screw up some more with the grinder.

Zed’s exhaust system hangs low and as such has hit the ground frequently enough to create pinholes. When pipe gets this thin I prefer to braze the holes closed. The brazing rod requires less heat and leaves a nice, thick pad to give a dirt rider something to beat on.

Finally, when I fit the exhaust headers I tape around the frame tubes to help prevent scratches. I also tape the headers to keep the exhaust collars from falling down the pipe scarring up the new paintwork.