Author: Joe Gresh

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 9

This is not a restoration. This is a resurrection. I plan to ride Zed, not store it away like a stolen Rembrandt. The front down tubes were pretty chipped and scratched with lots of bare metal so I had to fog a little black paint onto them to slow down the rust. I know all things rust. As soon as ore is melted into steel it begins the long path back to earth. We live in a temporary world; as soon as we stop our struggles and ambitions the things we care about turn into dust. So I painted the Kawasaki’s down tubes.

Next on my list were new steering head bearings. I have a Proto puller set that cost around $150 in 1970 and it mostly is still intact. From that kit I used the bearing separator to get behind the lower stem bearing. I clamped the stem in the vise and a few sharp raps later the bearing was off.

Removing the races pressed into the fork stem is a little harder. There isn’t a whole lot of meat exposed to get a purchase. Some people weld a bead on the race then use that to punch the race out. I’m sure there’s a correct way but I don’t know it so I use two puller claws and force them against each other to wedge the puller tips behind the race. Since you have to hold the claws together with one hand you’ll need a length of old bronze boat shaft to pound on the claws. Most Old Boat Shaft stores carry lengths of bronze shaft. It’s finding the store that’s the hard part.

The new races pop in without trouble. I get them started with a dead blow hammer then finish seating them with a punch worked slowly around the circumference of the race. You can hear the hammer-tone change pitch when the race seats against the frame tube.

The triple clamps were a mess so I wire brushed them and shot some black paint on the things. I’m always aware that any paint work or cleaning I do destroys the originality of the bike so I try to keep it to a minimum. While the headlight ears were soaking in a vat of Evapo-rust I started assembling the forks.

A new throttle/switch assembly from Z1 Enterprises, throttle tube from ebay, throttle cable from ebay, new grips from ebay and somehow these parts from all over the planet fit together nicely. The throttle tube is a bit short and the grip doesn’t quite reach the switch housing but I will be running a NEB cruise control and that widget will fill the space as if it was planned. I think the 90-degree metal bend at the throttle cable housing could follow the bars better but I’m not going to try and bend it.

I’m close to $1000 in parts now. I’m replacing some wear items so I don’t think those should count against Zed.

Want to catch up on the rest of the Z1 resurrection? Just click here!

Wild Conjecture: Kawasaki W800 Café

Kawasaki’s bold new W800 Café looks a lot like a restyled W800 standard but we here at Wild Conjecture have no way of confirming this statement. You see, Wild Conjecture by its very name is nothing but guesses bulked up with opinion into a plausible hunch.

The standard Kawasaki 800cc was a traditional British vertical twin brought into the modern world and for some reason sold poorly in the USA. I loved the thing from afar because I never saw one in the flesh. Before the 800cc version there was a 650 model that also suffered from desultory sales. Everyone who owned either model raved about them online but both were released before the latest wave of nostalgia motorcycles crashed ashore.

Kawasaki claims the styling is inspired by Kawasaki’s W1 650, which taken to its logical conclusion would mean the Café was inspired by an ancient 1950’s BSA A7 (later becoming the A10) twin. And that’s not a bad thing. For years the W1 650 held the title of the largest displacement motorcycle built in Japan until the CB750 Honda came sauntering into the room.

For me, the Café looks good overall but misses the mark in a few key areas. The colors shown on Kawasaki’s web site are dreadful. The faring and side covers are a mismatch for the fenders and gas tank. I know this is done on purpose but a bike like this should have an all alloy tank with chrome fenders. Kudos to Kawasaki for trying something different. Better luck next time.

The seat isn’t bad, in fact it looks good but I would prefer a dual seat without the hump on the back. The gas tank is a wee bit too short. Café Racers have long tanks for the rider to hunch over while he’s puffing on a fag. The short W800 Café tank would look better on Kawasaki’s W800 Scrambler. (No one has told Wild Conjecture that the Scrambler will be released early next year.)

The forks, side covers, rear fender and exhaust all look great to me. I like the shaft-driven camshaft and the air-cooling system. Hopefully you’ll be able to buy the thing without anti-lock brakes but I suspect the days of ABS delete are nearly over.

I’m sure the bike will ride well and the brakes and mechanicals will function perfectly. I’m also sure it’ll have a rev limiter that kicks in way too soon. I don’t see this engine leading Kawasaki’s push to retake the Flat Track series from Indian. It’ll be mild, maybe 50 horsepower.

At a list price of almost ten thousand dollars the W800 Café is up against stiff vertical-twin competition from Royal Enfield and Triumph. Both have better Café styling in my view. The Royal Oilfield has the added plus of an extremely low price.

But those other two aren’t built by Kawasaki. I’m kind of a Kawasaki fan boy so having the “K” beats not having the “K.” I think I’ll wait for the non-existent Scrambler version because a high-pipe model will work so much better with the cycle parts included on the W800 Café.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 8

Progress has slowed on Zed. I really wanted to start the beast up. The problem is I haven’t figured out the ignition advancer issue yet. My E-buddy Skip sent me two of the things but neither one will work on the 1975 Z1 crankshaft end. I feel bad that Skip is trying to do me a favor and that the poor guy has to keep digging around in his parts stash. It goes to show you: no good deed goes unpunished. I am going to suck it up and buy a new, $159 advancer from Z1 Enterprises. Hopefully it will be the correct one and fit the crankshaft.

Meanwhile, I’m not ignoring the rest of the bike. Let’s face it, even if the engine is shot I have to get this bike running. The front forks were leaking and contained about 3 ounces of oil between both fork legs. This is down a bit from the 5.7 ounces per leg suggested in my shop manual. I know I said this was not going to be a show bike restoration but I couldn’t bear a future staring at this gouged fork cap bolt so I sanded the thing smooth and gave it a lick of polish. Of course this means that I have to do the other side also.

The internals of the forks were covered in sticky black goo, which required a ton of solvent and liberal doses of carb cleaner to cut loose. Then came rags stuffed down the tubes and pushed back and forth using a drill bit extension. The sliders came polished from the factory and since they were preserved under a coat of oil it took no time at all to spiff them up without crossing over to the dreaded Show Bike threshold.

All the fork parts look usable if not perfect. The upper section of the fork tubes that were covered by the headlight brackets is pretty rusty. I’ve polished it off a bit and will lube the rusty areas to prevent further rust. None of the rust will show on the assembled forks but I’ll have to deduct points when the bike is in the Pebble Beach show.

The fork sliders are held to the damping rod via this Allen-head bolt. There was a fiber washer to seal in the fork oil but I don’t have any fiber washers. I ended up grinding a copper washer to fit and I only have one of those. Looks like a trip to Harbor Freight is in order to buy their 5090 Copper Washer Warehouse kit.

The clutch actuator was in good shape but dirty and dry. Most of the ones I bought for my old Yamaha had the helix cracked. I suffered along with the cracked helix until Hunter found a new, re-pop part and sent it to me, asking if he could have some of the ones I’d stolen from him in exchange. I have no idea what the old man is on about. This Kawasaki part is much sturdier than the Yamaha part and crack free so that’s one point to Kawasaki in the red-hot clutch actuator wars.

I gave the sprocket/clutch actuator cover a quick polish. The aluminum on Zed is in great shape. It took about 5 minutes to shine this cover because it was smooth to start with. I’ll let the cover oxidize naturally after the bike is built. I can’t be expected to clean a motorcycle more than once.

I’m placing another big order with Z1 Enterprises today. They stock a lot of hard-to-find Z1 parts. It’s easier for me to order from one place and if your order is over $200 shipping is free. Who doesn’t blow $200 on bike parts? I don’t like filling out the credit card fields twenty times from a bunch of fly-by-night vendors and Z1E’s prices are in line with eBay sellers and other vintage parts sellers.

Want to catch up on the rest of the Z1 resurrection?  Just click here!

Back in The Day: The Bell Star Helmet

Different versions of the Bell Star. As the design evolved, the window grew and the helmet added a flip-up visor. They were the ultimate in cool.

In the early 1970’s I worked at The Art Colony, an art supply and picture-framing store on Westward Drive. Back then I fancied myself a sort of artist and I got discounts on oil paints, brushes, and different sizes of the pre-stretched canvas we made on site. The place smelled great. They had clay and water color supplies but I never messed with that stuff because I felt those materials were inferior to oil painting. Oils were good enough for the Old Masters so they were good enough for me. Even at 15 years old I didn’t like anything new.

Motorcycle vandalism was a problem at our school. Any nice-looking bike would be attacked in the school’s parking area. You’d get your seat cut or a bunch of rocks in your gas tank if the vandals were in a good mood. If they were in a bad mood your chain might be welded solid (the motorcycle parking area was next to the metal shop, a tactical error on the school administration’s part) or sugar poured in your tank. At the time I was riding a sweet, red Honda SL70, fully street legal and had a learner’s permit to ride in the daylight hours. I never took the bike to school. I’d ride to Carlson’s house, leave the SL70 there and walk to school.

After school I’d ride to The Art Colony and work a few hours until they closed. I earned fifteen or eighteen dollars a week, which was plenty to keep the SL70 in gas and tires. At least until Wilson got a Bell Star helmet. Damn, that helmet was cool. The rest of us had open face, jet-style lids that either slid back on our head and tried to choke us or pushed down onto our nose blocking most of the road. It was probably a fitment issue but we used whatever helmet no one else wanted. Buying a helmet was an unknown concept.

Wilson’s Bell Star fit his head and had a flip down visor that was great for riding in the rain. It rained a lot in Florida. Naturally, everyone started getting Bell Star helmets and whoever bought one became instantly cool. I had to have one. Murray Auto, in Hialeah had the best price on Bell Helmets: Fifty-one dollars out the door. This was a huge sum of money back when you could buy a running Japanese motorcycle for thirty-five bucks. Regardless, I had to have one. I wanted to be cool, too.

I beavered away at The Art Colony making frames, stretching canvas and skimped on everything I could. It took about two months before I saved enough to buy a Bell. Since I was working and couldn’t get to Murray’s during business hours I handed the money to Wilson for the helmet (he had an XL70 which was nearly the same motorcycle as an SL70) and he went to Murray’s to get the lid.

He brought the helmet back to the Art shop and when we opened the box the thing positively glowed. The paint was flawless, the interior was made of an exotic brushed rayon material. It was so clean. It was like the Playboy Mansion inside. Sliding the Bell onto my head was like entering another world. The intimate view from the Star’s porthole framed a world that had changed. I felt invincible wearing that helmet. I could batter down doors, go into space or ride through the worst rainstorm safe and dry inside. If you didn’t count the rest of my body.

Bell Helmets as I knew them went out of business. I don’t know what happened. I heard lawsuits killed them off. Another company bought the name and started making all sorts of Bell-branded stuff. Mostly for bicycles. You can still buy Bell-branded helmets, they even have a cool Star Classic model.

As for me, I’m back to wearing hand me downs or freebie helmets. I got a good deal on a twenty-five dollar no-brand helmet at Pep Boys. I feel my head is worth less and less with each passing day. Back when I was 15 I had my whole life ahead of me, a quality helmet was a good investment. Now, even with inflation-adjusted money I’ll probably never spend what that old Bell Star cost on another helmet.

My Other Ride: The Bomber

I saw the advertisement for The Bomber in our local Holloman Bookoo website. Holloman Bookoo is like Craigslist but more local. There may be other BooKoo sites but I haven’t searched for them because the stuff for sale is too far away. This story gets a bit complicated but I was searching for a drive train to scavenge for Brumby, my Jeep YJ.

The Bomber, a half-ton 1990 4X4 GMC Suburban, had 3:73 axles, a running throttle-body fuel-injected small-block engine and was the last year of the solid front axle Suburbans. 1989 and 1990 were odd years for Suburbans because the rest of GM’s truck line changed body styles in 1988. For some reason the Suburban didn’t make the cut and soldiered on with the classic Square Body until joining the rest of the gang in 1991. Except for logos, the Chevy and GMC versions are pretty much exactly alike.

The Bomber’s half-ton, six-lug front axle is GM’s take on a Dana 44. I watched a Dirt Every Day video that said 1989/1990 models received axle shaft upgrades and were maybe a bit better than the D44. All this was good news for Brumby because the transmission had lost a gear and the little YJ desperately needed more power.

The Bomber’s owner wanted $1800. I drove the big beast around and offered him $1500. It was too easy; did I leave money on the table? CT (my wife) was a little unsure about my plan to strip out the Bomber for a pie-in-the-sky plan to boost the Jeep’s power. The worst time to plan an engine-axle swap is when you have no place to work and are trying to find a house to live in so I put the ménage on the back burner and busied myself with the mundane tasks of life.

The old GMC ran well and I started using it to haul materials. The thing had crazy stiff springs on the rear axle: I could load 2 tons without the axle bottoming out. The 350 small-block, while no powerhouse, could pull the grade to my house without exploding into bits. The door sticker says “Built Flint Tough” and they mean it. The added advantage of a low-range transfer case and four-wheel drive meant I could haul a 10,00 pound, concrete mixer with a yard and a half of mud up Tinfiny’s steep, slippery driveway.

The Bomber came with a custom paint job that could not have been more out of place. It was shocking. CT recommended I cover over the Starsky & Hutch themed wagon if I ever wanted her to ride in the thing. It took less than a quart of BBQ black to roll over the offending stripes. Not that it looks good now, but at least people run away slower.

Shod with smallish but almost new 31” tires, the bomber looked a little cheesy in the tire division. Bigger, 33” tires that would fill the wheel wells were ordered from Wal-Mart. Just like that the Bomber’s value doubled. I put the 31” tires on Brumby the Jeep. Remember the Jeep? The reason I bought the Bomber?

The thing is, a Suburban is handy as hell to have around. I can load it up with bags of concrete or building materials and everything stays dry. We went camping in the beast; there’s over 8 feet of room for bedding if you fold the seats down. The body is dented but rust free. I use the ‘Burb for garbage dump runs and to scare people.

I’ve grown attached to the Bomber. You’ll hear no more talk of swapping drive trains. In fact a whole new list of projects has been created. I need to remove all the interior plastic and rugs from the passenger doors rearward because it’s too hard to keep clean. I want the cargo area bare metal so I can hose it out. The stupid wooden overhead console has to go because I keep hitting my head on the edge. Then the automatic transmission needs to be swapped out for a 4-speed manual. I can’t stand automatics. It’ll need a decent paint job at some point and a roof rack with one of those tents on top.

Worst of all I’m still on the lookout for a V-8 drive train to swap into the Jeep.

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Zed’s Not Dead: Part 7

 

I finally got Zeds’ carburetors reassembled onto the rack. I’ve synchronized the 4 carbs as close as I can. The Z1 repair book I have gives a down wind, throttle-slide gap to strive for and after I got that adjustment close I moved over to the upwind side and used a small drill bit as a standard to fine tune the gap. For me, it’s easier to work that side. I use a drag/feel type of measurement. You slide the bit back and forth to sense the tension between the slide and the lower carb venturi and then try to get them all the same. You’ve got it close when the next bit under is loose and the next bit over won’t go.


After trimming some rubber flashing where the brass manifold vacuum ports enter the new rubber manifolds I managed to get them installed without stripping any more 6mm screws. The manifold clamps are soaking in Evapo-rust as we type.

The Z1 uses a fancy-for-the-time crankcase vent system. Mounted on the rear of the top crankcase is a plenum to catch oil mist and condense it back into the engine. I took this apart because the hose leading from the vent to the air cleaner box was missing and I wanted to be sure some sort of oil loving spider did not take up residence inside. Luckily it was clean inside so I gave the can a quick polish and reassembled the thing.

Next I checked the valve adjustment because I’ll be starting the beast soon and I don’t want to fight the system if the valves are way out of adjustment. Before removing the valve cover I marked the front in case it matters.

The cams and valve shims look unworn. This bike shows 41,000 miles on the odometer! If this were a Honda the cam lobes would be galled. I know this because almost every Honda I’ve owned galled its cam lobes.

The valves are close enough to start the engine, two are on the tight side and two are on the loose side. Four valves are within spec. I’ll recheck everything after starting the engine in case a chunk of carbon or a mouse paw is affecting these readings.

Zed’s clutch cable is in bad shape so I removed the clutch actuator housing/sprocket cover for replacement and cleaning/lube/adjustment. Inside I found the neutral light indicator switch broken off. I don’t think a ton of oil would have spewed out as the hole is not pressurized but it most likely would have leaked.

Zed appears to be going backwards but trust me she’s making progress. With the front of the bike jacked up you couldn’t miss the loose steering head bearings. Rather than just tighten them I took the forks apart to re-grease them. Much like removing the sprocket cover it’s a good thing I did. The top bearing looks fine but the bottom is pretty rusty. I’ve cleaned this mess up and in a pinch the bottom bearing, while pitted, could be used again but I’ll order new bearings. I’m in no mood to take the front apart again.

Zed’s fork seals were leaking. Another stroke of luck as the oil kept the lower section of the fork tubes from rusting. Under the headlamp ears the rust is worse. I’ll clean it off and coat that section with grease when I reassemble the forks. You’ll never see it. I’ve started cleaning the fork legs in preparation for disassembly. You probably already know this but remember to loosen the big bolt on top of the fork tube before removing the tubes and loosen the allen-head bolt on the bottom of the fork sliders (under the axle boss) before removing that big top bolt.

My buddy Skip sent what we hope is the correct spark advancer unit so Zed should have everything it needs to start soon. I’m a little concerned that I can only find first gear and neutral in the transmission. Hopefully, once the engine starts and oil is slung around the gearbox will shift.

Want to follow the entire Z1 resurrection? Just click here!

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 6

I’ve been spending some time with Zed’s carburetors, working on details that required home-brewed engineering. The Mikuni carbs on Zed don’t have a traditional choke (a flap that blocks air going into the carb causing a rich mixture) but we still call it a choke. Instead, Zed’s carbs employ an enrichener circuit, which is more like a tiny, completely separate carburetor grafted onto the main body of the carb. Sort of like the brain inside Krang’s stomach on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon. The enrichener has its own air intake on the upwind side of the throttle slide. This fuel circuit is fixed; no adjustment needed and is controlled by a plunger on the downwind side of the throttle slide. Lifting the plunger allows air to flow through the tiny carburetor at a pre-set fuel/air mixture and if everything else is right, helps a cold Kawasaki engine start better.

One of Zed’s four carbs was missing the little plastic bobbin that slides over the enrichener plunger shaft and is held onto the shaft by a tiny Jesus Clip. Two small fingers connected to the choke rail act on this bobbin and without it the plunger won’t lift. I Googled for a bit but could not find the bobbin part so I attempted to make one. I drilled a plunger-rod sized hole through a small piece of nylon and chucked the nylon into a Ryobi drill. Using a flat file I machined the nylon as the drill motor spun: a New Mexican hand-lathe. It worked great until the center of the bobbin got too thin and the whole mess spun out of control leaving me with a distorted pile of junk.

Back to square one. I noticed how the bobbin was nearly the same size as the pop rivets I’d been using to assemble parts of Tinfiny’s generator room. I have about 500 of these rivets in stock so I could afford to lose a few. Knocking the pin out of the pop rivet revealed a bore just a wee bit small for the plunger shaft but it was not a problem to run a drill bit through making the bore an exact fit for the plunger. A pop rivet only has one flanged side so I repeated the process on a second rivet, cut the two rivets to equal the length of a factory bobbin and assembled the mess. I cannot wait for a hard-core Z1 enthusiast to happen upon the aluminum bobbin. It’ll probably cause a heart attack as most Z1 fans are around 75 years old.

Between the throttle linkage pivots on each set of two carbs there are little dust covers made from a treated black paper. Or maybe the dust covers are rubber, I can’t tell. Three of the four covers were broken on Zed. The covers go over the springs and ball joints on the linkage. They don’t seal all that well but might keep a larger bug from crawling in there.

This is a part I didn’t bother looking for because I can make new ones in less time than it takes to look them up and order them. I used the thin plastic lid from a box of self-tapping sheet metal screws. Without a lid you know the screws are going to end up scattered across the shed floor. The dust covers didn’t come out as nice as I would have liked. Luckily, once installed you can’t see the things.

On the Z1 900cc, each set of two carbs share a fuel inlet pipe. The pipe goes between the carbs and is a metal Tee fitting with thick rubber o-rings cast onto the straight section of the Tee. This rubber hardens and shrinks resulting in a loose, leaky fit. You can buy new ones for 34 dollars but if you’ve read Zed’s Not Dead this far you know what is going to happen next.

I cut the rubber away from the fuel pipe and polished the exposed metal to ensure a smooth sealing surface. Then I drilled a small hole near the end of the pipe in order to install a pin (made from the drill bit). The pin is the same length as the width of the fuel inlet bore so once it is installed in the carb body the pin can’t fall out.

Now I used a ¼-inch length of rubber fuel hose (be sure to use the non-reinforced hose as cloth reinforcing strands will wick fuel, causing a leak) and slid this hose onto the fuel Tee. Next came washers and finally the pin. The assembly fits snugly into the carburetors. It helps to put the fuel feed hose on before you slide the carbs together. Hopefully it won’t leak.

I’ve got the carbs assembled onto the rack and everything seems to work smoothly. I’ll be testing the float levels on the bench and will sync the throttle slides as close as I can get them. The idea being all four slides move the same distance in unison. Even if they’re not perfect the bike should run reasonably well. Later, manifold vacuum gauges can be used to adjust the carbs for any slight differences between cylinders.

Want to follow the entire Z1 resurrection?  Just click here!

The 70% Rule

One of my moto buddies stopped by Tinfiny Ranch, our high desert lair in New Mexico, and in the course of showing him around the property we got to talking about how incomplete everything was. He called it the 70% rule. As in 70% is close enough and time to move on to another project.

I blame it on my upbringing because I was raised in a house that was under construction for 16 of the 19 years I lived at home. There were additions, a second floor added, Walls knocked out and relocated, wall unit air conditioners installed and all manner of improvements that never saw completion. Oh, the stuff was sort of finished. The air conditioners worked fine but were never trimmed out, leaving a jagged edge around the face. The second floor had a beautiful staircase and the roof didn’t leak but it was still bare walls and floors when I left home for good. Same for the upstairs bathroom: the plumbing was stubbed out but the fixtures never were installed. The cats loved it up there. They had the whole floor to themselves.

Finishing just doesn’t seem that important to me. I’ve got the off-grid solar panel system working in Tinfiny’s large metal shed. Except it needs more batteries to complete the storage system. I have the 3000-watt array connected to four group 31 batteries, which the solar can charge in about an hour of sunshine. The rest of the day the solar power is wasted. I need about 12 more batteries to give the solar panels something to keep them busy. And I’ve yet to run the 12-volt circuits or the 24-volt circuits but I do have some LED lights and 120-volt outlets.

I’d like to have a concrete floor in Tinfiny’s shed. I’ve been working on it. Sadly, only around 25% of the floor is concrete leaving 75% (AKA the lion’s share) dirt. It’s a solid sort of dirt though, and not much water runs under the building’s edge when it rains, unless it rains really hard. Then it gets a bit muddy. It would have been a heck of a lot easier to pour the slab first, then put the building up but that ship has sailed.

I’ve nearly finished the water system. There’s a 2500-gallon tank being fed rainwater from half of the shed roof. I plan to gutter the other half some day but first I have to finish those 24-volt circuits to get the pressure pump working. I know the pump works ok because I’ve rigged it up to an 18-volt Ryobi battery. It’s just temporary, you know? There’s a pesky leak on one of the Big Blue filters. I’ve taken the canister apart several times but it still leaks from the large o-ring recessed into the canister. I leave the Ryobi battery out of the jury-rigged power connector when I don’t need water. That slows the leak quite a bit.

When you are off-grid you need a generator as backup in case a series of cloudy days runs the battery-bank down. Of course, the generator needs its own well-ventilated, soundproofed shed to keep the generator out of the elements and not drive everyone within a 4 square mile area crazy. I have almost finished the generator shed. I’ve got the floor poured, the wiring to the solar-generator transfer switch installed and complete but for some reason the wheels came off and the project stalled.

Lately I’ve been tinkering with an old Kawasaki Z900. If I run true to form and leave it 70% finished something will have to give. I could eliminate the brakes or maybe run 3 sparkplugs instead of 4. Tinfiny Ranch has more examples of my inability to complete a project. I estimate around 30% more. Hey wait a minute, this means we are nearly 70% done with this story. I guess that’s close enough.

Loud Pipes Save Lies

A symphonic ’79 CBX with a wail as sweet as sugar…

Air-conditioning is a luxury in my world. Compressors, evaporators, electric clutches, if that junk fails I never bother to repair it because my trucks are not worth the investment. Running without AC requires open windows and I heard the 4-cylinder sport bike coming up behind me on the left. He was about three car lengths back and well up into the RPM range. You may not like that sound but it was music to my ears.

The main point is I heard him. So many motorcycle anti-noise campaigners claim that exhaust noise is one direction and useless as a safety measure. Like no one in front of you can hear your blat-blat-blat. The naysayers turn into online audio engineers describing the physics of sound and how loud pipes can’t possibly alert anyone to your presence. And they are full of crap. I heard the bike coming up behind me.

Go ahead and argue sound is annoying on a motorcycle. Push for better rider training. Explain to me how citizens shouldn’t be disturbed from their slumber as they text down the highway running over anything not traveling their same speed and trajectory. Say that loud motorcycles are causing Cagers to dislike us and that lawmakers will try and ban us. It all may be true. Those are worthwhile arguments.

But don’t tell me you can’t hear loud pipes. With your widows up and the stereo blazing away you probably can’t but there are other, less-insulated road users that can hear the outside world. Bicyclists, walkers and people without air conditioning will be alerted to your motorcycle long before you collide with them. Electric car owners report that pedestrians wander in front of their silent rides. That kind of stuff won’t happen to a drag-piped, stretched-swingarm Hayabusa spinning 9000 rpm.

Loud pipes can’t be both annoying and unheard on the road. The effect is even more pronounced in town: A straight-piped hog announces itself blocks away. The damn thing sounds like a bear rifling through garbage cans but I know it’s out there somewhere because I can hear the big V-twin stumble and fart like internal combustion is not settled science.

Sure, pipes make more noise towards the back because that’s the direction they are pointed. Would it be so bad if some Whopper-eating, stereo-adjusting, GPS-programming car driver heard you a few hundred feet before running your annoying ass over? If sound doesn’t equal safety then why are street-driven motorcycles equipped with horns? You can’t have it both ways.

The Greshqvarna….

Personally I don’t like loud pipes. They wear me down on long trips so I mostly run stock mufflers. My Husky came with an aftermarket muffler that is pretty loud but I leave it on out of inertia.

Has anyone’s life been saved by a loud exhaust system? Who knows? It’s difficult to prove a negative, something that didn’t happen. Trying to work within the system or to curry favor from others by silencing your motorcycle is a mug’s game. Run whatever exhaust system you prefer. Motorcycles, loud or quiet, are going to be annoying to the general public. Our very existence seems dangerous to them and their anger towards us isn’t noise related. It’s because we are not following the rules.

Zed’s Not Dead: Part 5

Regular readers (if anyone who reads this endless chain of Kawasaki Z1 resurrection stories can be called Regular) will recall the broken intake manifold screw problem. I tried soaking the busted screw in penetrating oil, drilling it and using an easy-out to no avail. I heated the cylinder head around the broken screw. It didn’t budge (the screw, that is). I even ground a Harbor Freight screwdriver into a straight-sided, square easy out so as to not expand the screw tighter into the hole like commercial, spiral-type easy outs. I had a really good purchase on the thing but nothing doing. The screw was well and truly stuck.

My last resort hinged on drilling a hole exactly through the center of the broken piece with a left-hand drill bit. If you’ve never used a left-hand drill bit they are exactly like a right-hand drill bit but they cut in an anti-clockwise direction.

The reason lefty bits are the nads for removing stuck or broken bolts is because of their natural tendency to unscrew whatever they are drilling into. By increasing the bit size in stages hopefully you can get the offending screw so thin that the remaining threads weaken, collapse slightly and wind out of the hole looking like a coil spring. And that’s mostly what happened except the thread came out in pieces.

After clearing out the swarf I ran a bottoming tap into the hole and tidied up the threads as much as possible. I will use a slightly longer screw to compensate for the compromised hole but I’m pretty sure it will be fine and I have avoided using a Helicoil thread repair, which is the hack mechanic’s favorite crutch.

Zed was missing a few ignition parts so my Internet buddy Skip Duke sent me a spark advancer that very nearly fit the Kawasaki. The bolt that holds the advance to the crankshaft was a size too large for the hole in the advancer. Skip and I held a web-confab and decided that the advancer was the wrong part. Skip dug around his Z1 parts horde and found another unit that will work. This is the best thing about the Internet: you meet generous people that share your old motorcycle affliction.

I haven’t forgotten about the carburetors either. I’ve been soaking them in Evapor-rust and the stuff is doing a fine job. It’s very mild so you can leave zinc carb bodies immersed for days without fear of eating away the good parts. All four of the carbs are clean and I’m waiting on a few parts before I can reassemble the rack.

Zed’s little clutch-cover, oil level window was black with sitting-bike mung. It was so black the oil level could not be determined. I removed the cover and cleaned out behind the metal back-plate. Since I had the cover off I figured it would be a good idea to check the clutch plates for wear. The fibers are within tolerance and the steels are only slightly rusty so I’ll clean all those parts up and Zed should have a functioning clutch.

When Kawasaki designed the Z1 they went all out. This was Big K’s flagship motorcycle and the robust clutch is a fine example of strength. The large, straight-cut clutch gear would not look out of place in a one-ton manual truck transmission. The fingers that locate the fiber plates are surrounded by a steel band to prevent them from spreading under load. This clutch is awe-inspiring and looks like it could handle double the Z1’s 82 (claimed) horsepower. The bike has 41,000 miles showing on the clock and the metal parts show minimal wear. I am impressed.

Don’t take my word for it, here is the author of the Z1 repair manual waxing eloquent over the Z’s clutch.

I’m making another list of parts and will be blowing more money on Zed. I really hope this engine runs without a lot of knocking and the transmission shifts like butter.