I had no interest in seeing the new Barbie movie; after all, I’m a boy. Dolls are for girls. We boys don’t play with dolls, we play with Action Figures which are completely different things…entirely. I started reading about a backlash to the movie, how it was anti-male and subversive to the natural order of things. I read demons made Barbie and if your kid watched it they would be swapping genders faster than you can pop the plastic, unborn fetus from Pregnant Midge’s® removable belly.
Settle down now, as I have some mansplaining to do here. I’ll try my best not to reveal too much of the Barbie plot. I must warn you that spoilers lie ahead so stop reading now if you’re going to the movie.
In my mind a subversive thing acts in subtle ways to upset the status quo. Under that definition Barbie is not subversive: It’s a sledgehammer and telegraphs its intentions so that there’s no confusion where the movie stands on a women’s place in today’s society. The opening scene of Barbie mimics 2001 A Space Odyssey’s monolith/monkey bit but instead of sticks and a large, mysterious block it’s a 50-foot tall Barbie and baby dolls. I imagine people who prefer traditional male/female roles will never make it past this first sequence.
Barbie lives in Barbieland, a place inhabited by universally beautiful women named Barbie and universally handsome men. Except for Allen. Women run Barbieland and the men (all named Ken) are merely decorative accessories who spend their time at the beach flexing. The cast represents many races and body types (but mostly thin and fit) and I suspect this blatant, utopian dreamscape won’t go over well with the one-drop-of-blood, you-will-not-replace-us crowd.
Barbie’s perfection begins to crack as a result of events in the real world. Instead of frozen in the high-heel position, her feet go flat. She develops cellulite. She contemplates her own mortality. That chick from SNL sends her off to sort things out. Barbie and Ken end up in the real world where Ken realizes for the first time that men control most of the levers of power. This is reinforced when Barbie meets the all-male corporate officers at Mattel. Hilarity ensues as Ken becomes Alpha-Ken and Barbie tries to find her real-world owner (it’s a long story). Ken goes back to Barbieland and introduces the other Kens to horses, bandanas and giant trucks. Barbieland rapidly becomes a hyper-male version of the real world.
As usual, when men get involved, things get aggressive. There is a jealousy-war between two Ken factions fighting over the Barbies. In the end Barbie saves the day and Barbieland is restored. Barbie has to solve Ken’s mental issues as well (a woman’s work is never done). You’ll hear complaints about the emasculated men in Barbieland, but since neither Ken nor Barbie have sex organs it’s kind of moot.
I give kudos to the Mattel Corporation for having a sense of humor and allowing their name and corporate logos to be used in this movie. I’m sure there will be a backlash against Mattel as there is against any corporation that shows consideration towards others. The suits at Mattel made a shrewd move and are getting billions of dollars of free advertising from the Barbie media frenzy.
Look, at this politically polarized moment in time I can’t tell you how to feel about a woman-centric movie that has boy problems as one of its major themes. It may be that the patriarchy is so ingrained there is simply no way to avoid it. You’ll need to look inward to understand what triggers your feeling of lost or gained status. It’s just a movie.
Barbieland is painted in simple, bright pastels but real life is much more complicated and dull. There are many women who navigate the patriarchy with apparent ease, like my wife CT, although it may not be as easy as it looks for her. I’ll have to talk to her about her feelings on the subject one day. Maybe a day I’m not pouring concrete or looking at big tires for diesel trucks.
Some people might think the playing field is equal, that women have arrived and are treated as equals all the time. I’d say we’ve come a long way baby (stolen from Virginia Slims cigarettes), but being male, I would say that. Despite frequent setbacks, progress trends towards justice and this is where the Barbie movie succeeds. Barbie has even me talking about women and their lot in the world we have created. That’s progress. Does that make me Ken?
After riding through the stifling heat of Utah, Nevada and central California the cold, foggy mists of the Monterey Peninsula penetrated my mesh jacket and I shivered. It was wonderful to be cold and it was wonderful to be at Laguna Seca’s Weather Tech Raceway. This wasn’t my first visit to Laguna Seca but it was my first time inside the track. Years ago I rode up from San Diego back when Laguna Seca was a date on the world championship calendar. Today, Austin’s COTA circuit has usurped that role in America but Laguna Seca is still way prettier.
Two strokes ruled Moto GP racing in that era and when I pulled up to the entrance gate the $50 ticket price almost gave me a stroke. I was earning $3.50 an hour working on boats and $50 was a ton of money. I figured the hell with it and went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium instead. Oddly enough, the entry fee for AHRMA’s Motofest vintage racing was still 50 dollars some 40 years on. This time I paid for a ticket because riding from La Luz, New Mexico is a long way to go for nothing.
Motels around Monterey are sort of expensive. Your best deal is the 4-day camping pass at the track. I bought a reserved campsite because I wasn’t sure how things worked inside. Turns out there were plenty of campsites available for this event. I had site 110A, which gave me a view of turn 5 in one direction and a view of the bikes going up Rahal hill to the Corkscrew in the other direction.
Site A-110: it’s a good place to spend the weekend.
Plenty of portable toilets were sprinkled around the venue and hot showers were available in the more substantial structures. All the faucets were marked non-potable so bring plenty of water. I had to buy those little bottled waters in the paddock at $3 a bottle. The ground at my site was pretty hard so I never got my flimsy aluminum tent pegs to penetrate. Luckily my site had an old steel spike that someone left behind. I drove the spike into the hard ground on the windward side, tied the tent to the spike and used my gear to hold the other three corners down. The hydraulic jack came in handy as a hammer.
I say the ground was hard but apparently the hundreds of ground squirrels had no problem burrowing holes every 15 feet. The squirrels are all over the place at Weather Tech. I’m surprised that an aged vintage motorcycle racer hasn’t fallen in a squirrel hole and broken a leg. I’ve heard that when they get up in years it’s best to shoot them rather than let them suffer.
Me and Milich, he’s tall with a lot of drag but still wins. You can visit Milich’s websites at http://guzzipower.com/ and https://www.ducpower.com/.Thad Wolf’s Suzuki. I never did find Wolff, he must have known I was looking for him.
Thursday was practice all day. The bikes were sent out in groups with staggered starts. There are a lot of classes in AHRMA, like dozens, to keep track of but I mostly just listened for two-strokes. AHRMA’s Motofest had a sort of mini Motorcyclist magazine reunion vibe. The Kevin Hipp racing family was there along with Thad Wolff and Ed Milich. Go-Go Gulbransen, whose name the announcer never tired of uttering was there also. Go-Go was the guy who tested the upper limits of new sport bikes for Motorcyclist magazine. All these guys live and breathe motorcycles and it’s the passion you can’t fake that made them such good journalists.
This might be a real S2 Kawasaki production racer. Very few were built. You had to know somebody.
Vintage racing today looks a bit different from when the motorcycles were current models. Hondas seem to dominate. The 160cc slopers, 175 twins and 350 twins were much faster than I remember them. In fact, I don’t remember them racing at all. I assume it’s due to better oils and electronic ignition systems, because in the old days the small bore grids were mostly Yamahas with a few Suzukis and Kawasakis. If there was a Honda racing it was usually sputtering at the tail end of the pack and the rider was wearing construction boots and welding leathers. Of course, things were different at the GP/factory level where Honda did all right for itself considering the handicap it was working under. It helps to have Mike Hailwood and Freddie Spenser on your team.
A brace of H2s these sounded good when they pulled in.Jewel-like T500cc twin Suzuki. This was a revolutionary bike when it came out. Some people thought you couldn’t go this big without heating problems. Another bike I want to own one day.Zoomie RD 350 with DG sunburst heads. Going for that squish band action.A pile of Ossas. These are Stilettos; I want a Pioneer.Thames van. I imagine it’s British.Stretched Honda Mini Trail with custom Grom-based block. 350cc, tops out around 100 miles per hour. I asked the kid if it was dangerous. He said he lived in Oakland, so it was the least dangerous thing he did.
After setting up camp I walked all over Laguna Seca: I needed the exercise after sitting on the ZRX1100 for five long days. To get to Monterey I took the long way around, up through Colorado to Grand Junction then across Utah and Nevada to California. I tried to ride Highway 120 through Yosemite Park but the road was closed. I detoured north from Lee Vining to Highway 108 and was rewarded with one of the world’s great motorcycle roads. Anyway, from my campsite to the paddock was only a 15-minute walk. Less if you didn’t tangle with a ground squirrel.
Vintage racing is all about the paddock. The racing, while serious, is almost secondary to checking out the old race bikes. The paddock is where the food is, where the beer is and where the old motorcycles are. Most of the spectators hang out in the paddock area. I wandered around for hours looking at motorcycles. I ate a turkey sandwich and drank a beer that was like 28 dollars but we need to support the moneymaking aspect of Laguna Seca or it’ll become luxury housing.
Turn 4 action.Yamaha RD400 scooting right along.
Saturday and Sunday were race days. I hung out with Motorcyclist Magazine alumni Ed Milich for a bit. Ed has an admirable cost per win philosophy in that he expends just enough effort to get first place and no more. His bikes look like hell but they run great. Paint don’t win races, says Ed. On the track he never seems to be trying hard, the gap between him and second place grew larger as if by magic. Ed won every race he entered (four) I did some math and determined that Ed spends around $4.37 per win. Hipp won his races also. Hipp’s bikes are those fast Honda 350s and they look like show bikes. Hipp’s wins probably cost more than Milich’s, but they still count.
Montessssa on the trials course.
Sunday morning I went over to the trials section. Set in gullies and on the sides of hills, trials riding never looks too hard until you try it. Trials events at the level Laguna Seca puts on have the advantage of being relatively safe as the speeds are very low and you can’t fall very far. This isn’t the crazy stadium trials you watch on YouTube but it suits the old motorcycles participating. I might try the trials on Godzilla next time I go to Laguna.
The legend Dave Roper. I think he’s still the only American to win at the Isle of Man races.Walt Fulton fetteling his XR750.
With such wildly different motorcycles it’s hard to compare rider skill. Except when it comes to Dave Roper: Roper, who resembles a stick of beef jerky with a cotton ball stuck on one end, was smooth and fast on any bike he rode. Roper and Walt Fulton, with a combined 300 years of racing experience, put on quite a show with their matching H-D branded, Aermacchi Sprints. There was a vintage motocross at Laguna Seca but it ran concurrent with some other races so I missed it. You really need to be two people to see all the action at AHRMA’s Vintage Motofest.
Nice, tank shift flattie. This bike sounded good on the track, very low rpm drone.
It was nice to have the campsite for Sunday night; I didn’t have to rush to pack and head out into the unforgiving freeways of California in the late afternoon. Wherever I ride the ZRX1100 it attracts attention. I’ve had people take selfie photographs standing next to the bike, I get asked what year it is almost every ride. The thing is bone stock. Laguna Seca was no different, the bike garnered a steady stream of complements from my camp neighbors. I must look hard up because the guy camping across from me handed me 40 dollars and said I had dropped it. I think he was trying to be nice to a vagabond. Normally I would have taken it but I’m trying to become a better person and told the guy it wasn’t mine.
Californians and Ex-Californians like to bitch about their state, but the damn place is beautiful. California has it all from the beaches to the mountains to the desert and all types of terrain in between. With straight roads crowded by farm equipment, the central valley (also known as The Breadbasket of America) was like the Tail of the Dragon for my nose. Sweet manure, grassy hay, dust and soil, the smells kept swapping back and forth giving my nasal passages whiplash. If it wasn’t so expensive, I’d live in California again but my total running costs at Tinfiny Ranch are less than the annual taxes on any house I could afford there. The Californians I met were universally friendly and interesting to talk to, we would start up a conversation like we had known each other for years and had just spoken last Thursday.
I’ll go to AHRMA’s Monterey bash again. It’s closer than Daytona for me and with the camping, about the same cost. I give the event high marks for value. You really get your 50 dollars worth with AHRMA.
The famous line was from a Clint Eastwood movie, I think, but regardless it rings true for me as I ease into my salad years. Or is that my pabulum years? Recently I did a few simple mathematical equations and then ran the results through my life expectancy chart. The results were not encouraging. I would need to live another 124 years, 7 months to complete all the projects I’ve started. That’s if I didn’t gain any additional projects in the ensuing 124 years. Unfortunately, the projects still drift in by ones and twos. It’s time I got to know my limitations.
I was building the driveway retaining wall at The Ranch when the epiphany came. I looked around at the tools spread around the front yard, the stack of lumber and the pallets of concrete and decided that there was just no way to do it all and that I needed to shed a few projects. At least get them off my books. The low hanging fruit was first to go.
The 1974 MGB-GT was a candidate because I haven’t spent much money on it yet and it’s a huge, time consuming proposition. It needs many, many manhours and truthfully I never really wanted a MGB-GT anyway. It was just on the land when we bought the place and I thought it was a cool looking car. I bandied about about selling it but the prospect of wading through all the Internet scammers and tire kickers didn’t appeal to me. My buddy Mike from the Carrizozo Mud Chuckers expressed an interest in the car so I made him a deal he couldn’t refuse: I gave it to him.
Before you get all wound up and start telling me how you would have given me $500 for the car I have this to say: “No, you wouldn’t.” Just like you wouldn’t buy a Janus if it had an American made V-twin engine or an electric car if it went 100 miles further on a charge. Mike has a trailer that fit the MBG perfectly and we loaded it up using two come-alongs in series. With 3 flat tires it took about a half-hour to move the car 20 feet. Inches add up to miles and the blue, MGB is now residing 69 miles away at Mud Chuckers central. Seeing the car roll off the property gave me a real lift. It’s like I bought an extra year of my life.
The next thing to go was the KLR250. When I had the Love Shack in Florida the KLR was the bike I left in the shed. Whenever we were in residence the KLR faithfully dragged me around central Florida. It wasn’t fast but I could hold 70mph on the highway if there wasn’t a headwind. The KLR sat as we moved junk across the country and then sat in the shed here at The Ranch for a few years. You know how that goes. The carb gummed up and it wouldn’t start.
I decided to sell the bike but first I had to fix the front brake, fork seals and replace the front tire. After accomplishing those chores I wandered off to construction projects and the KLR languished. The final straw was when I skipped over the KLR250 to get the ZRX1100 running. I realized that the liquid-cooled 6-speed enduro bike had fallen completely off the to-do list.
Mike came to the rescue again and picked up the KLR250 for a cool 1000 dollars and dragged it back to his place. He has since replaced the stock constant velocity carb with a Mikuni clone off of Amazon and the bike starts and moves under its own power again. The new carb is jetted too rich so there’s a bit more fettling to be done but I won’t be doing it.
Having those two projects out of the way emboldened me to get rid of more junk. The Bomber is on the chopping block. I originally bought the Bomber for its running gear. I planned to put the Bomber’s small block Chevy and ½ ton running gear into Brumby (the Jeep). But the Bomber was so handy for hauling concrete the Jeep swap never took place. CT signed me up for a Lowes card and with the card Lowes will deliver anything to The Ranch for $20. This means no more concrete hauling and no need for the Bomber along with the Bomber’s tags and insurance.
I’ve got a few things to fix on the Bomber but I think I can get $1500 or so for the beast and that will be another project off my books and another year of my life back.
The trend line is clear to see: Stuff not getting used is going away. The 1975 Kawasaki 900 isn’t even safe now that the ZRX1100 is running. It has become too valuable and selling it would enable me to finish a few other projects, like my Honda 50 with a 140cc Lifan motor. Zed mostly sits because the purple Yamaha RD350 has taken over top spot in the vintage street bike category. I can only ride so many motorcycles at once.
You may say I’m getting lazy or maybe just old but I say I’m being realistic. There are still a few old motorcycles I’d like to own and clearing the decks is a time-honored tradition for normal people. Anyone need a Huffy beach cruiser with a 60cc two-stroke motor attached? It’s too fast downhill and too slow uphill. The thing is going to kill me if I don’t get rid of it.
When I first met CT I used to read a lot of books. We didn’t have a television (by choice) and the Internet hadn’t been invented yet so reading a book was entertainment. I’ve slowly fallen out of the habit. Part of it was that my failing eyesight made it harder to read small print. My job was physically demanding and I had to work outside in the hot Florida sun. I ran my own business and I was always busy working, trying to pay off the American Dream. When I got home I was so washed out I just wanted to sit, drink beer and not think.
For some reason it seemed like the places we lived were always poorly lit. It’s hard to read in the dark. Later, bright computer screens made it easier to read but I consumed mostly junk. Ad copy, moto-journalism, poorly done Youtube videos: my mind had become a vast, featureless wasteland.
I had a couple cataracts replaced with new lenses a year ago and that operation made things a lot brighter. Maybe those places we lived weren’t all that dark after all. For kicks I had the eye surgeon install long-distance lenses and now I can see far away things pretty good. My up close vision isn’t the greatest and I’ve been too busy to get reading glasses. I started a few books but lost interest. Stupid memes and arguing with strangers on the Internet were more to my liking.
It’s been awhile since I’ve plowed through an entire book but I plowed through Nine Years Among The Indians in two short days. You know how they say you can’t put it down? I did put it down but only because my eyes were tired.
NYATI was first published in 1927 about events from 1870 to 1879, which places the language used in the book far from modern sensibilities. It’s the story of Herman Lehmann who was abducted by Apache Indians when he was 8 years old. Herman was raised by the Apaches and became an Apache. The Apaches were his family and Herman tells how the process was accomplished so thoroughly he forgot how to speak English and spoke only Apache.
One of the reasons I liked the book so much was that the area where the action happened (and there is plenty of action), New Mexico and west Texas, feature prominently. The Apaches at that time lived in nomadic bands and traveled to suit the seasons. River crossings serve as waypoints as you follow the tribe across the modern day southwest.
Lehmann writes in a matter-of-fact way and doesn’t sugar coat the things he did as an Apache warrior. Human life was not valued any higher than common animals in the wild west and a lot of people were killed. The Apaches were in an end-of-times war with the White Man and due to superior numbers and disease the White Man just kept coming and taking everything he saw before him. The Buffalo hunters were the worst. They killed and skinned buffalo, leaving the meat to rot and they killed buffalo in the millions. Buffalo were critical to the Apache. How would you feel if someone came along and destroyed your entire way of life? Bitter, I imagine.
Later Herman has a falling out with the Apaches and becomes a Comanche, and he remained Comanche the rest of his life. The Comanches were slightly less stern than the Apaches and Herman noted there was more joy and laughter as a Comanche. There are really no good guys in the book. The Whites are/were just as savage as the Indians and it’s sad how it ended for the Indians.
You know how it played out: eventually the White Man manages to subjugate the Indian tribes and force them to live on reservations. After reading NYATI I can’t imagine a worse fate for a free-roaming American Indian of the west. Herman is sent back to his family but now he is completely Indian-ized so it takes a while to relearn English and the White Man’s dull way of life.
Nine Years Among The Indians kept me reading when the other books didn’t. Each chapter is a story that stands alone once you know the background of the writer. The Apaches lived and continue to live such a different life from Europeans. Herman got to know both cultures and I think if he had his choice between the Apaches, the White man’s world, and the Comanches, he’d be back with the Comanches.
One of the many disadvantages of big, heavy motorcycles is the extra strain they place on your body doing routine maintenance. Oiling the chain, a simple task on a lightweight motorcycle (you just lean the bike onto its kickstand and spray away) becomes a chore lifting and spinning bit by bit. God help you if you get a flat or need to remove a wheel.
Motorcycles used to come with center stands (a few still do) and seeing how obese modern bikes have become I don’t know why manufacturers don’t tack on a bit more junk that would be actually useful. I’d rather have a center stand than a thin film instrument cluster, ride mode selector or ABS brakes. Here’s a link to the Amazon motorcycle jack.
This El Cheapo, Chinese 2-ton hydraulic Jack is slightly shorter than the other El Cheapo Chinese jacks and as such it is low enough to fit under your swing arm or front frame rail. Positioned correctly, you can rig a stable 3-point setup to lift either end of your portly motorcycle.
But the thing isn’t exactly travel friendly. Weighing in at a stout 4 pounds, 5.7 ounces it is not the sort of thing you want to carry around on your motorcycle unless you’re taking a long-ish trip. Of course I’m taking a long-ish trip so I decided to trim some excess weight off of the jack.
As delivered, the jack’s working end isn’t ideal for round tubes like a swing arm or frame so I chopped the sides off and ground a swale into the face in the hope of preventing the jack from slipping when in use. This worked pretty well it turns out, and while I wouldn’t jump up and down on the motorcycle while suspended it was fairly stable. Saving a few ounces was an added plus.
Since I’m using only a fraction of the jack’s 2-ton capacity I decided it was safe to Swiss cheese the extension lever and pivoting mechanism. This included drilling the pivot pins and connecting rod.
All this drilling removed a satisfying amount of weight and the jack was no worse for the damage. I know what you’re thinking: “Why stop there?” The base of the jack is a cast iron affair with plenty of ribbing and surface area. Again, I’ll only be lifting a few hundred pounds at most so I don’t need quite so much strength. I attacked the base with a 4-inch cutting wheel and removed everything that didn’t look like an elephant.
Trimming all that excess fat felt good and the resulting 3-pound, 15.5 ounce reading means I got rid of around a half-pound of useless weight and the jack looks better, has lower cholesterol, and can fit into its old high-school clothing again.
As far as the jack function, it works as you’d expect although it will slowly lose pressure overnight and lets the bike back down. Plan accordingly if you want the bike jacked up more than 5-6 hours. I see a few more places that I can trim but my recent experience grinding through a 200-dollar brake caliper gave me pause. I don’t want to hit an artery. I’ll need to look inside to determine how far I can go with the grinder but I believe I can thin the base at least 1/8 inch and cut a lot more metal around the pressure release valve. I’d like to get the jack down to 3-1/2 pounds just to see if I can. This will do for now, I’ll bring the jack along with me to Laguna Seca next week so if you’re in the area you can stop by and check it out.
I probably shouldn’t badmouth them because they seem to have the business model sewn up and are industry giants, but Partzilla sucks. I’ve ordered quite a few ZRX parts from them and several things they do annoy me. First, I get CT to order everything because it just works out better. Next, many parts you take the time to look up on their parts diagrams are not priced unless you go through the hassle of signing in to their website. Comparison shopping is difficult. The worst is when the page shows the part as available and in reality they don’t have it. This happened to me with the reed valve gaskets. The site said available (which is not the same thing as in stock) but I’ve been waiting about 3 weeks. CT emailed Partzilla about the situation and got a semi-snarky email in return. Is it better to lose a sale or lose a customer?
I get my Kawasaki parts from Southwest Suzuki Kawasaki in Alamogordo now. It’s actually faster than Partzilla and they give me a little discount if the part is outrageous (like those float needles). I go see Dave or Taylor at Southwest with part numbers I get off the Internet and the stuff is there within a week. Maybe the massive vertical integration of the ‘Zilla monster has reached an evolutionary dead end. I’m done with them, no matter that they’ve bought the first three pages of results on Google.
Rant over.
My Chinese petcock showed up and it looks exactly like the original Kawasaki petcock and fit perfectly. Unfortunately, when I tried to connect the old fuel line it had a pinhole leak right where the line expands from 5/16-inch to 3/8-inch. I don’t know why Kawasaki went with the oddball molded fuel line. A 5/16-inch line will provide plenty of fuel to the 1100cc Kawasaki engine.
This is horrible but there are reasons why it is horrible. First, the OEM Kawasaki fuel line would need to be ordered and I don’t want to wait for it. Second, The original line connects to a plastic T-fitting between the No. 2 and No. 3 carburetors. Knowing my luck with old plastic fittings, I feared that replacing the hose entirely would lead to a broken T-fitting, which would mean pulling those damn carbs again. Then there’s the wait for a new T-fitting. I decided to let sleeping T-fittings lie and added a 3/8-inch to 5/16-inch hose barb adaptor complete with an ugly pipe connection between the two. Then I ran a new 3/8-inch line to the petcock. I mean to fix this mess later on but it works and doesn’t leak.
I gave up on getting the gaskets for the reed valves and made two block-off plates to seal the air intake to the exhaust ports. Then I spun up a little aluminum plug to seal the hole in the airbox where the reeds connected. I didn’t take photos of this part because I was in a hurry to hear the bike run.
I installed the rest of the radiator plumbing and started to fill the Kawasaki radiator with coolant and found the slippery green stuff running out the bottom as fast as I put it in. The front log manifold was pissing coolant, which was odd because I had replaced the four O-rings with new Kawasaki parts. This log manifold is behind the header pipes and not easy to access. Off came the pipe and the O-rings looked like they were deformed a bit.
My mistake was lubing the O-rings on the pipe manifold. This made them too slippery and when the pipe was pushed into position the rings slid out of the pipe O-ring grooves. I gave the rings a through examination and decided to clean all traces of lube from the pipe and O-rings. I shoved the thing back together, reconnected the hoses and it leaked as much as it did last time.
I pulled the log manifold for the third time and cussing up a storm. I tossed the new Kawasaki O-rings and dug some Harbor Freight O-rings out of an assorted kit I bought years ago. I was so frustrated I managed to cross thread one of the bolts that hold the manifold onto the engine block. Back off comes the manifold. For the fourth time. Remember, I’m doing all this behind the header pipes and I can barely get my fingers between the pipes.
I managed to get a tap started into the cross-threaded hole and using the tip of a finger to hold the tap and needle nose pliers to turn it, I ran the tap into the hole and straightened out the cross-threaded bit. Amazingly, the hole holds tension and I got the manifold back in place and the hoses connected. The manifold didn’t leak.
With the radiator full of coolant I started the bike. It smoked quite a bit but after a few minutes the smoke eased off. I had set the idle screws at 1-1/2 turns out but the bike seemed rich. The idle mixture screws are accessible with the carbs on the bike but you need a special, shorty screwdriver to turn them. I made one out of bits and pieces. Make sure you have some sort of identifier so you can count the turns by feel. I used a small screw as my tactile-pointer and reset the screws to 1 turn out.
I tossed the seat on the bike and went for celebratory tacos at the Alomar Diner in Tularosa. The bike ran fair if a little rich. After I ate the tacos the bike wouldn’t start. What with everything having been messed with in the preceding weeks I wasn’t sure where to begin. So I kept cranking. And Cranking. And cranking.
Then I started smelling gas so I held the throttle wide open and cranked some more. The bike started making sounds like it wanted to start. I kept cranking. The Kawasaki sputtered to life stinking of fuel. I rode the bike home and it was running rich. I calculated my fuel mileage as 36 miles to a gallon. The ZRX1100 fuel tank vent was whistling like a teapot on boil and gave a gush of pressure when I opened the gas cap. This led me to believe there was a problem with venting.
Inside the ZRX gas cap is some sort of check valve assembly. It consists of two little red rubber valves and I couldn’t figure out how tank pressure was supposed to vent out. The ZRX has a vacuum operated petcock and with only a little pressure the shutoff diaphragm can be overridden. It’s a fine line. Naturally, removing the source of the problem is easier than making it work as intended so I removed the check valves and the bike whistled no more.
The bike was running much better and if anything was now lean-ish off idle. I did a 200-mile test loop through the mountains and the old ZRX1100 returned 53 miles to a gallon.
The Rex is running pretty well right now. I hate to do it but I’m going to buy four more Kawasaki O-rings for that coolant manifold and try again. Even though they aren’t leaking I don’t trust the Harbor Freight O-rings for longevity. I’ll order a new OEM fuel hose and I might take a stab at installing it. I also want a new fan switch O-ring for the radiator. I’m also going to set the idle mixture screws to 1-1/4 turns to see if it helps the off-idle lean spot, The ZRX stumbles a bit off the start. Once all this is sorted, watch for a ride report on the ZRX1100 in a future ExNotes blog.
The pressure of getting the ZRX1100 finished by July has eased off a bit. The Carrizozo Mud Chuckers may not be able to make July’s Laguna Seca races. I may have to go alone, which isn’t a bad thing, or skip the modern bikes and go to the vintage races held a week after. I’m leaning towards the vintage races as I really don’t have much interest in motorcycle road racing and the vintage bikes hold my attention just by existing. That doesn’t mean I’m backing off the ZRX1100 resurrexion project. I’m full speed ahead and will stay on the job until I am able to ride Rex again.
One of the things that worried me on the ZRX was the 24-year-old radiator. Kawasaki makes a quality motorcycle but how long can a radiator last? I found an aftermarket radiator on eBay for only $80 dollars with free shipping. You know how I like a deal. The radiator arrived securely packed and undamaged. It was welded aluminum and the workmanship looks excellent.
Unfortunately, there are a few problems with the fit of the aftermarket radiator. The top mounting ears are slightly too wide apart. When fitted with the original rubber isolator grommet the ears squeeze in as you tighten the bolts. It will need a thicker rubber isolator and that will require a longer spacer and bolt in order to avoid squeezing the rubber flat.
The next issue is the top tabs that hook into the expanded metal radiator bug screen are slightly too low. When the bottom screw holes are lined up the screen misses the top tabs completely; they hook into thin air. I slotted the screw holes to lower the screen on the radiator and it seemed to work although it looked like hell.
After those problems I found the blind holes in the side of the radiator that secure the radiator side covers were not centered correctly. You could get one bolt started or the other, but not both at once. This was fairly critical as the side covers also incorporate the bottom radiator mount and horn mounting bolts. To fix this I will need to fabricate new radiator side supports along with horn mounts. I decided to punt and cleaned up the original radiator and installed it. The aftermarket radiator might see future use but I’m not in the mood to do the fabrication right now.
The new Kawasaki water pump fit perfectly and I was able to install the hard plumbing pipes and hoses. This included the log manifolds located on the front and back of the cylinder block. I ordered a set of silicone hoses that fit fairly well except one hose was missing. Fortunately, it’s the easiest one to get to and it is straight, so I reused the old hose. I can fix it later if it springs a leak.
When I bought the ZRX used all those years ago the previous owner had dropped the bike moving it around. There is a small scuff on the headlight faring and the front brake lever was bent out at an awkward angle. I rode the bike like this for years. I decided that since I had the brakes apart I may as well straighten the lever. A little heat from a propane torch is all you need. Don’t go hog wild or you’ll melt the aluminum.
After closer examination I could see why the old float needles were leaking. There was a ridge worn into one and another had the rubber tip flaking apart. I ordered a new set of four needles for $28 (shipping included) from China but could not get an accurate delivery date. I was getting nervous about our trip so I went down to the local Kawasaki dealer. The dealer had Kawasaki-OEM needles for only $39 each. It killed me but I dropped $156 and bought the four needles.
With new needles in hand I checked the float levels. The range given in my book was 18.5mm ± 2mm from the float bowl flange to the bottom of the float. Mine were all sitting a bit high at 18mm. I readjusted them to 20mm anticipating needle wear and seating. After the carbs were back together I checked the floats on the bench and no fuel leaked out. I hope this status holds. Two days later my needles from China showed up. They look identical to the Kawasaki needles and even came with the tiny wire bail that fits over the float to pull the needle down when the float drops. My $156 needles required reusing the wire bail from the old needles.
I can see why so many ZRX riders convert the original air box to pod-type filters. It’s a challenge getting the carbs back into position. You have to mount both throttle cables and the choke cable, then feed the cables through the frame as you battle to slide the carb assembly between the manifolds and the air box rubbers. It took at least an hour fighting to get the things in. Then, once you feel like you have succeeded, there’s the not-small matter of fitting the springs onto the air box rubber groove. None of this would be difficult if there were access. The two inside boots were out of reach and too crowded for my fingers. I managed to get the springs in place using a couple of screwdrivers and a lot of bad language.
While waiting on parts I tackled the fuel tank. Amazingly the inside of the gas tank was not rusted. It had stinky old yellow muck inside but was otherwise in good condition. This might be due to my diligent addition of fuel stabilizer several times over the course of the ZRX’s long slumber. I rinsed the tank using fresh gas and after 4 flushes the inside was pretty clean.
The fuel filter on the petcock was brittle with age (or fuel stabilizer) and crumbled to the touch. The filter is not sold as a separate part so I bought an entire petcock for less than a few Kawasaki gaskets. Again, from China. I didn’t pay attention to the delivery date and the petcock was promised between June 7th and July 15th. This was a huge window, so I bought a rebuild kit and it didn’t show up, either. Panicking, I went to the local dealer and ordered the inner packing and the gas tank O-ring figuring I could at least make something work. As you can see, I’m using a shotgun approach to parts as time grows short.
The petcock rebuild kit showed up a day before the Kawasaki stuff did and I managed to get a petcock assembled. My main issue with this plan is that since there is no interior fuel filter I’ll have to fit an inline filter. This is not as easy as it sounds because the Kawasaki uses a large 3/8” fuel barb and the 3/8” inline filters I’ve found are too large to fit under the carbs or below the petcock. Maybe my new petcock will show up soon and solve the problem for me.
The big holdup now is the gaskets for the reed-valve pollution plumbing located on the valve cover. The law of unintended consequences says that I should have left the reed valves alone when I painted the valve cover. But I didn’t. They tore when I removed the reeds to paint. I ordered the gaskets weeks ago and they have not arrived.
The reed valves allow fresh air to be drawn into the exhaust ports when there is a vacuum pulse at the exhaust port. Kind of like a smog pump without the pump. The reeds connect to a carb-vacuum-actuated valve that is supplied via the air box. I’m guessing this is some sort of backfire control. I can eliminate all this junk and I might do just that but I will need to make a blank plate to replace the reeds and a blob of high heat silicone to replace the gaskets. Then I’ll need to plug the hole in the air box. It would be faster to bolt the junk back on as the bike ran fine with it.
I also installed the new battery and tested the electrical system. I tested the lights and horn and they seemed to work then I bumped the engine over to see if the electric starter still functioned. Maybe in Part 6 this motorcycle will start.
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I’m starting to worry about the timeline on this Kawasaki project. It’s already almost June and we will be leaving for Laguna Seca the beginning of July. Parts are trickling in slowly now and I’ve found things to keep me busy. I don’t want to ride the Yamaha RD350 all the way to California but I will if it comes down to it.
After assembling the rebuilt front calipers onto the 1999 ZRX1100’s forks I tried to flush out the brake lines with a can of spray brake cleaner stuff. No go as all three of the hoses were clogged so badly I couldn’t get a drop of liquid out of them. I guess old brake fluid turns into a solid after many years. A piece of stainless wire, sort of stiff, was worked back and forth into each line pausing occasionally to give the line a squirt. It was slow going but my thrifty ways were rewarded when I managed to force the wire all the way through the hose. Now I could really give the inside of the line a good, high pressure blast with the brake cleaner and air compressor.
I had the same problem with the rear brake hose and solved it the same way. Bleeding so many pistons takes patience and I don’t rush to do the thing in one day. The tiny bubbles take a long time to percolate to high points and I’ve got rear pedal pressure fairly good now. The front calipers are taking a bit longer. I have solid line pressure but I think there might be a bubble or two occupying space that should be DOT 4 fluid.
The Kawasaki ZRX has a lot of black painted parts. I love this even though most of the black paint was rusty and flaking off. There’s nothing easier than applying black paint. It’s a popular color and if it’s a shade or two off no one will notice. I gave the handlebars and water pipes a shot of Rust-Oleum engine paint.
This brand of paint seemed to mix well with the original Kawasaki paint. I tried another brand but it lifted the old paint at the margins where old paint meets bare metal.
The clutch slave cylinder leaked onto the sprocket cover area eating the paint so I wire brushed the cover, along with the slave cylinder cover and shot them with the same black paint.
Removing the four carburetors out of a ZRX is no easy feat. The book says to pull them from the air intake side first, and then slide them out of the manifolds on the cylinder head side. Well, I’m here to tell you that method doesn’t work. It was a battle but I had to slide the carbs out of the manifold first then work the air cleaner boots back with a screwdriver. I’m dreading putting the carbs back in. I think I’ll use a thin flat piece of steel on the air cleaner side to push the boots back without snagging the carbs.
The carbs were gummed up with old gooey gasoline but they weren’t the worse I’ve seen. Luckily all the vacuum diaphragms were intact and flexible. I had to remove the factory, no-tamper idle screw plugs to clean out the idle passage. Oddly, one idle screw was set to 1-3/4 turns out while the rest were +1-ish turn out. I’m going to split the baby and make them all 1-1/4 turns out to start. Located on the bottom of the carbs, these idle screws are somewhat accessible while the carbs are still on the bike so I can adjust them later if needed.
After cleaning all four carbs and reassembling them I wanted to bench test for leaks before facing the gauntlet of those rubber boots. I set the carbs in the vise and rigged a funnel to pour gas in. The gas ran out #4 carb as fast as I put it in. Taking the #4 float bowl off and inspecting the needle and seat revealed nothing so I cleaned the seat and rubber tipped needle again and ran another test. No change; the gas flowed like wine. I have ordered four new float needles so we will have to revisit the carb issue later.
After 25,000 miles I felt it was time to do the Kawasaki-recommended 12,000-mile valve clearance check. As expected, they were all at the minimum gap specified or too tight. With 16 valves it’s easy to get mixed up with your adjustments so I made a chart to keep track of which valve needed what shim.
Kawasaki made the valve setting process easier by using cam follower type rockers. These rockers are mounted on a long shaft that runs through the cylinder head. The rockers are held in place over the valve stem by springs on the rocker shaft. This means you can slide the rocker over on the shaft and lower it so that the valve spring keeps the rocker from returning to its original position. No more having to swap in a shim just to rotate the cams to the next valve that needed setting. I was able to measure all the valves and determine what size shims I needed in two rotations of the crankshaft. After swapping the shims I could, I ended up needing seven shims in total. The local Kawasaki shop had them for $4 each.
I was going to use a new valve cover gasket but the thing costs like $80. That’s too much for a big rubber ring. My plan is to dollar cost average and get one more use out of the old gasket. I’ll splurge on a new gasket at 50,000 miles…maybe. The cover looked pretty bad so I cleaned it up and shot it black with the same paint as I used on the coolant pipes. The gaskets on the crankcase breather reed valves tore when I removed the plates for painting so I ordered the four total gaskets at $30. This motorcycle repair business sure is expensive.
In Rex Rx Part 5 I hope to start getting closer to starting the beast. I’m waiting on bits and pieces so it might be time to do a few days of concrete work.
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Dun colored, in a city of dun colored buildings, The Santa Fe Community Convention Center sits off Grant Street a few blocks from the city’s central plaza. The building is U-shaped with a large, exposed to the elements, interior courtyard paved with red bricks. The courtyard is sunken and drops down several steps lower than the floor grade of the main building. Surrounding the bottom courtyard is a low retaining wall with a wide, red brick cap. This cap is almost two feet wide and situated at just the right height for sitting on a sunny day.
Strings of tiny, white Christmas lights crisscross between the courtyard trees and metal tables and chairs are set up under the trees. Two food trucks, one selling African food, one selling Indian food, are at the far right end where a large gate allows entry for vehicles. There is a wooden bandstand constructed on the side nearest the street. On the bandstand students are reading poetry.
The poetry is depressing. Rape, murder and loneliness are the themes explored and the young poets sometimes break down and cry while they are reading their work. There is a lot of sadness and misery in this world; I don’t know why we can’t do better. Between each reader a relentlessly upbeat emcee comes on stage and asks us to “Give it up” for the previous poet, by which she intends for us to applaud. We applaud but the emcee is not the boss of us.
Entering the Convention Center from the street, the left side has a room where vendors sell Literary Fest swag and where the featured authors go to sign the books they are selling. CT bought me a T-shirt. From this vendor area a hallway leads up a few steps to several large rooms where the authors are interviewed but we can’t go in yet. We have to line up outside to get our ticket QR code scanned.
The line runs along the outer perimeter of the courtyard and out through a walkway, then the line turns left and goes on for another hundred feet. The festival is well attended and well staffed. The line moves along. As we near the door to the vendor area the line turns 180 degrees to enter the hallway for the lecture rooms. This is the spot where the Line Jumpers practice their craft.
It’s a confusing, swirling area because you can go into the vendor section without attending a lecture. Next to double glass doors there are people making the sharp 180 turn towards the lecture’s security bag-search area mixed in with people trying get to the vendor area. Amongst all this to-ing and fro-ing the Line Jumpers float in the margins just outside the main scrum. With alert eyes and coffee mugs in their hands, the Jumpers strike when the staff glances away a moment or stops to explain the traffic situation to an attendee.
When you are standing in a line for long periods of time you get to know your surrounding line mates. It’s easy to see who hasn’t paid their dues. A tiny old lady lingers near the door watching for an opening. She can’t weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet. Sensing a weak link in the force she pounces as we approach the turn. She is carrying two large cups of coffee from the coffee kiosk on the street. At Starbucks the coffee would have had a Latin sounding name to describe their size. Something like Ponderosa or Grande. I move to the left to block her advance, too late.
The professional Line Jumper has nerves of steel and without looking me in the eye she says, “I’ve lost my people.” And shoves past me. I don’t know what I’ve lost my people means. Yeah right, I tell her. She waves the hot coffee cups like they are some kind of a get out of jail free card and pushes on. “ You’re cheating, butting in front of people who have waited their turn a long time” is the best comeback I can think of. She ignores me and brushes past a few more people. Security lets her in and just like that another brick in the thin veneer of American civilization tumbles to the squalid streets below.
My anger at the Jumper has cast a cloud over my mood. I’m trying to be a better person and do my best to let it go. I tell CT that I’m choosing to not let the Jumper sour me on humanity in general. Maybe she has a medical disability that didn’t manifest itself as she bulled her way through the crowd of rule-followers like she was the featured attraction in Pamplona, Spain. I’m letting it go…I’m letting it go…
Inside the big room are rows of chairs that have a hook and loop type of attachment on the seat base. This makes it easy to maintain the correct spacing when setting up rows of hundreds of chairs. I didn’t bring my tape measure to the lecture but if I had I would have given the layout a quick quality control inspection. On stage there are a couple old fashioned looking chairs, a table and glasses of water.
The convention center is a multi-use building, thus the floor is level, not sloped like a theater. Seating is first come, first served. I see the Line Jumper lady already has her seat selected. In case a tall guy or a woman with a salad bowl on her head sits in front of me I get an aisle seat so I can lean outboard to see the stage.
The featured authors are on stage for about an hour. Some of them read passages in their books. Above and behind the author and interviewer is a large screen. It’s funny but I’m not sure if it was a projector screen or a liquid crystal display. The screen image lags behind the live stage view a few milliseconds so if you miss something you have to be fast if you want to see it again. There is a different interviewer for each show keeping the thing fresh feeling. There are two large shows in the morning with everyone in the same room. These sessions are for the more popular authors. In the afternoon, several smaller sessions run in tandem so you have to pick one or the other.
The festival was a two-day affair and the second day was a repeat of the first except with different writers and interviewers. The Line Jumpers were out in force the second day but I have risen above the mundane concerns of everyday life and no longer cared if they butted in ahead of people that waited an hour.
Literary fests are great places to learn about new authors and old authors you never heard of. I gained some insight as to why my writing is so poor and have taken inspiration from my fellows. Mostly time is the determining factor in quality writing. It’s all well and good to write a best selling novel in three weeks, one long scroll submitted and the money rolls in. Here at ExhaustNotes we tend to crank out volume product. There’s no time for introspection or craft. Most of the writers at the festival described how hard it is and how long it takes to write a book. Seven to ten years was not unusual. We bought a couple books from Ed Yong. He writes science-y type stuff and was a great interviewee. I haven’t read his books yet but when I do I’ll post a review here.
As we were leaving the convention center the festival, organizers sent a text to CT with the news that all swag was 25% off. We were halfway to our motel but naturally we had to go back and load up on t-shirts and tote bags. We also bought a couple of neat, insulated thermos bottles that look like Michelob Ultra cans except they have literary fest logos on them. If you get a chance, go to a literary festival. They are nothing like Daytona or Sturgis although some of the forms are similar. I had a great time but one thing I didn’t learn from all the lectures I attended was how to end a story.
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Labor rates at motorcycle shops are well over $100 an hour and that fact got me thinking about the value of old motorcycles. Take my 1999 ZRX1100: The basic bike is sound but there are many minor issues that add up to a lot more money than the motorcycle is worth. If you took the bike to a shop, that is.
Fixing a bike yourself means you can take more risks. You can reuse iffy parts that a dealer mechanic cannot. The brake system on the Rex was in sad shape. All the calipers were stuck and the master cylinders were stuck, too. If I worked for a shop as a motorcycle mechanic I’d tell the customer they need all new parts. I couldn’t take the risk of my rebuilt caliper failing or coming back for a leak.
The bores in a brake caliper are not super critical as the sealing is done mostly on the piston walls. Unfortunately, my caliper pistons were not in great shape. I polished them as much as I could and cleaned up the bores. New o-rings and dust seals will hopefully keep them from leaking.
The master cylinder bore is much more critical because it forms the sealing surface for the piston and seals. Luckily the bores on the clutch and both brake caliper master cylinders were in good shape.
The rubber bits for the front and rear master cylinders looked ok-ish to me so I reused those parts. I’m to the point that I prefer old OEM bits to new aftermarket bits if I can get away with them.
The levers have a pressed in dust seal and I didn’t have a tube the correct size for the job so I turned out a short piece of PVC tubing to push the dust boot into place.
I ordered a new clutch master seal kit as I tore the original dust boot dismantling the thing. I also bought a clutch slave kit but the bore was so bad by the time I had it remotely smooth the piston was loose in the bore. I have ordered a new clutch slave cylinder.
All in, there were 18 hydraulic pistons in the ZRX that needed service. A shop mechanic would never re-use the stuff I did. It may come back to haunt me later.
I bought two new, made in Malaysia Continental tires for the Rex as the ones on the bike were made in 2009. The old tire sidewalls had small weather checking. I would have run the old tires if I was just bopping around town but I have a few long trips planned so at $200 for the pair I figured I’d better bite. The Harbor Freight tire changer made the job tolerably easy. Still not as easy as having a shop do it.
The fork seals were leaking so I popped in a new set of fork seals and replaced the fork oil and while I had the front end apart I dropped the lower triple clamp and pumped in some much needed grease to the steering head bearings.
I also bought a new front sprocket and new X-ring chain for the Rex. The chain had a new style master link that worked by pressing the side plate on using small nuts then breaking off the studs that stick out. If it works it will be a good idea, if not I’ll probably break my engine cases when the chain lets go.
If I had taken the ZRX1100 to a shop by this point I would have already exceeded the value of the motorcycle. A shop would need to put in all new brake components to cover their butt. I’m willing to risk my life on shoddy equipment to save money and I’m nowhere near done with the bike or spending money, as you’ll see in future blogs.
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