We recently blogged about the General Patton Memorial Museum at Chiriaco Summit, California, and in that blog, we mentioned the museum was closed due to the Covid 19 pandemic. Well, that’s changed…I had a nice conversation a couple of days ago with Margit Chiriaco Rusche (Co-Founder and President of the Museum) and she told me the Patton Museum is now open. I’m going to plan a ride out there as soon as the heat breaks (watch the ExNotes blog for more details), and if you’d like to go, let us know.
Margit asked me to mention the Patton Museum’s USO Room and theatre, the lecture series, and the library. These are important parts of the Museum and we’re happy to do so.
The Patton Museum’s theatre and USO room.
The Patton Museum has hosted two years of lecture series and Margit tells me they were well attended. Prior presenters have included the Superintendent of Joshua Tree National Park and a key speaker from the Metropolitan Water Department (refer to our earlier blog for the story about the Patton Museum’s Big Map, donated by the MWD), as well as several others. The lecture series was suspended during the pandemic, but it will resume in 2021. My good buddy Phil may be one of the speakers next year on his research and his new book, Letters from Uncle Dave. We’ll have an upcoming blog on Phil’s new book in the near future, too, so as always, keep an eye on the ExNotes blog.
Another shot inside the USO Room.
The USO Room presents the story of the United Service Organizations, a group focused on keeping military morale high. This exhibit features exhibits on Al Jolson and Bob Hope, two major forces in the USO’s entertainment world. The USO Room has the original juke box used at Camp Young’s entertainment center (Camp Young was the headquarters camp for the Desert Training Center, and it was located at Chiriaco Summit).
One of many exhibits at the Patton Museum.
The Patton Museum library contains a large book collection, along with notebooks chronicling the lives and activities of World War II veterans (the Museum currently has over a hundred of these, and more are being added). It includes tactical maps used by Patton during World War II, and a collection of rare books. The library is also a source of genealogy information.
If you would like to learn more about the General Patton Memorial Museum, Chiriaco Summit, and the Chiriaco family, in addition to our earlier blog on the Patton Museum you might want to pick up a copy of Chiriaco Summit, a book that tells the story well. You should buy a copy. It’s a great read.
Here at Exhaustnotes.us resurrection projects are leaps of faith. They feel good and inevitable, and promising. You know instinctively it’s the right thing to do and that everything will work out ok in the end. The Kawasaki Z1 was like that. I had no doubt that motorcycle would once again tear great, jagged, 8000 RPM holes through the atmosphere. It just had to, you know?
This 1974 MBG-GT is not that kind of resurrection. Nothing about this car feels inevitable, least of all my ambition to see it through to the end. I’m going into this project fully expecting to fail. “Life’s too short,” my buddy Burns said. “Make a hot tub or a planter out of the thing.” That’s sound advice spoken from the heart. The man is trying to save me from myself.
Anyone in the saving-souls business knows that people tend to bushwhack their own meandering path towards destruction. There’s not a lot well meaning friends can do to stop your sanity from hiking off into the woods. It’s a negative human trait offset by our ability to make music and microwave corndogs. And I still don’t know how to play the guitar.
Here’s the thing: I never wanted an easy life. My dreams are not of leisure. I don’t seek comfort. Fun is no fun to me. Put me on a beach towel in Tahiti and I’ll go stark raving mad. Instead, I choose to make a mess of things. I don’t want to hear the MGB-GT run. I have to hear it run. It’s laid fallow for 5 years that I know of and probably 10 more besides. The little British car parked next to the needle bush has mocked me long enough. I’ll have my revenge.
If you’re expecting a short series on the MGB-GT stop reading now. The car has serious rat infestation issues. Most of the interior is chewed up. There must be 50 pounds of rat guano inside the cabin and engine room. I’m going to take this slowly and spend the absolute minimum amount of cash at each stage.
There will be no grinders shooting sparks, no photogenic noir-arc welding and no artificial deadlines to create artificial tension in the story. This job will be stress free and I reserve the right to walk away any time I choose. The MGB will always take a back seat (get it?) to other projects.
The first thing I plan to do is to get rid of this spiny plant. The thing has incredibly sharp 2-inch long needles that will flatten a tire or stick into your leg bone. After that cleaning out the rat-poo engine room so that I can see what I’m up against. Cleaning rat poo in New Mexico is not as simple as hooking up a shop vac and sucking up the stuff.
Here in New Mexico we get several cases of Hantavirus every year. The virus can lay dormant in rat droppings and infect people when disturbed, so no vacuuming. Instead you spray the mounds of poo with a strong solution of bleach to kill the virus (if it can be considered alive). Next you don gloves and an N-100 mask and shovel the wet bleach-glop into a suitable container.
This part of resurrection is no walk in the park. If you manage to stay alive through this step another shot of bleach on the remaining rat droppings should make it fairly safe to use the shop vac. Follow up the final vacuuming with a pressure washer and engine cleaner. And then you can begin. I’ll start by disconnecting all the chewed electrical circuits and…and…well, you’ll see in the next installment of Resurrections: MGB-GT Part 2.
We own a lot of motorcycles and cars. There are two Jeeps, a Toyota truck, a 4×4 Suburban, an MGB GT, three Kawasakis, a golf cart, a Yamaha and a whole bunch of other motorcycles. I can’t afford to insure or repair all these vehicles so many of them sit around and collect dust. You may wonder why I keep all this junk. It’s optically distressing and hints at my unearned, depression-era, scarcity mind-set. But it’s not simple hoarding that litters my view. It goes deeper than that. I don’t want to own all these wrecks. The junk stacks up because of my twisted sense of fair play.
This misfit collection of vehicles didn’t happen accidentally or overnight. They were each bought and mostly used as directed but somewhere along the line their purpose became obsolete and other, more capable or more enjoyable vehicles took their stead. And that’s the spot where the free market fouled everything up.
We don’t really need the Toyota pickup truck. It has a couple hundred thousand miles on it but the thing still runs perfectly fine. It’s our go-to vehicle when we want to get somewhere fast. With a 4-liter V-6 pumping out 200 horsepower the lightweight Tundra will cruise at 90 miles per hour all day long. Its soft, car-like suspension coddles the driver and one passenger. And there’s the rub: The Tundra is a standard cab so two people are all you can realistically fit inside, out of the weather. On those long trips your luggage will be wrapped in garbage bags then tossed in the bed. The Tundra was fine when it was my work truck but it’s no longer optimal.
So why don’t we get rid of it? We tried once but it’s worth next to nothing on the free market. The 14-year-old truck has a few minor dings and a manual transmission. We tried to sell it for 3000 dollars but nobody wanted it. We had a few offers under 2000 dollars but I stomped my feet and said, No! I mean, where am I going to get a truck this good for under 2000 bucks? The Toyota stays because it’s not worth selling.
It’s the same with my Kawasaki ZRX1100 or as I like to call it, The Coat Rack. I let the bike sit for a year when we went to Australia. In that year everything hydraulic froze. The front brakes, the rear brakes and the clutch all need repair. The engine still runs ok but the carbs are clogged up from our crappy, alcohol-laden fuel. With only 23,000 miles the ZRX is overdue for a valve adjustment. It needs a new chain, sprockets, a throttle cable and I can never seem to find time for the bike because I’m having so much fun on the 1975 Z1 that I won’t sell.
So why don’t I dump the ZRX1100? I tried to get 2000 dollars for the bike once but no one wanted it. It’s worth even less now. The basic bike is solid but if you took the ZRX to a shop the cost of repairs would exceed the value of the motorcycle. That winnows the pool of eligible buyers down to people who know how to fix motorcycles. Those handy-types traditionally hold out for a super low selling price because they know how a few unknown problems can kill the budget on a project motorcycle. Besides, you can get a showroom condition ZRX1100 for 3500 bucks. Why bother with all the issues on my bike?
When I look at it in the garage, the perfect bodywork, the glossy green paint, and the totally original everything I say to myself, “That’s a great bike, I love the styling. A week’s work would have it running like a champ again. What would I do with 2000 dollars anyway? I’d rather have the non-running Kawasaki!”
And so it goes. The Suburban was bought for its engine and drivetrain but has proved so much better than the Toyota at hauling heavy loads it has taken the place of the pickup truck that I refuse to sell. If I did unload the Bomber it wouldn’t be worth 1000 dollars on the free market. Why bother?
The MGB GT could be worth a pretty penny if it were restored. I see nice GTs going for over 10,000 dollars but then again it would probably cost 9,999 dollars to restore it. At one time I offered it for 250 dollars but couldn’t get a single taker.
After walking past the little blue sports car for several years I’ve grown to love its classy British/Italian mash-up styling. I’ve spent a couple hundred dollars getting a clear title to the MGB. My buddy Lynn managed to get the hood open and everything looks intact in the engine room. I think I can get it running. Wait, I know I can get it running. You can bet I won’t be selling the MGB; its potential as a prop in my fantasy world far exceeds any real-life street value.
I’ve got a Kawasaki 250 that I only use once a year for Bike Week at Daytona. It’s paid for and in pieces at the moment. The KLR always starts first or second kick after sitting for a year. It’s not bad in the dirt, if a little underpowered. I bought it used with very low miles and the sunk cost has long been absorbed. I’d be lucky to get 700 bucks for it and 700 bucks won’t buy much of anything nowadays. The KLR250 stays at our shack in Florida so that I always have two-wheeled transportation whenever I visit. That feeling of moto-security is worth whatever small amount of money I could get for the bike.
You’re starting to get the picture by now. I don’t really want all this junk; it’s just that The Man and society places so little value on my treasures I keep them out of spite. I’ll go to my grave clutching my outdated ideas on what my things are worth and to whom. Sure, it’s a sick way of approaching life but I can think of much worse things, like accepting Market Value.
The thought came to me easily: The Patton Museum. We’d been housebound for weeks, sheltered in place against the virus, and like many others we were suffering from an advanced case of cabin fever. Where can we go that won’t require flying, is reasonably close, and won’t put us in contact with too many people? Hey, I write travel articles for the best motorcycle magazine on the planet (that’s Motorcycle Classics) and I know all the good destinations around here. The Patton Museum. That’s the ticket.
General George S. Patton, Jr., and his faithful companion, Willie, at the General Patton Memorial Museum in Chiriaco Summit, California.
I called the Patton Museum and they were closed. An answering machine. The Pandemic. Please leave a message. So I did. And a day later I had a response from a pleasant-sounding woman. She would let me know when they opened again and she hoped we would visit. So I called and left another message. Big time motojournalist here. We’d like to do a piece on the Museum. You know the drill. The Press. Throwing the weight of the not-so-mainstream media around. Gresh and I do it all the time.
Margit and I finally connected after playing telephone tag. Yes, the Patton Museum was closed, but I could drive out to Chiriaco Summit to get a few photos (it’s on I-10 a cool 120 miles from where I live, and 70 miles from the Arizona border). Margit gave me her email address, and Chiriaco was part of it (you pronounce it “shuhRAYco”).
Wait a second, I thought, and I asked the question: “Is your name Chiriaco, as in Chiriaco Summit, where the Museum is located?”
“Yes, Joe Chiriaco was my father.”
This was going to be good, I instantly knew. And it was.
The story goes like this: Dial back the calendar nearly a century. In the late 1920s, the path across the Colorado, Sonoran, and Mojave Deserts from Arizona through California was just a little dirt road. It’s hard to imagine, but our mighty Interstate 10 was once a dirt road. A young Joe Chiriaco used it when he and a friend hitchhiked from Alabama to see a football game in California’s Rose Bowl in 1927.
Chiriaco stayed in California and joined a team in the late 1920s surveying a route for the aqueduct that would carry precious agua from the mighty Colorado River to Los Angeles. Chiriaco surveyed, he found natural springs in addition to a path for the aqueduct, and he recognized opportunity. That dirt road (Highways 60 and 70 in those early days) would soon be carrying more people from points east to the promised land (the Los Angeles basin). Shaver Summit (the high point along the road in the area he was surveying, now known as Chiriaco Summit) would be a good place to sell gasoline and food. He and his soon-to-be wife Ruth bought land, started a business and a family, and did well. It was a classic case of the right people, the right time, the right place, and the right work ethic. Read on, my friends. This gets even better.
Fast forward a decade into the late 1930s, and we were a nation preparing for war. A visionary US Army leader, General George S. Patton, Jr., knew from his World War I combat experience that armored vehicle warfare would define the future. It would start in North Africa, General Patton needed a place to train his newly-formed tank units, and the desert regions Chiriaco had surveyed were just what the doctor ordered.
Picture this: Two men who could see the future clearly. Joe Chiriaco and George S. Patton. Chiriaco was at the counter eating his lunch when someone tapped his shoulder to ask where he could find a guy named Joe Chiriaco. Imagine a response along the lines of “Who wants to know?” and when Chiriaco turned around to find out, there stood General Patton. Two legends, one local and one national, eyeball to eyeball, meeting for the first time.
A Sherman tank, the one Patton’s men would go to war with in North Africa and Europe, on display at the General Patton Memorial Museum.
Patton knew that Chiriaco knew the desert and he needed his help. The result? Camp Young (where Chiriaco Summit stands today), and the 18,000-square-mile Desert Training Center – California Arizona Maneuver Area (DTC-CAMA, where over one million men would learn armored warfare). It formed the foundation for Patton defeating Rommel in North Africa, our winning World War II, and more. It would be where thousands of Italian prisoners of war spent most of their time during the war. It would become the largest military area in America.
General Patton and Joe Chiriaco became friends and they enjoyed a mutually-beneficial relationship: Patton needed Chiriaco’s help and Chiriaco’s business provided a welcome respite for Patton’s troops. Patton kept Chiriaco’s gas station and lunch counter accessible to the troops, Chiriaco sold beer with Patton’s blessing, and as you can guess….well, you don’t have to guess: We won World War II.
World War II ended, the Desert Training Center closed, and then, during the Eisenhower administration, Interstate 10 followed the path of Highways 60 and 70. Patton’s troops and the POWs were gone and I-10 became the major east/west freeway across the US. We had become a nation on wheels and Chiriaco’s business continued to thrive as Americans took to the road with our newfound postwar prosperity.
Fast forward yet again: In the 1980s Margit (Joe and Ruth Chiriaco’s daughter) and Leslie Cone (the Bureau of Land Management director who oversaw the lands that had been Patton’s desert training area) had an idea: Create a museum honoring General Patton and the region’s contributions to World War II. Ronald Reagan heard about it and donated an M-47 Patton tank (the one you see in the large photo at the top of this blog), and things took off from there.
I first rode my motorcycle to the General Patton Memorial Museum in 2003 with my good buddy Marty. It was a small museum then, but it has grown substantially. When Sue and I visited a couple of weeks ago, I was shocked and surprised by what I saw. I can only partly convey some of it through the photos and narrative you see in this blog. We had a wonderful visit with Margit, who told us a bit about her family, the Museum, and Chiriaco Summit. On that topic of family, it was Joe and Ruth Chiriaco, Margit and her three siblings, their children, and their grandchildren. If you are keeping track, that’s four generations of Chiriacos.
The Chiriaco Summit story is an amazing one and learning about it can be reasonably compared to peeling an onion. There are many layers, and discovering each might bring a tear or two. Life hasn’t always been easy for the Chiriaco family out there in the desert, but they always saw the hard times as opportunities and they instinctively knew how to use each opportunity to add to their success. We can’t tell the entire story here, but we’ll give you a link to a book you might consider purchasing at the end of this blog. Our focus is on the General Patton Memorial Museum, and having said that, let’s get to the photos.
The Patton Museum’s new Matzner Tank Pavilion. When we were there, one of the two M60 tanks you see in front was running. If you think a motorcycle engine at idle makes music, you will love listening to an M60’s air-cooled, horizontally-opposed, 1790-cubic-inch, 12-cylinder diesel engine. I drove an M60 once when I was in the Army. Yeah, I still want one.The business end of an M60’s 105mm main gun. This one has been out of service for a long time; hence the rust. Firing one of these settles disagreements quickly.The M4 Sherman, our main battle tank in World War II, on the right, with an M5 Stuart tank on the left.Don’t tread on me, or so the saying goes. Everything on a tank is big. You don’t realize how big until you stand next to one.When Patton’s men trained at the DTC-CAMA, they used mockup aggressor vehicles (jeeps fitted with frames and canvas) to simulate the bad guys.M60 main battle tanks parked behind the Museum. This was a shot I could not resist. If Joe Gresh was into tanks, this is what Tinfiny Ranch would undoubtedly look like. The Patton name was attached to the M47, M48, and M60 tank series. I asked Margit about these tanks, and she told me that when the Museum raises enough money, they’ll be made operational and put on display. For now, Margit said, “they stand as silent ghosts with General Patton at the helm.” I like that.The General Patton Memorial Museum outdoor chapel. The chapel was built using desert rocks. If someone is looking for a unique wedding venue, this is it.
When I first visited the Patton Museum nearly 20 years ago, there were only three or four tanks on display. As you can see from the above photos, the armored vehicle display has grown dramatically.
Like the armored vehicle exhibits, the Museum interior has also expanded, and it has done so on a grand scale. In addition to the recently-built Matzner Tank Pavilion shown above, the exhibits inside are far more extensive than when I first visited. Sue and I had the run of the Museum, and I was able to get some great photos. The indoor exhibits are stunning, starting with the nearly 100-year-old topo map that dominates the entrance.
The Metropolitan Water District’s scale map of southern California, Arizona, and Nevada. MWD brought this model to the US Congress in 1927 to secure funding for the California Aqueduct, then they stored and forgot about it for decades. An MWD executive overhead Margit talking about the planned Patton Museum in the Chiriaco Summit coffee shop one day, he remembered the map, and one thing led to another. MWD donated the map to the Patton Museum in 1988. The Big Map (as it is known) covers the area used by Patton’s Desert Training Center and the California Arizona Maneuver Area. It’s a visually-arresting display that is truly something special.Generals Patton and Rommel, the two key players in North Africa. If you’ve never seen the movie, Patton, you need to fix that oversight. It is a great movie.George S. Patton: The early years. Patton attended the Virginia Military Institute and the United States Military Academy at West Point. His family was from San Marino, California. Patton was born into wealth and could have done whatever he wanted. He chose a career in the US Army.One of the display rooms inside the Patton Museum. I could have spent the entire day in just this room. That’s an A-10 Warthog model in the foreground. It’s the airplane we used to take out Iraq’s Republican Guard tanks in Operation Desert Storm. I worked for the company that manufactured the A-10’s 30mm Gatling Gun ammo and Combined Effects Munitions cluster bombs that did most of the heavy lifting in that war.Another view inside the Patton Museum. A tripod, a Nikon, a wide angle lens, and having the room to myself. It was a grand day.A model of Patton’s command vehicle. Patton lived in a trailer and moved with his troops during most of World War II, unlike other US generals who mostly stayed in hotels. Patton was an RVer before there were RVs.The Patton Museum has an extensive World War II small arms display. I could have spent half a day just viewing this part of the Museum. I’ll be back.The Patton Museum’s small arms display included this beautiful Model 1917 Colt .45 ACP revolver. Most of the surviving specimens you see today (when you see them at all; they are not very common) have a Parkerized finish. This one has the original blued finish. I own a Colt 1917; mine has the original finish, too. There’s quite a story behind these revolvers.A beautiful British Infantry Lee Enfield No. 4 rifle. I grabbed a photo of this one because it had an unusually attractive stock, something you don’t often see on infantry rifles.A replica of General Patton’s ivory-handled Colt Single Action Army revolver. Patton carried different sidearms during World War II, including this Colt SAA and a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum (also equipped with ivory grips). Patton’s Colt SAA had two notches carved in the left grip. Then Lieutenant Patton was part of the Pershing expedition that chased Pancho Villa in Mexico from Fort Bliss (my old stomping grounds). Patton personally killed two men in a gunfight during that action. There’s no doubt about it: Patton was the real deal, a genuine warrior.
In addition to the General Patton Memorial Museum, there are several businesses the Chiriaco family operates at Chiriaco Summit, and the reach of this impressive family is four generations deep. As we mentioned earlier, it’s a story that can’t be told in a single article, but Margit was kind enough to give us a copy of Chiriaco Summit, a book that tells it better than I ever could. You should buy a copy. It’s a great read about a great family and a great place.
I enjoyed Chiriaco Summit immensely. That’s Joe Chiriaco in the lower left photo, and Ruth Chiriaco in the upper right inset. Margit Chiriaco Rusche, their daughter, is seated in the 1928 Model A. Fourth-generation Victor (whom we met) runs a vintage car header company at Chiriaco Summit. Victor is the young man standing behind Margit.
So there you have it: The General Patton Memorial Museum and Chiriaco Summit. It’s three hours east of Los Angeles on Interstate 10 and it’s a marvelous destination. Keep an eye on the Patton Museum website, and when the pandemic is finally in our rear view mirrors, you’ll want to visit this magnificent California desert jewel.
Cars Datsun PL620 Pick-Up Datsun 200SX (78) Chevrolet Monte Carlo Pontiac Sunbird (78) Dodge Colt Levis Edition Datsun B210 Wagon Mazda B2000 Pick-Up Datsun 200SX Ford F-150 Pick-Up Chevrolet S-10 4X4 LB Dodge Colt Vista Van Pontiac 6000 Wagon Pontiac Fiero (84) Pontiac Sunbird (92) Pontiac Bonneville Ford Ranger Splash Ford Conversion Van Lincoln Continental Chevrolet Cavailer Z24 Jeep Cherokee Chevrolet S-10 Lowrider Chevrolet Astro Van Honda Passport Acura Legend Ford Mustang Nissan Frontier Chevrolet Trailblazer Honda Accord Dodge Grand Caravan Pontiac Grand Prix Pontiac Sunfire Nissan Xterra Pontiac Fiero (85) Chevrolet Cavalier (03) Chevrolet Cavalier (98) Chevrolet Camaro (97) Chevrolet Silverado Volkswagen Jetta Chevrolet Cavalier (00) Jeep Wrangler 4 Door X Chevrolet Cruze Chevrolet Camaro Chevrolet Volt Chevrolet Sonic Mazda Miata Jeep Wrangler (09) Buick Tour X Subaru CrossTrek
That includes some for spousal units and kids…..currently only have the Tiger 1050, Volt, and CrossTrek in the garage.
Except for the Fieros (!) each vehicle could store a sufficient amount of Yoo-Hoo.
I would send pictures of them all, but the Internet would break.
Fred, that’s a lot of cars and a lot of motorcycles. Thanks for sending the photos and the note!
So, how about it, ExhaustNotes readers? Do you have photos of your motorcycles that have gone down the road? Please send them to us (info@exhaustnotes.us) and we’ll post them here on the blog!
You may recall from Zed 19 I had to re-soak Zed’s gas tank as 10 days were not enough to dissolve the rust. I drained, dried and reloaded the tank with apple cider vinegar and let it sit for 4 more days. This is what it looked like originally:
The second session really knocked most of the rust out. After rinsing I dumped a large box of baking soda into the tank and added clean rainwater sloshing it as I filled to mix thoroughly. I don’t know the chemical reaction that takes place but the baking soda neutralizes the acid, turning the metal a dull grey, almost white color. This treated metal does not flash rust and I’ve been going 3-4 years on another tank I cleaned like this without rust reappearing. It’s like the metal turns passive and stops reacting to oxygen.
If I wasn’t so hell-bent on riding this bike I think I would flush and cider the tank one more time but it looks good enough and I’ve got to ride! I connected a small hose to my shop vac and played it all over inside the tank. I can hear nothing when I shake the tank so at least there are no big chunks loose inside.
Proving that even the simplest life forms can learn I bought an entire new petcock for $23 rather than the rebuild kit for $8. This is real growth on my part. Usually I buy the kit, mess with it for hours then put it on only to have it leak. Only then will I buy the new one. Kawasaki uses a turnbuckle-type left-hand/right-hand thread on the Z1 petcock. It took about 145 tries to get it to tighten up facing the correct direction.
The new petcock has screens inside the tank and a bowl filter but with 40% of Zed’s tank out of my view-field I can only assume the entire tank is as clean as the places I can see. Inline fuel filters, one for each set of two carbs will hopefully catch any debris still in Zed’s tank.
An update on the Z1 Enterprises regulator/rectifier: It works. The battery charges @ 14.8 volts which is still a tad high but much better than the 17 volts Kawasaki’s setup was doing.
From the top Zed looks pretty well sorted. I took it for a ride and it ran really well for off the bench carb settings. It might be a little rich at idle or it might just be our 6000-foot elevation. I’m not going to tinker with it for now. I’d rather get some miles on the bike.
I don’t know what this bracket is for. Located on the right side down tube near the tach drive, it’d too light for a steering damper mount. Anyway, there’s enough stuff on the bike as is so I’m not going to worry about it.
I took Zed to my secret proving grounds and she ran through all 5 gears smoothly. The bike hit 90 MPH without even trying. I’ll need a better front tire to do any high-speed work. The brakes work ok. When you ride a SMR 510 Husqvarna all other motorcycle brakes seem like crap. After 33 miles there are small oil leaks at the tach drive and countershaft area. Maybe the clutch pushrod seal or sprocket seal is the culprit. That stuff is easy to fix.
The patina on Zed is excessive, bordering on shabby. The bike sat outside for years and paint wise there’s nothing left to polish or wax. The finish is just not there. The pin striping is cracked and missing sections. I’m not sure what to do about that. On the one hand a ratty bike may be less attractive to thieves and old Z1’s are getting fairly expensive. On the other hand it does look pretty bad. I’ve seen my Enduro buddy Mr. French do some amazing work with rattle cans. Maybe I’ll give it a go. The paint can’t look any worse.
That’s it: from Dead to Zed in 20 easy sessions. Don’t worry, this won’t be the last you’ll hear of Zed. I’ll be doing some long trips on this bike, maybe Mexico, maybe ride to a few flat track races. I’ll update the blog if I do any more major work on the bike. The story of Zed’s resurrection may be ending but the story of Zed is just beginning.
And there you have it. If you’d like to run through the gears (i.e., the previous 19 installments of Zed’s Not Dead), you can do so here!
The pace has quickened here at Tinfiny Ranch. Lots of new parts from Z1 Enterprises arrived and lots of new ground was covered on Zed’s resurrection. We are going to ride like the wind soon. In Part 17 the ignition switch was giving me trouble but that’s been resolved with all new locks from Z1E. I had to dismantle the headlight area to replace the ignition and the under-seat area to install the new seat lock. The fork lock was easy. I should have gone with new parts in the first place. Ah well, if I didn’t do stupid things no one would understand me.
The luggage rack I bought from ebay fit Zed only in the broadest sense of the word. It was made to connect to the original grab bar on this tab but I don’t have the grab bar. That’s ok because it sat way too far back on the bike for me. Like 6 inches past the taillight. I lopped that tab off and shortened the rack where it mounts to the top shock bolt.
Without the tab or grab rail there was nothing to hold the rack from flopping down onto the rear fender. Using a New Mexico hammer-and-14mm deep socket-roll forming machine I knocked up two brackets that fit into the old grab rail mounting holes. I made a 1-inch spacer out of some solid steel round stock that had lain in Tinfiny’s driveway for several years.
The rack looks much better tucked in tight but cantilevered as it is, I’m not sure the tubing will be strong enough to hold much gear. I may redesign the rack with a long gusset running on the bottom of the tube that will incorporate the mounting tabs for a rearward set of blinker tabs. Moving the blinkers aft will allow me to use those toss-over, Pony Express style saddlebags.
Zed’s lower, right-side engine mount was missing and I’m getting tired of buying parts for this bike so I made a paper template and cut a chunk out of an old motorhome bumper that had also laid in Tinfiny’s driveway for years. I hate to disturb the junk buried around Tinfiny because it stabilizes the soil. You never know which part you pull out of the ground will cause a landslide. It’s like living atop a Jenga stack.
The mount is not as nice as a stock mount but it’s way on the bottom. No one will ever know.
I also bought a new seat! Replacement foam and a new seat cover added up to nearly the same as a whole new seat so I bit the bullet. It tasted like brass with a hint of lead. The seat came complete with brackets, rubber supports and seat latch. It was missing only the pivot pins that hold the seat on. Using my New Mexico hand-lathe, I spun down a ¼-20 stainless bolt to fit through the frame brackets. A hole for a cotter pin & washer keeps the seat pins from falling out.
Besides rebuilding the caliper and master cylinder in a previous Zed installment I replaced the rubber hoses and the missing hose support down by the fender. I also had to replace the solid pipe from the caliper to the lower brake hose.
Bleeding the brakes was fairly straightforward. So far nothing has leaked out of the rebuilt parts. The lever feels a bit mushy; I’ll let it sit a bit to let the air bubbles coalesce then try a little more bleeding.
I rigged the bike with a spare battery and tested all the electrical circuits. Amazingly, everything works. The alternator works a little too well putting out 17 volts to the battery! Not to worry, another $100 has a new Z1 Enterprises regulator/rectifier on the way. The new unit is not an exact replacement. The regulator/rectifier is all in one finned casting unlike the stock Kawasaki set up where the two functions are separate parts.
The last time I ran Zed way back in Zed’s Not Dead 10 it ran and idled great. Now the bike is popping and won’t run off choke. The poor quality of gas sold today turned dark red in a very short time so I have removed the float bowls and will blast the carbs with aerosol carb cleaner. Hopefully this will get the bike running normally as I don’t want to take those damn carbs apart again.
Read our earlier Zed’s Not Dead installments for the rest of the resurrection!
Well, it’s over…the auction for the Mustang used in the Steve McQueen movie Bullitt, the very car used in what is unquestionably the greatest chase scene ever filmed. It set a new record for American muscle car sales. I saw both Mustangs used in Bullitt at a Warner Brothers event celebrating the life of Bud Ekins (that story is here), and they were undeniably cool.
The Bullitt Mustang. Yeah, it was cool. I shot this photo in 2007.
My good buddy and friend-since-grade-school Ralph predicted the Bullitt Mustang would go for over three million dollars, and he was right. Surprisingly, that’s not the highest price ever paid at auction for an American car. A Duesenberg sold for something around $22 million a while back. That’s a bit more than what Gresh and I make on the ExNotes blog. Quite a bit more, actually.
I saw Bullitt when it first played back in the day (it was released in 1968), and I’ve probably watched it a dozen times since. My good buddy Richie and I drove into New Brunswick to see it at the RKO State movie theatre and it was electrifying. The closest thing I’d ever seen to a chase scene that dramatic was the motorcycle chase in The Great Escape, and what do you know, Bud Ekins and Steve McQueen did the honors in that one, too.
The mid-1970’s Triumph T160 is one of the best looking motorcycles ever. The swoopy tank, the perfect stance, the soft-edged thrum of its exhaust. I’ve wanted a T160 since I first saw one. They weren’t popular where I grew up so I didn’t get to see a real live 750 until they were already out of production.
The T160’s engine is actually a BSA engine. But then again the BSA engine was a 500cc Triumph engine with an extra cylinder grafted on so who stole what? Not that it matters because the only real difference between BSA and Triumph’s versions of the 750cc three-banger was a slight forward slope to the BSA cylinder bank.
The older BSA triples are cool in a Jetsons kind of way. The square tank and the ray gun silencers didn’t sell well in the USA so BSA chromed the heck out of the thing and made it into a fire breathing hot rod. I’ve never seen one on the road, only in museums.
Triumph had the same problem with its modern-looking but slow selling triple. If I understand history correctly Triumph sent bodywork beauty kits to the USA to fix slow sales. These kits made the Triumph Trident look pretty much like any other Triumph made in the last 60 years.
The triple engine design consisted of typical British engineering: Why use one part when 32 parts will do the job just as well? The top deck of the crankcase had a gaping opening that the cylinder spigots fitted into. It looks weak to me. I’m surprised the crankcase doesn’t oil can at high compression levels. The center main bearing bolted in from the top, which is pretty strange. The sum of the triple’s complicated, ancient collection of parts worked amazingly well together, winning many road races against more advanced designs.
I would take any of the triples if you gave me one but the only one I would buy is the final Triumph T160 version. The T160 has an electric starter and the thing actually works on the few I’ve seen. Disc brakes front and rear means you don’t have to sacrifice stopping power to revel in the past. The styling of the T160 looks fresh 45 years after it rolled off of the assembly line. I like it better than the Vetter version.
Beginning with the 1970’s Japanese Superbikes steamrolled everything in their path. When it comes to big bike, high horsepower nostalgia most American motorcyclists of a certain age go for a Kawasaki or Honda. Today, the relatively cheap price of a T160 reflects the lower esteem British bikes were held in at the time. If you want one like I do, Triumph/BSA triples are within reach of the average person. $5000 should get one in ridable condition with not-embarrassing cosmetics. $10,000 will buy a show bike. The T160 pushes all the right buttons for me and if I didn’t already have 47 projects lined up I would have grabbed this recent listing. Let me know if you need me to go pick it up for you.
It’s not every day you get to see a new 2020 Suzuki Katana for the first time, and it’s certainly not every day you get living legend and motojournalist extraordinaire Kevin Duke to take a photo of you standing next to it. Yesterday was that day for me, and the photo you see above was a shot Kevin grabbed of yours truly with the new Katana. I was visiting with the boys at CSC Motorcycles, Kevin was there, and he volunteered to let me take a ride on the Katana. I took a pass on that, but when he asked me to pose with the bike, hey, I figured Suzuki needs all the help they can get. Not that they need any from me. The new Katana is a stunning motorcycle. Visually arresting, I would call it.
We wrote about the 2020 Katana in our Dream Bikes series last year, and at that time, I mentioned that I owned one of the original Katanas in 1982. Mine was Serial Number 241 of the first batch of 500 Suzuki built.
There’s 38 years between those two photos. Wow, that’s a scary thought. I think me and my good buddy Jack Daniel’s will have a talk about that later tonight.
It’s not every day you get to see a new 2020 Suzuki Katana for the first time, and it’s certainly not every day you get living legend and motojournalist extraordinaire Kevin Duke to take a photo of you standing next to it. Yesterday was that day for me, and the photo you see above was a shot Kevin grabbed of yours truly with the new Katana. I was visiting with the boys at 