Joe Gresh – The ExhaustNotes Blog

Big Boy And The Mother Of Intentions

By Joe Gresh

Motorcycle riding gives you a good excuse to go places and see things, not that you need an excuse. I like a steam train, I have a motorcycle, thus riding up to Ogden, Utah to see a big old steam train seemed like a sensible thing to do.

My Carrizozo Mudchuckers buddy, Mike, was all for the idea so we planned to meet Big Boy, the last of the steam locomotives, in Ogden, where the train would stop for two days. As we waited for the appointed day the normally beautiful New Mexico weather cooled and became cloudy with rising damp. Ogden, being 900 miles north of us, was experiencing the same weather degradation except much, much colder.

Just a few days before leaving there was snow and rain in Utah. A 75-car pile up in Denver, and rain and cold all along our route north, had us thinking “this ride will suck.” I kept watching the weather reports hoping for a better forecast, but it looked like miserable weather the entire trip north only starting to ease off a bit on the Monday we would start riding home from Ogden.

I have plenty of cold weather riding gear. Things like electric vests, heated grips and a plastic rain suit can keep you warm enough. I’ll use them if there is no other option. But there was another, simpler option: Don’t ride into the rain and cold.

One day before were planned to leave I called the Mudchucker and said: How about we go to Willow Springs for vintage motorcycle racing instead? Call me a fair weather rider but sunny California was an easy sell. We dumped Ogden and the Big Boy steam train faster than oil prices rose after we bombed Iran.

The Mudchucker taking a break from headwinds.

The plan worked. We left town a day later than the Big Boy run. That allowed some of the bad weather to move east. Our first day on the road was cool, cloudy but comfortable, the second day we had strong headwinds and 40-degree cold, but nothing nearly as painful as the stuff we would have experienced earlier and further north.

We mostly followed old Route 66 west jumping on and off Interstate 40 as required. It was an odd time of year I guess. The entire town of Seligman was closed: Gas stations, food markets, all shuttered. Further on we rolled into tiny reservation villages with nothing available to buy or rent. I admit, traffic was light on historic Route 66. If a guy set up a food truck he’d starve to death.

On westward we rode, through Kingman down to Oatman. Again, every store in the tourist-friendly little donkey-town of Oatman was closed. The day ran long, we needed ice cream, it was getting dark, I couldn’t see much through the dark face shield on my helmet, and we pulled into an abandoned gas station to check out the motel situation in Needles. The Mudchucker was tired. He stopped next to me and toppled over. I tried to hold us up but the combined weight of Mike, his Moto Guzzi V7 and my ZRX1100 Kawasaki was too much.

We went down like the stock market after we instituted tariffs. The bikes were stacked against each other much like the system is stacked against the common man. It took a bit of doing to untangle them and lift the bikes upright. Damage was light: a few dings in the right-side Guzzi jug, a busted turn signal, scratched gas tank, and bent brake levers on the ZRX1100. Amazingly, there were no dents or major issues.

Not a lot of damage for tossing one bike on top of another.

A homeless guy camped at the gas station saw the whole thing. He didn’t laugh or say anything. He must have thought we were total losers.

The tip over had us in a melancholy mood. In the motel that evening we talked about that inevitable day, our strength gone, our skeletons frail, the day when we could no longer ride. Mike felt a side car was the way to go. I favored a three cylinder, two stroke, Kawasaki-powered gurney.

But gurney-time isn’t here yet and by the third day we were riding along basking in the warm Mojave desert. Things were looking up and thoughts of our physical decay burned away. Or maybe we just forgot we were falling apart. I hear that happens but I can’t remember where I heard it. Route 66 to Amboy was closed so we had to stay on Interstate 40, only returning to Route 66 west after paying $7.50 per gallon of gas at Ludlow.

Some kind of inspection station east of Barstow on Route 66.

Out of Barstow we rode past Hinkley, the toxic-water town made famous by Julia Roberts and Erin Brockovich. We made it to Lancaster, our base camp for Willow Springs.

Lancaster is an interesting place. On the back roads we came in on there were piles of trash dumped everywhere. I guess the town doesn’t have a dump. Or maybe the dump fee is too high so people drive out of town a few miles and drop their load. It reminded me of the trash piles I used to pick through in the Florida Everglades. You can find some good metal in those piles.

I saw some nice chairs 5 miles from Lancaster. If I had the Toyota truck, I would have grabbed them. There was a lot of broken concrete that would make excellent fill back at the ranch. Drywall was another popular item on the side of the road. Once in town things cleaned up slightly, and Lancaster looked much the same as other generic, California desert towns: New chain stores along the highway, decomposing shops, homeless people and frequent stop lights in the old sections.

The Wyndham motel on Avenue I was new and along the highway. They have a pretty good breakfast setup. There were the usual sausage paddies, scrambled eggs and pour-your-own waffles. We waddled out to the bikes and rode the 20 miles to Willow Springs racetrack.

Vintage motorcycle racing is mostly a family affair. Spectators not directly involved with the racing or supporting the racers are rare and we had the grandstands to ourselves. Multitudes of classes meant non-stop action all day long.

Lots of races and classes to keep track of at an AHRMA event. You won’t leave the track unsatisfied.

AHRMA racing covers all eras with heavy emphasis on bikes that were never actually raced back in the day, at least compared to the races I saw as a youth. Honda 160s are a popular class and an example of bikes that were never raced where I grew up.

Sloper 160 Hondas are strangely popular. I had one as a teen. In stock form they would hit 75 MPH. In race trim a bit faster.

An unusual number of Moto Gizzards circulated the Big Willow track. Maybe because they were so popular, only a few Yamaha Twins survived to race AHRMA. Most of the race bikes were 4-strokes. In the 1970s that ratio would be flipped and 2-strokes ruled the track. I guess the point is to run what you want and have fun with it.

The RD350 went from a mainstay of road racing to a rare bird at historic events.

The Willow races were not as well attended as the Laguna Seca AHRMA events. Laguna Seca is set in soft, coastal hills and has space for vintage motocross along with a vintage trials section. The camping at Laguna Seca is better. I suppose you can camp at Willow but it’s more of a motor home type camping than a tent. I’m not sure what happened between AHRMA and Laguna Seca and it’s none of my business, but I wish they would get it sorted out and go back to Laguna.

Nice, clean, crappers at Willow. A clean crapper makes the day just that much nicer.

Willow isn’t bad, mind you. The racetrack recently sold and the new owners are fixing it up a bit. There are several tracks and the food concession was better than Laguna. You can get a decent meal at Willow.

The last time I was at Willow Springs was in the 1970s. The pit looks the same and there are added buildings along the front straight. My memories are dimming and I can’t remember why I was there in the ’70s, but it was probably motorcycle racing of some sort.

If you take away the little houses, pit row looks about the same as I remember from the 1970s.

Kawasaki built a Superbike production racer called the S2. I don’t know if this is one but it looks like one.

Suzuki big-block race bike. Although, it could be a 750. I didn’t look that close.

SR500. Great bike from Yamaha unfortunately suffering from The Slows. My XL350 could stay with them through the gears and pull away at top end.

Roper and Fulton on Italian Harley-Davidsons. About 100 years of racing experience in this photo. They are faster than you. Sorry about the cell phone photo.

Zippy Yamaha 100cc twin. I might get a stocker one of these one day.

CA110(?) I have one of these in pieces waiting for assembly. The engine is shot so I bought a clone 140cc overhead cam engine. It fits the gram and clears the front wheel by 1/4-inch.

Manx Norton. For a while these 500cc singles ruled the road racing world. Still faster than a SR500.

If you don’t like crowds you’ll love AHRMA racing.

Rosamond, the town closest to Willow has grown quite a bit and lots of housing developments are being thrown together. Eventually someone will build houses around Willow if the new owners don’t do it first.

The ride back to New Mexico was full-on warm. We took backroads from Lancaster to Victorville and sort of paralleled Interstate 10 along Yucca Valley and Twentynine Palms to Parker, Arizona. Our miles per day were shrinking and we were stopping more often. Temperatures reached 95 along the sparsely populated Highway 62.

I was smelling the barn, you know? I kind of lost it on the last day in Show Low. We woke up at 4:30 am to get an early start. I wanted to get home and the Mudchucker was leisurely watching TV and eating a bagel. By 8:30 a.m., I had been awake 4 hours and drank 16 cups of coffee waiting. I had a lot of pent-up nervous energy.

Maybe 7 days on the road rubbed my nerves raw. It doesn’t seem like an asset.

Finally underway, we burned up the highway into New Mexico, a slight frost between us, and I managed to get home at a decent time (before dark). I’m starting to wonder if 7 days on the road is too much for me. Riding motorcycles with a partner is a series of compromises strung together with miles and miles of pavement. Are the compromises worth the companionship? I’m sure I must annoy the Mudchucker at times.

Maybe I’m just getting old and cranky. At least, that’s the excuse I’m going to use.

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Buell Fever Part 10: Failure is an Option

By Joe Gresh

I’ve kind of lost count on which Buell installment dealt with the muffler falling off. The story was about how the muffler was held on by a T-bolt clamp on the header pipe (basically a heavy-duty hose clamp) and two vertical brackets that located the rear of the muffler. Those vertical brackets would come loose letting the muffler slide back into the wheel. In that previous story I welded the rear bracket so the muffler couldn’t slide back unless the bolt was removed. This setup no longer relied on the clamping force of fasteners alone.

I thought I had it fixed, a common misconception that I have frequently, and both the muffler bolts of my belt-and-suspenders repair vibrated out. The muffler fell off again. Most riders would write this off as a bad design on Buell’s part, but I look at it as a challenge. Just like Lucy always pulled the football away from Charlie Brown the Buell keeps snatching success away from me.

The Buell lives and dies in real time. No waiting around for Honda-like reliability to finally fail. Each individual Buell-ride has a beginning, a middle and an end. The end being something to fix. And sometimes fix it again.

There were two of these. One is on the road a few miles ahead of the bolts that fell out.

When the muffler bolts fell out one of the two rubber bushings fell out also. These bushings fit into two holes cast into the Buell’s engine crankcases. It was a good system and I should have used Loctite or safety-wired the bolts the first time.

I wasn’t in the mood to hunt online for another bushing and the thin, molded-in tube preventing the rubber from crushing made me wary of really cranking down on the muffler bolts. I decided to take things into hand and make two new bushings since it’s as easy to make two as it is one.

I’ll need a better cut-off tool but you can see, two is as easy as one.

I have plenty of aluminum round stock and the crude bushings I spun out would shock a real toolmaker. I added a couple of grooves for o-rings to cushion the aluminum. Regardless, I now had something I could tighten a bolt against as much as I wanted. Putting the hangers back together I used nylon locknuts on fresh bolts hoping to slow down the rate of failure.

Harley cast in a couple of sturdy mounting holes on the Sportster crankcase.

The bushings are slightly longer than the mounting holes allowing for tight bolts with a bit of give for the shaky Sportster engine.

On yet another long test rides the bolts stayed tight and the muffler did not fall off. Lucy-1, Joe-1. I’m adding checking the muffler bolts to my pre-flight inspection list until this fix proves permanent.

After years of Kawasaki perfection, knowing every ride will be successful, I’m loving the Buell’s humanity. The Buell needs a steady handful of wrenches and ingenuity. Riding and tinkering with the thing brings me back to my youth of edger-powered minibikes roaring through the hot, humid Florida nights. Riding those old minibikes was a crash engineering course. You learned fast or you pushed the thing. So far, I haven’t needed to push the Buell.

Buell Parts 1 through 9 are here!

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Buell Fever Part 9: It’s a Bagger!

By Joe Gresh

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again because it gets the word count up: when you leave town in New Mexico you are more out-of-town than other places. Traffic here is light, cell phone coverage is spotty, gas stations are fewer and far between-er. If you break down 10 miles from home, you might as well be 100 miles from home. It could be a few hours before a car comes along and are there any ax murderers out there?

Even though it annoys my internet buddy, Hacksaw, or maybe because it annoys him, I like to have a few tools, a patch kit, a rain suit, a tire inflator, some water and a few snacks. I even carry a tiny emergency tent and bivouac in case I need to spend the night doing a bit of unplanned camping.

Arrow points to the small tail compartment. Who let the cat out of the bag?

The Buell has a small compartment in the tail section that will hold a few items, but that’s about it. Normally a tank bag holds most of my on-the-road junk and I may rig one on the Buell. I’d hate to mess up the cool paint job (which is what sold me on the Buell in the first place).

A rear rack is another option, I looked around the World Wide Web and didn’t see much for an S2. I didn’t feel like making one either. Which left saddle bags.

Buell made a touring version of the S2 called the S2T; that bike had nice looking bags that blended into the subsonic styling of the Thunderbolt. I didn’t see any of those for sale. I’m guessing people keep them if they have a set. After I started this project, I found a set for $1000, one-third the cost of the entire Buell.

Who knew Harbor Freight sold motorcycle gear?

My favorite store, Harbor Freight, had a sale on pelican-style plastic cases. Branded Apache, they are fairly sturdy, weather tight boxes that even have a pressure relief valve for those high altitude runs. Normally these cases are used for cameras, test equipment or anything that needs protection from the bumps and bruises of life in these United States. The HF cases look like most of the bags attached to popular Adventure Barges except a bit smaller. I bought two of the 3800 series for $50 total. Attaching them to the Buell was a challenge. Being an underslung monoshock frame there’s not a lot of bolts on the back section to attach things to. One obvious spot is the passenger peg. It’s a big, strong bolt that you could lift the bike from. The first step was to make a bit of plastic (brand name: Starboard) to connect the bag to the footpeg. This gave me a starting point to work out the rest of the mounting system.

Mount slides over passenger peg and is secured with a pinch bolt in front.

To keep the back part of the saddle out of the rear tire I made a U-shaped bracket that attaches under the seat with rubber covered Adel clamps. The right-hand side is tight due to the Buell’s wide belt drive pulley. After a few tries, I had an ugly brace welded up.

Not a thing of beauty. Hopefully it will keep the bad away from the tire.

For a mid-mount I bent a piece of aluminum to fit around the rear subframe tube. I probably didn’t need this, but more support is always more support.

I may not need this mount but I like it.

Anything mounted solidly to a Sportster-engined motorcycle usually has a short lifespan. Because of this, the bag-to-rear-bracket connections are those rubber isolator type deals (four on each side for a total of eight). If these isolators don’t survive, it will be easy to replace them with progressively larger isolators until the entire bag is all isolator, leaving little room for storage.

A total of four isolators and the flexible plastic peg mount should keep the bag on the Buell.

The HF bags have two snap-type latches that seem to hold ok but there are also two holes for a padlock or carabiner to ensure they don’t pop open. I’m going to add a small padlock for extra security. Not for theft, but instead for unplanned bag opening.

I seem to do a lot of test rides on the Buell. I’ve put 1500 miles of testing on the bike, and the bagger test ride took me on a 280-mile mountain loop out to Roswell then back on Highway 70 through Ruidoso and tacos at Los Agaves-east (the other Los Agaves is in Artesia). After eating delicious tacos, I noticed oil on the right saddle bag. It wasn’t coming from the tacos. In fact, there was oil all over the place.

I checked the rear cylinder, the source of a previous leak, but it was nice and dry. The Buell had been getting kind of bouncy, and the rear shock was dripping oil. By the time I got home there was no rebound damping at all. The Buell was wallowing like an overloaded Chevy station wagon complete with sticky brats in the way-back.

I need to do a little work on the shock absorber (two steps back), but the bags turned out well. (One step forward) at speed I reached back to touch them, and they were mostly vibration-free. The rear bracket is not my finest hour and if these bags hold up, I may take a stab at a better-looking rear bracket.

Under side view of rear bracket. I may re-do this part later. Tubing would look better.

On the lonely western roads between Mayhill and Roswell it was comforting to have a few tools and water in case of breakdown. I like a more practical motorcycle, and the Bagger Buell is practical. I may add a refrigerator and a microwave to make my rides even more practical.

Read earlier dispatches from the Buell resurrection project!

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Buell Fever Part 8: Slippery Business

By Joe Gresh

The stereotypical image of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle leaking oil has become a cultural icon. Dirty, unshaven and drunk riders astride seeping, smoking, rattling, home-built murdercycles were made popular in biker movies from the 1970’s and the image persists today.

How real is that image? I can’t say because my Buell was manufactured in 1995 but I hear new Harleys mostly don’t leak…much, if at all. My 30 year-old Buell leaked oil. Before we dive into the engine oil leak we have to get a few other leaks out of the way. .

You’ll remember all the trouble I had with the original Mikuni carburetor, the float needle leaked through various repair attempts and I thought I had the problem licked. The Buell ran good and got 50 miles to a gallon of gas. I took it out for a few rides and no carburetor leaks. Then I walked into the shed one day, straddled the Buell, hoisted it up straight and gas poured out the air cleaner. Like a lot of gas.

That was the final straw for the original Mikuni carburetor. I replaced the entire unit with a Chinese clone carb from Amazon and the bike has never run better and it doesn’t leak out of the carburetor or the air cleaner. Thanks, Global Trade!

But here’s my question: why did the old carburetor overflow at all? I had the fuel petcock off, where did the gas running out of the carb come from, you may well ask? Turns out the petcock was not completely shutting off as a steady drip of gasoline wormed its way past the 4-hole rubber seal in the petcock. Thus, the fuel shut-off was never really shut-off.

This isn’t the actual petcock gasket but you get the idea.

I took the petcock apart and flipped the 4-hole rubber seal around. That cured the fuel leaking to the carburetor in the off position but it created a bigger problem in that gas leaked out of the body of the petcock in all positions.

Finding a replacement rubber, 4-hole o-ring was uneventful as none were to be found. Instead, I bought a new petcock on Amazon and the new valve fixed the bypassing problem. But there was another gas leak.

The Buell has a roto-cast plastic gas tank under that pretty, race-bike inspired, but heavy, fiberglass bodywork. An aluminum gas cap flange screws onto the tank with a rubber gasket. This joint weeped gas when riding the bike. Not a lot, but annoying and enough to leave streaks of fuel mungus down the side of the gas tank.

Not so many parts to the Buell tank but the few that are there may leak.

Dismantling the flange, I discovered a check valve under the tank vent that needed to be removed before the flange would come off.

I got rid of this check valve. I expect the bike to burst into flames any minute.

The valve must have something to do with emissions control as it only let air into the tank. I’m sure this added to the float needle issue as the tank was under slight pressure just sitting in the warm New Mexico sun.

Fixing the flange leak was as easy as cleaning off the gasket. Blasting it with a little Permatex high-tack and reassembling the mess. I omitted the check valve to equalize the pressure between the tank and the Earth’s atmosphere. Of course now when the bike falls over it will leak gas like every other old motorcycle I own.

You can’t see it well in this photo but the rear cylinder is an oily mess.

With the gas leaks sorted I turned my attention to the oil leaks. The rear rocker cover was dribbling oil down the cylinder where turbulent air whisked it onto the battery and all points south. It wasn’t a huge leak but let’s just say the back of the Buell is not likely to rust anytime soon.

Luckily Erik built the S2 so that the rocker covers are removable without dropping the engine. I did have to cut an Allen wrench short to clear the frame tube, but it was an easy job all things considered.

It’s a snug fit but as long as you’re willing to chop your tools it’s do-able.

With the new rocker cover gaskets, I took the bike out for a spin and the rear cylinder puked oil as badly as ever. I figured the oil must be leaking from under the rocker box. I’m nothing if not persistent so I took the rocker covers back off and then the rocker boxes. (This year Sportster engine has 3-piece rocker assemblies)

The gaskets crumbled upon removal of the rocker boxes.

The paper gasket is under the rear rocker box was brittle and broken. I replaced both front and rear gaskets with a metal version of the paper gasket. I knew for sure I had the leak fixed.

On the test run the reassembled rear rocker leaked as bad as ever. Back to the shed and everything came apart again for the third time. I was pretty much out of ideas.

Studying the situation over the course of several days I observed the rear umbrella valve (a nickel-sized, round flapper-type deal in the rocker cover) was much harder than the front umbrella valve. Like hard plastic instead of soft rubber. I swapped both umbrella valves with new ones. Then assembled the mess thinking no way it could be those little valves.

This little valve caused the rear cylinder rocker cover leak.

I test rode the Buell 200 miles and no oil leaked out the rear cylinder. The battery area and aft sections were dry. Look, I’m not complaining. I can’t pin this on Harley’s image. 30-year old motorcycles are going to leak oil. Seals harden, gaskets dry up and split, 0-rings lose their O-ness and umbrella valves aren’t going to bounce. Besides, I enjoy working on the Buell. It’s a weird, wonderful machine that fits no known stereotype.

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A Tale of Two Bowsers

By Joe Gresh

I’m stealing the two-fer idea from Berk mostly because I haven’t had an original thought in 10 years. This Bowsers thing happened last week when I was changing the tire on the ZRX1100 for an upcoming trip to Utah.

The tire, a Bridgestone, was a bear to get on the rim, very stiff and it took lots of lube and struggle to get the thing fitted. One casualty of the battle was the little dot that is supposed to be near the valve stem ended up 180 degrees opposite. I don’t know how that happened, I started with it in the correct position.

The tire was so difficult I left the dot position where is was, figuring to cancel out any imbalance with wheel weights later.

Normally I don’t have much trouble airing up a tubeless motorcycle tire and use a little 12-volt pump for the task. The Bridgestone had other ideas. The damn beads would not seat. I needed more air pressure and more air volume.

Tools of the trade for a cosplay mechanic.

Back in my youth I wanted to be an auto mechanic and I worked at a few shops mopping floors. In the 1970’s there were no cordless tools. Since all shops had a big compressor I needed an air impact, hammer, ratchet, drill to complete my cosplay mechanic’s kit.

The old Craftsman, sporting an air/water separator filter. Lots of air has gone through this rig.

Once you have a bunch of air tools you’ll need a compressor to operate the tools at home so I bought a Sears compressor, I was around 15 years old at the time and since I fancied my self a custom painter in addition to being a mechanic the compressor was used most every day.

Fast forward 50 years and the Bridgestone tire: I flipped the switch on the Craftsman compressor and a loud buzzing sound was all I got. My first guess was a bad capacitor. I ordered one from Amazon as there was nowhere close to buy electrical bit. Still, I had no air. I needed a compressor right now.

As luck would have it Harbor Freight (I get no commission, although I should) had a 20-gallon unit on sale for $200. I drove down the hill and picked up a copy.

The new compressor looks well made. It’s a vertical unit so the thing takes up slightly less floor space. A big difference between the direct-drive, single cylinder Harbor Freight and the belt-driven, two cylinder Craftsman is the noise: the HF is loud as hell.

With the new compressor’s 125 psi blast it was easy as pie to get the beads seated on the Bridgestone. The tire was well made and it only took 1/2 ounce to balance. Closing that chapter of my life I moved on to the old compressor.

The new Amazon capacitor arrived and I swapped it into the Sears compressor. The result was the same: a loud buzzing sound. Having eliminated one variable I decided the motor start/run switch wasn’t working and the compressor was trying to start on the run circuit.

After 50 years and 3 states the contacts finally lost continuity.

Taking the motor apart was easy and the contacts for start/run were arced and corroded. I felt this was the problem and cleaned the contacts as best I could.

While I had the motor apart I greased the unsealed ball bearings for the first time in 50 years. I’ll be long dead before they need grease again. The pulley was well rusted onto the shaft, it took some heat, penetrating oil and lots of back and forthing to get it pulled off so that I could grease the output side bearing.

After 50 years the bearings were dry. Amazingly they still spun relatively smooth.

I reassembled the mess, crossed my fingers and plugged in the compressor. The smooth whir coming from the compressor belied its age. The Craftsman was back in business at 50 years old.

So now I have two compressors. The 220-volt Craftsman and the 110-volt Harbor Freight. Even though it’s lower voltage the HF starts with less amp surge which helps out the 6000-watt inverter but it’s loud. The HF also makes 45 pounds more pressure.

The 1-horse motor on the Craftsman packs a wallop on startup, even at the higher voltage, but you can carry on a conversation standing next to the thing. It struggles to get to 80 psi and that is probably due to needing new rings or reed valves.

I guess the big difference is I’m pretty sure the Harbor Freight won’t be working in 2075 but you never know. I wouldn’t bet against that old Craftsman still pumping air for another 50 years.

You know you want it. Go ahead.

Why Are All My Friends Buying Harleys?

By Joe Berk

Don’t get excited; I don’t have that many friends. But lately two of them (Baja John and Uncle Joe Gresh) both bought Harleys. I guess I started thinking about it when I went to the gym yesterday morning. There was an early Harley V-Rod parked in front. It looked brand new. It’s too bad that bike didn’t make it with the beer bellies and tattoos bunch. Harley is on the skids now, struggling through a huge sales downturn and significant layoffs. I guess they don’t know what to do. I do (small bikes and even smaller prices; it ain’t rocket science, Milwaukee). Eh, what do I know?

The V-Rod had me thinking about Baja John. He bought a V-Rod last year. I haven’t seen it yet, so I called John and asked him to send a photo. It’s the one you see at the top of this blog. I need to get out there to Arizona and visit with John again. Maybe on the next pig hunt. Maybe sooner.

And then there’s Gresh and his Buell. I knew more about that motorcycle, as Sue and I hosted Gresh out here in La La Land when he came out to pick it up. It’s a beautiful motorcycle, and it’s been fun watching Joe resurrect it. He’s having fun. It’s too bad Buell didn’t work out for Harley, either. I thought those bikes might have been the answer. Joe’s adventures have had me thinking maybe I need to find an older Buell to play with. It would be fun. But there aren’t too many Harley dealers around here anymore; they’ve been dropping like left wing loonies (sorry for the redundancy) at a MAGA rally. Seriously. Harley dealers are falling fast. It’s a shame, really.

The upshot of the above, of course, is that if you are in the market for a Harley, this is probably a good time to buy. I’ve owned two Harleys; one was a turd and the other was awesome. They sure were beautiful, though. Even the ’79 Electra-Glide (the turd) that treated me worse than Kamala Harris at a Toastmasters meeting was drop dead gorgeous.

I think if I was going to buy another motorcycle, it would be a Moto Guzzi. The work I’ve been doing for Motorcycle Classics magazine with Cycle Garden in Indio cemented what I already felt: Guzzis are the world’s most beautiful motorcycles. I like the Ambassadors and El Dorados from the 1970s, and I also like the Griso. I’m keeping my eyes peeled. And there’s another plus on the Guzzis: They sure are easy to maintain.

How easy? Hey, buy a recent issue of Motorcycle Classics, turn to the “How To” section, and you’ll see. The upcoming issue has a feature on how to de-rust a gas tank, and it’s pretty interesting. I think you’ll like it.

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Buell Fever Part 7: Lean On Me

By Joe Gresh

Tidying up where we left off in Part 6, the new front brake pads arrived and everything wheel-wise went together. Bleeding the front caliper was uneventful and the brake stopped the wheel which is all you can ask in today’s crazy world.

It was time to tackle the Buell’s kickstand issue. If you’re keeping count, that’s three motorcycles I have had to modify the kickstand on.

Kickstand things are precarious and resulted in a crash.

The Buell’s kick stand was an odd duck. It had the typical Harley locking style but where Harley used heavy, hard-wearing steel the Buell used soft, easy to consume aluminum.

The material change is important because with only 13,000 miles my Buell kickstand locking groove was completely worn out. The notch the kickstand flopped into was gone and with the poor angles involved the bike was ready to fall over any minute. And it did.

The notch area, eaten away in the pursuit of light weight.

I was going to take a stab at welding a notch in place but I couldn’t get the TIG torch in the narrow kickstand mounting boss. This was a job better left to the pros at Roy’s Welding. I took the aluminum side plate down to Roy’s and dropped it off.

Access is limited, so I gave up and took the kickstand plate to a welder.

A few days later I called Roy’s to see how things were going and I guess they couldn’t get their torch in between the kickstand mount either. Back I went to retrieve the still-boogered kickstand mount. I searched online for a few days but a left-side mounting plate was not available when I needed it.

Left with no option I tried some of Harbor Freight’s ersatz aluminum welding rod. This material is kind of an aluminum solder. To weld with it you use an Oxy-acetylene torch and it kind of works.

A nice flood of ersatz aluminum filled the void.

You’ll need to clean the aluminum well and then using the torch to heat the work you sort of rub the rod into the metal. Take care not to overheat the work. It’s an easy process that you can stop anytime by removing the heat source.

I welded (if you can call it that) the original pivot holes closed then filled the worn spot inside the kickstand mount. It worked ok and I managed to get the filler pretty level inside the mount.

The original pivot holes stopped the stand at a 90-degree angle. This was fine and dandy when the stand had a notch to fall into. My new plan was to make the kickstand more like every other kickstand in the world instead of Harley style.

The relocated pivot hole allowed more stand arc.

I re-redrilled the holes and a position that allowed the stand to swing forward and over center the return spring. This set up is pretty normal even in later Buells. I ground the stand a bit thinner to make room for a steel washer in the hope of protecting the soft aluminum filler material.

To allow movement for the old stand design the hole in the kickstand was oval shaped. This made for quite a bit of lean when deployed. My new design didn’t need the oval hole so I drilled it out and fitted a steel bushing. Now things were snug.

Steel bushing to fill the wongo-wongo, pivoting angle.

With the relocated pivot holes the end of the kickstand hit the swing arm in the up position. I used a piece of Starboard (plastic used in boat building) to make a new stop for the stand.

New stops keep the kickstand from hitting the swing arm.

It all worked. The Buell stand is still in an odd, dirt-bike like location but it operates normally and the bike doesn’t fall over. So that’s a good thing.

No more rolling off the stand and hitting the ground for me.

More Gresh Buellishness!

Buell 1: More Cowbell
Buell 2: The Reckoning
Buell 3: An Own Goal
Buell 4: Striking Oil
Buell 5: Carb Blues
Buell 6: Oingo-Boingo

More gun stuff? You bet!

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Buell Fever Part 6: Oingo-Boingo

By Joe Gresh

I have two motorcycles with upside down forks. Both of these motorcycles have leaking fork seals. Coincidence? I think not. I have no love for USD forks and one of the reasons I wanted a Buell Cyclone was the conventional forks those bikes came with.

I don’t care for upside down forks. They seem to leak more than conventional forks.

Alas, I ended up with a Thunderstorm, which is mostly the same as a Cyclone except for the forks. Mine were leaking, which is not unexpected for a 30-year-old motorcycle.

I try to lay out the parts in the order they are removed. Until I kick the cardboard and the bits scatter. This is the fork cap-retainer-plastic spacer-metal washer top of the tube parts.

New fork seals were kind of hard to find. I tried contacting the OEM manufacturer, White Power (that name didn’t age well), but I got no response. Through the wonder of the internet, I found a company in England that had the seals.

Always tape over ridges so the seal doesn’t get cut or damaged when sliding it into the tube.

The seal installer in action. Sliding the fork tube presses in the fork bushing, a spacer and the seal in one motion.

After pressing the two halves are removed. Next is the seal retaining clip (which is all that holds the forks together).

The seals were reasonably priced at $14 per set, but the shipping was expensive. I bought three sets since the shipping was the same. Now I have enough Buell S2 fork seals for the rest of my life. On a side note: a week after the seals were delivered FedEx sent me a $20 invoice for “fees.” I haven’t paid the fee yet; I’m not sure, it may be a scam. The fees may be re-named tariffs.

Without this relief cut the seal installer would smash the seal lip.

Buell seal installer. PVC tube machined to fit seal lip then cut in half.

The Buell has a large front disc. To remove the wheel, you have to remove the brake caliper. To remove the brake caliper, you have to remove the brake pads and then retract all six of the caliper pistons back inside their respective bores.

The old Performance Machine brake caliper pistons were pretty crusty, and I didn’t want to push all that mess across the bore seals into the caliper. Removing the brake disc from the wheel allowed enough wiggle room to get things apart.

The WP forks were super tight in the triple clamps. I used a wedge to expand the fork tube bores and still it was a struggle to slide the forks out. Once out, disassembly was fairly straightforward (although oily) experience.

These triple clamps really grip the fork tubes. You almost don’t need pinch bolts.

You’ll need to make a seal installer to press the new seals into the forks. I made mine from PVC tubing in the hope of avoiding scratching the sliders. The new seals fit well, and the hardest part was compressing the fork spring while holding the damper rod up with a bent wire and using a third hand fitting the damper rod spring keepers. My Buell shop manual describes this process as a two-man job. And it really is.

It took a couple days to figure out how to one-man a two-man job. I ended up employing an oxy-acetylene welding cart as a prop to hold the fork. The T-handle on the cart was in a convenient location and height to loop the damper-rod holding wire over and I still had two hands free to compress the spring and slip in the keepers.

After the seals are in place the fork spring retainer goes on. Note the wire holding the damper rod and the welding cart holding the fork. This setup leaves both hands free to compress the fork spring and fit the retainers.

More Buell specialty tools. Wire to hold damper rod, wedges to spread triple clamps.

The Buell manual called for 7-1/2 weight fork oil. I should have ordered fork oil online, but I didn’t, so I called around and the local Honda shop had some. It’s a 20-mile drive to the Honda shop. The Honda fork oil bottles are confusingly labeled. What looks like 7 weight ended up being 5 weight, but I wanted to get the front end put back together. So I poured a pint of 5 weight into each fork leg. Stay tuned for a follow up report if I can feel any difference between 5 and 7 weight fork oil.

While the forks were off, I re-greased the steering head bearings. They still had a little grease remaining but thinly applied. I walked out the old stuff and smooshed in fresh grease. That left just the front caliper to clean up.

Re -greased steering head bearings. I don’t like the design of the cup under the bottom bearing. It seems like it would hold water. I might bend a drain channel into the low side.

The caliper came apart easily, but the pistons did not. I used to have a big pair of reverse pliers (the jaws expand rather than close when the handles are squeezed). I would use these pliers to grab inside the hollow pistons and pull them out of the caliper. I would, that is, if I could find them. I spent a few hours looking for the pliers and finally gave up.

A snap ring Oliver was pressed into service and I managed to get all six pistons out. Performance Machine uses chromed steel pistons and the bit of piston that was exposed to the elements had corroded. Finding new pistons would be an impossible task and a new caliper would cost $600, so I polished the corroded pistons on the buffing wheel.

Except for the chromed pistons, the PM caliper is a nice looking unit. Note the piston diameter change to apply evenly distributed wear.

Performance Machine caliper back together and waiting on brake pads

I’ve had good luck piston polishing. Yes, they re-corrode, but the section of piston covered with brake fluid doesn’t corrode. I look at it as an ongoing maintenance item rather than a bad part. You’ll have to wait for new brake pads to arrive to see if the caliper leaks in Buell Fever Part 7.

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Buell Fever Part 5: Carburetor Blues

By Joe Gresh

After years and years of tinkering with engines, my whole life really, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not very good at fixing carburetors. The Buell’s multiple personality disorder carburetor has really illuminated my carb inadequacies.

Considering it sat for who knows how long the Buell carburetor was fairly clean inside. I blasted it out with spray carb cleaner and installed a few new parts just because it was apart. The bike started up easy and seemed to run ok. And then the oil tank blew all over the place. I got sidetracked cleaning up oil and it was a few days before I got around to starting the Buell again.

The aftermarket needles have slightly longer springs. I’m not sure this matters.

After a few moments of running, the bike started getting richer and richer. Black smoke poured out the muffler along with popping and farting sounds. I shut the engine off and fuel began leaking out the carburetor intake mouth. This was unfortunate because I installed a new needle and float earlier.

Off the carb came for the second time. I re-checked the float level, installed another new needle and bench tested the carb. No leaks. Plugging the carb back into the motorcycle and reconnecting all the bits, I turned on the fuel valve from the remote tank and gas poured out the carb. It was like there was no needle at all.

The seat didn’t look too bad to me but I could not get the thing to stop leaking.

Third time: I pulled the carb and put the old float and needle back into the carb, maybe the aftermarket stuff is junk, right? I re-installed the carb. No leaks. Good. Started the engine. Bike ran rich and the longer it ran the richer it got. Lots of backfiring and flames. Fuel started running out the carb.

At this point I gave up and ordered a new carb from Amazon. It was on sale for $38. I pulled the carb again and it sat on the bench for two days. You have to understand, there is no simpler carb than the one on this Buell. Despite appearances my pride can be hurt. If I can’t fix the Buell carb, then I can’t fix any carb. I decided to take one last shot.

For some reason, the float bowl o-ring enlarged from my ham-fisted ministrations. Stuffing the ring into the bowl groove became a Sisyphean task: push one side in and the other side popped out. I didn’t want to wait for an internet gasket, so I drove down to our friendly neighborhood Harley shop, Liberty Cycles on Highway 70.

Liberty is a real old school Harley shop. Independent, scruffy, populated by guys that might beat you up for mistaking the year Panheads were first manufactured. 99% of the bikes in the shop were big twins. Sportster riders are suspect. I asked Father Time, a grizzled, white-bearded mechanic for a bowl of-ring.

Father Time dug around in various drawers and came up with the o-ring, handed it to me and said “Just take it.” Maybe these guys aren’t so scary.

Harley needle-seat burnishing tool. A center punch on a Ryobi cordless.

On the bench, the needle seat looked okay to me but I wanted a more polished look. Using a center punch on a drill motor I burnished the seat to make it smoother. Back go all the pieces after checking float level. No leaks. Start the bike and it runs good for a few moments then starts loading up on fuel again. It’s maddening but at least fuel is not leaking out of the carb. Progress.

After a steel-to-brass burnishing session the seat looked smoother. Most importantly the carb stopped flooding.

The enrichener plunger was dingy but not terribly dingy. It was enough to cause problems.

After cleaning the plunger sealed off the enrichener circuit, greatly reducing black smoke.

Fourth time pulling the carb. I removed the enrichment plunger; it looked a little dingy. Maybe the plunger is not seating? I used 800-grit wet-or-dry sandpaper to remove any deposits and cleaned the enrichener bore. Reassembled again and installed on the Buell. Bike starts up and runs well for a few minutes. Install the air cleaner, fire up the bike and after a minute or so the bike starts running rich, black smoke pours out the muffler.

Arrow points to the float bowl vent. This is the only vent as there is no bowl overflow tube.

Fifth time pulling the carb, thank goodness it’s easy to do on the Buell. I examine everything. My repair manual shows a float bowl overflow tube in the bowl. My float bowl has no overflow hose. My bowl has no tube. This is why fuel runs out of the carb throat when it floods. A normal carb would piss the fuel into the ground. Which got me thinking: How does the float chamber vent to atmospheric pressure?

The air cleaner back plate blocked the bowl vent. I didn’t grasp this until much later in the process.

Facing the intake side of the carb there is a hole at the 10-o’clock position. This is how the float chamber vents and this is the hole that is covered up when the air cleaner is installed. It sounds easy and logical reading this now, but it took hours of confused staring at the Buell to figure out what was happening.

Drilling a vent hole in the air cleaner back plate allows for atmospheric pressure in the float bowl.

I drilled a hole in the air cleaner where the vent exits the carb. Reassembled the entire mess yet again and started the bike. It ran better but was missing on one cylinder. With a single carb if you have one cylinder missing it pretty much has to be ignition, so I removed the spark plugs. They were covered in fluffy black soot. Chunks of soot nearly bridged the electrode gap on the front cylinder sparkplug.

A quick session with a wire wheel and douching the plugs with carb cleaner had them looking like new. I reinstalled the plugs and the bike started up easily, ran smooth, both cylinders ticking off nicely. It idled well, as well as any Harley idles. Maybe I have finally fixed the thing.

To recap, the carb had three issues:

1. 1. The first was the needle seat. It must have had some microscopic flaws that prevented the rubber needle tip from sealing. The leaking needle caused a rich condition.
  2. The next issue was the enrichener plunger. It was not seating completely. This allowed extra fuel into the intake, causing a rich condition.
  3. The final issue, extra confusing because sometimes I had the air cleaner installed and sometimes I had it removed, was the blocked float bowl vent. Without a vent to atmospheric pressure the float chamber is under a vacuum. I’m not sure but I think the bike runs rich as extra fuel is sucked in. The vent on the fuel tank becomes the atmospheric pressure inlet.

The Buell seems to be running fine now but after pulling the carb so many times, I’m a bit gun shy. I’ll call it fixed with reservations.

I haven’t received the Amazon carb yet but if the thing has a bowl overflow and the parts interchange I’ll be swapping the bowl. The Buell leans left on the kickstand, the carb towards the (downhill) intake manifold. Without a float bowl overflow, a sticking needle could run gas into the engine. Not good.

A smarter man could have figured out the Buell carb in less steps. He would have analyzed the symptoms and made a logical plan to address them. I am not that man. I threw everything at that damn carburetor until something stuck. I had to grind through obvious processes until the correct answers were all the answers that remained.

In the trades we call this Buell Hand. It comes from adjusting the idle mixture screw between the hot exhaust headers.

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Buell Fever Part 4: I’ve Struck Oil!

By Joe Gresh

Part of the reason I bought a Buell was because my life has become too predictable. Except for the Husqvarna, you stand a good chance of getting where you’re going on my old bikes. And the Buell is not disappointing. Lots of fun stuff is happening as I work on getting the bike back on the road.

It’s such a joy to tinker on a single-carb motorcycle. There are no racks and synchronizing to deal with, you only have to do a thing once instead of four times, but watch out for those aftermarket parts. The kit I bought was okay, but the emulsion tube was not drilled properly. And then I managed to pinch the bowl o-ring. It was cheaper to buy another kit than a single bowl gasket, so I did that. Unfortunately, that kit’s bowl o-ring was too small. No matter how I stretched it, it kept popping out of the bowl groove. I ended up reinstalling the pinched o-ring. It was a futile effort to keep my mechanical standards up.

It wouldn’t be a Harley without baling wire. The choke tube is plastic and was fragile after all these years. The choke knob was falling out of its slot. I broke the tube finger tightening the thing. Wire to the rescue!

The accelerator pump plumbing was clogged. I fished a small bit of wire through the passage to clear it.

The carb kit emulsion tube (right side) was not drilled correctly. I try to use all the old stuff if possible. So this was no great loss.

This brass nozzle sprays fuel from the accelerator pump. Supposedly the tube is removable for cleaning but it seems well stuck and I started to chew it up a bit so I stopped.

I’m a big fan of lithium batteries, so I bought a Vevor brand close in size to the original lead-acid battery. The Vevor was a bit small and the factory battery location is not far from the rear cylinder exhaust header. To help with the heat I wrapped the sides and front with foam, then wrapped gorilla tape around the mess to hold the foam insulation.

It looks a little rough but an insulated battery is a happy battery.

A neat feature on the Vevor is the dual posts (four total). There are positive and negative posts on both sides of the battery; if your cables are in the wrong place, just flip the battery around. I added a spacer on the hook side of the battery strap to keep it tight and a small tube spacer in the bolt side (less threading to do on the hold down bolt), which makes installation 12 seconds faster. When you ride a Buell every second counts. The battery seems secure; hopefully, it will stay put. With the Vevor battery (supposedly 400 cranking amps) in place and the carb back on, I needed to hear the Buell run. The oil tank level was between the high and low marks. The oil looked clean, like it had just been changed.

I removed the spark plugs, put the coke machine key in the ignition, and spun the engine over to clear any excess oil from my previous cylinder lubing. With the sparkplugs back in the cylinder heads I pulled the choke, hit the right turn indicator button, and nothing happened.

Harley handlebar switches are so weird. Pushing the starter button on the inside of the blinker switch worked better, and the Buell fired up in a couple revolutions. The engine popped and farted a few times. Lots of smoke came out the tail pipe but all things considered, it was running good. Then came a loud pop followed by a geyser of oil spewing from the oil tank. The oil broadcast in a 15-foot fan covering the general area with great dollops of thick oil. The spots were viscous, so they stood proud of my clean concrete floor. Except for the spot I was standing. I received a blast of spraying oil that covered my sweater and left a clean, Joe-shaped silhouette on the concrete floor.

My nice, clean floor got its first baptism-by-Harley.

My sweater took the brunt of the oil explosion.

What a mess. How long the Buell had been sitting was unknown, but the oil tank must have slowly drained into the crankcase. Some helpful person topped off the tank with fresh oil and I squirted the stuff all over the place. I drained the tank. There must have been a gallon in there if you include the oil on the ground. Once the oil level was correct, I fired the Buell and it settled down to the hit and miss syncopation Harley likes to call idle.

Back to other issues. I didn’t like the way the muffler was held into the bike. The setup relied on the front clamp combined with two rear brackets that bolted up in a parallelogram-like deal. The only thing that held the muffler in place was fastener tension. To achieve a more secure mounting I made a thicker bracket out of mild steel and welded it to the Muffler. Now in order for the muffler to slide back my crappy weld would have to break. Which it just might.

Since I don’t have the equipment to weld stainless steel I made a mild steel bracket for the muffler.

The bracket welded to the muffler. Now the muffler can’t work loose and rub the tire.

The rear brake on the Buell was stuck. There were several issues contributing to this problem. The first was the brake pedal. It was bent where the master cylinder pushrod attached in a way that made the rod move dramatically sideways when the brake was applied. I used Harley tool 0-U812 (a big crescent wrench) to adjust the brake pedal. Now the push rod moved in a straight line concentric with the master cylinder.

This replacement rear brake assembly was close but off in meaningful ways. The seller refunded my money and didn’t want me to ship it back.

This part of the brake left was bent causing the master cylinder pushrod to go off course.

It’s still a little bent but the pushrod articulates correctly now.

The clone master/slave kit I bought on Amazon that was supposed to fit was just off enough to be completely useless, so I decided to rebuild the original stuff.

All the original brake parts cleaned up well. So far no leaks.

The piston inside the master cylinder was stuck but a few raps with a hammer had the piston moving and I dismantled the master/slave. I was having trouble finding seals for the Brembo components, so I cleaned everything and reassembled the brakes.

Bleeding the brakes wasn’t going well. I could get pressure at the banjo bolt on the master cylinder but nothing at the slave. Shooting brake cleaner into the brake line did nothing. The hose was clogged. Out came the battery to access a hose clamp bolt, and I removed the brake line. Removing the brake light switch gave me a mid-point spot to shoot cleaner. The metal brake line was clear, the clog was in the rubber line. I soaked the line in an ultrasonic parts cleaner then worked a 0.30 flux core welding wire through the rubber line. It took a bit of finagling but the wire made it through. Then it was just a matter of soaking with brake cleaner and shuttling the 0.30 wire back and forth until the line was clear. Blowing the lines with compressed air got rid of any stragglers inside the hose. A quick reassembly and I had pressure to the slave. Bleeding the system was a straightforward proposition. The rear brake works.

Next on the list is fixing the kickstand and broken clutch lever.

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