Category: Joe Gresh

Upon Further Reflection: 2020 Go-Bowen Fit Right DB003 40cc Mini Bike

When I first opened the packing on the Go-Bowen mini bike I was impressed by the quality look of the little green monster. That first impression has taken a bit of a hit as I ran into quality control issues with the Go-Bowen mostly relating to the back wheel. (So far, that is.)

The little mini came from the factory with the chain adjusted ridiculously tight. The mini would hardly roll. I loosened axle and took a few turns off the nicely made chain adjusters and all seemed well. I drained the factory engine oil and replaced it with a high grade of store brand stuff and dumped a few ounces of fuel into the gas tank.

Starting the mini was very easy. There is a primer bulb under the carburetor and a few semi-erotic squeezes later I could see the fuel flow into the clear gas lines. A bit of choke, a few easy pulls and the mini was running like it was made to run. For only 1.4 horsepower the mini has a get-go feeling. The idle was set high so I took a few turns off the idle screw. I took a hot lap of Tinfiny’s upper reaches when the chain flew off.

This was odd because I didn’t loosen the thing all that much. I pushed it back to the shop and had a look see. Turns out the axle adjusting slots are not indexed the same and to center the rear wheel in the frame you end up with the axle cocked in the adjusters.

Once I had the chain running true I noticed the rear brake caliper wiggling alarmingly. A severely wobbling disc rotor caused that problem. The thing is like 3/16” out of true. It looks as if the flange is machined wrong or the disc itself is bent. I haven’t gone any further into the disc problem yet.

The mini rides fine once you get the chain to stay on and if the thing had any more power you’d probably flip over backwards. There is a heck of a lot of noise coming from the primary chain housing so I’ll have to look inside to see what gives.

The exhaust pipe on the Go-Bowen exits directly on the rear brake cable. I will need to rig some sort of turn out to redirect the hot gasses but for now I slipped a short piece of silicone heat shielding over the cable for protection.

It was a disappointing first run with the Go-Bowen. I will work on the disc and the noisy primary situation when I get time. Even with the issues the mini still seems like it’s worth the $299 with shipping included but you’ll need to budget a few hours going over the set up fixing shoddy assembly from the factory before any long distance travel is attempted. It’s like they built a nice mini bike then had their stupidest employees assemble the thing. More will be forthcoming after repairs when I get a chance to road test the mini in true ExhaustNotes.us fashion.

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Comments, bitching, and more

Gresh’s most recent blog (The 5 Stupidest Ideas in Motorcycling) really lit up the blogosphere yesterday.  It’s a piece that got thousands and thousands of pageviews and a ton of comments.  Gresh, you see, likes to stir the pot.  And he’s pretty good at kicking beehives.  We motorcycle riders are opinionated folks with big egos and prominent buttons that Gresh knows how to push.  It makes for an entertaining mix.

We share a lot of our stuff with targeted Facebook groups (Big Tech lets us do so as long as it’s not anything from that Vinnie Bobulinski guy about Hunter Biden), and the Facebook comments were, well…let’s just say they were entertaining.  Here are a few (spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and other errors included so you get the full keyboard commando impact).  With that as an intro, here we go.

Written by a Luddite

I agree with the one piece riding suites lol, but I like everything else

Damn, dude. Just ride your own ride. Who cares what others do to enjoy their ride?

This read is more like a crybaby session than a useful blog article lol

He ain’t wrong…….

Fine article written by the worlds last typewriter repair man…

Total angry old man afraid of tech?

I feel “stupider” for even trying to read this crying, bitching, moaning “article”….

My Harley has all the technology this guy hates except the info system and intercom, and I’m glad it does.. Really don’t care with this dbag thinks

The author of that article is full of it. Seriously, what’s wrong with him?

Sounds like someone is jealous that the world and technology have moved on without them.

A couple of possible solutions are:
1. Intensive training in technology and joining a Technophobic support group.
2. Sticking to 20 year old bikes.
3. Harley still makes quite a few models that are still technological dinosaurs… I think even Royal Enfield has ABS these days on all their current models.

Leather one-piece suits are the greatest thing the motorcycling world has adopted. If you stow your clothes in your saddlebags and leave the ankles unzipped, you can just pee while you ride and it’ll funnel everything to the road where it belongs. Unzip the neck for some airflow and you’ll be riding dry in less than an hour.

Good list.

i think he is right

There’s been more than one occasion where an idiot made a left in front of me, and only the locking of the tires and slewing the bike sideways saved me.
ABS would have had me t-boning the car…

Kind of agree woth #5 but everything else this guy says is BS

Very bored ,angry little man😂🤣

I said I’d never be old enough to need a fairing or a radio. Now I wouldn’t be without either one of them. My aftermarket TPMS is a great item, especially with saddlebags, wouldn’t be without that either now.
This guy left out the kickstand, his attitude eliminates the need for that stupid gadget. Real men know they can use their helmet and save all that weight and eliminate the possibility of it catching on a log when bouncing through the woods.

Sound like someone is jealous of my Goldwing.

A boomer wrote this list.

I agree on both the ABS and the keyless ignition. Especially when they only give you one key fob. 😖

Wow … my grandad has a moto page. Who knew?

I have no experience with the ABS systems, key thingy, or one piece suits. I disagree with the comm systems, mine has made my wife and I’s two- up experience tremendously more enjoyable. My peeves are underglow lighting, and stereos. Stereos don’t belong on bikes. I can see how someone might enjoy having one, but for God’s sake man, turn that shit off when group riding. I don’t want to hear your crappy music. I usually just quietly peel off the group and go away if someone is blasting thier latest Gwar song.

Thank goodness. Thought there was going to be a debate on oil again.

Old bloke moaning warning

Absolutely agree with you.

This article may be the stupidest thing I’ve seen in motorcycling

What an absolutely stupid list. Clearly written by a technophobic, Luddite, Boomer troll.

Get off my lawn!!

Wow whoever wrote that just dated themselves . Somebody got old and refused to go with the times . All these innovations made motorcycling better . And complaining about abs for off-road use is just lazy writing : a) modern bikes have off-road abs that work amazing in the dirt ! B) abs saved probably hundreds of thousands of life’s

And this last one, which is my favorite:

It’s Joe Gresh. Nuff said…

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The 5 Stupidest Ideas in Motorcycling

We don’t do many listicals here at ExhaustNotes.us. Editorial policy frowns on the cheap, easy list as a lazy man’s way to get attention. However, that doesn’t mean we are completely immune to the meth-like attraction of lists. The thing is, click-bait lists are nearly impossible to get right. Whatever harebrained idea you’ve thought of to generate more clicks, and hopefully shares, will be blown out of the water in the comments section by people much, much smarter than you. And that’s ok, that’s why listicals are so popular.  It’s a way to piss people off and generate interest.

Number 1: ABS Brakes

I don’t know which lawyer came up with the idea, but it had to be a lawyer. Full-time Antilock Brake Systems are the single most dangerous feature on modern motorcycles. Just a month ago my buddy forgot to disarm his BMW’s antilock system after a trailside nap. (The BMW system defaults to “on” whenever you shut off the bike.) After we started riding again the trail turned steeply downhill. The steepness of the descent meant that rain washed away any fine sands and left behind large rocks and boulders. His BMW rolled and rolled.  All attempts at braking were futile and so naturally he crashed. The bike was basically freewheeling down a rocky hill. At least his BMW had the option to opt out of ABS.

There’s no sicker feeling than panic stomping on the brakes and nothing happens. Any motorcycle that even slightly hints at off road capability should come with a means of disabling the ABS. For that matter practically every street bike has been known to travel a dirt road or two so really all motorcycles should come with the ability to disarm the ABS. These aren’t cars we’re talking about here. Many occasions call for a motorcycle rider to lock up the rear wheel and sometimes (like on that rocky downhill) lock up the front wheel.

Number 2: Keyless Ignitions

Those electronic key fobs are a stupid solution to a problem nobody had. What is wrong with a plain old key? You know, the kind you can have a duplicate made almost anywhere? The stupid electronic-proximity widgets are huge, like the size of a Krispy Kreme doughnut. They are bulky in your pocket and you’ve got to keep a good battery in them just to start your bike! God help you if you ever lose the thing. It will require a dealer’s services and several hundred dollars to program your new Kreme.

Most times I’ve ridden a bike that came with a clunky electronic key fob I ended up leaving the thing in the saddlebag or hidden on the bike somewhere. This defeats the purpose of having any sort of lock on your motorcycle at all but I’d rather have the bike stolen than carry that stupid key fob. I suspect the real reason for the electronic key fob is to allow constant surveillance at the factory level. Didn’t make that latest payment? No problem we’ll disable your ride until you cough up the cash, Highway Rebel!

Number 3: Helmet Communicators

These silly devices allow passenger to operator conversation or communication between groups of riders. Precisely the thing you’re trying to get away from when you ride a motorcycle. Look, if I want to know what you’re thinking, which I don’t, I’ll wave you to a stop and we will discuss it hand to hand. The advertisements for these Zen-terrupters tout range and clarity as if those are aspirational goals. I might buy a set if the manufacturer promised me the damn things would never work.

Some of you find pleasure in the constant road-chatter. Not me, I want you to keep your thoughts to yourself and I’ll do the same. Some of you think that communication devices are a good way to warn back markers about road conditions. That assumes anyone will actually believe you after that last bone-headed move you pulled leaving the Waffle House. Then I’m told they are good for keeping the group together so that stragglers won’t get lost. Has it ever occurred to these pro-communication, Chatty Cathy’s that the stragglers want to get lost? That maybe they are sick of your yapping about fence posts, tar snakes and how you want everyone to stop because you have to pee. Aren’t you old enough to go to the bathroom alone?

Some of my most memorable group-ride dinnertime discussions have been a result of the group breaking up, missing turns, getting lost and arriving at the restaurant with wild stories to tell. That won’t happen if everyone has had the exact same experience. “Did you see the size of that buck?” is met with a flat-toned chorus, “Yes, we all heard over the radio and saw the buck.” rather than “No, but the hitch hikers we picked up when we made that wrong turn robbed us at gunpoint and then Phil ran off with the redhead.” Remember, the best part of riding in a group is being alone.

Number 4: Entertainment Systems

This includes stupid Bluetooth, interconnecting phone features, stupid music systems and stupid, play-pretty graphics that distract a motorcyclist from the main job at hand: staying alive. Riding a motorcycle is dangerous enough without the rider fiddling around with the dash display on his motorcycle. Engine RPM and velocity, along with distance traveled is all the data you need to correctly operate a motorcycle. Page after page of bright, TFT-BS will only make you worry about the minor fluctuations any mechanical device goes through in the normal prosecution of its job.

No one ever cared about their tire pressures until those TPS systems polluted the instrument panels of America. Now it’s like everyone is running Moto GP and 1 psi really matters. Stop it! And if your idea of a fun motorcycle ride is playing with the stereo and poking your thumb at 45 different handlebar buttons maybe you should quit changing the display settings and just stay at home with your younger brother’s Nintendo. The one your parents made him put down in the basement so the noise won’t bother your mom’s overly sensitive ears. Doesn’t it seem like the older she gets the more sound annoys her?

Number 5: One-Piece Riding Suits on the Street

I know some riders swear by one-piece suits but don’t take their opinion on the subject, take mine. I had a one-piece leather suit 43 years ago and the trauma from that experience still haunts me. Many a night I wake up in a cold sweat having to use the restroom but mentally stuck inside a one-piece suit. I can see road racers wearing one piece suits for the extra protection they afford during high-speed get-offs. If you’re riding your street bike anything like a Moto GP star you should probably not be riding on the street. Sure, they look great in website road test photos but those guys are only riding the bike for 15 minutes at a time. As soon as the camera stops clicking they peel that crap off toot-sweet.

For normal, everyday riding a one-piece suit is incredibly inconvenient. There are only a few things more disgusting than using a filthy, urine-soaked gas station toilet and one of them is using a filthy, urine-soaked gas station toilet while wearing a one-piece riding suit. Once you wiggle out of the top and drop your drawers you’ll soon realize that there is not enough space between the lip of the toilet and the urine-soaked floor for all that material. It’s like trying to corral your parachute in France after you’ve landed behind enemy lines on June 6th, 1944. Ok, I have no idea what that’s really like but you kind of sit there holding the bag: Practice hovering if you simply must mimic Marc Marquez on your Honda Blah.

I have more stupid motorcycle things, many more, but 5 is a good number to stop at. I mean, I may have to test some of these stupid motorcycle ideas and I don’t want to use up all my outrage in one story.

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Dream Bike: Ossa Pioneer

The styling of the 250cc Ossa Pioneer is what attracted me to the bike in the first place. I loved the old-fashioned, pin-striped black panels over the orange base. It was like some sort of cheerful, horse drawn funeral wagon. That cool rear fender extension gave the bike a flat track look that I have been a sucker for since forever.

The Spanish built Ossa’s bodywork was fiberglass, the original miracle plastic that many manufacturers used back in the late 1960s and 1970s. Unfortunately, modern alcohol laced fuel plays hell with fiberglass so the use of the miracle plastic has faded. Rotocast, alcohol resistant, poly-some-such-crap has taken its place. The new stuff is not without its problems as I’ve had fuel tanks that were exposed to sunlight crumble into dust. (Don’t leave your weed whacker in the back of a pickup truck for 6 months.) I’m assuming that problem has been fixed because the IMS rotocast tank on the Husky has held up fine for 5 years.

The Ossa was similar in construction to a Bultaco but where there were four or five Bultacos running around the town where I grew up there were no Ossas. So maybe rarity has something to do with my fascination with the brand.

The cycle magazines of that era praised the Ossa for its handling and generally good off road manners. One road tester stuck a spare plug in the Ossa’s fiberglass rear fender storage area and then complained when the loose plug beat a hole in the compartment…after riding trails. Even as a young whippersnapper I knew you couldn’t let stuff bounce around on a dirt bike. I felt the Ossa name was sullied for no good reason and if it was me that did something so stupid (and I have) I would have kept quiet about the situation.

I saw a Pioneer race motocross out at Haney Town a long time ago. Tuned softer than a MX engine, the Ossa grunted around the track fairly well. The rider was talented in the art of crossing-up and wasted valuable energy and time showboating over each jump. Still, it had the desired effect. I wanted an Ossa bad.

Ossa prices are still very reasonable as they are still not popular. A couple grand should get a fairly clean runner and that’s some cheap vintage dirt riding my brothers. The bikes are easy to fix and I’m sure you could order any part need from some hole-in–the–wall bike shop over in Spain. Just remember to use non-ethanol fuel or your gas tank will turn mushy inside.

Later Pioneers, called Super Pioneers, were styled in a more modern fashion and don’t tug at my heart like the old ones. I guess it’s a little odd to want a motorcycle that you’ve never ridden and only seen one running many years ago at a motocross race. Stranger still is my defense of the Pioneer’s rear fender compartment, but that’s the way love works. It sinks its hooks into you and the pain never subsides. You never forget your first Ossa and one of these days I’ll have my very own Ossa Pioneer.

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Hasty Conclusions: 2020 Go-Bowen Fit Right DB003 40cc Mini Bike

I keep hearing a complaints about Globalism. People are talking. Some folks don’t like the idea of making the world’s population one homogenous group of consumer/aphids to be milked by evil corporations. I get that and it bothers me that a mini bike that cost $250 dollars in 1970 now costs only $44 adjusted for dollar devaluation. That’s right, this Fit Right Chinese-built mini bike costs less in real dollars than a really long, long-distance telephone call did in 1970.

In some ways that old 1970 mini bike was better. It had a couple more horses than the DB003’s 1 horsepower. It was made in the USA, which helped support local businesses. I think the fit and finish on the Fit Right DB003 is at least as good or better than an average vintage mini, maybe not as good as a Rupp but then nothing was as good as a Rupp. As far as reliability goes, those flathead, loop framed, scrub-braked minis were not a vehicle you could ever assume you’d get back home on. Time will tell if the Fit Right holds up.

I’m in the middle of a back porch remodel so I only have time to do a short review on what I’ve found unboxing the Fit Right. A more thorough road test and video will be forthcoming.

The Fit Right DB003 comes fairly well packed in bubble wrap and then molded Styrofoam all stuffed inside a heavy cardboard box. The cardboard is thick and strong, it’s too good to throw away. I’ll be using it for a working pad to cover the dirt and ants while tinkering under the MBG-GT. Even though the mini was packaged well a ragged hole was punched into the side and parts were rattling around.

Once out of the packaging the Fit Right mini comes fully assembled except for the handlebars. It only took a few minutes to install the bars after a few hours searching for a 10mm socket. The bars are held on by four bolts/nuts and one of the nuts had gone missing. It probably fell out of the hole. Luckily I had a spare 8mm locknut left over from a roof rack installation.

The fit and finish on this $299 (shipping included!) Fit Right mini bike are pretty good. The graphics on the plastic gas tank cover are molded in so you won’t have any cheap, stick-on labels peeling off. The real gas tank under the plastic is made of steel. One odd thing is that there are no steering stops: the forks bang into the gas tank at full lock. This mini bike is smaller than usual; I’ll need to rig some bar-risers to clear my knees.

The Fit Right Model 139F, 40cc, overhead valve engine is jewel-like. Its castings look smooth and there is no rough mold flashing at the edges. The frame is fairly complex design with a lot of tubes and angles that don’t seem to make any sense. I suspect the stylists threw a couple extra pipes in the mix to make the mini look cool. Welds are pretty good, much better than I can do. The Fit Right even has folding foot pegs, a rare feature on the old mini bikes.

Unusual for such an economy mini motorcycle the Fit Right came with a flimsy but usable tool kit, something lacking on a $40,000 Harley-Davidson. For $299 you can’t expect Japanese-level quality, however I’m satisfied with the DB003’s presentation and the easy assumption of owner-provided care.

There are some interesting things on this bike that I need to look into later. For instance the fuel tank has a return line and a feed line but no fuel shut off. The engine has a fuel pump because in stationary-engine uses the fuel tank mounts below the carburetor. The carb itself is odd looking. It may be a diaphragm type carb like on a chain saw. The drive train is double reduction and I’ve just got to know what is under the nifty cast aluminum primary cover. The rear brake is a mechanical disc, which is a huge improvement over the old-fashioned scrub brake that simply rubbed on the tire. I don’t like that the hot exhaust exits directly onto the brake cable. I need to turn the exhaust tip more downwards.

The Fit Right DB003 is quite a bit more sophisticated than your traditional double-loop mini of days gone by. Whether this added sophistication equates to better performance remains to be seen. As soon as I get time I’ll get the mini running and ExhaustNotes.us will have performance numbers and a riding impression.

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Used Sportsters: Who knew?

I think CSC gets $3995 for a new RX3 these days, and that’s with all the goodies…skid plate, luggage, ABS, 300W alternator, auxiliary accessory switches, the 19-inch front wheel, and probably a few more things I don’t know about.  That’s my RX3 in the photo above.  I’ve been riding it for more than 5 years.  For the Sinophobic haterbators out there, I’ve never found any fish oil in it, I’ve spent substantial time in the factories where they make the RX3 and there are no children chained to the manufacturing equipment, and the Zong techs are most definitely not slave labor.  My RX3 has been and still is a good motorcycle.

Looking over the windshield, on the road in Baja.

I know you can buy a used Sportster for what a new RX3 costs if you shop around; the topic comes up nearly every time I mention the price of an RX3.  It’s a silly thought, actually, because I’m still looking for that prospective buyer who is trying to decide between a used Sportster and a new RX3.  I’ve been on that quest ever since I started writing about the RX3 six years ago, when the keyboard commandos first started pushing the used-Sportster-in-lieu-of-an-RX3 argument.

Here’s a hot flash:  That person (the dude or dudette struggling with such a decision) doesn’t exist.  You either want an ADV motorcycle, or you want a used bar-hopper with “much chrome” (as the Sportster ads often highlight).  I have never met, or even heard of, somebody pondering whether they should buy a used Sportster or an RX3.

Behold:  The financial equivalent of a new RX3.

I hear the same kind of keyboard drivel when Janus motorcycles are mentioned.  They’re stunning motorcycles, and I’ve had good times riding them through northern Baja. Invariably, though, the used Sportster financial comparison will emerge. Janus is always polite in their responses.  Me?  I’m a noncombatant and I don’t respond to such Internet drivel. If you want a used Sportster, it’s a free country. Go for it.

To listen to the keyboard commandos, there must be a lot of folks out there dreaming about used Sportsters.  Maybe that’s the answer to Harley’s problem.  Even though motorcycle sales in general are up sharply since the pandemic started, Harley’s sales most definitely are not. In fact, to read The Wall Street Journal, Harley is circling the drain.  Not to worry, though, because I think I have the answer: Rather than rewiring or hardwiring or screwing around with $30K electric motorcycles, or hiring high-priced executives with zero motorcycle experience (as they seem to love to do), Harley should simply stop production and only traffic in used Sportsters.  There would be no need for a factory; that’s a huge savings right there.  More savings? Harley wouldn’t need to spend anything on advertising; there’s a potful of worldwide web wannabe wizards pushing used Sportsters already doing that for free.

Used Sportsters. Who knew?

Back to my RX3:  I’ve covered a lot of miles on it here and overseas. I had it out this Sunday charging through the smoke we call breathable air here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia.  I hadn’t ridden the RX3 in a couple of months, but it started right up (like it always does) and it’s still running strong (like it always has).

Good buddy Greg on the road to the cave paintings in Sierra San Francisco, Baja California Sur.

It’s kind of a funny story about how the RX3 came to America.  I was in China on a consulting gig for another client when CSC asked me to poke around for a 250cc engine for its line of Mustang replicas.  It’s funny in the sense that a lot of Internet people told us they’d buy the Mustang if only the bike had a 250cc engine (instead of its 150cc engine).  I found a source for the 250cc engine (Zongshen; they weren’t very hard to find).  CSC put the 250cc Zong engine in the Mustang and sales…well, they remained essentially the same.  All those yahoos who said they’d buy one if the bike had a 250cc motor?  They went MIA. I don’t know what they did after CSC introduced the 250cc engine, but they sure didn’t buy a new Mustang.  Ah, I take that back…I do know what they did…they posted more comments on Facebook.  It’s hard work being a keyboard commando, I guess, and it’s lonely down there in those basements.  But they kept at it.  Why buy a CSC Mustang, they said.  You could buy a used Sportster for that kind of money, they said. Actually, most of the CSC Mustangs were optioned up by their customers so much that their cost approached and sometimes exceeded what a new Sportster would cost, but that’s neither here nor there.

A 250cc CSC Mustang, accessorized to the max.

The arrangement with the Big Z was a good one, and it led directly to things like the RX3, the RX4, the City Slicker, the TT250, the SG250, and more.  It’s how I came to own my RX3, and like I said above, I am still riding and enjoying it.  Even though I could have bought a used Sportster.

Good buddy Kyle from China, somewhere in South Dakota’s Black Hills. Don’t worry; he’s not armed (and if you’re wondering what that’s all about, you can read that story here).

I’ve been up and down Baja lots of times with lots of RX3 riders.  I’ve been across China, including the Gobi Desert and the Tibetan Plateau, and I’ve ridden around the Andes Mountains in Colombia.  I’ve ridden to Sturgis, then back across the top of the US, and down the Pacific Coast with a bunch of guys from China.  Gresh rode with me on a lot of of those rides.  I know, I know, he didn’t get invited on the Colombia adventure, but hey, he didn’t invite me on the Russia ride, either.  But to stay on topic:  It’s all been on the RX3.

Riding into the Gobi Desert with Joe Gresh as my wingman. Or was I his?  In 6000 miles and 40 days of riding across China, we did not see a single Sportster, used or new.

Those early RX3 rides were marketing demos, basically, designed to show a few guys having the time of their life and demonstrating to everybody else that the RX3 had real chops as an ADV bike.  But don’t think I wasn’t nervous.  We took 14 guys and one gal on a 1700-mile ride through Baja literally the same week the first RX3s arrived in the US from China (I was sweating bullets on that one), and then we immediately took another 12 or 15 guys from China and Colombia (and one motojournalist from Motorcyclist) on a 5000-mile ride from southern California to Sturgis, back across the top of the US, and down the Pacific coast on what was arguably one of the most highly-publicized (in real time, too) motorcycle publicity stunts ever.  I was scared the entire time, thinking something might break and generate a lot of bad press.  I guess I didn’t realize how well things were going until the last night of the trip, 4700 miles into it, when Gresh told me to relax.  “You won, man,” he said.   He was right.  But just think: I coulda had that used Sportster.

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ExhaustNotes Road Test: Triumph Scrambler vs. Moto Guzzi Happy Meal

ExhaustNotes prides itself on our thorough reviews. We are not like those lame, ex-paper-magazine websites that actually have the product to hand. At ExNotes we are so professional, so talented in the art of bedazzlery we don’t need to see the review subject to make a good job of it. Which makes this 2-bike comparo an outlier in that I actually rode both these bikes back to back for 10 minutes. That’s more than enough time for me to reach an erroneous conclusion.

The Triumph Scrambler and Moto Guzzi TT850 in this comparo belonged to ExNotes buddies Robert and Phillip, who stopped by for Tinfiny Ranch’s annual West Side Road Rally. The West Side Road Rally is an invitation-only off-road adventure similar to the Colorado 500 except with 470 fewer miles.

The first thing you notice about these big, heavy ADV bikes is how big and heavy they are. They’re even heavy for a street bike. The Triumph seems a wee bit smaller than the Guzzi but from the saddle feels a bit heavier. I didn’t weigh the motorcycles on ExNotes’ USDA-calibrated scale because I don’t want to unduly influence your opinion of either bike with verified facts.

The Guzzi was new, as-delivered stock and it felt softly sprung. I didn’t try adjusting anything because unless a motorcycle is weaving out of control I really don’t care about suspension. In a perfect world we’d all be riding hardtails. The non-Paralever shaft drive gently lifted the rear of the bike under acceleration but it was so smooth and quiet no one noticed. In general the Moto Guzzi behaved like a faster, tighter version of the last Moto Guzzi I rode: a mid 1970’s Eldorado 750.

Suspension on the rear of the TT is a single right-side shock while the industry standard upside down forks hold up the front end. The suspension was so unobtrusive I never bothered to look for who built them. A brace of shut-off-able-ABS disc brakes did a fine job of slowing the weight down. I found the Moto Guzzi a tad bit boring. At 850cc the power was not overwhelming or delivered in any way that could be described as exciting. Maybe a loud, life saving exhaust system would add a sense of urgency to the motorcycle. As is, I think it would make a great long distance touring bike for the asphalt.

Phillip’s Triumph was also new but had been lowered by using shorter twin shocks. It had upside down forks and disc brakes were bolted on all over the place. The triumph at 1200cc felt much stronger than the Guzzi everywhere. The torque was enjoyable as I could leave the bike in top gear through the twisty mountain roads above Alamogordo, New Mexico. Riding the Guzzi I had to row the gearbox a bit.

Everything about the Triumph was harsher than the Guzzi. The suspension felt shorter and stiffer, the seat was harder and smaller, even the Triumph’s cycle parts seemed dangerous, like they were ready to cut you or burn you. So of course I liked it a lot better than the Guzzi. Unlike the Guzzi’s bright display the instrument display on the Triumph was invisible looking through a dark face shield but it didn’t matter as the important stuff was happening between my legs and on the road ahead. I don’t spend much time looking at gauges when I ride a motorcycle.

It’s interesting how these two motorcycles have a corporate-family feel that can be traced back to their earlier models. The Triumph was harsh like my old 750 Triumph. The Guzzi was slushy like that 1970’s Eldorado I rode 40 years ago. The new versions are modern, faster and more refined but the relative feel of the bikes remains unchanged. That old personality is still there.

And that’s why you buy a motorcycle: to feel. Motorcycles are not appliances, something Honda has forgotten. Both these bikes are aiming at the same ADV target audience but their differences and imperfections make them enjoyable. I liked the styling and rorty-ness of the Triumph best and could see buying one if I had any money. The Guzzi was a good bike, better functionally than the Triumph but it didn’t light any fires in me. If I’m going to risk my life on a motorcycle I want the bike to be involved in the process. Even though they look the business, I wouldn’t take either one of these motorcycles off road. The bikes are simply too big and heavy for me to enjoy on dirt.

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Resurrections: 1974 MGB-GT Part 2

This MGB-GT is really a mess. Opening the door of the MGB is like opening a Hollywood style Egyptian tomb: a puff of cursed air escapes as soon as the handle button is pushed then all your relatives start dying under unusual circumstances. It’s ominous inside there, man. Great drifts of rat guano lie still on the floor. Seats, wiring, and vinyl panels: everything is chewed to bits. There’s cardboard and tinfoil, door gaskets hang from their sills and the cabin is littered with parts. It’s a frigging crime scene, man. What have I got myself into?

After clearing the needle bushes that had closed in on the MGB-GT, I poured a batch of 50/50 water and bleach into the Ryobi sprayer and doused the engine bay taking care to hit the voids between the inner fenders and bodywork. The rats have been nesting in there so I’ll have to dismantle the front clip to thoroughly clean it out. But that will come later, if the engine proves to be ok.

Working my way aft I sprayed the front seats, floors, dash, behind the dash, under the seats and the hatchback luggage area. The roof and windshield area was blasted. I even sprayed the exterior of the car with bleach. I’m not sure what is inside that steel ammunition box but it feels sort of heavy. One positive cleaning note is that I don’t have to worry about the bleach hurting anything, as the entire interior must go. Maybe I’ll strap a lawn chair to the floor when I drive the thing.

The extra cylinder head I found under a wheel in the trunk area is both frightening and reassuring. On the one hand it’s always nice to have a spare cylinder head. On the other hand it’s never a good thing to need an extra cylinder head. Hopefully the head in the trunk is the bad one because why else would you have two? I suppose we will find out which one is which soon enough.

Besides the junk inside the car my MGB came with scattered parts. Some parts were in the bushes and some were in boxes. I haven’t inventoried them yet but an un-chewed rear seat is a huge score. I bet the mandarin orange seats really spiced up the interior of the blue MGB. There’s a Weber carburetor in a bucket that may have been destined for the MGB. I’ll get the standard SU’s working before I attempt any carburation trickery. Besides, with 5000-foot elevation changes around here it might be better to run the constant velocity SU’s.

My MGB looks like it had air-conditioning at some point in its storied past. There’s a disconnected condenser in front of the radiator. My new best friends on the MGB owners Facebook page suggested it may be a gigantic oil cooler but I guess not because there is another small cooler (also disconnected) mounted in front of the condenser that looks more oil-ish.

Lending more credence to the air conditioner theory are two empty holes low on the passenger side firewall that may have been put there for liquid and low(er) pressure refrigerant lines. There are unconnected lines near those firewall holes that look a lot like air conditioning stuff. In addition there is an unused V-belt sheave between the fan blade and the alternator/water pump pulley. There is no compressor or smog pump. I see no evaporator or blower inside the cabin but I haven’t really cleared out the junk so it may be knocking around in there. These clues and the crudeness of the condenser installation make me think the MGB-GT had an aftermarket air conditioner before it came under my tutelage. Since my resurrections are done on a tight budget I won’t attempt to get the air conditioner back online. There’s not much of the system left anyway.

As we blog I’m letting the first bleaching soak in. The rat guano will need a second dose of bleach before I start scooping it out. I’ll be buying a Dupont protective suit to wear along with a N100 mask to filter out the smallest particles. Wetness is key to this mouse-capade. You don’t want to stir small bits into the air and if the poop is wet it won’t atomize. Hantavirus is a real thing in New Mexico and while Hanta is much harder to contract, (you have to breathe in contaminated rodent urine/feces and of course not all rodents have it) it’s much more deadly than Covid-19. How does a 36% death rate sound to you? You read that right: 1 out of 3 hanta cases results in death. At 36% there are no whiny, academic, constitutional mask-wearing debates. If you’re cleaning rat poop out west you wear the mask.

Cleaning this MGB-GT is going to be the hardest part of the whole project. Once I can move about the car without the threat of puss-filled-lung death lurking around every corner we will be able to make progress. To that end I’ve ordered a gas powered pressure washer. I know I always say electric is the way to go for infrequently used tools but the electric pressure washer draws so much juice long extension cords don’t work. For jobs far from power outlets I’d have to run a big generator to supply the electric washer and at that point you haven’t really gained anything. Here at ExhaustNotes we look for any excuse to buy new tools. Besides, it was so cheap!

Hopefully Part 3 of the MGB-GT resurrection will see the car fairly cleaned out but there are no guarantees in life so try to enjoy each day as it unfolds.

A new rock group? Joe Gresh and the Resurrections!

Resurrections: 1974 MGB-GT Part 1

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.

Gresh’s resurrections reside here!

Not Worth Selling: How I Let The Free Market Determine My Transportation Needs

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.