Back in the bun fight that is the early morning commute into London on the train – my last trip to the Rothschild bank building in St Swithins Lane. The August bank holiday has passed and the station is rammed with regular commuters renewing their passes. Britain is in recession but everybody seems busy. Is recession down to a lack of confidence? It surely isn’t a lack of willingness, on the part of the people, and of things that need doing.
It’s also summer’s end and the countryside is being stripped of its grassy down, plucked of its fruit and pulled of its veg. However it’s the movement of harvesters and tractors that catch my son’s eye. The bigger the better, and yet he’s so small. There’s a palpable urgency in the movement of giant farm vehicles up and down the lanes so you’ve got to go carefully.
In a microcosm, I’m also watching the weather, looking for a dry spell that’s long enough to make a good job of mowing the lawn.
When I was a young man in Cornwall I used to have a recurring Hammer Horror vision of rounding a bend on my bike at speed and coming up on a tractor with some kind of spiked attachment taking up the full width of the road. It didn’t matter what spiked attachment it was, I’d seen them in farmyards and they reeked of pain and death for motorcyclists.
If riding the lanes in autumn is tinged with fear, by way of compensation the run through the summer makes you feel more alive than ever. It’s thrilling to lean forward over the clocks with nothing between you on the blurred hedgerows. Occasional glimpses of faraway hills, or the sea, and the giddy strobing of light as you zip through the shadows under the trees. It’s as close to flying as you can get without leaving the ground. All these thoughts and feelings are returning as a precursor to getting the Black Bullet back on the road, legally.
I’ve bought the prerequisite insurance, which starts tomorrow - a great deal including repatriation of the machine should it break down irreparably in Europe - so once the DVLA inspection is out of the way, it’ll be just in time to confront my autumn riding ghosts.
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.5 - Miles Covered 44.8
It feels like Round One in the paperwork saga went to the government, with the unexpected assistance of the Royal Enfield Owners Club. The adjudication stands; no dating certificate due to apparent overstamping of chassis number. The dating officer confided that although controls were lax in the old days, the problem was that he couldn’t be sure the overstamped number was a factory mistake, and as the DVLA are apparently very twitchy about such things he couldn’t change his dating letter. The fact that the Black Bullet came with a number registered before the bike was built would not have helped but I’ve never insisted on re-instating that number. Ultimately the registration is just a number but I’d like to have an age-related plate issued, if only to keep in with the otherwise original condition of the cycle. To this end, I took the application, the dating letter and the MOT to my local DVLA office in person, to plead my case. I also took my two-year-old son, Poz, along for the ride.
Unfortunately, Round Two went to the government as well. I sat in a glorious Monday morning traffic jam, on a rare weekday off, only to be asked for an insurance certificate for the bike when I got to the DVLA office. I’d had a quotation but was waiting on a registration mark to get the insurance. No one had mentioned that this worked the other way round. There was no reference to it in the supporting documentation either.
Poz did his best to charm the staff behind the desk and they smiled as he waggled his feet and announced ‘cocks’ (for socks) but they wouldn’t move on this point.
“We never issue a number without an insurance certificate,” they said. I wanted to ask why no mention was made of the requirement anywhere, in light of the policy being so set in stone an’ all, but I held my tongue. I was expecting hurdles and that’s what I got, so no real surprise there.
Another slightly ludicrous aspect of this sequence of events (which I also kept to myself) is that the insurance policy will now be made against the chassis number, which is the very thing that’s in dispute. Which of the numbers should I use? If they don’t ask for proof (the MOT guy took the overstamp for real), could this amount to evidence against the opinion of the REOC guy?
Really, they should all agree that the bike is an old man’s hobby horse and just give it a bloody registration number. Any number will do. I’ll just buy an old plate one day, if I think it’s important enough, no sweat.
The REOC dating officer was right about them being twitchy, though, even with an MOT and an insurance certificate the Black Bullet will have to undergo an inspection before a final decision on registration is made. This involves hiring a van, or trailer, and bussing it over to Theale, near Reading, Tuesdays and Thursdays only. Unfortunately, I'm unlikely to get a chance to do this for a couple or three weeks, so more damn delays.
Friday, 20 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.4 - Miles Covered 42.8
Once again I seem to have missed the point and achieved very little. I know a lot more about carburettors now but the bike still won’t run normally, not without choke. Nothing I’ve done has made a difference to this; not reinstalling the original needle and jet combo, nor re-setting the float height, adjusting the mixture screw, checking for air leaks or even cleaning out the tank and fitting a fuel filter.
So, I went out after dinner and sank a pint for sadness and frustration at Thursday Night Pint Club. None of the other boys could make it but I'm not really a club person, in truth, so I went out anyway. After the first, I straightened up, took a deep breath and sank a second pint for celebration, and then after that all the rest were for celebration too.
Earlier in the afternoon I’d called Hitchcocks, in Redditch, to discover the correct jet size for The Black Bullet, and they said;
“They were originally fitted with a 140 but fuel has changed since then and if your bike runs fine with a 130, leave it as it is.”
“It kind of runs OK,” I said, edging toward the real issue at hand, “but even when it’s warm it needs a bit of choke, otherwise it splutters and coughs and loses power. I guess it’s running too lean, if it needs choke all the time, right?”
“When you say ‘choke’, what do you mean?”
“I mean the lever on the right hand side. If I close it off, the bike pretty much stops.”
“When you say ‘close it off’, what do you mean? Are you pulling it toward you or pushing it away?”
“I’m pushing it away.”
“Going anti-clockwise?”
“Yes...anti-clockwise, back to the closed, starting position.” Where is he going with this?
“OK, just a minute...” a beep and I’m on hold.
‘Beep’, “I’ve just had a chat with my colleague and he says can you hear something lifting in the throttle chamber when you open the lever?”
“Yes, I’ve watched the operation when the top was off the carb. The lever lifts, I guess it’s the choke valve.”
“OK, just a minute...” ‘beep’ and I’m on hold again, and getting a little frustrated with this all too efficient for me now, lah-de-dah Brummie.
‘Beep’, “right, we here all agree that pulling the lever toward you is the normal riding position. It’s not like a choke on a modern machine, it’s an air valve. It moderates the flow of air into the throttle chamber and that’s how the mixture is adjusted. You get the same fuel but less air”
“But I get the bike started with the ‘choke’ on, in the position you’d expect ‘on’ to be. Are you telling me I’m starting the bike with it off?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s summer, you’ll never get it started like that in the winter.”
“So you’re telling me the resting position is the rich mixture setting, for starting, and as the engine warms up, you have to open the lever, or air valve, to admit more air and weaken the mixture for normal smooth running?”
“That’s right.”
Hell, so you ride with the lever open, like I've been doing. When is a problem not a problem? You can imagine, I’m at my desk experiencing a Copernican inversion. In a whirl all the frustration and anticipation, tinkering and cogitation flashes before me. Boy have I been really stuck in one of those damn eddy currents, going nowhere fast. I needed a beer like I needed an old timer's somewhat more timely advice.
The strange thing is I couldn’t decide if I was happy or sad. So much effort and time negotiated away from family responsibilities, often being off in a world of my own when people were talking to me, and all because I just didn’t understand one basic underlying function.
OK, it’s not intuitive - I even allowed myself a little angry flick at the designers for ‘wasting my time’ - but once the run of emotions was over, I climbed aboard and rode the long way home (back roads of course) basking in the raucous popping and banging of the exhaust. It may now be running a bit rich, ironically, but at least I know what’s going on.
It was good to be back in the saddle, both physically and metaphorically, and by the time pulled up at the gate I was smiling through the spots of rain that had just begun to fall.
So, I went out after dinner and sank a pint for sadness and frustration at Thursday Night Pint Club. None of the other boys could make it but I'm not really a club person, in truth, so I went out anyway. After the first, I straightened up, took a deep breath and sank a second pint for celebration, and then after that all the rest were for celebration too.
Earlier in the afternoon I’d called Hitchcocks, in Redditch, to discover the correct jet size for The Black Bullet, and they said;
“They were originally fitted with a 140 but fuel has changed since then and if your bike runs fine with a 130, leave it as it is.”
“It kind of runs OK,” I said, edging toward the real issue at hand, “but even when it’s warm it needs a bit of choke, otherwise it splutters and coughs and loses power. I guess it’s running too lean, if it needs choke all the time, right?”
“When you say ‘choke’, what do you mean?”
“I mean the lever on the right hand side. If I close it off, the bike pretty much stops.”
“When you say ‘close it off’, what do you mean? Are you pulling it toward you or pushing it away?”
“I’m pushing it away.”
“Going anti-clockwise?”
“Yes...anti-clockwise, back to the closed, starting position.” Where is he going with this?
“OK, just a minute...” a beep and I’m on hold.
‘Beep’, “I’ve just had a chat with my colleague and he says can you hear something lifting in the throttle chamber when you open the lever?”
“Yes, I’ve watched the operation when the top was off the carb. The lever lifts, I guess it’s the choke valve.”
“OK, just a minute...” ‘beep’ and I’m on hold again, and getting a little frustrated with this all too efficient for me now, lah-de-dah Brummie.
‘Beep’, “right, we here all agree that pulling the lever toward you is the normal riding position. It’s not like a choke on a modern machine, it’s an air valve. It moderates the flow of air into the throttle chamber and that’s how the mixture is adjusted. You get the same fuel but less air”
“But I get the bike started with the ‘choke’ on, in the position you’d expect ‘on’ to be. Are you telling me I’m starting the bike with it off?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s summer, you’ll never get it started like that in the winter.”
“So you’re telling me the resting position is the rich mixture setting, for starting, and as the engine warms up, you have to open the lever, or air valve, to admit more air and weaken the mixture for normal smooth running?”
“That’s right.”
Hell, so you ride with the lever open, like I've been doing. When is a problem not a problem? You can imagine, I’m at my desk experiencing a Copernican inversion. In a whirl all the frustration and anticipation, tinkering and cogitation flashes before me. Boy have I been really stuck in one of those damn eddy currents, going nowhere fast. I needed a beer like I needed an old timer's somewhat more timely advice.
The strange thing is I couldn’t decide if I was happy or sad. So much effort and time negotiated away from family responsibilities, often being off in a world of my own when people were talking to me, and all because I just didn’t understand one basic underlying function.
OK, it’s not intuitive - I even allowed myself a little angry flick at the designers for ‘wasting my time’ - but once the run of emotions was over, I climbed aboard and rode the long way home (back roads of course) basking in the raucous popping and banging of the exhaust. It may now be running a bit rich, ironically, but at least I know what’s going on.
It was good to be back in the saddle, both physically and metaphorically, and by the time pulled up at the gate I was smiling through the spots of rain that had just begun to fall.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.3 - Miles Covered 39.8
It took me a day and a bit to get back to where I left off and in the time I've done some thinking. There was one thing I did wrong, when I say I set the new carb up like the old. The throttle slide assembly is the old one.
When I took the original carb off I took one look at the slide, the cables, clips and springs, and the first thought that sprang into mind was a hamfisted fumble with a tiny clip and a jack-in-the-box springing apart of something I'd really struggle to put back together again. So I left it hanging off the end of the throttle/choke cables, ready for re-entry. It mated nicely with the replacement carb and I thought how clever I'd been in hopping over another potential pitfall.
Then, in the name of science, I did some experimental dismantling of the remainder of the old carb, wrecking it some more in the process but discovering the main jet. This brass lug with a precisely drilled nut, or jet, on the end of it is stamped with a number - 130. Further research on the net revealed jets of different sizes, available for the same carb, so it can be used on different machines. I had to get to the main jet in the replacement carb and find out what size it was, without wrecking it. I guessed that I also had better reunite the needles with their respective jets.
Thankfully the vice issue is behind me and now I prefer to work on the carb while it's attached to the bike, so there's no need to figure out ways of holding it steady. It can be a bit awkward - wasn't it Frank Zappa who said, "there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over." Well, I have to do both. I had to take the battery out to get a spanner in there but this is no biggie, even for me.
The net result is demonstrated nicely in the first photo. The old jet is a 130, the new one a 120. Whatever this numbering stands for, the important fact is that they're different and following my own unenlightened, somewhat plodding logic, the 130 size jet has to go into the new carb, with its own needle, to get me back to where I started some weeks ago.
Even more alarming is the difference in needle size (see next photo). You may scoff at me being alarmed by this but if i'm right, and the bike has been running very lean, this oversight could have wrecked the engine. As it is there was smoke issuing from under the tank after my first road test (see TBB 2.0). This may have been overheating due to excessively lean running.
Honestly, I'm so glad I made the effort to check this out, if i'd just reunited the replacement carb with it's original needle, which would have been easy and relatively risk free, I would have wondered what the jet size was until it became an unhealthy waste of my time. Tomorrow I will gas her up, check for leaks, and, all being well, give her a blast up the track. Come on!
When I took the original carb off I took one look at the slide, the cables, clips and springs, and the first thought that sprang into mind was a hamfisted fumble with a tiny clip and a jack-in-the-box springing apart of something I'd really struggle to put back together again. So I left it hanging off the end of the throttle/choke cables, ready for re-entry. It mated nicely with the replacement carb and I thought how clever I'd been in hopping over another potential pitfall.
Then, in the name of science, I did some experimental dismantling of the remainder of the old carb, wrecking it some more in the process but discovering the main jet. This brass lug with a precisely drilled nut, or jet, on the end of it is stamped with a number - 130. Further research on the net revealed jets of different sizes, available for the same carb, so it can be used on different machines. I had to get to the main jet in the replacement carb and find out what size it was, without wrecking it. I guessed that I also had better reunite the needles with their respective jets.
Thankfully the vice issue is behind me and now I prefer to work on the carb while it's attached to the bike, so there's no need to figure out ways of holding it steady. It can be a bit awkward - wasn't it Frank Zappa who said, "there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over." Well, I have to do both. I had to take the battery out to get a spanner in there but this is no biggie, even for me.
The net result is demonstrated nicely in the first photo. The old jet is a 130, the new one a 120. Whatever this numbering stands for, the important fact is that they're different and following my own unenlightened, somewhat plodding logic, the 130 size jet has to go into the new carb, with its own needle, to get me back to where I started some weeks ago.Even more alarming is the difference in needle size (see next photo). You may scoff at me being alarmed by this but if i'm right, and the bike has been running very lean, this oversight could have wrecked the engine. As it is there was smoke issuing from under the tank after my first road test (see TBB 2.0). This may have been overheating due to excessively lean running.
Honestly, I'm so glad I made the effort to check this out, if i'd just reunited the replacement carb with it's original needle, which would have been easy and relatively risk free, I would have wondered what the jet size was until it became an unhealthy waste of my time. Tomorrow I will gas her up, check for leaks, and, all being well, give her a blast up the track. Come on!
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.2 - Miles Covered 33.8
Both Hitchcocks and Amal have pretty informative websites. I particularly like the exploded views of components which allow for easier identification and pricing of parts. The Hints and Tips sections are also quite useful.
Forums are a bit more hit and miss and ‘submit your question to a qualified mechanic for a fee’ I find ridiculous. If the answer is in the question, and you don’t know the answer, how do you formulate the right question?
In fact formulating the right question is probably the closest you get to actually finding the answer yourself anyway. It’s often just a step from there, one fact missing, one observation overlooked. I start searching for the solution to the current problem by reading around the subject.
A distillation of the carb tuning advice I’ve gathered so far is as follows:
1. Get everything else right before you start;
2. If the bike has been standing, dismantle, check and clean the carb, and re-install;
3. Warm the motor thoroughly before making any adjustments;
4. Identify where in the range of the throttle the problem occurs, and;
5. Be systematic and make one adjustment at a time.
There are onion skin layers of more specific technical information as you drill deeper but let’s keep the story rolling.
Getting everything else right first, I haven’t got time for. This is an idealistic starting point and with the time (and ability) available I need to set achievable goals. Dismantling checking and cleaning the carb is fair enough but it also sounds glib to a man who started out with just this aim and only managed to crush the carb in a vice. There is no ‘don’t crush the carb’ caveat to this piece of advice.
Warm the motor I do with pleasure, it’s the best part of the job. Identify where in the range the problem occurs; it seems to be everywhere, and, make one adjustment at a time is common sense.
Richard was pretty blunt after I told him I’d changed the carb. Almost without a thought he said it would need adjusting. All along I’ve set the replacement up using the old one as a template. How far wrong could I go, I thought? But the flooding issue was solved by changing the way the previous float was adjusted, so I have to abandon blindly following the template of the old one and think it through a bit more.
I’m on my way out to Stratford this morning to witness some testing to the Olympic Park Media Centre. I’ll have to wait until this evening to get back to this train of thought.
Forums are a bit more hit and miss and ‘submit your question to a qualified mechanic for a fee’ I find ridiculous. If the answer is in the question, and you don’t know the answer, how do you formulate the right question?
In fact formulating the right question is probably the closest you get to actually finding the answer yourself anyway. It’s often just a step from there, one fact missing, one observation overlooked. I start searching for the solution to the current problem by reading around the subject.
A distillation of the carb tuning advice I’ve gathered so far is as follows:
1. Get everything else right before you start;
2. If the bike has been standing, dismantle, check and clean the carb, and re-install;
3. Warm the motor thoroughly before making any adjustments;
4. Identify where in the range of the throttle the problem occurs, and;
5. Be systematic and make one adjustment at a time.
There are onion skin layers of more specific technical information as you drill deeper but let’s keep the story rolling.
Getting everything else right first, I haven’t got time for. This is an idealistic starting point and with the time (and ability) available I need to set achievable goals. Dismantling checking and cleaning the carb is fair enough but it also sounds glib to a man who started out with just this aim and only managed to crush the carb in a vice. There is no ‘don’t crush the carb’ caveat to this piece of advice.
Warm the motor I do with pleasure, it’s the best part of the job. Identify where in the range the problem occurs; it seems to be everywhere, and, make one adjustment at a time is common sense.
Richard was pretty blunt after I told him I’d changed the carb. Almost without a thought he said it would need adjusting. All along I’ve set the replacement up using the old one as a template. How far wrong could I go, I thought? But the flooding issue was solved by changing the way the previous float was adjusted, so I have to abandon blindly following the template of the old one and think it through a bit more.
I’m on my way out to Stratford this morning to witness some testing to the Olympic Park Media Centre. I’ll have to wait until this evening to get back to this train of thought.
Monday, 16 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.1 - Miles Covered 33.8
So, riding road legal is still dependant on the Enfield Club Dating Officer’s response time and my trips are curtailed to clandestine runs up the track to The Ridgeway and back. I don’t know if he’s particularly old, or unwell, or just plain contrary, but it sure seems to be taking a long time.
I did think to hell with it and took Jane out for lunch one day when the baby was in nursery. She laughed and said it was ‘cool’, so I guess the Black Bullet is at least winning her over. Even though the sidestand/footpeg bracket fell off in comedy fashion when we got to the pub.
I’ve begun to tackle the rough running issue; a bit of research on the net, a buzz to get her warm and a few experimental carb adjustments, but nothing concrete has come out of it. Well almost nothing. The major symptom is a lack of power with the choke fully off. I have to ride with a bit of choke to keep the engine running smoothly, even when she’s warm. It sounds like the mixture is too lean but the mixture screw doesn’t seem to have much effect.
I go over to see Pete, the retired materials scientist, to see if he has any ideas, and a single Whitworth nut to mount the bit that fell off in the pub car park. He’s busy knocking a copper pipe into a towel rail but the interruption is not unwelcome (see photo). Pete never throws anything away and his workshop is an Alladin’s Cave of engineering bric-a-brac, something a relatively young man like me (late forties) can only aspire to.
The nut is the easy part and I’m just broaching the subject of the carburettor when Pete’s wife Izzy sticks her head in and rightfully commands his full attention. These guys make us younger types look old. They travel, throw parties, take in lodgers and right now they’ve got a wolf chained to their lawn, a big harmless one, as they’re dog-sitting for a neighbour.
I love Izzy but she’s come along just as Pete looked like he was going to say something carb crucial. I haven’t seen her for a while, though, and as they’re busy we shoot the bull for a few minutes before I make a move.
There’s no one around at home so I bolt the footrest on and make another inconclusive run on a different fuel setting. On the way back I see another older guy, Richard, pulling out of a small lane. Richard runs an open wheel hill climber with his mate, Fascist Pete (who only looks like a fascist). I’m sure Richard will know what’s best so I pull him over.
“I’ve changed the carb and it won’t run without the choke,” I yell over our combined engine noise (mainly mine).
“Carb needs adjustment” he yells back, nodding and smiling a big gap toothed smile.
“Which way do you turn the screw?” I ask, pointing at it.
“Well...” and just at this point Boyd drives up in his Amazon, and we’re blocking his way.
“You coming to play cricket?” yells Boyd.
Richard is running late before cricket so despite the bonhomie, I get no further information.
This is unbelievably frustrating for someone so apparently blessed with friendly local mechanical knowhow. Why won’t these old codgers just answer the bloody question?
Of course, I realise I’m being unfair and that my priorities are skewed. I'm just going to have to get on and figure it out for myself.
I did think to hell with it and took Jane out for lunch one day when the baby was in nursery. She laughed and said it was ‘cool’, so I guess the Black Bullet is at least winning her over. Even though the sidestand/footpeg bracket fell off in comedy fashion when we got to the pub.
I’ve begun to tackle the rough running issue; a bit of research on the net, a buzz to get her warm and a few experimental carb adjustments, but nothing concrete has come out of it. Well almost nothing. The major symptom is a lack of power with the choke fully off. I have to ride with a bit of choke to keep the engine running smoothly, even when she’s warm. It sounds like the mixture is too lean but the mixture screw doesn’t seem to have much effect.
I go over to see Pete, the retired materials scientist, to see if he has any ideas, and a single Whitworth nut to mount the bit that fell off in the pub car park. He’s busy knocking a copper pipe into a towel rail but the interruption is not unwelcome (see photo). Pete never throws anything away and his workshop is an Alladin’s Cave of engineering bric-a-brac, something a relatively young man like me (late forties) can only aspire to.
The nut is the easy part and I’m just broaching the subject of the carburettor when Pete’s wife Izzy sticks her head in and rightfully commands his full attention. These guys make us younger types look old. They travel, throw parties, take in lodgers and right now they’ve got a wolf chained to their lawn, a big harmless one, as they’re dog-sitting for a neighbour.
I love Izzy but she’s come along just as Pete looked like he was going to say something carb crucial. I haven’t seen her for a while, though, and as they’re busy we shoot the bull for a few minutes before I make a move.
There’s no one around at home so I bolt the footrest on and make another inconclusive run on a different fuel setting. On the way back I see another older guy, Richard, pulling out of a small lane. Richard runs an open wheel hill climber with his mate, Fascist Pete (who only looks like a fascist). I’m sure Richard will know what’s best so I pull him over.
“I’ve changed the carb and it won’t run without the choke,” I yell over our combined engine noise (mainly mine).
“Carb needs adjustment” he yells back, nodding and smiling a big gap toothed smile.
“Which way do you turn the screw?” I ask, pointing at it.
“Well...” and just at this point Boyd drives up in his Amazon, and we’re blocking his way.
“You coming to play cricket?” yells Boyd.
Richard is running late before cricket so despite the bonhomie, I get no further information.
This is unbelievably frustrating for someone so apparently blessed with friendly local mechanical knowhow. Why won’t these old codgers just answer the bloody question?
Of course, I realise I’m being unfair and that my priorities are skewed. I'm just going to have to get on and figure it out for myself.
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
The Black Bullet 2.0 - Miles Covered 27.8
When I was a kid, I had a proper sense of smell, and smells had associations strong enough to stop me in my tracks. Since the Black Bullet came to live with us, the shed has been smelling like the quiet refuge of a man should. The brash machinations of Capitalism don't get in, not with a tie on, although people, even Capitalists, are still welcome.
I sometimes smell that metallic petroleum scent on my hands when I'm at work, or when I settle down for the night. It's calming and confident and if I were a girl, I'd like to think it would turn me on.
This evening for the first time I rode the bike up to the Ridgeway and back without any trouble. OK, I noticed a bit of oil smoke rising from around the rocker cover - when I stopped to take the photo above. And I had to keep the choke out a little to even out the lumpy running, but we're almost there for this 're-commissioning' stage.
I spent some time this morning installing an inline fuel filter, after seeing the crud that came out of the tank (see other photos). I'll run it like this until a filter comes up clean. I've learned enough to know that carburettors and grit don't mix, even old ones.
Once I've learned how to tune the carb, and sorted out the registration, i'll get some serious riding in. The summer's almost done but the bright days of Autumn will do nicely.
I've written to the Enfield Club dating officer (sounds like a singles thing, which of course the Bullet 350 is) to query the negative aspects of his report. Once the registration issue is decided it will be hard to shift, so I want to go in with the best chance for an age related plate. He says the bike is original in every respect, he's just not sure it's one bike.
It's been a good day, time to sleep.
Monday, 9 August 2010
The Black Bullet 1.10 – Miles Covered 23.5
Thinking on it, it makes sense that the up and down operation of a float is assisted by keeping the housing perpendicular, or close to it. The use of fuel injection was a big step forward in aviation. Until the ME109 most planes used carburettors and keeping a constant fuel supply to the engine was a worry for fighter pilots. You wouldn’t want the needle valve to drop back into the carb and starve the engine while you were looping the loop exactly.
If you watch old war movies, like The Battle of Britain, you can see that a fighter diving to take the enemy from above invariably begins with an up and over swooping manouvre. Pete reckons this is to keep downward (centrifugal) force working on the float.
Provided it works I'm not going to change anything, swapping housings means dismantling the carb again, might end up with more leaks than ever. If the Black Bullet had rear suspension it would tip the whole frame forward and my new carb might then line up, normal to the ground. Maybe that's where the cant comes from - this carb has been designed for a bike with its tail up.
Last night an old friend dropped by and checked out the bike. Jonesy has plenty of experience with cars, a bit of a boy racer in his youth. After swapping carb-mare stories – he recently gave up trying to set up a pair of Dellortos on his son’s mini – he held up an Amal float for inspection.
“There’s quite a bit of play in the clip,” he said bouncing the float on the needle, “are you sure the float level isn’t adjustable, by bending the clip? If you push the float down it will close the valve earlier, which might stop it flooding.”
I shrug and tell him my thinking; “There’s only one indent on the original needles. The new replacement I bought before I started work on the original carb has two but I’ve installed the new float at the level corresponding to the indent on the old ones.” I assumed one indent meant one level, i.e. no need to adjust, and that the new parts were designed to be as generic as possible.
Jonesy reckons it’s worth s squirt and when he’s gone I lift the tank and unscrew the top of the float chamber to change the setting. It takes a few minutes and strikes me that I probably could have completed the whole repair like this, if i’d known what the hell I was doing.
While I’m at it, I use the stability provided by the carb being securely bolted to the cylinder block to check the tightness of the various nuts and bolts. Good purchase and no need for a vice in this condition.
Incredibly, the bike starts on the third kick and apart from being a bit lumpy, there’s no, I repeat, no signs of fuel leakage. I’m trying to stop physically jumping for joy as that peculiar elation that comes with successful problem solving builds up in my chest. I want to do a rebel yell.
Almost immediately, however, I’m thinking about why it’s running so lumpy. It’s as if my thought processes got stuck in an infernal eddy current the moment the throttle housing gave way in the vice. And as soon as the resulting problem, or trail of problems, is solved, I’m freewheeling and back in the mainstream. I want to get back to where I was, I want to solve the lumpiness and get riding. It’s not the problem solving I’m doing this for, not really.
If you watch old war movies, like The Battle of Britain, you can see that a fighter diving to take the enemy from above invariably begins with an up and over swooping manouvre. Pete reckons this is to keep downward (centrifugal) force working on the float.
Provided it works I'm not going to change anything, swapping housings means dismantling the carb again, might end up with more leaks than ever. If the Black Bullet had rear suspension it would tip the whole frame forward and my new carb might then line up, normal to the ground. Maybe that's where the cant comes from - this carb has been designed for a bike with its tail up.
Last night an old friend dropped by and checked out the bike. Jonesy has plenty of experience with cars, a bit of a boy racer in his youth. After swapping carb-mare stories – he recently gave up trying to set up a pair of Dellortos on his son’s mini – he held up an Amal float for inspection.
“There’s quite a bit of play in the clip,” he said bouncing the float on the needle, “are you sure the float level isn’t adjustable, by bending the clip? If you push the float down it will close the valve earlier, which might stop it flooding.”
I shrug and tell him my thinking; “There’s only one indent on the original needles. The new replacement I bought before I started work on the original carb has two but I’ve installed the new float at the level corresponding to the indent on the old ones.” I assumed one indent meant one level, i.e. no need to adjust, and that the new parts were designed to be as generic as possible.
Jonesy reckons it’s worth s squirt and when he’s gone I lift the tank and unscrew the top of the float chamber to change the setting. It takes a few minutes and strikes me that I probably could have completed the whole repair like this, if i’d known what the hell I was doing.
While I’m at it, I use the stability provided by the carb being securely bolted to the cylinder block to check the tightness of the various nuts and bolts. Good purchase and no need for a vice in this condition.
Incredibly, the bike starts on the third kick and apart from being a bit lumpy, there’s no, I repeat, no signs of fuel leakage. I’m trying to stop physically jumping for joy as that peculiar elation that comes with successful problem solving builds up in my chest. I want to do a rebel yell.
Almost immediately, however, I’m thinking about why it’s running so lumpy. It’s as if my thought processes got stuck in an infernal eddy current the moment the throttle housing gave way in the vice. And as soon as the resulting problem, or trail of problems, is solved, I’m freewheeling and back in the mainstream. I want to get back to where I was, I want to solve the lumpiness and get riding. It’s not the problem solving I’m doing this for, not really.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
The Black Bullet 1.9 - Miles Covered 23.5
The REOC dating officer has been pretty thorough, if not particularly positive. In his opinion, the chassis number has been altered and although the cycle parts agree with the year (1953), the plates the Black Bullet came with date earlier than both frame and engine numbers, which isn't possible. There's been skullduggery in the past it seems.
The DVLA are bound to take a dim view of this but, as I've said, my main aim is to maintain and ride the bike, I don't care that much about the registration number they give me. If they want to play silly buggers with the paperwork they can just go ahead and do it, provided they give me what I need to be road legal.
I got the MOT certificate before breaking the carb, the tester was sympathetic - a big step on the way to being road legal. Insurance is cheap and even includes breakdown assistance! Road tax must be applied for and a disc displayed but it's free. I've got the forms to get the bike registered but I want to go in person to submit them. I'd post them in if the REOC report on the Bullet's provenance was a bit more positive, it's the phrase, 'this letter now needs to be taken to your local DVLA office for approval or otherwise' that worries me. If they want to be otherwise, I want to be there to discuss it. I hope to make it there this week but I've got a lot on at work.
The good news is that I found time to install the relacement carb. I haven't ridden it yet but I did get it started and it pissed petrol all over the place - shit, back to square one. At least the thing runs, a small but important point, and I'm relatively upbeat about this. It's a simple machine and there's probably just one thing I'm missing, one piece in the puzzle that has to fall into place.
I've been sitting on the ground just staring at it and hoping for enlightenment. As it happens, I spotted another small difference in this carb; the float chamber cants back at a five to seven degree angle where the old one was perpendicular. I don't know why this is and if if this new difference is going to prove to be a problem. I tell myself it's a bike and bikes lean in the corners and go up and down hills but then why manufacture carbs with angled float chambers? It's a mystery, something else I'm going to have to investigate. It's like walking through a 1950s engineering mind.
The DVLA are bound to take a dim view of this but, as I've said, my main aim is to maintain and ride the bike, I don't care that much about the registration number they give me. If they want to play silly buggers with the paperwork they can just go ahead and do it, provided they give me what I need to be road legal.
I got the MOT certificate before breaking the carb, the tester was sympathetic - a big step on the way to being road legal. Insurance is cheap and even includes breakdown assistance! Road tax must be applied for and a disc displayed but it's free. I've got the forms to get the bike registered but I want to go in person to submit them. I'd post them in if the REOC report on the Bullet's provenance was a bit more positive, it's the phrase, 'this letter now needs to be taken to your local DVLA office for approval or otherwise' that worries me. If they want to be otherwise, I want to be there to discuss it. I hope to make it there this week but I've got a lot on at work.
The good news is that I found time to install the relacement carb. I haven't ridden it yet but I did get it started and it pissed petrol all over the place - shit, back to square one. At least the thing runs, a small but important point, and I'm relatively upbeat about this. It's a simple machine and there's probably just one thing I'm missing, one piece in the puzzle that has to fall into place.
I've been sitting on the ground just staring at it and hoping for enlightenment. As it happens, I spotted another small difference in this carb; the float chamber cants back at a five to seven degree angle where the old one was perpendicular. I don't know why this is and if if this new difference is going to prove to be a problem. I tell myself it's a bike and bikes lean in the corners and go up and down hills but then why manufacture carbs with angled float chambers? It's a mystery, something else I'm going to have to investigate. It's like walking through a 1950s engineering mind.
Friday, 6 August 2010
The Black Bullet 1.8 - Miles Covered 23.5
The base philosophy behind Thursday Night Pint Club is to have hangovers at work. To stumble through Friday, get an early night and wake up bright for the weekend. You don't want to spend your precious free time feeling flat and as work sucks out most of your energy, once a month it's payback time.
One of the three founding members of TNPC, Pete, is a retired materials scientist who used to work at Harwell, the old atomic institute, now the home of the Diamond Light Project. Pete tells me the carburettor housing is made out of an aluminium/silicon alloy, which has probably become 'embrittled'.
Given his background I was sure he’d have something clever in mind to solve the hole in the union issue, as it happens he just grabs it and goes at it with a handheld drill. I’m crossing my arms and clutching air as the bit slips off and gouges the thread but old Pete is undeterred and you don’t go asking for help with the proviso that the giver does it your way, exactly.
‘Better drill a pilot hole first,’ mutters Pete rooting about for bits on his chaotic workbench. He’s got everything you might possibly need in there, years of crafty accumulation from car boot sales. You’ve got to admire him; he even built the workshop we’re standing in.
Later on at the pub, when the third member of TNPC arrives – product designer, Mike – I hear about Pete demolishing a wall at Mike’s and practically burying him under a pile of bricks. I feel relieved that the hole in the carb thing was a success, in the end. It makes me realise that my confidence as a mechanic has taken a knock and I have to lift myself out of it. If the throttle housing was embrittled, as Pete put it, it’s not surprising it crumbled so easily. Perhaps I wasn’t as clumsy as I'd thought.
I need to get that carb bolted on and get the Black Bullet on the road again. There's still lots to do but nothing will lift my spirits more than buzz up the farm track to the Ridgeway and back. I need this before I tackle the Department of Vehicle Licencing. Shouldn't be negative but somehow I just can't see that being a particularly upifting encounter.
One of the three founding members of TNPC, Pete, is a retired materials scientist who used to work at Harwell, the old atomic institute, now the home of the Diamond Light Project. Pete tells me the carburettor housing is made out of an aluminium/silicon alloy, which has probably become 'embrittled'.
Given his background I was sure he’d have something clever in mind to solve the hole in the union issue, as it happens he just grabs it and goes at it with a handheld drill. I’m crossing my arms and clutching air as the bit slips off and gouges the thread but old Pete is undeterred and you don’t go asking for help with the proviso that the giver does it your way, exactly.
‘Better drill a pilot hole first,’ mutters Pete rooting about for bits on his chaotic workbench. He’s got everything you might possibly need in there, years of crafty accumulation from car boot sales. You’ve got to admire him; he even built the workshop we’re standing in.
Later on at the pub, when the third member of TNPC arrives – product designer, Mike – I hear about Pete demolishing a wall at Mike’s and practically burying him under a pile of bricks. I feel relieved that the hole in the carb thing was a success, in the end. It makes me realise that my confidence as a mechanic has taken a knock and I have to lift myself out of it. If the throttle housing was embrittled, as Pete put it, it’s not surprising it crumbled so easily. Perhaps I wasn’t as clumsy as I'd thought.
I need to get that carb bolted on and get the Black Bullet on the road again. There's still lots to do but nothing will lift my spirits more than buzz up the farm track to the Ridgeway and back. I need this before I tackle the Department of Vehicle Licencing. Shouldn't be negative but somehow I just can't see that being a particularly upifting encounter.
Thursday, 5 August 2010
The Black Bullet 1.7 - Miles Covered 23.5
The baby in nursery and a lunchtime appointment performing a site inspection on Damien Hirst's new art production studio in Stroud mean I have a little time to work on the bike this morning.
Anticipating problems, I've looked the eBay carb over in more detail and noticed a couple of small differences - one is the fuel union connection. As the first photo shows, the old connection has a hole in the thread to allow a two-way union to be bolted to the bottom of the carb. I could dispense with the two-way, two tap system and just fit a barb to the connector but this gets in the way of the magneto housing. I've also replaced one of the fuel taps already, which cost twenty quid, and i'd prefer not to remove it and blank it off if I can help it.
The twin chambers of the pre-monobloc carb also have little clearance to the pieces around it when offered up to the cylinder head. The chambers require a precise specific alignment which is
adjusted by slackening off the big union nut at the base of the carb. Sitting at my workbench, having scribed the required alignment on the nut, I'm wondering how to hold the carb and work the two spanners at the same time, making sure the alignment doesn't slip. I find myself looking at the carb and then at the vice attached to the workbench. Oh no, not that again, I really couldn't take another crushing setback - the second photo shows the solution.
A small victory, perhaps, but it was that small oversight with the vice that got me into this mess in the first place. Now I've got my eyes on the prize and I'm determined not to risk this repair by allowing impatience to cloud judgement. And yet, I have more niggling problems to solve. Should I drill the connection and refit the old union? Or, dismantle the new chamber and try to swap connectors?
Having removed the needle and float from the old carb, I'm loath to dimantle the new one. I may have damaged the old one or, indeed, have stumbled on the root of the whole flooding issue. As the third photo shows, the needle is looking a bit bent. I wonder if this was me?
Anticipating problems, I've looked the eBay carb over in more detail and noticed a couple of small differences - one is the fuel union connection. As the first photo shows, the old connection has a hole in the thread to allow a two-way union to be bolted to the bottom of the carb. I could dispense with the two-way, two tap system and just fit a barb to the connector but this gets in the way of the magneto housing. I've also replaced one of the fuel taps already, which cost twenty quid, and i'd prefer not to remove it and blank it off if I can help it.
The twin chambers of the pre-monobloc carb also have little clearance to the pieces around it when offered up to the cylinder head. The chambers require a precise specific alignment which is
adjusted by slackening off the big union nut at the base of the carb. Sitting at my workbench, having scribed the required alignment on the nut, I'm wondering how to hold the carb and work the two spanners at the same time, making sure the alignment doesn't slip. I find myself looking at the carb and then at the vice attached to the workbench. Oh no, not that again, I really couldn't take another crushing setback - the second photo shows the solution.A small victory, perhaps, but it was that small oversight with the vice that got me into this mess in the first place. Now I've got my eyes on the prize and I'm determined not to risk this repair by allowing impatience to cloud judgement. And yet, I have more niggling problems to solve. Should I drill the connection and refit the old union? Or, dismantle the new chamber and try to swap connectors?
Having removed the needle and float from the old carb, I'm loath to dimantle the new one. I may have damaged the old one or, indeed, have stumbled on the root of the whole flooding issue. As the third photo shows, the needle is looking a bit bent. I wonder if this was me?
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