We tend to think of cars and motorbikes as ‘stable’ arrangements of parts and processes. Stability, reliability and robust-ness are selling points after all, which is curiously at odds with the needs of industry and the wider economy to keep selling us these things. It's no great secret that despite the publicity machines are not stable, they wear out and the encapsulated processes degrade with time. In some cases, obsolescence and degradation are even designed in, to sustain demand.
The Black Bullet comes from a less knowing time, which is one reason why it still ferries me to work, while the newer vehicles I’ve owned previously are probably all dead. This is not to say the bike is more robust than these other vehicles and it couldn’t compare on performance, or efficiency, but it is simple and reasonably effective and above all, user serviceable. For all the marvel and magic of the latest machines, which seem to bend the laws of nature, it seems to me the underlying penalty is relegation, not empowerment, of the user. Even the term ‘user’ is a bit of an insult but if you can't change it, or fix it, all you can do is use it.
Shaking off the mantle of user feels like rebellion, it tastes of freedom, and so what if we lose some of the sophistication in the process. If you want the tropics without the bugs, the arctic without the cold, the beach without sand in your crack, you’re going to have to accept paying and staying as a user of some service or other. It may feel like you’ve ‘arrived', as my mum would have said, and I suppose you're supporting some part of the economy, but it’s a Faustian deal overall. Unless of course it's pure time off you're after, with no learning through experience required.
The question of the time it takes to learn things for yourself is another matter, and whether you are lucky enough to do this with a little guidance. This can be crucial to a positive outcome (see previous gaffes like the carb ferrago TBB 1.0). So, each situation should be taken in context. Still, odd thought, that, paying to sidestep experience, it's like working hard to not learn anything.
Thursday Night Pint Club, well, Old Pete, has been persuading me to de-coke the Black Bullet. I’ve learned that oil gets sucked down the valve guides and builds up in a burnt, congealed mess on the valves and in the ports. This restricts the flow of air into (and out of) the cylinder and cuts engine efficiency. The clock says I'm only getting 55mph, top whack, and Pete thinks this is wrong. It's worth noting that Old George doesn't agree, he thinks 55mph is okay. I should find out what Old Bob thinks.
Anyway, the facsimile 1950s Instruction Book I bought from Hitchcocks sets out the procedure and recommends it every 5000 miles. I don't know how many miles this engine has done, as the provenance of the bike is uncertain but it’s an opportunity to get to know it better, learn something new, be an owner not a user and improve the riding experience. It's also a furrowed brow, chipped nails, oil ground into the skin and some moderate cursing, but these are merely side effects.
As noted, it’s time that I need to find but with the evenings drawing out and the shed now warm inside, it’s possible that I could do this without neglecting family life. It’s also the one important thing I didn’t do before setting off on that failed expedition to the Sahara [TBB 3.4/5]. I kept my head firmly in the sand over the condition of the engine, and we never made it as a result. I have revised my plans for a trip on the Black Bullet and if I’m finally old enough to learn my lessons, this would be the right sequence.
