Bar Talk and a Bar-Room Brawl.... maybe.

Previously on Wee Z: Things had been procured and even graced the flanks of the ever stationary lads. The gracing however was swift and the bits and bobs were soon tidied away. The bikes had become barless during the process and two ravishing, young models had posed for the camera and adoring fans, no doubt peering over the garden wall.

Firstly, I have an admission to make. I have broken the sacred trust held between you and I. In the last post, nigh the last sentence of the last post!



I lied.



Sorry but we’re not going to talk about “Hughs, Tonys and Basils” .

There admission out of the way. Instead we’re going to speak about bars, and sadly not the alcoholic version. As I’m still trying to catch up with where we are currently, either cowering indoors or under two ragged covers, everything is coming from memory. That means that my wanderings often lead us down paths we shouldn’t have gone down yet or in jumping a puddle in said path, I then realise that, after looking back, there was something I was meant to say there....
So, no doubt making not much more sense...


Remember the bars that were a pain in the posterior? The ones with the controls clamped on with bits of rusty, mushy plastic who remembered in the backs of their chewed heads the times when threads were free running, the grease was clean and iron ran through their veins? Well the old feckers needed a good doing. In Aberdoom however I’m sorely equipped with not a lot. Pens and paper sadly do not a doing maketh.


Back home however we have a garage rammed full of things that if you can find them, or find a space to use them, can be incredibly handy. One of those incredibly handy things was a Bobby. We’ve found him and his fat sausage fingers previously in this project of slowness and ineptitude then in his normal kitchen position. In a stroke of luck however I found him in the garage and pressed him into service and general keeping me right duties.

In all honesty I think he just fancied a bit of time in the garage. When my brother and I raced motocross, he was in the garage all the time. I loved looking over his shoulder, passing spanners, generally getting in the way or lending the extra hand that was needed. Since we’ve both stopped racing the garage action has died down. Beeg Bob has got more in to his boats and his GS doesn’t need any spannering. His XT that does (the brother to my own) really doesn’t get used enough to warrant it, and the mx bikes are either in bits or unused due to uni commitments. Working on boats is fun but there’s something about working on bikes that he must miss.

Well it’s that or the comforts of a garage rather than the quay side and the gales.


Anyhooo, the simple plan was to drill the old fart ‘bolts’ out and make up some new non flatulent ones, using more of faither’s lovely marine grade stainless stuff.

So the bars were, as expected, all viced up with nowhere to go.

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This gives you an idea of the space issue going on.... Way too much stuff!

So I got drilling.

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Notice the snazzy purple foam grips. Why do people run bikes with these? They’re horrible! There is a set of Renthal grips waiting in the box of bits so order will be restored. If we ever get there....


So after some drilling the mush metal was removed leaving a nice hole. The cable is also absolutely minging!

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With the bolts away we could remove the controls. Super simple but without a vice in Aberdeen it would have been a proper head ache. It’s only when you don’t have the wee things that you realise how much you rely on them.

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Sailor boy pulled the controls apart and removed the thread. With the throttle tube off we revealed.....

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A rather impressive amount of flies. That was a resourceful spider.

So we then progressed on to the replacements.

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So rather than using the amazing powers of guess work we simply lined up the old threads to the new bolts and marked them off. Riveting stuff.... or not, on two accounts I suppose!

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They then got all snug in the vice and the Dremel came out. No good cutting shots as Fat Fingers was in charge of the picture taker....


So we did the other one and ended up with these.

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Resized to 94% (was 1024 x 768) - Click image to enlarge

So at least I can put the throttle tube on the new clip ons now.


I apologise for the dullness of this update but these are the crappy wee bits that I quite enjoy and that need doing. I’m getting a bit annoyed with the complete lack of time I have at the moment with the PGDE I’m doing but I’ve thrown caution to the gales and it buggered off at about a hundred miles an hour with a few pounds from my back pocket. There has been a substantial purchase made, mostly down to annoyance of not getting anything done! I’ll put some information up when it’s delivered.

Perhaps next time we will get on to the story of the Hughs, Tonys and Basils but then I may have forgotten something again....

Fashion Show? Marvelous Dahhling......

Previously on Wee Z: Holes had been created and filled, tanks had been zebra’d and ‘feckin’ scary’ seats had been acquired and discarded. Uni was back in full swing and Zedward was getting impatient on the lack of progress. Alas that may still be an issue....



So by now there were a fair few parts and ideas amassed in my bedroom and in my head. In between work, Rob and I (that’d be the brother again, aka Girl or Brother Bear depending on moods, both his and my own) managed to get out to the garden and unsheet the beasts. They had by now been luxuriating at the bottom of the garden in their new five star accommodation.

Past:

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Present:

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Resized to 94% (was 1024 x 768) - Click image to enlarge

 

So the idea was to get the public houses off both bikes to allow them to fit under their duvet a bit easier. Then we’d trial fit some of the trinkets to see if they fitted and how on earth they’d look.
My brother and I hadn’t been getting on brilliantly for the last year or so due to various issues. Our communication had deteriorated to such an extent that although we lived with each other, both in Caithness and Aberdeen, that one of the only subjects that we could talk about properly and easily was motorbikes. Everything else seemed to link to points of tension and trouble. The fact that we could both go out and do something together, and arse around like we used to, was great. However it also highlighted how bad things were at the time and how far things had come. Nae good.

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So bits were pulled off. I’m sure the wiring will provide some interest later on... a rodents sleeping quarters comes to mind.

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So the bikes were dehorned. There was however a complication regarding the throttle and switch gear being stuck to the Pimpernel’s bar. The bolts clamping the two halves of the switchgear together were well and truly rounded and there was no hope of being able to get them out in the usual fashion. We ended up disconnecting the throttle cable from the still shiny carburettor and leaving it all together.

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Now this picture is a bit of a shocker. My brother is renowned within the family household for not being particularly mechanically minded, interested nor sympathetic. Tools are things that others pick up and bikes are there to be ridden and put away again. Very hot and invariably dirty; being totally acceptable adjectives to describe their retiring situations.


He is getting better in his elder years but there are many, many stories of such mechanical disinterest, they are however neither here nor there... Saying that, he did tell me over the phone recently that he’d noticed that he’d snapped three of his spokes in the back of his bmx wheel. That illustrates both sides of his reputation/nature; previously he’d have never noticed them....

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And to prove that that is not just in fact a well, but unsuitably dressed, “Vale crouch”...

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Impressive stuff but perhaps not for you young readers, I shall continue, but with the picture of Beeg Bob’s open mouthed gawp at such proof, resplendent and very firmly ingrained in my mind.




So to trial fit the clipons we had to remove the top yokes. At first it looked as if it would be an enormous pain in the American fanny. However, with spectacular mechanical abilities that young gentleman such as the two pictured and literated in these fine pixels, letters and punctuation are inherently possessed with, we managed to not take the entire front end apart. Skills.

Instead we loosened some bolts and used an old hammer handle as a drift and tapped the top yoke off. Luckily, as if those clever Japanese at Kawasaki Heavy Industries had always planned it, there was enough room between all the upfront fripperies and the top yoke to “get her oot”. Cracking. 

And just to prove I’m not being a sneaky geezer and filling your little heads with pig based pastries...

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Check my fine self.... or rather don’t. I have to admit that I find those pictures quite funny as I look a bit fat! Hand on heart I’m not! Vanity aside the yellow was removed leaving the white that we were after.... come on that’s not that obscure is it? Shirley!


So as with any real project there were then the necessary noises. Sadly Nobert couldn’t wait for the clipons to be fitted and made do with the headlight bracketry which was destined for another pile of rubbish...

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Once he finally got off we removed the old headlight brackets, fitted the new ones (another ebay purchase) and slipped on the delectable clipons. We then stood back, admired and I took a few photos just to prove how lovely they were.

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The Pimpernel was looking foxy and even Phoenix admitted that he felt his engine mount bolts getting a bit stiffer from the sexually charged site. A feat in itself as they already feel as if concrete, rather than Loc-Tite has been smeared on his spindles...




The task completed, it would have made sense to take things off and pack everything up. Dinner was calling and we had things to do. So instead we sat on the bike and made more noises.... 

Feel the speed!





The race beanie (wind tunnel designed) adds to the visual velocity I think.

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And cue cheesy grin and general elation.





Then it was the toeless Italian’s shot.





You can begin to see how small the bike is. Rob is about 6 foot 2 or so and I’m about 5 11”. Things may be cramped. Un-huge FTW.

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So finally when we’d become hoarse with all the noises we packed up and put the dudes back under their cover.


In terms of looks we were both quite pleased with the mock up. If everything goes to plan it will at the very least be very pretty, if perhaps unrideable! In the time that’s past Rob and I have started to mend some bridges. Like Zedward there’s still a huge amount to do, fix and finish but we’re hopefully on the right track. With that conclusion, update complete...



Next time on Wee Z: The conversation of Hughs, Tonys and Basils (sic(s)) is reignited.

Wee Z - Fill Me Up Bobby but Hold the Sailors...

So as I hinted at and the aquila eyed among you may have spied there has been some further ‘progress’ on the tank.

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Resized to 94% (was 1024 x 768) - Click image to enlarge

“It’s bleck!” I hear you shout. I’m sure I heard a slap as palms hit faces there too.... Painting lines are all the rage don’t you know!

So as you may remember the tank was stripped and then abandoned like an unlucky groom. Rust crept like sexual predators upon already trussed meat and quickly ravaged the poor beastie. So after further sanding, it was clear it needed some paint to protect it. Now in my head rusty metal is basically screwed. So to stop this surface rust progressing to anything more serious I decided to take some preventative measures and deal with the consequences later.

So the tank was liberally coated with ‘bleck’ Hammerite on its bottom and then conservatively covered with thin layers on the top. In between every coat the paint was sanded which took much labour. Although this seems a green move in the old painting stakes I am hoping that the undercoat will offer the protection against the weather and rust but be smooth enough to still get a decent finish. (And no I’m not sure why there’s an electoral theme going on in that paragraph either...and if you didn’t notice it shame on you and pay more attention!)           
The inside of the tank does however look like this.

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Some Rupert Paul electro trickery may be used to take the worst of it off. Not sure if I’ll then seal it as well yet though.


You may well remember that the side panels looked like this.

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In the middle of them they had a wee Z200 badge. For some reason I decided that I wanted to remove this. The previous owner who had gifted the Pimpernel his glorious lilac had simply painted over the badges and then used a twig or some other likely implement to paint the Z200 lettering and numbering in white. Nice!

So these were ‘shaved’ as I think the process is called. In honesty a beeg screwdriver was used to try and lever the small, round metal clips up and off the stalks of the badge from behind (oo er). They were rusty. The stalks were brittle. I still have my eyes. Metal and dead plastic flew around the garage like fireworks but the badges were finally removed.

The side panels then saw the rough end of some sandpaper and eventually looked a bit like this.

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Smoooooth! But holey.
Now, my Da is big in to boats and so has rather a lot of expensive and handy stuff that can be utilised for less decadent passions. Fibreglass yachts are pish. Or so I keep telling him anyway. They crack and hole but can in their defence be patched quite easily. Due to my Dad not actually being rich he doesn’t have an ‘awesome’ wooden yacht and instead plays about in a wee Contessa. You don’t need to know this but the Contessa was based upon the old ‘folk boat’ design and is highly regarded as being a ‘spiffing sail’ even today.

Now considering that they were designed in 1966 and only built for ten years to the original design, the fact that these yachts are still seen as benchmarks in their seaworthiness is hugely impressive. Imagine a Norton Commando still being compared to bikes today and journalists shaking their heads and pens while reporting that the new VFR “just doesn’t handle or stop as well”.... Unthinkable innit?


It is also achingly pretty to look at. The lines of the boat are sleek and slender and not at all like the modern crap whose coach roofs’ stick out like bashed digits. Beeg Bob, for that is faither’s name, also keeps his Contessa sweet. You may not be able to stand straight in it under deck, but to see it in the water brings a smile to your face. Other men and ladies of the sea stop and look at it, as we would if we walked by a tidy Le Mans, Jota or 916. The light glints of the polished flanks in just the same way. The sparkle of the sea is echoed by the highly polished metal and deeply varnished wood, just as the dull grey black of the tarmac lifts and supports the visual element of a ‘proper’ motorbike, giving substance and intent to the rings of rubber and winking, twinkling metal and paint.

Just to prove it all here's a couple of pictures of the aforementioned boatie.

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The man himself is in about that last picture too with a rather cheery grin on his bearded face and it is he who owns and flexs the rather fat, sausage like fingers that will pictorially follow.

Boats and bikes rock. Although bikes deal with the quartzite and granite a wee bit better...



So this lot was commandeered.

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Last winter I’d helped Beeg Bob with filling in some cracks and holes that had appeared on ‘Artemis’ (that’d be the boatie) so knew how this stuff worked. Or at least I did then. Faither did the first panel and I did the second.

First came the mixing. This stuff smells mental!

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The mixture goes off very quickly so you have about two minutes of working time before the mixture hardens. So on it went, quickly.

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There were a few marks and charlies in the panels so these were filled too. The mixture was turning before I was finished so it was all rather slap and dash.
It however left us with these.

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The filling was done on the kitchen table. My Mither has suddenly decided that rebuilding bits of bikes in the house is fair game as long as there’s something down to catch any crud. The tank was also painted in my brother’s bedroom as he was still at uni. This is also now deemed acceptable within the household, I think due to Dad varnishing various bits of the boat in there! It’s ace! Warm, dry, light and enough room to move around!

The side panels then came back down to the ‘deen and had a quick rub down.

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A quick wash and they were looking quite snazzy.

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Once I got back home, this was the Easter holidays now, they were masked up along with the tank and have been waiting patiently for a decision on paint.

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Which is where they still are at this point.