Last week I read an article in a free magazine by Fred Rau, an internationally known motorcycle journalist, where he described a recent trip from Bike Week at Daytona to California, his home is in Hemet. More than once Fred has empathized his preference for taking back roads over the highway. In this article Fred tells how he stopped along the back roads of Texas and how he met local folks who had lost most of their business to the new Interstate and how they are getting along now. The details are not important but Fred again explained his preference for riding a motorcycle at an opportunity to meet people and to enjoy their company.
While I read his article in Friction Zone I became immersed in his world because it is how I am as well. I wanted to email him and invite myself along on his next ride. Although I ride to work daily on my motorcycle and I am seemingly in a hurry, I still enjoy not having to be someplace and taking my time on occasion. And I enjoy meeting people and just talking or listening to them.
Case in point was our trip to Europe in ’06. I was able to spend some time with locals and discuss world matters with them and to get to know their individual past, always an interest to me.
Last week Norma asked me if we had the time to go to the Getty Villa this Saturday. Since I have never been there, and since I love the Getty Museum in Brentwood, I wanted to go. And since it was an exhibit of the Aztecs, this year is the 200th anniversary of the Mexican Independence, all the more reason to go.
Arriving shortly after our reservation of 2:30 PM in Malibu, we climbed the stairs to view the exhibit and others as well. Of course it was a great opportunity for me to learn about my wife’s heritage, and to see such a striking venue; the gardens are worth the trip alone. Anyway we ended up staying until asked to leave because they were closing.
Off to Malibu for dinner at a wonderful Italian Restaurant run by a fellow from Sicily, the Lamb was fantastic and we stayed for coffee and dessert.
With the day still not over yet we drove through the pacific palisades to the Getty Museum to see the Leonardo Da Vinci exhibit. Did you know he was born in Vinci, Tuscany? Is that why his name is like that?
While there, and while at the Getty Villa, I noticed and spoke with many of the staff. Mostly I discussed the artwork or the exhibits. But just before we were asked to leave the Getty, I struck up a conversation with one of the staff who was watching a painting by Leonardo. In the three or four minutes we talked I learned he was going to move to Provence France in 15 months with his girlfriend, he had received a settlement for about $30K, he and I shared beliefs in the plight of the youth today, he told Wally that he needs to learn a second language, he works six days a week and believes in working for a living, oh the list goes on and on.
My point is that there are opportunities everywhere to meet and get to know people all around us every day. You don’t need a motorcycle to get out to do it, strike up a conversation with the clerk at the store or with the waiter at the restaurant; I did today at Giovanni’s in Malibu.
In the Pink Floyd song “Keep Talking” from the CD A Momentary Lapse of Reason, Steven Hawking’s voice over regards the fact that talking is what separates us from the animals and to “Keep Talking”. Thank you Steven, and thank you David Gilmour.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Suspension Tuning for Beemers
It all started when I first learned how to ride a motorcycle.
My first bike was a Honda dual sport, it was only a 450 but it rode well and gave me many hours of joy and lots of miles all over Europe. I was a little sad when I blew it up trying to make it a better bike than Honda originally designed it to be.
My next motorcycle was a two wheel rocket. Originally built by Kawasaki and dubbed the Mach IV, my H2 750 triple became my favorite motorcycle ever, even after I blew it up and I modified it to my liking. Mostly in pursuit of the best.
Now I ride a BMW that was designed for highway use. It is the basic sport-touring model that all others are judged by. It has its flaws, and being a BMW those flaws are expensive to work around, but it performs very well and has met all my expectations for its size and weight class. And I think it is the best looking motorcycle ever built, and not just because it is blue.
From day one, I have always felt I was short-changed when it comes to the handling department. I have seen the best riders drag their knees going around corners and if I even get close to laying the bike into a wicked turn, I chicken out. I have realized that I am just not that good of a rider.
That is until I met Randy from In-house.
I couldn’t expect much from my Honda. It was a dual sport that didn’t do well on or off the road.
I made the changes to my Kawasaki that the experts recommended. It really improved the bike and its handling but I still had trouble with it in turns.
I had a Suzuki 750 water buffalo that I ran off the road more than once because it couldn’t handle for shit. I didn’t even try with that old mule.
But when I came to realize that my BMW would be mine for a long time, I took the advice of a local racer I knew and I installed custom suspension.
I am a little embarrassed to tell how much that cost but when I was looking into the choices, my buddy Ted Porter at the Beemer shop in Scotts Valley told me the same thing I have heard from everybody. “You will not be disappointed!”
I was.
Ted promised me that all I have to do is bolt this suspension on and my bike would magically become the best it could be. Why not? I will just send you all my hard earned money and magic will happen.
The outcome of the Ted Porter magic was to have a nicer ride, granted, but I still could not make my bike handle any better than any of my earlier motorcycles.
That new Ducati Multistrada 1200 is starting to look real good about now.
So a few weeks ago I get this email from Ducati Newport Beach announcing that Randy from In-house will be there to tune suspension. …Call for an appointment.
So I call and without having to beg I get an appointment for my BMW.
When I met Randy, I felt I knew him from somewhere before. I hadn’t really; he just gave this warm feeling of friendship and acceptance. After having been snubbed by every BMW dealership I have ever been to, the guys at Ducati Newport Beach and Randy have made me feel welcome regardless of the kind of bike I ride.
So Randy loads my bike into the stand and makes several preliminary measurements for the static bike. All the while he is asking me how I ride and what do I expect. He asks me to jump on and he makes the needed measurements for my weight and riding style.
When he is done measuring, he kindly asks me to climb off and he starts to crank up my preload on the rear shock. I am dumbfounded, Ted Porter told me that these shocks were custom for my weight and to ride with the rear preload backed off all the way. You see sports fans, this is custom suspension designed just for me and Randy was changing what I was told would be my baseline.
I watched and listened as Randy made adjustments to both front and rear shocks, the Beemer suspension does not have front forks like all the others out there. Instead it has a kind of automobile suspension with a shock. The fork tubes are only a guide for the front wheel. Randy talks and works and I listened. Then he asked me to test it because he wasn’t sure it being a Beemer and all.
So I don my helmet and go for a little ride.
All through my first test ride the information Randy gave me is going round and round inside my head. The bike didn’t feel any different; I thought it would be a little rougher with the rear spring set so high. Randy told me that the rear end tends to sit down in the turns and that makes the bike come out of a turn a little high. In other words the bike will not follow your intended track in a turn and instead it would open the turn up and require a larger turning radius. So that is why he cranked it up so much.
There is this little turn from Coast Highway onto Superior in Newport that is almost a 180 to the right if you are going north bound. I thought it would be perfect for a test of the handling characteristics for my newly tuned bike.
I drop the gearbox down to second gear and make the turn.
And…she swings a little wide…no difference.
I don’t know, I guess I am just not that good of a rider.
Up the hill, the bike feels great.
Three right turns and I am back at the dealer, I pull up to Randy and he comes over to see me.
I flip my face shield up and Randy is smiling. “Well?” He asks.
I tell him it feels much the same, no difference. I sit there saddened by the realization that all this was for nothing. But Randy leans down to reach up under my front fairing and with a look in his eyes of complete joy he does something in less than two seconds and says to me to try it again.
I was convinced he didn’t do anything. I was not really sure but I felt like this could go on for days and I would have to give in and tell him it was great. “Thanks Randy, you really made my bike handle great!”
Off I go, down Newport Boulevard and up the Coast Highway.
Here comes Superior. Drop it down to second gear and…a…round…the…corner…we…go!
What just happened there? I made it without the normal pull to the outside of the turn.
What the…?
What did he do?
Magic!
My first bike was a Honda dual sport, it was only a 450 but it rode well and gave me many hours of joy and lots of miles all over Europe. I was a little sad when I blew it up trying to make it a better bike than Honda originally designed it to be.
My next motorcycle was a two wheel rocket. Originally built by Kawasaki and dubbed the Mach IV, my H2 750 triple became my favorite motorcycle ever, even after I blew it up and I modified it to my liking. Mostly in pursuit of the best.
Now I ride a BMW that was designed for highway use. It is the basic sport-touring model that all others are judged by. It has its flaws, and being a BMW those flaws are expensive to work around, but it performs very well and has met all my expectations for its size and weight class. And I think it is the best looking motorcycle ever built, and not just because it is blue.
From day one, I have always felt I was short-changed when it comes to the handling department. I have seen the best riders drag their knees going around corners and if I even get close to laying the bike into a wicked turn, I chicken out. I have realized that I am just not that good of a rider.
That is until I met Randy from In-house.
I couldn’t expect much from my Honda. It was a dual sport that didn’t do well on or off the road.
I made the changes to my Kawasaki that the experts recommended. It really improved the bike and its handling but I still had trouble with it in turns.
I had a Suzuki 750 water buffalo that I ran off the road more than once because it couldn’t handle for shit. I didn’t even try with that old mule.
But when I came to realize that my BMW would be mine for a long time, I took the advice of a local racer I knew and I installed custom suspension.
I am a little embarrassed to tell how much that cost but when I was looking into the choices, my buddy Ted Porter at the Beemer shop in Scotts Valley told me the same thing I have heard from everybody. “You will not be disappointed!”
I was.
Ted promised me that all I have to do is bolt this suspension on and my bike would magically become the best it could be. Why not? I will just send you all my hard earned money and magic will happen.
The outcome of the Ted Porter magic was to have a nicer ride, granted, but I still could not make my bike handle any better than any of my earlier motorcycles.
That new Ducati Multistrada 1200 is starting to look real good about now.
So a few weeks ago I get this email from Ducati Newport Beach announcing that Randy from In-house will be there to tune suspension. …Call for an appointment.
So I call and without having to beg I get an appointment for my BMW.
When I met Randy, I felt I knew him from somewhere before. I hadn’t really; he just gave this warm feeling of friendship and acceptance. After having been snubbed by every BMW dealership I have ever been to, the guys at Ducati Newport Beach and Randy have made me feel welcome regardless of the kind of bike I ride.
So Randy loads my bike into the stand and makes several preliminary measurements for the static bike. All the while he is asking me how I ride and what do I expect. He asks me to jump on and he makes the needed measurements for my weight and riding style.
When he is done measuring, he kindly asks me to climb off and he starts to crank up my preload on the rear shock. I am dumbfounded, Ted Porter told me that these shocks were custom for my weight and to ride with the rear preload backed off all the way. You see sports fans, this is custom suspension designed just for me and Randy was changing what I was told would be my baseline.
I watched and listened as Randy made adjustments to both front and rear shocks, the Beemer suspension does not have front forks like all the others out there. Instead it has a kind of automobile suspension with a shock. The fork tubes are only a guide for the front wheel. Randy talks and works and I listened. Then he asked me to test it because he wasn’t sure it being a Beemer and all.
So I don my helmet and go for a little ride.
All through my first test ride the information Randy gave me is going round and round inside my head. The bike didn’t feel any different; I thought it would be a little rougher with the rear spring set so high. Randy told me that the rear end tends to sit down in the turns and that makes the bike come out of a turn a little high. In other words the bike will not follow your intended track in a turn and instead it would open the turn up and require a larger turning radius. So that is why he cranked it up so much.
There is this little turn from Coast Highway onto Superior in Newport that is almost a 180 to the right if you are going north bound. I thought it would be perfect for a test of the handling characteristics for my newly tuned bike.
I drop the gearbox down to second gear and make the turn.
And…she swings a little wide…no difference.
I don’t know, I guess I am just not that good of a rider.
Up the hill, the bike feels great.
Three right turns and I am back at the dealer, I pull up to Randy and he comes over to see me.
I flip my face shield up and Randy is smiling. “Well?” He asks.
I tell him it feels much the same, no difference. I sit there saddened by the realization that all this was for nothing. But Randy leans down to reach up under my front fairing and with a look in his eyes of complete joy he does something in less than two seconds and says to me to try it again.
I was convinced he didn’t do anything. I was not really sure but I felt like this could go on for days and I would have to give in and tell him it was great. “Thanks Randy, you really made my bike handle great!”
Off I go, down Newport Boulevard and up the Coast Highway.
Here comes Superior. Drop it down to second gear and…a…round…the…corner…we…go!
What just happened there? I made it without the normal pull to the outside of the turn.
What the…?
What did he do?
Magic!
Magic
I looked into what he adjusted later. I was confused because I didn’t think he did anything. I thought he was screwing with my mind. But I checked under the front fairing and I found that the front shock has a collar at its base for dampening. I am sure Randy had made a minor adjustment of that collar. When Randy was making his primary adjustments he commented on the fact that the suspension I have was very responsive to his adjustments. He was very impressed with the way my system works. Judging by what Randy told me, I believe by adjusting the dampening on the front the height in the rear is no longer affected by the suspension being pumped up while the bike is in a turn.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Championship
If you were looking for two words that totally describe the Southern California region, those two words would be: Beach Boulevard. Imagine a sunny day as you ride your motorcycle along the beach, checking out the beach goers lugging umbrellas, volleyballs, and suntan lotion across Pacific Coast Highway, in sandals and beach towels as they are headed for the beach. Most are young boys and girls, minus the umbrellas, with surfboards and wet suits going for a few hours of good old Southern California surfing. It kind of makes you think of the Beach Boys’ tune Surfing USA.
Connecting the folks who are not fortunate enough to live in one of the beach communities like Huntington Beach, self proclaimed Surf City, is Beach Boulevard. A little over twenty miles from one end to the other, Beach Boulevard is the main thoroughfare for beach goers for miles around. At the north end of Beach is the little town of La Habra, California. Officially nestled in Orange County, La Habra is a foothill village that shares two area codes because it is right on the border of everything, and it is a part of nothing.
I used to work for a little sandwich maker in La Habra and drive a delivery truck throughout the San Gabriel Valley. Monday through Saturday, I hauled sandwiches for Ropa, a mom and pop outfit that was on the verge of going out of business, mostly because the new owners had taken too much from the little company and it was not staying afloat any longer. They did make good sandwiches though.
If you drive to the north end of Beach Blvd, it dead ends into Whittier blvd. When you arrive at the intersection you would notice that the highways change numbers and directions. It can be a little confusing for someone who is not familiar with the region but if you just hang in there and jog a little east, to the right of Beach Blvd, you can find a connecting road that will take you to Hacienda Heights and the San Gabriel Valley. The road is appropriately named Hacienda Road and as I just checked it out on Google Streets, it still appears as it did in 1977.
Why 1977? Because that was when I took the 6 mile trip across the mountains, actually they are just hills, on my homemade café racer. I have been telling you a little about my Kawasaki 750 triple and how I had rebuilt it mostly from the ground up to be the bike I always wanted, well Kawasaki had released their Z1, a four cylinder super bike that was supposed kick ass on my mere 750 two stroke scooter (in perspective). I felt a little intimidated by the Z1 from the articles I had read about the newer model but I felt my bike had a little advantage after all the mods I had done on it.
So there I was, crossing into Hacienda Heights and I looked in my mirror and recognized a Z1 passing everything to eventually pass me, I felt. Something clicked in my little brain. I thought to myself, there is NO WAY this guy is going to pass me.
I pulled in the clutch and kicked it down two gears, clunk clunk.
I cranked it on and up-shifted, clunk.
I kept on the throttle and as I accelerated I was watching in my mirror, good, he couldn’t keep up, he would have to really try just to catch me. Remember now this is a much more powerful bike coming up behind me and I wasn’t going to let him pass.
I was passing everything in sight, on this little two lane road.
As I crested the pass I checked again and the guy was trying but he wasn’t gaining any more, good I thought.
Down the other side I checked the speed. The highest reading on my speedometer is 120. I had pegged it. The tachometer’s maximum is 12,000 RPM. It too was pegged.
Let me tell you a little about 2-stroke motors. There is no red line. Trust me, there is no red line on a two stroke engine, it will turn as fast as you push it to.
So there I was going down the hill into Hacienda Heights over 120 MPH and the road was opening up before me. I thought I must slow down soon because there are people all around. But I was hell bent on losing this guy. It was about then that I realized something was wrong. I was only in Fourth gear?!?
Blam, I kicked it up into 5th and I disappeared from the Z1 completely. What a rush.
I got onto the 60 freeway westbound and I got the Hell out of there, I was really afraid of cops now, I still don’t know how I did it without getting caught. I don’t think I slowed down until I got to El Monte.
But that guy on that Z1?
Who cares!
Connecting the folks who are not fortunate enough to live in one of the beach communities like Huntington Beach, self proclaimed Surf City, is Beach Boulevard. A little over twenty miles from one end to the other, Beach Boulevard is the main thoroughfare for beach goers for miles around. At the north end of Beach is the little town of La Habra, California. Officially nestled in Orange County, La Habra is a foothill village that shares two area codes because it is right on the border of everything, and it is a part of nothing.
I used to work for a little sandwich maker in La Habra and drive a delivery truck throughout the San Gabriel Valley. Monday through Saturday, I hauled sandwiches for Ropa, a mom and pop outfit that was on the verge of going out of business, mostly because the new owners had taken too much from the little company and it was not staying afloat any longer. They did make good sandwiches though.
If you drive to the north end of Beach Blvd, it dead ends into Whittier blvd. When you arrive at the intersection you would notice that the highways change numbers and directions. It can be a little confusing for someone who is not familiar with the region but if you just hang in there and jog a little east, to the right of Beach Blvd, you can find a connecting road that will take you to Hacienda Heights and the San Gabriel Valley. The road is appropriately named Hacienda Road and as I just checked it out on Google Streets, it still appears as it did in 1977.
Why 1977? Because that was when I took the 6 mile trip across the mountains, actually they are just hills, on my homemade café racer. I have been telling you a little about my Kawasaki 750 triple and how I had rebuilt it mostly from the ground up to be the bike I always wanted, well Kawasaki had released their Z1, a four cylinder super bike that was supposed kick ass on my mere 750 two stroke scooter (in perspective). I felt a little intimidated by the Z1 from the articles I had read about the newer model but I felt my bike had a little advantage after all the mods I had done on it.
So there I was, crossing into Hacienda Heights and I looked in my mirror and recognized a Z1 passing everything to eventually pass me, I felt. Something clicked in my little brain. I thought to myself, there is NO WAY this guy is going to pass me.
I pulled in the clutch and kicked it down two gears, clunk clunk.
I cranked it on and up-shifted, clunk.
I kept on the throttle and as I accelerated I was watching in my mirror, good, he couldn’t keep up, he would have to really try just to catch me. Remember now this is a much more powerful bike coming up behind me and I wasn’t going to let him pass.
I was passing everything in sight, on this little two lane road.
As I crested the pass I checked again and the guy was trying but he wasn’t gaining any more, good I thought.
Down the other side I checked the speed. The highest reading on my speedometer is 120. I had pegged it. The tachometer’s maximum is 12,000 RPM. It too was pegged.
Let me tell you a little about 2-stroke motors. There is no red line. Trust me, there is no red line on a two stroke engine, it will turn as fast as you push it to.
So there I was going down the hill into Hacienda Heights over 120 MPH and the road was opening up before me. I thought I must slow down soon because there are people all around. But I was hell bent on losing this guy. It was about then that I realized something was wrong. I was only in Fourth gear?!?
Blam, I kicked it up into 5th and I disappeared from the Z1 completely. What a rush.
I got onto the 60 freeway westbound and I got the Hell out of there, I was really afraid of cops now, I still don’t know how I did it without getting caught. I don’t think I slowed down until I got to El Monte.
But that guy on that Z1?
Who cares!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Pantera
I used to have a buddy that I drag raced with. His name is Bob Cejka. Bob had a couple of Dodge Hemi's and all the bucks-up gear to go along with it. He lives on the hill in Palos Verdes and has all the toys including a Pantera.
Bob and I would race almost every week. I spent lots of time up at his place working on the cars and other social events that included eating and drinking.
Well one day I was up at Bob's with nothing to do, the weather was typical for Southern California, sunny and warm. He tossed me the keys to the Pantera and a credit card and said, "Why don't you go and fill the tank for me?"
Shit! I took it for a ride.
Palos Verdes Drive East is mostly switch back turns that rises and falls through one of the wealthiest areas near my home. Driving a Pantera on those roads was indescribable!
Imagine an Italian sports car powered by one of the most powerful Ford engines, the 351 Cleveland. Now consider that it is a mid-engine design and you can imagine what a sensation it was to drive.
I was so thrilled I didn't even need to cruise past any of my "low lands" friends. It was enough just for me to take it down to San Pedro and fill it up with gas and head back to Bob's.
When I got back I figured I was done for the day. I thanked the God of Internal Combustion Engines (Bob) and threw my leg over my Suzuki 750 Waterpumper and headed for home.
I got three turns from Bob’s house and ran off the road into a drainage ditch. Ouch, that hurt. Not just my leg but my pride hurt too much too. I forgot that the bike I rode couldn’t handle as well as Bob’s Pantera.
Lesson learned, I hope.
Bob and I would race almost every week. I spent lots of time up at his place working on the cars and other social events that included eating and drinking.
Well one day I was up at Bob's with nothing to do, the weather was typical for Southern California, sunny and warm. He tossed me the keys to the Pantera and a credit card and said, "Why don't you go and fill the tank for me?"
Shit! I took it for a ride.
Palos Verdes Drive East is mostly switch back turns that rises and falls through one of the wealthiest areas near my home. Driving a Pantera on those roads was indescribable!
Imagine an Italian sports car powered by one of the most powerful Ford engines, the 351 Cleveland. Now consider that it is a mid-engine design and you can imagine what a sensation it was to drive.
I was so thrilled I didn't even need to cruise past any of my "low lands" friends. It was enough just for me to take it down to San Pedro and fill it up with gas and head back to Bob's.
When I got back I figured I was done for the day. I thanked the God of Internal Combustion Engines (Bob) and threw my leg over my Suzuki 750 Waterpumper and headed for home.
I got three turns from Bob’s house and ran off the road into a drainage ditch. Ouch, that hurt. Not just my leg but my pride hurt too much too. I forgot that the bike I rode couldn’t handle as well as Bob’s Pantera.
Lesson learned, I hope.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Kawasaki Rule, Circa 1972
If it can go faster than anything on the road, it is a Kawasaki.
If it is a Kawasaki, it will go fast for about 8,000 miles, and then it will die.
If it is a Kawasaki, you can only go straight, when you come to a turn you must slow down or die.
Who made up these rules? They did…Kawasaki.
In 1969 Kawasaki released the Mach III. It was a 500cc, three cylinders, two-stroke motorcycle that had to be updated with a heavier frame after its debut because the original design was prone to wheelies. Officially, the bike was called the H1. The Mach III was only a prelude to the Mach IV, a 750cc version of the same bike that was known as one of the first superbikes of the ‘70s.
The Mach IV, or H2, had its own flaws over and above that of the Mach III. First off was its steering wobble at high speeds. In 1973 they added two steering dampeners, one hydraulic and one pure friction. I had a ’72 and all the mounting holes were cast into the steering head for the equipment and after I had my first experience at 120 miles per hour of losing complete control I ran out and bought the equipment that was included in the later versions.
Part and parcel to the bike’s inability to maintain control of its steering was its lack of stability when leaning into a turn. Today, motorcycle design teams know all the geometry factors and crank out a significantly predictable product, but back in the early ‘70s, it was all something new to the Japanese. If you go back to the chapter titled “Bullshit,” it was there that I mentioned our discussions that included motorcycle issues of this nature (in other terms of course). It was there that I became informed of the design flaws Kawasaki was burdened with and possible solutions.
So when I was faced with the complete rebuild of my dead Kawasaki, and believe me I had no other thoughts than to rebuild that blown engine based on my roots of resurrecting that Honda twin in Germany, I decided to go all out and make the bike exactly what I wanted. So it is here that I will try to list all the items I had issues with at that time.
The engine
Hindsight is 20:20, right. If I knew then what I know now I would have…
…Put premix oil in my gasoline.
I averaged 8,000 miles on each engine rebuild. Fortunately, it was easy enough to replace a piston and rings. Pop the tank off and pull the heads starting with the outside working towards the middle. This time though I needed to replace the crankshaft, weld up the holes in the case, and rebuild the engine.
I spoke with the local Kawasaki mechanic at the Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki dealer and Chevron gas station there in Mountain Home at great length about the repairs I needed to do to get my bike back up and running. He recommended a welder who would do the needed repairs to the crankcase so I pulled it all apart and brought to the welding shop and one week later they had my case repaired.
Ordinarily I would have refrained from such a repair to something so critical but in this case I believe the repairs they did with the TIG welder and a slab of copper to back up the repair proved to withstand the test of time. As the welder’s wife explained it to me when I dropped the aluminum case off at their shop, they clamped a thick slab of copper to the backside of the hole in the case as a backup to the repairs to be made. Copper because they could weld right up to it and it would not fuse together. Then they assembled the two halves and torqued the cases together so when they weld they would not warp.
Ah success, they did an excellent job and the rest of the repairs to the engine were expensive as far as parts go but simple as far as labor goes. I spent over $200 for a new crankshaft, because the broken connecting rod was part of the pressed together assembly and rod replacement was not feasible in Idaho. I put a new set of jugs (cylinders), pistons, rings, and a gasket and seal kit to finish the engine’s overhaul.
Since I was going to all the trouble of rebuilding the motor, why not get a set of expansion chambers? This was Jim Stobo’s Idea but I liked it. I chose the black pipes with glass pack silencers and a power range of 6000 RPM and up. Two-stroke engines do not have a camshaft, valves, or lifters. You can’t just replace the cam and get better performance. Instead, two-stroke engines benefit the most from porting the jugs and from the exhaust system. Expansion chambers are the way to do it with the least amount of modifications. Based on the idea that backpressure is timed for the exhaust port in its design of length v diameter of the pipe. When the previous pulse of the exhaust reaches the narrow end of the pipe, it is time for the piston to clear the exhaust port and viola, instant power. For free!
While the engine was being repaired I had to get and perform the modifications I wanted to bring the bike up to my standards.
Suspension
Trick shocks and forks were not available back then. There were no books about suspension tuning of your sport bike. Shocks were made for cars and adapted to motorcycles. Geometry was a high school subject, not a part of motorcycle design. However, I had made it a point to collect magazine articles on everything I owned or rode and the consensus of the “experts who wrote those magazine articles was that the factory swing arm bushings were inferior, also the swing arm was too short for the bike to handle well in turns, and the bike lacked in steering dampers.
All of these design deficits were the reason the bike was only good for going straight, stop light to stop light was the term used back then, and the reason for the tendency for it to wobble at high speeds. Once I was traveling about 120 MPH on one of the isolated roads in southern Idaho when the handlebars became more like a propeller on an airplane. My hands were just a blur as the front tire wobbled back and forth uncontrollably. As I slowed it got worse. Then my training kicked in, I guess I was a little slow on the uptake.
“When you encounter a high-speed wobble, don’t try to control it, your efforts will only make it worse. Instead push on the handlebars, and it will come out of the wobble.”
They told me that if I try to adjust my speed, the wobble would worsen. And it did.
So…
…I opened my hands and pushed on the handlebars.
And…
…The wobble stopped.
I slowed down and pulled over for a cigarette. While I was calming down on the side of the road I realized that I had to do something about that. I ordered the parts from Kawasaki as soon as I got back. 10 days later I had my steering dampers but until then I tried to keep the bike under 120.
Back in Germany, when Calvin sent his Honda CR250M to himself, he had cut the frame with a tubing cutter and when it arrived he machined some pins that would fit inside the tubes he cut, then he welded the pins and frame to reassemble his bike.
Putting it together for myself, I mail-ordered a swing arm bushing kit from a magazine ad that assured the reader that this would replace the factory bushings and eliminate the tendency for the swing arm to become unstable while in turns. I removed the swing arm and had the tubes cut with a large tubing cutter and I hauled all the parts down to a local machine shop to have pins made.
Convincing the machinist was the most difficult part. He was the first of many individuals I needed to convince as I modified my motorcycle, one part at a time. We agreed that the pins he was to make were to add 2 ½” to the length of the swing arm. A local welder made the final installation after the pins were ready.
This also meant I needed to add 5” to the chain, but that was handled after I got the bike back together later.
Stopping Power
In 1974 the idea of disk brakes with holes in the rotors was novel and questionable. The magazine articles stated increased stopping performance, so I wanted it. While the bike was down, I took the rotor to the local machine shop, where I had the pins made and he referred me to a shop in Boise for several reasons.
In Boise, I had a long conversation with the machinist. He was more than reluctant to drill my brake rotor; he really didn’t want the liability of my killing myself. I showed him photographs and magazine articles that stated the enhanced braking merely from drilling the rotors. I had to draw the design on a blueprint, only in white. So I returned with the blueprint and all the specifications I had wanted. I thank my high school drafting teacher for my ability to make that drawing.
One week later I handed over the $20 bill and the machinist explained that he should have charged me $50 because not only was it difficult laying out the design, the rotor was extra hard material and he had to use special drill bits. Whatever, I had my brake rotor and I was elated.
Final Assembly
It took forever to get everything together, pay all the bills, and put everything in its place but when I kicked that bike over with all the stuff I had done I was in heaven.
There is nothing like the sound of a two-stroke motorcycle engine, and Kawasaki had it in threes.
The expansion chambers were the biggest change I made. I could rely on having power under my throttle almost in any gear before. Now I had a different monster between my legs. Now I had nothing below 6,000 RPM. I would have to crank and wait for the speed to bring the revs up to the power band. But when it did, it did!
I had me a wheelie monster now. I had to be careful with the throttle over that 6,000 minimum.
Next, I needed a better seat, a new paint job, clip-on handlebars, rear sets, and if I could find one a fairing.
All of that is to come…
If it is a Kawasaki, it will go fast for about 8,000 miles, and then it will die.
If it is a Kawasaki, you can only go straight, when you come to a turn you must slow down or die.
Who made up these rules? They did…Kawasaki.
In 1969 Kawasaki released the Mach III. It was a 500cc, three cylinders, two-stroke motorcycle that had to be updated with a heavier frame after its debut because the original design was prone to wheelies. Officially, the bike was called the H1. The Mach III was only a prelude to the Mach IV, a 750cc version of the same bike that was known as one of the first superbikes of the ‘70s.
The Mach IV, or H2, had its own flaws over and above that of the Mach III. First off was its steering wobble at high speeds. In 1973 they added two steering dampeners, one hydraulic and one pure friction. I had a ’72 and all the mounting holes were cast into the steering head for the equipment and after I had my first experience at 120 miles per hour of losing complete control I ran out and bought the equipment that was included in the later versions.
Part and parcel to the bike’s inability to maintain control of its steering was its lack of stability when leaning into a turn. Today, motorcycle design teams know all the geometry factors and crank out a significantly predictable product, but back in the early ‘70s, it was all something new to the Japanese. If you go back to the chapter titled “Bullshit,” it was there that I mentioned our discussions that included motorcycle issues of this nature (in other terms of course). It was there that I became informed of the design flaws Kawasaki was burdened with and possible solutions.
So when I was faced with the complete rebuild of my dead Kawasaki, and believe me I had no other thoughts than to rebuild that blown engine based on my roots of resurrecting that Honda twin in Germany, I decided to go all out and make the bike exactly what I wanted. So it is here that I will try to list all the items I had issues with at that time.
The engine
Hindsight is 20:20, right. If I knew then what I know now I would have…
…Put premix oil in my gasoline.
I averaged 8,000 miles on each engine rebuild. Fortunately, it was easy enough to replace a piston and rings. Pop the tank off and pull the heads starting with the outside working towards the middle. This time though I needed to replace the crankshaft, weld up the holes in the case, and rebuild the engine.
I spoke with the local Kawasaki mechanic at the Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki dealer and Chevron gas station there in Mountain Home at great length about the repairs I needed to do to get my bike back up and running. He recommended a welder who would do the needed repairs to the crankcase so I pulled it all apart and brought to the welding shop and one week later they had my case repaired.
Ordinarily I would have refrained from such a repair to something so critical but in this case I believe the repairs they did with the TIG welder and a slab of copper to back up the repair proved to withstand the test of time. As the welder’s wife explained it to me when I dropped the aluminum case off at their shop, they clamped a thick slab of copper to the backside of the hole in the case as a backup to the repairs to be made. Copper because they could weld right up to it and it would not fuse together. Then they assembled the two halves and torqued the cases together so when they weld they would not warp.
Ah success, they did an excellent job and the rest of the repairs to the engine were expensive as far as parts go but simple as far as labor goes. I spent over $200 for a new crankshaft, because the broken connecting rod was part of the pressed together assembly and rod replacement was not feasible in Idaho. I put a new set of jugs (cylinders), pistons, rings, and a gasket and seal kit to finish the engine’s overhaul.
Since I was going to all the trouble of rebuilding the motor, why not get a set of expansion chambers? This was Jim Stobo’s Idea but I liked it. I chose the black pipes with glass pack silencers and a power range of 6000 RPM and up. Two-stroke engines do not have a camshaft, valves, or lifters. You can’t just replace the cam and get better performance. Instead, two-stroke engines benefit the most from porting the jugs and from the exhaust system. Expansion chambers are the way to do it with the least amount of modifications. Based on the idea that backpressure is timed for the exhaust port in its design of length v diameter of the pipe. When the previous pulse of the exhaust reaches the narrow end of the pipe, it is time for the piston to clear the exhaust port and viola, instant power. For free!
While the engine was being repaired I had to get and perform the modifications I wanted to bring the bike up to my standards.
Suspension
Trick shocks and forks were not available back then. There were no books about suspension tuning of your sport bike. Shocks were made for cars and adapted to motorcycles. Geometry was a high school subject, not a part of motorcycle design. However, I had made it a point to collect magazine articles on everything I owned or rode and the consensus of the “experts who wrote those magazine articles was that the factory swing arm bushings were inferior, also the swing arm was too short for the bike to handle well in turns, and the bike lacked in steering dampers.
All of these design deficits were the reason the bike was only good for going straight, stop light to stop light was the term used back then, and the reason for the tendency for it to wobble at high speeds. Once I was traveling about 120 MPH on one of the isolated roads in southern Idaho when the handlebars became more like a propeller on an airplane. My hands were just a blur as the front tire wobbled back and forth uncontrollably. As I slowed it got worse. Then my training kicked in, I guess I was a little slow on the uptake.
“When you encounter a high-speed wobble, don’t try to control it, your efforts will only make it worse. Instead push on the handlebars, and it will come out of the wobble.”
They told me that if I try to adjust my speed, the wobble would worsen. And it did.
So…
…I opened my hands and pushed on the handlebars.
And…
…The wobble stopped.
I slowed down and pulled over for a cigarette. While I was calming down on the side of the road I realized that I had to do something about that. I ordered the parts from Kawasaki as soon as I got back. 10 days later I had my steering dampers but until then I tried to keep the bike under 120.
Back in Germany, when Calvin sent his Honda CR250M to himself, he had cut the frame with a tubing cutter and when it arrived he machined some pins that would fit inside the tubes he cut, then he welded the pins and frame to reassemble his bike.
Putting it together for myself, I mail-ordered a swing arm bushing kit from a magazine ad that assured the reader that this would replace the factory bushings and eliminate the tendency for the swing arm to become unstable while in turns. I removed the swing arm and had the tubes cut with a large tubing cutter and I hauled all the parts down to a local machine shop to have pins made.
Convincing the machinist was the most difficult part. He was the first of many individuals I needed to convince as I modified my motorcycle, one part at a time. We agreed that the pins he was to make were to add 2 ½” to the length of the swing arm. A local welder made the final installation after the pins were ready.
This also meant I needed to add 5” to the chain, but that was handled after I got the bike back together later.
Stopping Power
In 1974 the idea of disk brakes with holes in the rotors was novel and questionable. The magazine articles stated increased stopping performance, so I wanted it. While the bike was down, I took the rotor to the local machine shop, where I had the pins made and he referred me to a shop in Boise for several reasons.
In Boise, I had a long conversation with the machinist. He was more than reluctant to drill my brake rotor; he really didn’t want the liability of my killing myself. I showed him photographs and magazine articles that stated the enhanced braking merely from drilling the rotors. I had to draw the design on a blueprint, only in white. So I returned with the blueprint and all the specifications I had wanted. I thank my high school drafting teacher for my ability to make that drawing.
One week later I handed over the $20 bill and the machinist explained that he should have charged me $50 because not only was it difficult laying out the design, the rotor was extra hard material and he had to use special drill bits. Whatever, I had my brake rotor and I was elated.
Final Assembly
It took forever to get everything together, pay all the bills, and put everything in its place but when I kicked that bike over with all the stuff I had done I was in heaven.
There is nothing like the sound of a two-stroke motorcycle engine, and Kawasaki had it in threes.
The expansion chambers were the biggest change I made. I could rely on having power under my throttle almost in any gear before. Now I had a different monster between my legs. Now I had nothing below 6,000 RPM. I would have to crank and wait for the speed to bring the revs up to the power band. But when it did, it did!
I had me a wheelie monster now. I had to be careful with the throttle over that 6,000 minimum.
Next, I needed a better seat, a new paint job, clip-on handlebars, rear sets, and if I could find one a fairing.
All of that is to come…
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
My Kawasaki
“What do you mean you want another $150?” I asked in astonishment. I had just signed the paperwork at the bank where I was taking over payments of the Kawasaki. “I remember the ad I saw in the barracks of our squadron, it said $850 or take over payments.”
“No! The price of the bike is $850, if you take over payments you still owe $150.” My newfound friend who just turned his coat red and became my #1 enemy was taking a stand in front of the banker who just made me the proud owner of a 1972 750 Kawasaki H2, Mach IV motorcycle.
“Shit!” I thought. I am always getting screwed. I didn’t have any more money because I spent it all on those Mikuni Carburetors that resulted in the demise of my Honda. The Honda twin, that followed me all the way to Idaho from West Germany. How could I get out of this one and still have the bike? Just pay the man.
“How about if I pay you when I get paid at the end of the month?” I asked, realizing I was on shaky ground.
“OK,” He said. “You don’t look like you are going anywhere, I guess I can trust you.”
I got the key from him and rode back to the barracks. I was so happy to have the bike it only took two minutes for me to forget that I still owed almost a full paycheck for the bike. The first thing I did when I parked the bike was to go upstairs to my room and get some tools. I went right back down and I pulled the hard cases that came with the bike off. These things were hard fiberglass with chicken shit little lids. The style was ’60s Nuevo; with little keyed twist locks in the top of each lid. I just couldn’t ride anything with this kind of saddlebags on it and they were coming off right away.
And into the dumpster they went.
The Kawasaki Triple was a two-stroke machine. That means oil is injected into the motor by a pump. Kawasaki thought they had the world by the tail when they replaced the traditional method of pre-mixing oil and gasoline in the tank with an injection pump and oil reservoir. This system was called injecto-lube. And it left a lot to be desired. I stuck with the system as any good die-hard should, but it was the reason I had so many troubles with my Kawasaki.
Ask my cousin Paul some time about the trip to Lovelock Nevada he and his dad did one Fourth of July weekend to rescue me from the desert. Remember Paul? It was the day Evil Knievel jumped the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls Idaho.
But I am getting ahead of myself now.
Having a powerful and quick machine like that allowed me to make a lot of friends and to get out on my own while stationed in Idaho. My favorite trip was the same one I took that first day on my Honda when I smoked the motor. I would leave the base and head south on a back road to the Snake River, about 10 miles south of the air base. There was a road that followed the river east that would wind with the river through a very exotic area of the desert. I would go past a part where water would seep out of the face of the rocks in the canyon wall. It was called Thousand Falls.
Idaho is in volcano country, there are various places that exhibit evidence of underground rivers created by the flow of lava, I don’t know how long ago, beneath the desert floor. We had parties in some radical places, one of which was inside a cave hollowed out by the flow of lava. Someone made a ladder that was about 25 feet long, they dropped it into one of those caverns and we all climbed down to the party, complete with huge bond fire and kegs of beer.
It was in the middle of the night, as most parties are, and I wanted to venture into the cave as far as we could go. Flashlights were dug up and off we went, south because we could see the end of the cave north. We were probably about half mile into it when someone said lets turn off our flashlights. Whoa. did it ever get dark in there. It hurt my eyeballs.
Anyway, the river flowed underground for hundreds of miles, I rode up to the top of the canyon on that side and it was just dry desert up there. The river flowed underground, I would not have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.
Oops, I got off the track there.
I would ride into Twin Falls, the biggest city along the Snake River after it leaves Pocatello, fuel up and take the Interstate home. I never stopped in Jerome again.
So what was so bad about my Kawasaki?
The engine seized up on me on three occasions.
The first time the left cylinder seized while I was just out on my own having a great time. I didn’t know why but my rear tire just locked up and I came to a very abrupt halt in the middle of the road. I figured it out in short order and used the clutch to get it off the road. After the motor cooled down I nursed it home and pulled the motor apart in the frame and replaced the left piston and rings.
It was a simple repair after I was coached by the local Kawasaki mechanic in town, Mountain Home that is. The price of the piston, rings, and gaskets was not very much considering the time and I became a two-stroke mechanic.
The second time it seized it was the center cylinder. I knew right away what was happening and I pulled the clutch in before I lost more than 10 miles per hour. That is excellent reflexes if you are making a comparison here. About like being the quickest draw in the west. This time I pulled the exhaust pipe off to look at the pistons and diagnose the problem on-scene. I really knew what to do, I stopped at the Kawasaki dealer on my way back to the base and viola, and I had it repaired the same day. This time though I had to remove the tank and one of the outside cylinders to get to the center for repairs. No biggie, I just needed an extra head gasket.
The last time I was headed to Modesto to visit my mom for the long Fourth of July weekend. I was traveling at night and had just left Winnemucca Nevada at around midnight. About 10 miles out of town it happened, again the quick reaction saved me from a flat spot on my rear tire. Except I knew something was really wrong here, I could see one of the connecting rods sticking out of the crankcase.
I got it off the highway and fell asleep in the bushes.
In the morning I took another look, yep it was trashed. So I hid the bike in the bushes and I walked out to the road and stuck my thumb out in the direction of California.
“No! The price of the bike is $850, if you take over payments you still owe $150.” My newfound friend who just turned his coat red and became my #1 enemy was taking a stand in front of the banker who just made me the proud owner of a 1972 750 Kawasaki H2, Mach IV motorcycle.
“Shit!” I thought. I am always getting screwed. I didn’t have any more money because I spent it all on those Mikuni Carburetors that resulted in the demise of my Honda. The Honda twin, that followed me all the way to Idaho from West Germany. How could I get out of this one and still have the bike? Just pay the man.
“How about if I pay you when I get paid at the end of the month?” I asked, realizing I was on shaky ground.
“OK,” He said. “You don’t look like you are going anywhere, I guess I can trust you.”
I got the key from him and rode back to the barracks. I was so happy to have the bike it only took two minutes for me to forget that I still owed almost a full paycheck for the bike. The first thing I did when I parked the bike was to go upstairs to my room and get some tools. I went right back down and I pulled the hard cases that came with the bike off. These things were hard fiberglass with chicken shit little lids. The style was ’60s Nuevo; with little keyed twist locks in the top of each lid. I just couldn’t ride anything with this kind of saddlebags on it and they were coming off right away.
And into the dumpster they went.
The Kawasaki Triple was a two-stroke machine. That means oil is injected into the motor by a pump. Kawasaki thought they had the world by the tail when they replaced the traditional method of pre-mixing oil and gasoline in the tank with an injection pump and oil reservoir. This system was called injecto-lube. And it left a lot to be desired. I stuck with the system as any good die-hard should, but it was the reason I had so many troubles with my Kawasaki.
Ask my cousin Paul some time about the trip to Lovelock Nevada he and his dad did one Fourth of July weekend to rescue me from the desert. Remember Paul? It was the day Evil Knievel jumped the Snake River Canyon in Twin Falls Idaho.
But I am getting ahead of myself now.
Having a powerful and quick machine like that allowed me to make a lot of friends and to get out on my own while stationed in Idaho. My favorite trip was the same one I took that first day on my Honda when I smoked the motor. I would leave the base and head south on a back road to the Snake River, about 10 miles south of the air base. There was a road that followed the river east that would wind with the river through a very exotic area of the desert. I would go past a part where water would seep out of the face of the rocks in the canyon wall. It was called Thousand Falls.
Idaho is in volcano country, there are various places that exhibit evidence of underground rivers created by the flow of lava, I don’t know how long ago, beneath the desert floor. We had parties in some radical places, one of which was inside a cave hollowed out by the flow of lava. Someone made a ladder that was about 25 feet long, they dropped it into one of those caverns and we all climbed down to the party, complete with huge bond fire and kegs of beer.
It was in the middle of the night, as most parties are, and I wanted to venture into the cave as far as we could go. Flashlights were dug up and off we went, south because we could see the end of the cave north. We were probably about half mile into it when someone said lets turn off our flashlights. Whoa. did it ever get dark in there. It hurt my eyeballs.
Anyway, the river flowed underground for hundreds of miles, I rode up to the top of the canyon on that side and it was just dry desert up there. The river flowed underground, I would not have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.
Oops, I got off the track there.
I would ride into Twin Falls, the biggest city along the Snake River after it leaves Pocatello, fuel up and take the Interstate home. I never stopped in Jerome again.
So what was so bad about my Kawasaki?
The engine seized up on me on three occasions.
The first time the left cylinder seized while I was just out on my own having a great time. I didn’t know why but my rear tire just locked up and I came to a very abrupt halt in the middle of the road. I figured it out in short order and used the clutch to get it off the road. After the motor cooled down I nursed it home and pulled the motor apart in the frame and replaced the left piston and rings.
It was a simple repair after I was coached by the local Kawasaki mechanic in town, Mountain Home that is. The price of the piston, rings, and gaskets was not very much considering the time and I became a two-stroke mechanic.
The second time it seized it was the center cylinder. I knew right away what was happening and I pulled the clutch in before I lost more than 10 miles per hour. That is excellent reflexes if you are making a comparison here. About like being the quickest draw in the west. This time I pulled the exhaust pipe off to look at the pistons and diagnose the problem on-scene. I really knew what to do, I stopped at the Kawasaki dealer on my way back to the base and viola, and I had it repaired the same day. This time though I had to remove the tank and one of the outside cylinders to get to the center for repairs. No biggie, I just needed an extra head gasket.
The last time I was headed to Modesto to visit my mom for the long Fourth of July weekend. I was traveling at night and had just left Winnemucca Nevada at around midnight. About 10 miles out of town it happened, again the quick reaction saved me from a flat spot on my rear tire. Except I knew something was really wrong here, I could see one of the connecting rods sticking out of the crankcase.
I got it off the highway and fell asleep in the bushes.
In the morning I took another look, yep it was trashed. So I hid the bike in the bushes and I walked out to the road and stuck my thumb out in the direction of California.
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