Crumbling!

The Setup:

I'm in Washington, DC for work. This city holds no magic for me. Little charm, humidity, and an attitude that just prods.

My phone isn't working well - a situation that's irksome at VERY best....

I left my hotel this evening after a really long day bathing in fluorescent light to go to the nearby CVS (which of course, closed early). I needed ibuprofen, for my WRECKED back and leg - each a result of awkward time spent working on the 535i last weekend, and a failure to stay in shape this summer - a whole other point of discussion and soul cutting source of angst.

The Hit:

The door slid open, and I heard a string of about 8 little "dings" from my phone - a backlog of txts! As I inhaled my first breath of moist, superheated DC air - I made out a message that I never want to see...

From my mother:

8.07pm:

Found Motorcycle tipped over on side when I got home. What should I do?

8.40pm: (a long ass time later):

Neighbor got it up and put in garage. Was laying in some gas little paint nibbled right by cap and tip of handle bar disconnected (that's the turn-signal I finally got secure, wired, and working last weekend)...

ONLY GOOD PART:

He (neighbor) wants to buy it 'cuz it's pretty.

That's the grain of sugar on a major shit-crepe. The flattery did go a long way to quell my sadness. I mean, my bike, AFR was on it's side, and who knows for how long. Just RESTING on the whole engine lobe. And I can't see it, touch it, fix it, do a thing about it until I hack my way through another day at our office here, spend another night of poor sleep at a hotel, and get on a little toy plane. ARG.

Here I sit. In a hotel room. Tomorrow, I'll sit in a office, do everything asked of me and not accomplish a thing. The fact that my particular work is wrapped up in fighting for values that I hold dear only complicates the matter.

I dive into bikes, cars, art, hopeful evenings because I need to build, create - a thing; change a rusted hulk to a solid piece, a memory, a good joke - that's my wake. But to make my living (paycheck), I have to troubleshoot and manage people struggling through difficult lives, relationships and assignments. I twist language and circumstance to justify and forge solutions that I feel might as well be random. I don't know if I believe that what we're doing it getting anything done - I know it's not the best way. Still, I'm afraid to let it go - it's hard to walk away from praise and accomplishment - even when you know that it's an oily little film on what's deeper...

I'll swallow it a while longer - I can, and I don't mind that much. The good in my life has always vastly outweighed the nast. Before long, I'm going to finally have to make a decision that's always crept just below the surface - that this little career of mine has run it's course, and it's never a course that's moved me closer to actualization.

When I get back to AFR - I'll see what's going on. Then, I'll take every little piece of it apart. I'll clean, rebuild, repaint, recoat, rewire, and restore it beyond what I could have fathomed when I first saw her in a dark Rockford garage.

It's been busy.

Since I last posted, there hasn't been a lot of Puch action. I've been riding the shit out of the things, which is unusual for me. Typically, my vehicles live in various states of repair and disassembly, adrift in a timeless world of hope, aspiration, and longing to be completed. The only problem with the lil' Puch is that the battery will occasionally fly out of its compartment. That always leads to a shameful trek, retracing the ride until I find the severed battery in the street...back in the bike, ride off, falls out again...ass.

The next thing I'll do is fix the 'effin latch.

Just because I've been screwing around "riding" a bike doesn't mean I haven't been busy in the garage. AFR begged for attention.

A calm night meant for a simple front fork seal replacement turned into a front end tear down, re-wiring, and fabrication and installation of all types of crazy shit.

That very week, I took a welding workshop with Frankie Flood at UWM - he's a master metalsmith, teacher, and motoguy. I chose a project to fill a void in my relationship with AFR - the troublesome space between the rear frame loop and the pert little tailsection:

Some 22 gauge steel, MIG time, body filler, heart break and some LEDS - and a couple of weeks later, we had something to work with, just in time for ROCKERBOX!

Cardboard Model

The Steel, handcut; Tempered by passion and love.

Detail cuts, shaping, and the first welds. No pipe, so we bent some steel around iron. It took hole saws, a jeweler's saw, snips, and a LOT of filing to get the cut-outs right.

I actually enjoy wiring. Welded in a bolt to act as a STUD in the LED retaining system.

MOCK UP!

And there you have it! Also added new rear turn signals, and a flashing LED brake light to the top tailsection so people in truck or SUVs see me...at least I hope. With new seals, oil, and other parts in the front end, the BMW really is a joy to ride. The PUCH/BMW experience is polar, each balancing the other. It's a happy collection....

That just got one bigger:

Stay tuned....I'm almost done.

Back on the road...

The last few weeks have taken me through a lot with the bike. Here's a list of things I've learned, with more to follow

1. Fixing a Puch float with POR-15 doesn't work. Neither does epoxy from a fuel tank repair kit. Neither does polyester resin. AND - if there are over about, oh, say 10 leaks, the solder will just be too heavy. The residue that each of these fixes leaves in your card will clog it - and the residue it leaves in your heart will break it. 

2. There are some excellent English-German translators on the web. I learned the following words: Float=Schwimmer; Float Needle=Schwimmernadlen; Point Breaker Assembly=Unterbrecher. That knowledge, and some friendly Austrians at RBO Ing in Austria helped get me on the road. 

3. The Austrian postal service (post.au) is efficient and fast.

4. Puchs like to be precisely timed and adjusted. After cleaning the carb and fumbling with the adjustments yesterday - Matt at Motorwest showed me how to set the timing and adjust the carb just right today. Made a huge difference, and now I'm rolling for sure!

So - I have a reliable rider. It's still funky, so some of the cosmetic stuff is going to come bit by bit. Once we get the paint booth built, it'll be stripped and resprayed. I'm going to also spend some time working on the BMW's front end, get some lighting sorted out, and hopefully take some trips. Things are cooking!!

The Situation...

Yesterday, I noticed that my carb pissed gas. After that long, wonderful ride, there was a beautiful slice of humble pie just waiting for me. 

No problem, right? Ring up motorwest, pick up a new float (which has stopped floating), and ride on!

Turns out, the float for the 250 is a popular item. It'd take, at best, six weeks to get one from Austria. Damn - was this it? Could I give up so easily? Would this be the end of the road?

Never. I had an idea...

Gas seeped into the float through at least 22 hairline fractures, killing the buoyancy. This would be no simple solder job. First, I had to get the gas out so I could work on it. Since it had crept in slowly over time, it would probably take a long time to seep out, so I had to cut some holes with a hobby knife to drain it. 

Next, I soldered the drain holes, and sanded down the rest of the float to prepare for what came next...

Then, party time...

A bath in POR-15 Fuel Tank Sealer that I had left over from another project! I figure this coating would seal the fissures and holes, restoring sweet, critical buoyancy!

Drip, drip. 

This morning, after sanding some of the drips and bubbles, I put it back in the bike. So far, so good. No leaks, the float floats, and the bike runs! I'd recommend this fix for anyone else suffering from a compromised float made from relative unobtanium!

Triumph against all odds

That title may tip the scales toward dramatic. But, so do my emotions. Last night, I rolled into the garage, expecting to roll out astride the Puch. Put some oil in, went back to the bench to grab the key...but it wasn't there. Quick look around, but I couldn't find it. 

Two and a half hours later, I couldn't find it. 

I've lost a lot of things in my life. Some I've found, some never. An ipod I found  an hour after buying a replacement, a moped, a lucky acron, my mind...

*I half expected the oddly shaped key to fall off my arse when I took a shower, like a quarter (or earring) left on my bed on a humid night. 

Today, I made yet another trip to Motorwest. Luckily, Puch keys are universal and can be replaced by a 10-penny nail in a pinch. Unless you're trying to steal my bike, in which case the nail WILL NOT work. Devil. 

Key in hand, the bike started right up. Helmet on, goggles on, and riding in the sunshine. I got a lot of waves and smiles as I rode across Milwaukee, followed by a could of white two-stroke smoke, and all of the trouble was worth it. 

The plan from here is to ride it around until a few detail parts come in from Austria. Then, we'll get to the second stage of the restoration:

• replace the pipes, tires
  
• shine the wheels 
  
• repaint parts of the frame
  
• replace the tool and battery box hardware
  
• repaint tank, fender and headlight shell
  
• recover seat
  
• replace side stickers, and do custom tank and frame lettering
  

Want to have that done before Rockerbox!

* I realized that I still haven't showered since last night, maybe the key is yet to be found!

BMW!

I have another bike. I'll probably never let it go. It's the first one I really tore into, and I've bled for it. I have more money and time into it, and more miles on it, than I bargained for. 

In 2005, I sold my 1976 Honda cb550, and bought a 1977 BMW R75/7. Saw it on Chicago Craigslist - and travelled down to the rockford area the next day. There is was. Ridden hard. Rough looking, but I loved it. Stan, the guy who sold me the bike, is an interesting guy. A graphic designer by trade - his father was a gymnast in communist Poland. The Family came to the US during some kind of trapeze tour, and defected. 

That's Stan on the left - a cold delivery day. Note handlebar tassels. Decent euro-heritage there. 

Ripped fork boot, some nasty extra bits, dent in the tank - but I just wanted to get it started. Found acorns in the air filter housing, a dead battery, and gummed ass carbs. Since January 2006, I've worked on or replaced every part of this bike save the transmission. What was to be a simple, sympathetic restoration transformed into a cafe conversion: The birth of Anne Frank's Revenge. 

First, a note on the name: It combines the name of dread pirate Blackbeard's ship, The Queen Anne's Revenge with the name of Holocaust victim and diarist, Anne Frank. Thus, Anne Franks Revenge is a nod my my Jewish heritage AND Bayerische Motoren Werke's history during WW2. Internal historical/ethnic conflicts aside, BMW makes awesome bikes with awesome engines. The bike had the bench seat and a seat from a BMW r100rs, which originally inspired the cafe direction for the project. Here are some pics from the evolution:

Broken boot there. Ended up taking the whole front end apart, and breaking a fork leg. And, 1am ebay!

Big tank dent. Tried to fill and paint on my own. Learning experience there. Messy. 

Paint job wasn't great, but it ran!. New tires, coils, front disc and rotors, rear shoes, pipes, boyer electronic ignition, carb rebuild, fork rebuild, many valve adjustments and some custom lighting...

AND a professional paint job...

Not so bad, eh? This was still a couple of years ago, and there's been much more work since. Custom headlight brackets, Motogadget tach/speedo which was a true chore, and all kinds of maintenance. The tank ain't as shiny anymore, but she's a fine machine indeed! But, she's big, and heavy. I love riding it, but wanted something lighter, older and weird. That was the birth of PUCH lust. 

Ah, yes.

After a few days, I got back at it. Another stop at Motorwest and I returned armed with a new clutch cable. This was a really simple job, easiest yet.  Barrel fitting at each end, and an easy adjusting screw, and it was all good! Adjusted the front brake a little, tightened up all the nuts and bolts, and affixed two new tank emblems....looking good...but...

No matter where I looked, I couldn't find the little pivot pin that attaches the clutch lever to the handlebars. Luckily, Matt was pulling a saturday over at Motorwest, and I got the part. While I was there, I also got to see the insides of Matt's Puch 175 racing machine, not bad inspiration at all. 

All together, and back on the road. I was tooling around the neighborhood...all through the gears, tapping into the twingle's powerband nicely. Just floating along, then...brrrp brrrrrrrp puff. No more. Just crapped out. What could it be?

I kicked, kicked, sweated, kicked, talked to the bike, kicked...nothing. What could be wrong?

Out of gas. Ah, yes...the details. 

Next day, back with gas and a hankering to put the BMW plate on the bike and roll. Gas in, some more oil. Kick - nothing. Kick - nothing. Adjust the choke - nothing, New plug - nothing...etc, etc, etc. No spark, at the headlight wasn't coming on, either. 

Every damn time I get a bike, it needs a new battery. I end up frying them, ruining them, running them dead. Why should this be any different?

So, today, a lunchtime trip to M.West, new battery, afternoon of charging...

One, kick, and...life. All there, lights a twinkin'....I was in such a good mood I could even afford the torture of working on the Range Rover, which now has a newly tightened and leak free exhaust, and a new fuel filter. 

Tomorrow: DMV. 

Cheers!