Categories: all aviation bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater

Sun, 31 Aug 2008

Racing FAIL

Racing yesterday was definitely story-worthy.

The schedule for the weekend was unusual. Normally, we'd have two practices on Saturday, followed by a practice then two races on Sunday. This weekend was the endurance race weekend, and so Sunday was entirely taken up with endurance races. That meant all the rest of the racing had to happen on Saturday. Thus, we had one practice in the morning, a race at noon, and a race at 3:20. I felt kind of shortchanged, since that meant I got 3/5ths of the time on the track I normally would.

The morning practice passed fairly uneventfully, although I had one notable occasion: I was trying to take corners faster, fully aware that this was one of the places I could stand to improve. As I was entering turn 2, which is a wide, sweeping left-hand curve at the end of the front straight, I decided to not slow down as much as I normally do. I remembered Jesse saying that he'd been able to take 2 at basically full throttle in 5th gear, so I figured I'd head that direction.

So I entered in 5th gear, going faster than normal (although how much faster, I couldn't tell you). I made it around the turn, but I had a slightly butt-clenching moment when both tires started drifting sideways. It was very controllable, and I didn't spaz (for spazzing would have certainly caused me to crash). But it was a data point: at least on those relatively cold tires, I'd reached the traction limit. I was also scraping the footpeg, which is getting to be a real irritant for me.

I didn't make as much progress on braking late into 3 as I wanted, but it was otherwise a decent practice. I had one other moment that was just dumb: coming into the bus stop, where one must slow way down and shift into 2nd or 1st, my foot missed the shifter, and I entered in 5th gear. Not a big deal, just clutch in and do some quick shifting, but it slowed me down, and the group of riders I'd been following disappeared.

I tried to turn off the camera after the practice only to discover that it was frozen again. I guess my new very-solid mount is transmitting too much vibration to the camera. Again. I'm not thrilled with this. I pulled out the shim I'd been hoping would keep down the up-and-down vibration I noticed in a test in the garage, and decided I'd try again for the race.

The first race rolled around at noon, and I got myself suited up. Turned on the camera, but it wasn't having any of it. It wouldn't even turn on. I gave up, and left the balky thing behind, since I really didn't need to be late to the race for this.

So I rolled out, and did my warm-up lap. Nothing notable there. Gridded for the start, although as I did, one of the new riders next to me suddenly turned, closing the path another rider had been aiming for, moving way too fast. He swerved right in front of me, and I caught it at the last minute, jamming on my front brake so hard the back tire came up and slapped back down. That was the end of that, but I have a vague memory that the rider who caused me to slam on the brakes was the same rider who I shall refer to as number XXX for the remainder of the story.

The start was fine, and I kept up with the back of the pack. I could have started better, but it wasn't bad. I followed the pack all the way into 3, but they were so bunched up in there that I fell back just out of a desire not to be too close to the crashing that seemed imminent. No crashes occurred, but somehow I found myself behind 146, Mark, and XXX.

Mark was able to pass XXX without too much trouble half a lap later, but I found myself utterly stuck. Every time we'd go through a corner, he held me back, but every time there was a straight or corner exit, he'd pull away. I finally realized he was riding a bigger bike, and learned after the race that it was a 350. But every corner, he'd slow way down, and I couldn't figure out how to pass him safely -- I don't have the technique, and I don't have the power to make up for my lack of technique.

So, I found myself thwarted at every turn, with a growing sense that I wanted to pass this guy no matter what.

As he ground down to playground speeds through the bus stop, I determined that I'd try to get him around turn 2, which was the next likely place. Of course, he disappeared hundreds of yards in front of me down the straight, but I knew I could get him in 2, if not 3 or 4.

So I tucked way down, and even saw the tachometer pass 10k RPM, which was my previous top speed. I was ready for this guy. I decided that since my tires were probably warmer, I could try hitting 2 fast again, like I had in practice.

I kept the throttle pinned, with barely a waver as I prepared to turn in. I turned in, following my usual line, and the following events happened very quickly:

I realized I was going too fast. I'd leaned over as far as I could, and the footpeg was starting to scrape. Damn that peg! My brain passed along the urgent, high-priority message: You're going too fast!

An agonizingly long quarter of a second later, I decided I'd better slow down, so I rolled off the throttle. I didn't chop it, but I reduced throttle a lot. As I did this, I traced out the line I was following. It crossed into the dirt on the side of the track.

As a result of rolling off the throttle, the suspension balance was slightly upset, which caused the rear tire to lose some traction (I think). This part isn't as clear to me. At no point did I touch the brakes, so at least I wasn't making that mistake (in a full lean, the available traction in a motorcycle's tire is basically all going into resisting sideways force; there's nothing left for slowing down). Something caused the lightened tire to skip, and my world went blurry.

Suddenly, my hip hurt, and I realized I was on the ground. I remember thinking, "Well, this does hurt a bit. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised." I slid nicely along the track, the leather suit and gloves doing their jobs perfectly. Then I started rolling, with my arms flopping around, probably about the point I hit the gravel.

I realized what was happening, and tried to hold my arms out to stop the rolling. That was also about the point I came to a stop. I looked up to see the bike lying a dozen feet in front of me on its side. I did the quickest body check I've ever done, and decided nothing was seriously damaged. I got up, still nothing causing pain; cool. I walked over to the bike to shut it off, and it blub-blub-blub'd to a halt just as I bent down to flick the OFF switch.

The corner worker on the opposite side of the track yelled something, and made expansive "come over here!" arm gestures. I quickly grabbed the bike and leaned it up against the tire wall. I wanted it on its sad little tires, but I realize now that I was also doing a service to anyone else who might crash in the same spot, so I'm glad I did it. I jogged across the track, since I saw some bikes rounding turn 1, which meant they would be passing me in a few seconds.

As I jogged, I shook the gravel out of my gloves, and tried to make further assessments as to my state of health. Certainly the first thing they'd ask was whether I was alright. I seemed to be.

I pulled off helmet and gloves. The gloves were dusty, and my thumb had a tiny numb spot on it, as if I'd whacked it really hard against something. There was also a dark red blood blister developing at the base of my left palm, but that was the extent of the visible damage. I checked over my helmet, but to my amazement, it hadn't touched down anywhere. That's $500 I won't have to spend again today, at least!

The woman who was working turn 2 asked me if I wanted to be examined by the medics. After some theatrical patting of limbs and checking of collarbones, I said I was fine. I knew my hip was going to bruise (although at the time, it really didn't feel damaged at all), and my thumb felt weird.

The bike, however, didn't look so good. The crash truck showed up and they loaded the bike in. I grabbed the number plate that had parted company with the bike at the track/gravel border, and hopped aboard as well. The big problem was that the front wheel was torqued about 30° away from where the handlebars were pointing. The left peg was pushed up into the bike, and the left numberplate holder was a comical mess of twisted aluminum.

They dropped me off at my pit area, and I stood back to assess things. The front end was definitely in trouble. The shifter rod was bent in a comical S shape, and the shift lever itself was pointing at the sky.

With the assistance of many of the other vintage riders, I was able to put it all basically right. I got the engine started again, and rode it up and down the pits once. I called Tim over to tech the bike again. I told him what I'd fixed, and my misgivings about the front-end: although I'd been able to get the wheel pretty much straight to the handlebars, it wasn't moving up and down like it should. He gave it a push, and said, "If you want, I can give you this tech sticker and you can go race, but I wouldn't do that if it were my bike." I agreed with him, and decided I wouldn't go out again.

The problem was that the front suspension was much stickier than it should be. I could get it to move with a big shove, but me sitting down on the bike, for instance, didn't move it a millimeter. That's not good. The suspension is what keeps the wheels on the ground over bumps, and particularly while leaned over, any inability to track over the bumps means the tire loses traction. And what did I just do? Lost traction while leaned over. I wasn't real keen to try that experience on again.

So, I sat out the second race, glumly sitting in the stands that overlook the bus stop as the little vintage bikes roared by. I noted that every lap, XXX fell further and further behind, sourly thinking, "I was behind that jerk. That would have been me."

Of course, what puts a bow on the whole thing is that this was probably my last race of the season. I am most likely committed to something else for the last race on October 4th and 5th, and won't be able to race. So my 2008 race season was capped by a dunder-headed mechanical failure on the first race of a weekend absolutely packed with vintage races, and then by a stupid crash after one lap (a 2:16 lap, I noted, stuck behind XXX) in the first race of the last weekend. Clap. Clap. Clap.

So I guess now I have time to do all those winter projects I was thinking about.

Postscript: While I was at the race, someone came up and said, "Ian Johnston?" He went on to say, "You don't know me, but..." and explained how he'd been reading this journal after finding my website in a search for BMW R65 information. That was pretty cool. We ended up talking for a long time about these vintage bikes, and racing, and all that. He came over after my crash and expressed his sympathy, watching with his two sons as I attempted to straighten a well-bent shift lever. Of course, I've completely forgotten his name, but hi! Thanks for reading. It's neat to meet people who read this stuff, and who aren't compelled to do so by familial or friendship bonds.

Post-postscript: In the cold hard light of morning, I'm almost exactly as damaged as I first surmised. I have what's going to develop into a grapefruit-sized bruise on my left hip. There's a small raised bump on my left forearm. My thumb feels normal, and the blood blister is ugly but painless. I added a few tiny scrapes in various places on my arms and legs. But that's it. No (new) joint pain, no exciting new aches other than the hip.

That was, in almost any sense, the perfect crash. A nice lowside while leaned way over. If it hadn't munged up the bike's front-end, I wouldn't even give it a second thought. Other than, you know, "Hey, don't do that again."

Posted at 09:39 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Wed, 27 Aug 2008

Tomato!

My first ripe tomato showed up nearly a week ago, and I've patiently left it on the vine, anxious that I shouldn't pick it too early:

There is actually one tiny tomato hiding in there

It's very lonely looking (well, I should say, it was very lonely looking) all by itself on that vine. So I ate it.

The end. (Well, hopefully the rest of those gazillion tomatoes will ripen up too, but that's for another day.)

Posted at 20:02 permanent link category: /misc

Sun, 24 Aug 2008

Tee hee: more CAD goofing around

I forgot how much fun it is to play around in CAD programs. I decided to model (approximately) the new camera mount, pictures of which appear below.

The real thing ended up a bit more mangled than that. In order to relieve stress on the hose clamps, the corners of the ears got rounded over with a file. The camera wouldn't angle far enough up, so I ended up cutting down the top edge of the 3-fingered mount in an ungraceful way.

Posted at 19:29 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Bikey trailer

I finally sucked down some CAD goodness in the form of brl-cad, and made a basic model of the bicycle cargo trailer I want to build:

That's just the rough outline, and not terribly well done, but it shows the basic idea. That'll get a plywood deck to complete it, and some rings and tubes to accomodate strapping things down and adding a temporary wall with dowels and something between them (rope, webbing, netting, whatever).

The deck will be two feet by four feet, and the tongue will be one foot long. That makes it big enough to carry my cello, which was the real goal. It should also be sized appropriately to carry 100-150 lbs of whatever else -- boxes, cider blocks, bags of heavy stuff. The frame (based on simplistic calculations) should weigh about 10 lbs, and by the time it's all put together, it should come in under 30 lbs.

The trailer hitch on the bicycle will be composed of a heim joint attached to a bracket welded to the back of the Xtracycle frame. It should be pretty robust, but I'm still trying to figure out how I can continue storing the Xtracycle up on its tail with the hitch in place. Given how often I'm likely to use it, I suppose I could just remove the hitch from its bracket when it's not in use... That would certainly be the easiest solution.

Posted at 17:18 permanent link category: /bicycle

Introduction to The Enormous Room

Given that The Enormous Room is available electronically, and the copyright date on this introduction is 1934, I'm going to guess that it's safe to reproduce here. This is from the Random House "Modern Library" edition, published, well, some time after 1934. There are no other dates I can find.

INTRODUCTION Don't be afraid. ---But I've never seen a picture you painted or read a word you wrote--- So what? So you're thirty-eight? Correct. And have only just finished your second novel? Socalled. Entitled ee-eye-em-eye? Right. And pronounced? "A" and in a, "me" as in me; accent on the "me". Signifying? Am. How does Am compare with The Enormous Room? Favorably. They're not at all similar, are they? When The Enormous Room was published, some people wanted a war book; they were disappoitned. When Eimi was published, some people wanted Another Enormous Room; they were disappointed. Doesn't The Enormous Room really concern war? It actually uses war: to explore an inconceivable vast- ness which is so unbelievably far away that it appears microscopic. When you wrote this book, you were looking through war at something very big and very far away? When this book wrote itself, I was observing a negli- gible portion of something incredibly more distant than any sun; something more unimaginably huge than the most prodigious of all universes--- Namely? The individual. Well! And what ambout Am? Some people had decided that The Enormous Room wasn't a just-war book and was a class-war book, when along came Eimi---aha! said some people; here's another dirty dig at capitalism. And they were disappointed. Sic. Do you think these disappointed people really hated capitalism? I feel these disappointed people really hated them- selves--- And you really hated Russia. Russia, I felt, was more deadly than war; when nation- alists hate, they hate by merely killing and maiming human beings; when internationalists hate, they hate by categorying and pigeonholing human beings. So both your novels were what people didn't expect. Eimi is the individual again; a more complex individ- ual, a more enormous room. By a---what do you call yourself? painter? poet? play- wright? satirist? essayist? novelist? Artist. But not a successful artist, in the popular sense? Don't be silly. Yet you probably consider your art of vital conse- quence--- Improbably. ---To the world? To myself. What about the world, Mr. Cummings? I live in so many: which one do you mean? I mean the everyday humdrum world, which includes me and you and millions upon millions of men and women. So? Did it ever occur to you that people in this socalled world of ours are not interested in art? Da da. Isn't that too bad! How? If people were interested in art, you as an artist would receive wider recognition--- Wider? Of course. Not deeper. Deeper? Love, for example, is deeper than flattery. Ah---but (now that you mention it) isn't love just a trifle oldfashioned? I dare say. But I dare say you don't dare say precisely why you consider your art of vital consequence--- Thanks to I dare say my art I am able to become myself. Well well! Doesn't that sound as if people who weren't artists couldn't become themselves? Does it? What do you think happens to people who aren't artists? What do you think people who aren't artists become? I feel they don't become: I feel nothing happens to them; I feel negation becomes of them. Negation? You paraphrased it a few moments ago. How? "This socalled world of ours." Labouring under the childish delusion that economic forces don't exist, eh? I am labouring. Answer one question: do economic forces exist or do they not? Do you believe in ghosts? I said economic forces. So what? Well well well! Where ignorance is bliss...Listen, Mr. Lowercase Highbrow--- Shoot. ---I'm afraid you've never been hungry. Don't be afraid. E.E. CUMMINGS New York 1932

I endeavored, as much as possible, to preserve the formatting and spelling. Hopefully I don't have too many typos in there.

Posted at 13:57 permanent link category: /misc

New camera mount

I finally got my new mill squared up and ready for serious work a couple of days ago, so I decided to christen it with a job that absolutely couldn't be done on the lathe: a new, steadier mount for the on-bike camera.

I had these crazy plans for a very complex clamping assembly that would clamp onto a fork tube. Very swanky. Very nearly impossible to do given the facilities and skill I have at the moment. Then I was struck with inspiration for another way to do it: a much simpler mount plus bog-standard hose clamps. It worked perfectly:

Posted at 01:41 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Sat, 23 Aug 2008

SotP race footage

I finally got around to editing and posting my on-the-bike footage from Sounds of the Past:

It was a all good until that last time down the straight...

Posted at 08:40 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Wed, 20 Aug 2008

EIMI!

When I was 17 (the day I turned 17, in fact), I learned of a book called EIMI, written by one ee cummings. It was mentioned in the introduction of The Enormous Room, which had been given to me as a gift that day.

I fairly devoured The Enormous Room, which is a book I'd recommend to almost anyone. It's not tortured typesetting, it's actually a novel, but it's a cubist novel. I can't really explain, just go read it. Every lending library in the world has a copy.

I was on the Powell's Books website today, looking at other stuff, and it randomly occurred to me to type "eimi" into their search box. Maybe, thought I to myself, they'll have a used copy in. I'd never seen a used copy, but I always look when I'm there.

To my shock, delight, surprise and amazement, they actually have a new printing of EIMI! I learned, for the first time, anything about EIMI beyond its title (the introduction to The Enormous Room is intentionally incredibly vague on the topic).

I have some new reading material.

Update: if you'd like a recommended version of The Enormous Room, this is the best one out there. It includes sketches he drew at the time, and is based on his original manuscript rather than the sometimes heavily-edited version that had previously been in print. The introduction I mentioned is from a hardback edition, and I'll have to update again with the edition information. If you'd like to read it online or on your uber-trendy Kindle, have a gander at the free e-book.

Posted at 16:04 permanent link category: /misc

Mon, 18 Aug 2008

No rest for the wicked

I had just gotten myself settled in bed, when the phone rang. Yep, 18 minutes out of vacation, and Adobe calls me to fix a balky server. Welcome back to the working life, suckah!

Posted at 00:23 permanent link category: /misc

Sun, 17 Aug 2008

The last day of vacation

Today is the last day of my sabbatical. I've been off work for 7 weeks as of Friday, and I return to the office on Monday.

It's been a full 7 weeks, too. I thought for sure I would tire of an excess of free time, but instead I've found myself wishing for more.

The first thing I did with all my free time was drive down to Pat's Acres with Jesse, and ride my little racebike around the kart track. I had a great time, and will definitely return if that event happens again next year. I have most of a formal write-up done on that adventure, but haven't put the final polish on it yet. Look for that to go up soon.

Then, with a surprisingly small number of days between the events, I clambered aboard a plane to Alaska, landing in Juneau to find the weather overcast and in the 50's. It was like landing in heaven. I spent 10 days aboard the SV Sequoia with my parents, who were up there on a 3 month trip. I joined them through Glacier Bay, where we saw glaciers (duh), sea otters, orca whales, tons and tons of humpback whales, glorious scenery, and about a zillion eagles. Seriously, I have one picture in which I counted 21 bald eagles, just hangin' out in a tree. I have a trip report brewing for Alaska as well, and I took 1200 pictures while I was there.

Upon returning from Alaska, I had a little bit of unscheduled time, and used it to best possible effect: I worked on motorcycles. Jesse and I had bought new carburetors for our racebikes, and we had just a week before Ducati Seattle would be holding a dyno day. We really wanted to get our bikes on the dyno with the new carbs, so Jesse did some high-tech design work, and figured out the intake runners we'd need to make. I did the precision machining based on his design, and he welded them together. The finished product looks pretty sharp, if I do say so myself, and we had it all ready in time for the dyno.

Dyno thoroughly vanquished (I think my bike put out 14 HP all told, COWER, BRIEF MORTALS!), I packed up my Ninja 250 with camping gear, and headed down the coast toward California. I wanted to meet up with my aunt in Bend, so that was my only schedule constraint. I camped in Washinton (where I coincidentally set up camp next to a group of Guzzi riders, one of whom happened to be a 160 racer -- it's a tiny tiny world), Oregon, and California, followed by a night at Crater Lake (where I met the most mind-bendingly attractive ranger ever; I still think about her, and I interacted with her for maybe 30 seconds -- Kara R, call me!). Then, it was on to Bend, which was hot, and hot. With some hot on the side. Bend was followed by a marathon 450 mile day (or so) back to Seattle, in time for...

Vintage racing last weekend! It was the Sounds of the Past weekend, which meant 2x the normal amount of racing, including a Le Mans start race. If you've been following along, you know how well that went. I put a hole in a piston due to ham-handed wrenching, and only this morning got the bike working again. But I was able to do corner work in turn 9 on Sunday, and that was interesting.

This week was spent, well, rebuilding my engine. Scroll down to see how well that went, but the end result was that the bike fired up this morning without any trouble, and I'm back where I started before last weekend.

My final act of vacation, aside from writing this journal entry, was to make some no-bake cookies after watching The Education of Shelby Knox. Mmmm, cookies. The movie was ok, but mostly made me want to rail against Lubbock, Texas.

And now, a mere 45 minutes before my vacation is officially over, I can wrap it all up in a tidy bow: I had a good time. I'm not sad to go back to work (I'm glad I have a work to go back to). I don't know that I've made any earth-shattering decisions about my employment situation (the nominal purpose of the sabbatical program). I like my job well enough that it's hard to imagine anything fitting me better.

See you on the flip side.

Posted at 23:16 permanent link category: /misc

She starts! She runs!

The engine started exactly like it always does. I must have done things right. There's a little bit of oil coming from the left exhaust pipe, but that's almost certainly the thick coat from the holy-piston run, which I didn't clean out. Both spark plugs look good, and I've finished my first breakin run. Pity I'm gonna have to do the remaining breakin on the track, which is not really the ideal environment (although it's better than babying it along backroads).

Posted at 11:45 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Spectacular pseudo-science

Curious to see if I could duplicate Jesse's fuel flow results, I set out to do some testing of my own this morning.

The first test was done with the tank very low on fuel, maybe 1/2" over the top of the ON tube on the petcock. That is, about 2" of fuel in the tank. I set up my tinfoil trough under both carbs, and pulled the drain plugs. Watching the sweep second hand on my watch, I turned on the fuel for 1 minute as precisely as I could, probably within one second.

I examined my measuring cup: about 1/3 cup at the bottom of the meniscus dip, which looked to be around 3 oz from what I could tell. Math tells me it's actually 2 2/3 oz. Yesterday, I did some pessimistic math, and decided that these engines need roughly 2.7 oz/min of fuel flow to develop 14 HP. And my test resulted in 2.666. Hmm. That could be a problem.

So, I filled the tank nearly to the top, which is about 6 inches of fuel. I repeated the test, and the flow was obviously much more capacious: at the end of a minute, I saw 1 2/3 cups, or 13 1/3 oz!

I didn't do these tests with anything like the precision necessary to be repeatable and useful for actual research, but it was a dramatic demonstration of the effects of hydrostatic pressure. It also suggests that to avoid fuel starvation issues, the tank should always be full or near to it.

Posted at 11:14 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Sat, 16 Aug 2008

The hopefully-penultimate racebike update

I just got back in from doing the final prep on the racebike. The engine's back in the frame, all the bits are attached, and it's basically ready to go. I still need to pour gas in the tank, but that's the only thing to be done before it should theoretically start.

As it was nearly 8:30 pm by the time I got to that point, I decided to be nice to my neighbors, and not start my 120 dB racebike. So, the bike sits, fully assembled (but not quite done -- I haven't done the final safety-wiring, in case I need to pull some things apart in the near future), and ready to go. I've got gas in the can, so tomorrow morning, not too early, I'll fill 'er up, and let 'er rip. You know, hopefully.

When I put the engine back together, I set the timing back to about where it had been when the whole thing went kablooey. Just for yuks, I checked to see where it fired the spark. It was at about 80° of advance. It's supposed to be set at 40°. 35°, for example is power-robbingly far off the mark. Anything over 40° is considered dangerous. I'd say maybe, just maybe, having it set to 80° could have caused my problem. Ouchie. I sent a mea culpa email to the 160 list, explaining what happened, so that hopefully no incoming newbies will follow in my dubious footsteps.

Other than that, everthing has looked perfect. I reset the timing back to 40°, where it's supposed to be, and everything else is in readiness.

Jesse did some flow-testing with his bike, to see how much gas actually flows out of the carburetors. Based on some calculations he did (admittedly for an EFI system, but the numbers should still be close), our bikes require about 4 oz per minute of fuel. Well, something like that, don't quote me on numbers. Anyway, he was able to get 5.5 oz of fuel out of his carbs in a minute, which suggests that there's an acceptable buffer available. The 4 oz figure is only for peak power, which is only a situation you run into part of the time on the track; 5.5 is therefore an even greater buffer than it sounds like.

I will do the same test tomorrow, assuming I can figure out a sufficiently precise measuring contrivance to measure fuel quantity. Hopefully it'll be about the same, but I'm pretty sure that my problems were caused by that whole 80° fiasco, and not a lack of fuel to the carbs.

So, assuming I did everything right (and I'm pretty sure I did), I should be able to start the bike tomorrow, and be back in the running for perfect attendance/last place in the 2008 season.

Posted at 21:05 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Thu, 14 Aug 2008

Racebike update

I took the racebike engine apart, all the way down to the last screw. I already posted pictures of running the engine cases through the dishwasher (hint for future generations: rinse all the kerosene off if you do this -- my dishwasher smells like kerosene now).

With everything cleaned up, and all the bits of dead piston removed, it all looks pretty good. The cases cleaned up nicely, although the dishwasher detergent (phosphate free) etched the aluminum a bit, so the cases are noticeably darker than before washing.

I was able to get the bottom end of the engine reassembled yesterday, and it appears to have gone together nicely. I have to say, the design of the transmission is extremely elegant. I really liked having a chance to play with the gears and see how they work (just like I thought they did, but I'd never seen it before). I was afraid of taking the bottom end apart, just because it looked very daunting from the diagrams and pictures in the manual. In fact, except for one spring-loaded lever, it was a piece of cake, and I wouldn't hesitate to do it again. It's that "fear of the unknown" thing.

I got a start today, cleaning off the cylinders, and getting ready to fit the pistons. Unfortunately, the first piston out of my kit ended up being the wrong size! I overbored the cylinders as part of the rebuild earlier this year, to .5mm oversize. The piston kit I got is marked .5mm oversize, but one of the pistons inside is standard size. I've contacted Tim O, who sold the kit to me, and who had several others; hopefully he can get me set up with a correctly-sized piston before too long. I can't assemble the engine without it, unless I want to use the old, un-holy piston (which is a possibility if it comes right down to it).

There's a lot of measuring and checking to be done on the top end, and I'm debating now how much of it I want to do. I'm not really excited about doing any of it, but I feel like I should, particularly if I end up changing some of the critical gasket thicknesses. That changes how close the piston comes to the top of the engine, which can result in things whacking into each other. Obviously a situation to be avoided. I'll have to see how dramatically different the new head gasket is (that's the "big" one, in that the old one is something like 1.5mm, and the new one is something like .5mm -- 1mm is a lot of space inside an engine).

The undersized piston kind of stops me in my tracks, unfortunately. I can fake along and do some of the stuff I need to do, but I'm very effectively prevented from making any substantial progress until I either get a new piston, or decide to use the old one. Arg.

Posted at 10:48 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Tue, 12 Aug 2008

Yep, this is why I'm single.

Posted at 23:33 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Maybe this is why I'm single

I just loaded all the engine cases from my racebike's engine into the dishwasher.

This is apparently a good way to get engine cases clean, and doesn't involve any abrasives or harsh chemicals, which is a good thing. I am very worried that the close tolerances inside the engine not be damaged.

I even discovered I have some non-phosphate detergent, which seems to be a good thing to avoid contamination on the aluminum. "We'll see."

To set doubtless shrieking minds at ease: this is the step I'm taking after I scrubbed them thoroughly in kerosene, and dried them off. They're pretty clean, and this is just kind of a final step. Hopefully they'll come out all purty and sparkly (although I'll settle for clean and dry).

Posted at 16:03 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Mon, 11 Aug 2008

Holy pistons, Batman!

This is mostly a Picture Post™.

Yeah. That's pretty much not supposed to look like that. This may be the reason the engine stopped producing much power. Whattaya think?

Posted at 13:53 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Sat, 09 Aug 2008

DNF: Mechanical

We arrived at the track today in plenty of time, and after a bit of rain, a bit of setup, and some bureaucracy, we were on the track. It was wet, but there wasn't actually rain falling.

I took it easy, not knowing the limits of these tires in wet conditions. My lap times showed it: 2:35-2:40, where in dry conditions I had previously done 2:19. The bike wasn't working all that well, though.

In early July, I got a new set of carburetors for the bike, which are bigger and should in theory allow the engine to produce more power. Jesse and I collaborated on the intake runners, and we had our first taste of power on the dyno at Ducati Seattle. However, this was our first time out on the actual track with the new carbs.

Jesse was wide-eyed with amazement at the transformation of his bike. He was powering down the straight, keeping up with people who'd formerly disappeared on the horizon. I, however, was not so pleased. The bike ran like crap for the first lap (I thought I'd have to exit). The second and subsequent laps were better, obviously something cleared up -- we now theorize fouled plugs from a far-too-rich idle setting -- but still the engine ran with obviously too little power. Certainly nothing like Jesse experienced.

So, having ruled out jetting (which we'd confirmed on the dyno was set about right), I started messing with the timing. This changes when exactly the spark fires as the piston moves up and down, and if you hit the sweet spot, the engine does noticeably better. If you're off the sweet spot, it turns in a mediocre performance, and if you're far off, it will run very poorly, or even damage the engine.

I knew I was close, and so I went in the direction that seemed to make sense: further advanced. Mr. Bateman's advice was to go for nearly the stock full-advance point of 40°, and I was at about 33°. So each iteration, I'd advance a bit further, and the bike would run a little bit better. I seemed to reach a peak and go past it, so I rolled back to about where the peak was (the adjustment involved loosening two screws and whacking a rotating plate with a small hammer, so precision is not one of its strong points).

Finally, the first race came. This was exciting, as the Sounds of the Past race series includes a 10-lap, Le Mans start race, which I showed via video in an earlier post. I didn't have any trouble with the start, and actually got off pretty well. I wasn't the fastest guy out there, but no real shock on that, I never have been.

I was trading passes with #823, from Portland (I think that's the number, but I'm not sure), and actually catching up to #960, who had formerly had a distinct power advantage over me. I wasn't catching up fast, but my slightly greater skill brought me a little bit closer with each corner, and I figured in a few laps I would have passed him.

Two laps in, as I was tucked down low over the tank in the front straight, I noticed that my tachometer was reading a little bit lower than the last lap. Not a lot, but I wondered why I should be down on power. The previous lap, I'd been able to get it up around 10k RPM, and hold it there, although this required a very distinct and uncomfortable squeeze to make myself as small as possible to the oncoming air.

Then, as I rounded turn 1 (hardly a turn at all, but apparently it's a big deal at big-bike race speeds), I saw my RPM actually going down, and realized something was wrong. I launched my hand in the air, and continued to slow, despite holding open full throttle. #823 screamed past me after having been behind me for about half a lap. I pulled over to the side, debating whether I should pull all the way off.

What could have gone wrong? Did I suck in a valve? Oh crap, I bet I sucked in a valve! This would be terrible, as it would require potentially scrapping a lot of the engine, depending on how it happened. Anyway, it didn't switch off like a valve should have done, it was a comparatively gradual decline: it might have taken 5 very long seconds. Possibly 6.

So, I limped around the rest of the track. At full throttle, the bike wouldn't accelerate, but would maintain speed on the level. I had to downshift and upshift a few times to keep things rolling, and at least one of the shifts seemed very strange, as if I'd managed to shift from 4th to 2nd gear in one leap. I wondered what I could have possibly done that would affect both engine power and the transmission, but couldn't come up with anything. I also couldn't think beyond "broken valve," so obviously my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders yet, either.

I pulled off at the track exit, and rolled up to the hot-tech guys, who were ready for me. I pulled in the clutch, knowing with a fair certainty that the engine would die as I did, and that I'd likely never get it running again without extensive work.

"Oh, yeah, looks like you blew a head gasket," said one of the techs, pointing to the flow of oil down one cylinder. Well, that was actually a pretty benign failure, and it was conceivable I could fix that and be racing again today! He offered me a push to get started again, but I declined, explaining, "I don't think this engine is ever going to start again." I then pushed the bike back to my pit, breathing hard and sweating profusely under the hot riding suit. Pushing the bike any distance involved yet more muscles I didn't know I had, and of which I would have prefered to remain in ignorance.

I got the bike back to the pit and sat back to cool down for a bit. I walked over to watch the last half of the race, and saw everyone passing by, but watching from the straight is one of the least interesting locations, particularly when you were most recently watching from the track itself.

After the engine had cooled off, I started taking bit and pieces off to see what I could see. The spark plugs revealed the most interesting and doomful story: the right plug was a very odd oil-grey color, which I'd never seen before. The left plug was beautiful, a lovely tan with a hint of grey; exactly the color you want to see.

Tim O suggested that I had actually busted a valve, and bade me look into the exhaust port of the suffering cylinder. I looked: one whole, healthy-looking valve. However, as long as I had the flashlight out, I switched my view around to the sparkplug hole. There, lurking casually in the top of the piston, was a ragged hole, the size of a dime. This is in a piston that's around an inch and a half across, so a dime is a pretty significant chunk of it. In any case, you never ever want to see a hole in a piston.

That cemented it: I was done for the weekend, possibly for the season, depending on how hard it was to get replacement parts. I put the bike back together, my mood surprisingly upbeat. Upon reflection, I realized that "unavoidable" failures just don't bother me: they're part of racing. It was the "I should have known better" problems that really pissed me off and got me in a foul mood.

So, I put things back together, and got myself ready for transport home. Jesse still had one race to run, and ended up placing 6th, which is quite an accomplishment, particularly in this day's crowd.

I, meanwhile, have been plotting my course until the next race: work a corner tomorrow (they seem to be perpetually short of corner workers), and spend the next week disassembling and cleaning the engine. The majority of the damage will be the little chunks of molten piston that got sprayed everywhere, but fortunately there should be little or no permanent damage. It does mean I'll have to completely disassemble the engine and transmission, but this is actually an exciting prospect. I wanted to do that before, but even more than that, I wanted a working engine. Now, I have to do it, or I won't have a working engine.

I'm such a nerd.

Minor update: why it happened! I'm still undecided, but there are two possiblities. The first is that the right carburetor was starved for fuel near the end of the straight (which is where you need the highest fuel flow), and thus ran leaner and leaner as I rode down the straight. This seems possible, but why didn't the left carb suffer similarly? It showed no signs of being too lean.

The second thought is that I may well have pushed the timing too far advanced, resulting in a slight detonation condition. This is very likely to put a hole in a piston, since it starts the fire going while the piston is still coming up, instead of when it's ready to start going down. I now suspect that both of these conditions may have combined for a perfect storm of doom for the right piston. I'm not sure why only the right side was affected, but perhaps more clues will become evident as I take things apart.

Posted at 19:56 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Fri, 08 Aug 2008

Sneak preview

I happened to be sifting through the pictures I took on my coast trip, and came across this one, which I thought was pretty cool:

That was taken with my trusty collapsible tripod south of Crescent City, CA, very near the Mill Creek campground turnoff, where I stayed on the third night. That wasn't the biggest redwood I saw, it just happened to be one of the trees in the little area where I'd pulled off to take a rest. It's just a wee tiddler, don't ya know.

Posted at 00:47 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Thu, 07 Aug 2008

I'm back! Again!

Didja miss me?

I just got back last night (minutes before sunset) from a motorcycle trip down the coast to Northern California, then back through Crater Lake and Bend where my aunt recently moved. It was a generally good trip, but had a melancholy tinge because I was doing it solo, and would have been happy to have had another person or two to share things with.

Anyway, this makes trip report #3 I want to get written up and posted -- good thing I've still got next week off!

In completely separate news, and news I wish I'd mentioned before I left (but you know how getting ready for a trip gets crazy): Come watch me race this weekend! Saturday is the event called Sounds of the Past, and is a huge vintage racing event that promises to be great fun. The 160 class (in which I race) will have a Le Mans start race, in which the racers have to run across the track and start their bikes (push-start in the case of most of us):

It looks mad, but I'm interested to try it. Also, (hint hint) I'll need someone to hold my bike for me!

Check out the schedule. You'll definitely want to be there by 1, but interesting things start at 10:48 (the qualifying practice, which will be as good as a race), and the last neat Vintage event is at 4:05. So, show up anywhere in that range, and you'll see some hilariously slow-paced racing.

The entrance fee is $10 per day (there's also racing on Sunday like normal, but Saturday is definitely the day to be there). Here are directions to the track, which is about 40 minutes away from Seattle.

I'd love to see you there. Look for me in the pits, right where the B mark is on this map. I'll be under a white shelter, and my bike number is 923. Come hang out.

Posted at 09:01 permanent link category: /motorcycle

Categories: all aviation gadgets misc motorcycle theater

Written by Ian Johnston. Software is Blosxom. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net.