carb take 1

I took the carburetor out so it was time to clean the thing. All the books tell you do it one of two ways. One - buy some dip solution and leave it in there for 30min and then wash and blow it dry. Two - get the spray cleaner, coat it, then wash it off and blow dry. I wasn't satisfied with this for multiple reasons. I didn't have carb cleaner, dip or spray, and Pep boys (the nearest thing to me) is *evil*. Doesn't it seem weird that there is no agitation or rubbing or something? How is it supposed to get squeaky clean that way? Lastly, what is in that cleaner if just sitting on gunk for 10 min makes it magically go away?

I decided to use an ultrasonic cleaner. The bath order was as follows (each warm and for at least thirty minutes)
*50% Simple Green and %50 DI water (to get rid of the oil and gas junk)
* 100% DI water (to rinse)
* 100% Isopropyl Alcohol (cleans and gets any trace of H2O out and dries up fast)

I had to separate everything because I didn't want the fragile jets getting scratched. I used little bags to label and keep track of everything.

All went really well except when I was blowing the carb body dry and the choke assembly shot out across the room. Serious "Oh Shit" moment. The book says not to touch the thing and to leave it in there. But I got it back together and it seems to go up and down just fine.

All and all I think this was a successful alternative.

Two points to me for giving cleaning advice!

Valves

Now that the screws are ancient history - I can get in to see the goods. With the markings on the rotor, I can tell when the engine is at top dead center (TDC) so I could adjust the valves! Isn't that the most fun thing ever? Not so much.

Turns out it was wicked hard to get my feeler gauge in the tight space. And with a gap so small (0.002in) it was really hard to tell if I had "slight" friction because of the spacing or if the curve of my straight gauge was causing the resistance. Bahhh. Do they make right angle feeler gauges? I didn't have the heart to bend mine.

I only had time to adjust the exhaust valve and then I had to jack my tail into a dress to go down to see a dance performance with Gabe. A note to the boys out there - if your wife rarely dresses up (and especially if your wife wears a bodice with no fewer than 6 bones pressing and squeezing her into place AND an *under-wire* strapless bra with even more bones!) you should, maybe, say - "hey you look nice" or "different" or "like a girl" or SOMETHING! Nine hours in that damn thing and not one word! Yeah the impact driver makes up for it... but still!

I may wrench like a boy but I can bitch like a girl.

Veni, vidi, vici

So boys have there uses - I'll admit it. And my guy came home this week with a little present for his wife (always a good call). Roses? Candy? I think not. Impact driver and a compression tester - hell yeah. Gabriel really is an angel. Saturday we wheeled Lizzy out and went after those offending bolts that caused me so much angst (see the F*&$ers above). Bolts... meet my new BFF - the impact driver, and our other little friend, the leather hammer.



Freaking awesome. They came out after a good couple of whacks - which is also good for venting anger (better the bolts than the garage door, yes lesson learned).

Let's recap:
What doesn't work on stuck/ bunged bolts - power words, spit, blood, or any other bodily fluid... I am not saying how many I used.

What sometimes works - a rubber band over the tip of the screwdriver (if the slots are not totally bunged)

What really works - WD40 and an impact driver ( I heart you!!)

Temple of Doom

The whole bolt issue might have stopped my progress in one arena but not in others. I decided it was time to take off the carburetor and clean the little guy. For some reason, I decided to take the tank and seat off (as well as other things). Lizzy is looking a little sickly without her clothes on. Poor girl.

I think of the carb as something like a the heart of the bike. It controls the amount of fuel and air mixture that goes into the cylinder on each intake. Thing is, I couldn't shake the vision of Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom - you know - that scene where the guy gets his heart ripped out by the evil shaman? Except I am the evil shaman. Check out the vital organ in my murderous hands.

Honestly Lizzy, everything is going to be OK... I think.

Screwed

I had grand plans for Saturday. Cleared the entire day to spend some quality time with Lizzy. I was going to do a full tune up - adjust the cam chain tension, adjust valve clearance, run a compression test, change the plug, check the timing, and fiddle with the idle (which still doesn't work - I was hoping the idle gnome in my garage would see to that). Right O. The only thing on that list that got done was changing the plug. The compression tester I borrowed didn't even have the right nipple on it, which as we all know is an bad omen.

I needed to get Lizzy to operating temperature to even start - so I thought a new plug would be a good idea after looking at the old one. Check out the carbon on that bad boy.

Sure enough, she turned right over. I took her to the parking lot down the street and had a blast going around and doing figure 8s and just playing. I *knew* I should have gone back home - but I didn't. No, I had to push things. So she died. I kicked and kicked to no avail. Got a bitchin' bruise on the right calf now.

There was no recourse save to make the "walk of shame" back home. I found it interesting that I got lots of stares from cars flying past and the only person to ask if I needed help was a bicyclist. Anywho - got back to my garage and was ready to start the adjustments, Lizzy wasn't still warm - but I sure as hell was after pushing her for what felt like forever.

One look at the alternator inspection cover made me flinch. The a-hole who last tightened those bolts made sure that there was no way in hell of me getting them off again. Talk about stripped heads. Good Lord. So officially I had no way to see the alignment markings on the rotor, meaning end of the road. No valve adjustments, no point inspection - no nothing.

I worked for 5 hours on those *$%#ing bolts. I strained so much that I actually made both of my boobs pop out of my bra - and I am only rocking the B cup - so that was some major effort on my part. I tried WD-40. The sharp rap then turn. Nothing. There are totally and completely stuck. I was super twitching to try the propane torch - but my book really warns against that. Alternative? I tried to get the entire left hand side of the crank-case off, hoping I could at least take it to the shop and drill out the offending bolts. Same problem there.

Finally, near tears, I resolved to get the Ox to help me. I was pissed. This is MY bike. And I do not want to rely on any man to do any of the "hard" stuff. Frustrated, I stuffed everything in the garage with haste. Totally and completely pissed. Then the garage door wouldn't close. It is wicked old and opens like an accordion. Not being "strong" enough to close a door was the... last...freaking...straw. I hauled off and kicked it.

Turns out I am strong enough to break a wooden door 3/4 of the way up its length. So hubby (Gabe, the Ox) comes home and I not only have to ask for him to help with the bike - I have to ask forgiveness for breaking the door in half like some kind of karate kid. Welcome home honey!

The only thing that made me feel *slightly* better (even if this makes no sense) is that the Ox couldn't get the bolts out either. Which leaves me exactly where I started - screwed.

You inhaled what?!!

I found out something horrid this week about Lizzy. I pulled her air filter, so I could wash out the foam element. Turns out there was no foam filter. WTF!!! This is no good gang. Really bad indeed. How long has she been sucking in unfiltered air, dragging in chunks of dirt and accelerating them into her piston and cylinder wall at a velocity hellishly enhanced by internal combustion? I woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares about cylinder walls that look like Freddy Krueger was playing in there.

I got depressed, I'll be honest. A little bit of fixing up I am fine with - re-boring my cylinder wall, not so much. I did what any girl would do. I ate a lot of chocolate and read 512 pages of pure vampire smut - thank you J.R. Ward! Then I pulled myself up by the boot straps.

So I needed to order the filter. The Honda dealership in Rye doesn't stock it (surprise!) but they were friendly and will have it within the week. What to do in the meantime? I found a great site online that suggested making your own out of filter foam. Pep Boys didn't have it. Auto Zone didn't. KTM didn't. But the Honda guys had a huge filter for another bike that I could cut up. So I did.

That's right I got all Martha Stewart on the thing. I used a glue gun (two girl points to me!) and sealed the ends (sorry I can't remember the helpful site that suggested this). The foam was a little thick - but I can tell you this with absolute certainty -

Something is better than nothing.

Her first oil change

Saturday was a big day for both the bike and me. I have never changed the oil in anything myself. Add it - yes. Change it - no. But I just knew in my bones that "Lizzy" (the bike's temporary name) hadn't been given too much attention in recent years. Armed with my Clymer service manual (Honda 100-350 OHC Singles 1969-1982) I felt confident. Sort of.

First things first. Lizzy had to get warm and up to operating temperature. I wanted all that crap that is in the oil to be in suspension when drained out - not just chillin' in the bottom of the crankcase ready to foul up the next quart. So I had to get her started. My right leg is a *bit* sore now.

Rolf was came down to visit for the weekend and between him, my chubby hubby, and myself we finally got her going. Rolf and Gabe (hubby) quickly rode down the street on bicycles scouting for cops and called me when the coast was clear (no plate yet!!). I went down the street a bit and played around in a parking lot and then went back home. I got to 4th gear! And... this is the most exciting part....

On the way back home, I passed two Harley's going in the opposite direction and I freaking did the biker wave! My first one! The dude wasn't as excited as I was but he returned the gesture! I am in like Flynn.

Anyway I came back and quickly changed the oil and cleaned the oil pump filter screen. It wasn't as bad as the Exxon Valdez disaster but let's just say I kind of kicked over the oil pan (a little). Yeah so there was some lessons learned. Next time I doing this over a tarp. Lizzy's rockin' the good synthetic stuff now.

I must say I was a little distressed looking at the drain pan. It shouldn't bring back memories of panning for gold... there were a few small metal chunks in the extremely black and hot goo at the bottom. Poor girl. As for where the chunks came from - I dunno. But she is in more loving hands now.