Tinkicker

As a general rule, the ECM needs to see crank position, engine speed, cam position, throttle position and engine temp to fire the injector. Check ECM ground cable.

eBay item number:264910931141

The shock is overheating. Technical term is damper fade... When it goes, I bet it is too hot to touch. Probably does not happen in the rain.

Had the yeller out. Again a hoot to ride and the carburation is flawless. Very sweet runner. Having ridden both the 175 with 15bhp and the 100 with 10 bhp so close together, I am satisfied that I am expecting too much from the 175 and I am not going to suddenly find fire breathing performance. I did at one point and look how that ended up. A long push home. My memories of the 175 were made when I weighed 140 lbs wet through and looked like a string bean. Now I weigh just over 200lbs and my ex bodybuilding shoulders are twice as wide... So its like having a small passenger sat on the back. The 175, despite being a far larger and heavier bike in physical terms does get to 45 mph far quicker than the 100 with just 5hp more power. I am satisfied than the 100 is giving her all, such a sweet and willing motor and the 175 is noticeably quicker. Anyway a nice little 40 minute ride on the yeller and a lot of fun to be had sub 50 mph. Of course 50 year old brakes and suspension means you would not want to be going over 50mph on the bumpy country lanes around these parts and a 40 minute ride is enough to give her a little exercise. She is not a bike to be going on a 200 mile run on, she would make it, but I doubt I would. She is very much a popping into town bike or taking to light trails. Little yeller pays her respects to the 892 British and Commonwealth Aircrew who lost their lives flying Halifax and Wellington bombers over Nazi Germany from RAF Snaith during WW2. Propeller from a Snaith based Halifax mk3 that ditched into the North Sea not far from the Dutch coast. The damage to and position of the blades indicate that the engine was shut down and the prop feathered at the time the aircraft crashed into the sea. The propeller shows some signs of shrapnel damage, notably on the leading edge of the upper blade a bit up from the hub and further towards the tip, the trailing edge has been shot away.

Got out of bed, saw the sun. Thought I woukd take a ride out.... So a cup of my favourite french arabica bean beverage ( of course proper cup with saucer, drank with pinky held out... Do you think i am a heathen?) While sitting, I contemplated my first world problem... With three bikes to take out and so little time, which one to take? VFR had its MOT and a short outing Monday, Little Yeller hmmm, not sure. I decided to take the DT175 for a spin, note its normal running temp on a 20 mile run and then change the #130 main jet for the new #135 I had ordered. Trip done, jet changed, trip repeated. Changing the jet dropped the CHT from averaging around 185C to 165C. I cannot say it made much difference to the power though, but a far cooler temp is not a bad thing. Little Yeller rides again tomorrow morning.

And blackholesun when the waterboard dumps his turds into the local watercourses" accidently".

Ambled around Castle Howard today. Glad to report no gastric turmoils or nasty accidents. In fact the only teeth clenching episode was sat on the A64 for an hour in heavy traffic. trying to get past the Malton roundabout. I did think on the fact that probably more than one poor sod had in the past, suffered the same predicament as I in that infernal traffic and did not even have the luxury of a convenient canal close by... Doesn't bear thinking about.. Sploosh. Oh holy crap! Geeze, open a window somebody.

It is likely stolen recovered. The lock was broken during the theft. Bike was recovered and damage assessed. Since it would have had matching keys, not only the ignition switch would need replacing, the tank filler cap, seat lock and any other locks would also need replacing. In addition any small scratches on any panel or part would have made that part a candidate for replacement. Factor in several hours labour at £100 per hour and you can see how a stolen 125 is nearly always treated as a write off.

Amazing what technology can do nowadays. The cry to " get your shit together" suddenly becomes a thing...

I was thinking more along the lines of sympathy and understanding, while staying as close as requested to offer what assistance I could offer. Of course, the missus would break into hysterical laughter and that would set me off. Hopefully that would break the embarrasment of the other person somewhat. A well known phrase... Shit happens. Yup I can vouch for that after todays adventure. Missus and I were sat in the back garden with a beer tonight. The question was asked.. Did you enjoy your walk.... Honest answer, yes I did, but I have had better......Would I change anything? On reflection no. I think I have had reenforced, something very valuable today... Respect is earned through being absolutely honest with yourself and others. I hope by being honest with you lot, laying myself bare to ridicule, I hope I come across as a bloke who does not have a stick up his arse.... A brace of sticklebacks maybe, and probably a diving beetle, but posting all postive " i am the master of the universe type posts" is incredibly boring and obfuscation. Albert Einstein shit. I shit. Did Albert Einstein get caught short on a canal bank? Possibly. Who knows. Would Albert Einstein have had to shit in a canal after eating that Burger? Almost certainly. Thank you for your laughter.

I think that is a given....

Yep. Stank of mud. At least it was not shit. When I got home I marched straight into the shower fully dressed including my socks and trainers. As I undressed I had to keep clearing the plughole of various types of torn off pondweed that were dropping out of my clothes. I suppose in one way I am lucky. As an ex boater, jumping into less than clean water for launching, recovery and maintenance purposes does not really faze me. I am used to it.

That would have made for some " interesting" accoustics. It is a truly horrible predicament to be in and there is absolutely nothing you can do... If I ever encounter someone in the same predicament, they can rely on my help and sympathy.

As most will have gathered by now, I do not take myself too seriously and am always ready to make someone laugh at my expense. So week off work and this morning, decided to have a nice walk along the canal into Selby. Lovely and sunny morning. We walked right to the end of the canal to Selby sea lock, turned back and stopped by a burger cafe for a small burger and a can of pop. Suitably refreshed, we set off back to the car.... A mile or so later, I began to feel distinctly uneasy.. Best pick up the pace a little... No stopping to look at the ducks ect, or to pat dogs. A few minutes later.. A feeling of urgency came upon me. That burger was going through me like fuel through a funnel or eggs through a hen... I was almost goose stepping at this point... We were in the middle of nowhere, wearing nothing but t shirt and shorts. The car was a couple of miles distant. Then the cramps started. This was getting very alarming. A few hundred yards later it became clear I was not going to make it... What do you do? It was a new and somewhat unusual experience for me. I felt naked. I know. I will sit quietly on the canal side and hope it gets a bit less urgent. It didn't and to make matters worse, it transpired that I was sat on an ants nest... There I was, trying desperately to hold everything together, suffering acute embarrasment and suddenly finding myself host to a couple of dozen ants. They were on my arms, legs, face, neck and the blighters were stinging... I had to move.. I stood and my guts made it clear that no matter how I tried to hold everything together, they were going to explode. So there I was at the side of a canal very popular with dog walkers, I had a very bad case of the shits and could not sidle behind a bush because we had nothing to clean myself up with and mount etna was building up to an immenent eruption. To cap it all I was covered in ants.... Eruption immenent.. I spied a wooden fishing platform a couple of yards away. Only one thing for it. I ran and leapt off the end of it into the canal. Managed to rip my shorts down as the eruption occurred. ohhhh blisss... Disaster averted. I was dripping wet, but it was the good kind of wet. I emerged from the canal to the sight and sound of the missus doubled up on the canal bank laughing her head off.... I squelched back to the car to the sound of the missus breaking into bouts of hysterical laughter every ten yards or so.... I can laugh abut it now, at the time I was close to panic.

Garnish R. Red. Part number 61305-K0N-D00ZG cost around £70. Ensure you have the part number checked against your vin number at the dealer before ordering.

Got VFR MOTd today. Always a bit of stress as I seem to have a thing about getting my bikes wet. I suppose it is all the hard work put into restoring them back to showroom condition. Took the VFR down to SJ Biketech in Selby, an outfit I never heard of before looking for bike mots last week and asked about booking it in. I was not happy with the previous place. They listened to my wet weather bleatings, came out to look at a 25 year old, showroom fresh bike, agreed it would be a shame to get it muddy and said if I got a good weather window anytime this week, I could take it round and they would sort it without an appointment. So a shout out to SJ Biketech. A friendly bunch.

No.

Holy thread ressurection batman..... Are these bots digging up all these old and well dusty threads? I think yes.

It will bounce and clank if in gear with engine idling and wheel off the floor. Perfectly normal.

Fast... Circa 1980. 1979 Honda CB250N Superdream in silver. Not far from the CX500 crash area. I was on the A road leading to it. It was a quiet A road leading across the countryside between Woodkirk and Wakefield. At one point it dropped downhill between a lot of trees, had a slight bend RH bend at the bottom, then went uphill. Calling it a bend is pushing it. It was more of a slight deviation in course. So, I am dropping down the hill, trees on both sides, crouched down behind the clocks and throttle held wide open as usual. For me, in those days, road bike throttles were two position affairs. Closed and wide open. The speedo needle crept up. 78..79...80..81...82. I approached the slight bend flat out as I had dozens of times before. I found myself skating on my back, through an open gate into a field, following the bike. There was no transition. One second I was upright, crouched behind the clocks, the next I was in a field. Absolutely no idea what happened or why. I had done the same bend flat out dozens of times without incident. The bike had the usual scuffed clutch cover, missing footpeg rubber, bent brake pedal, bent front brake lever type stuff and was in a rideable condition.

Low. Honda CX500. Probably around 1982. There was a narrow back road windng through farmers fields I used to use on my way to the bike club. I knew it like the back of my hand and tbh my speed was somewhat reckless in those days. I never expected to see 30 years old. Every road was a racetrack. The plastic maggot was a very overlooked and underated bike. It was comfy and able to much the miles, the shaft drive needed little maintenance and it was essentially a two wheeled car. The perfect bike rally weapon, it carried me to rallies all over the country. Anyway, this particular thursday evening, I attended the bike club, but because of the patchy weather, it was unusually quiet and I left early, just waiting for a large cloudburst to clear and the roads to dry a little. Braaarp, off I went thinking I was at Mallory Park during a transatlantic race... Reached the turnoff for the road through the fields and down I went. The first part was all slightly downhill for about half a mile, gently twisting and turning, before a sharper RH bend where it began climbing slightly again and headed back towards a A road. On the outside of the bend was a wide culvert with earth over the top that formed an entryway for some Rhubarb growing sheds over the fields boundary drainage ditch. So there I was, barrelling down this narrow road at around 75mph. As I started to slow, ready to lean it into the RH bend, I spied wet gravel across the road that had been washed down by the recent cloudburst. I had not a chance in hell of stopping and not a chance of missing it. If I was leaned over, I was off and likely killed. So I tried for the entryway to the rhubarb sheds, If I could cross that, I would have a bit of room to slow down enough to be able to steer myself out of trouble. I would be rattling across a ploughed field at likely 40 mph, but since I practically lived on off roaders in those days, I was not concerned. Unfortunately it became obvious that the angles were not adding up, I did get onto the culvert, but not at an angle that could take me all the way across it. I was drinking at the last chance saloon. As the front wheel approached the edge of the culvert, I got my weight fearwards and heaved up mightily on the bars and jumped the 3ft or so straight into the ditch, which I was perfectly aligned with. It was a perfectly natural thing for me in those days, living on trials and motoX bikes. So into the muddy water at the bottom with a fair old splash and the bike scrubbed off its 60 mph or so speed very quickly, I was close to going over the bars, but managed to stay on. I had survived. I managed to push the bike with engine running about 20 yards to another entryway which did not have a culvert, the ditch just sloped up. However the CX is a heavy bike and road tyres do not grip wet grass very well. I was struggling to get up the bank. A car approached. I thought just my luck, it was likely Plod and I was nicked. However, it was a 13 amp plug filled with lads from the bike club, who had also called in, saw it was dead and were making their way back to town. Out they jumped and bike was out of the ditch in a minute or two. I rode it home. Total damage, a bent rear brake pedal, a completely torn off footrest hanger and some scratches to the frame paint. I recall the footrest and hanger bought from a breakers cost £4, scratches touched up with my supply of paint, and pedal straightened out at work. Could have been worse. I doubt that someone who was not perectly at home off roading every saturday and sunday, would have enjoyed the same outcome. All that was left of the footpeg was the part of the bracket with the bolthole in. Still bolted to the frame. The rest had been torn off at the welds. Wonder if it is still in the ditch after all these years?

Many times on my trials and motoX bikes in the past. The more serious possibilities were high, low, fast and slow. High. Shaw cross pitstack ( my second home just about) on my DT 175 circa 1980. Coming around towards a hill with a double jump. First jump was a 3 or four foot steep rise and a levelling out for maybe 30 feet, then hitting another steep rise about 15 feet high and the ground levelling off at the top. You would take it at medium rpm in third, take off on the first rise, land just before the second, shoot up the second and again take off at the top and jump maybe 5 or six feet high. This particular time, as I rounded the corner before the runup to the hill, I saw two girls on horses that I knew slighty and wanted to know them more. The testosterone flowed... Throttled opened wide. 1st gear, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, throttle pinned. Hit the first rise and took off, flew the entire length of the first level, hit the second hill about half way up. I got an inkling that this did not bode well. Shot up the second hill and hit the top just as the bottomed suspension was rebounding. I took off... I can remember two horses and two riders looking up with raised heads as I flew a few feet in front of them and well above them. Then in slow motion the front wheel kept rising and the rear kept dipping. As I went past the vertical, I decided it was time to bail out and pushed the bike away. Bike hit upside down, bending the bars and I landed on my back.. Hard. As I lay there trying to breathe and got in my first shuddering breath, a horses head appeared in my vision, looking down at me. It was pulled up and to one side and the sound of clopping hooves grew fainter. Not a word was spoken. I lay there getting my breath and trying various limbs to make sure they still functioned and all my mates could do was lay on the floor laughing. They said I should be a hollywood stuntman. They reckoned I was 30ft in the air when I bailed off.

Lovely place you stayed at and what a view. I have only been to Scotland for an holiday once as a kid. We took in all the sights... Glencoe..... Fog and a bit of grass. Loch Lomond. Fog and a bit of water. Loch Ness. Fog, a bit of water and an old castle. Oban. Beautifully clear seawater in the harbour. Could see right to the bottom. Overlaid with fog and light drizzle. Loch Garten to see the Ospreys. Water, empty bird boxes, a bit of sunshine and clouds of midges biting. Followed shortly after by black clouds and heavy rain. Isle of skye. Back to fog and grass after a foggy drive across a bridge. Never seen the attraction since.

CB500.

Took VFR out for a 30 mile or so run. Happy to report she started on the button first time. Seems like getting a long screwdriver under the tank, switching the fuel off and running the carbs almost dry is the way to go if stored for a few weeks. This vid I found on the tube is pretty typical when not started for over a month in winter.