The Value of Hearsay in Motorcycle Maintenance

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Ask Kevin Cameron (Cycle World/)

The tales of woe recited to dealership service writers often begin with the words, “My buddy, he…” We’ve all done it—gone to a higher status rider seeking advice or help, only to discover “knowledge” no better than our own. I did it with gear oil, and was told by a succession of experienced people to use ATF, 20-50 motor oil, or R-40. I tried them all, and in each case was rewarded with pitch-line pitting on the first pinion.

A Triumph came into our dealership to “get running.” The owner had managed to crisp his new bike’s wire harness, and his buddy had graciously offered to rewire it. The buddy had only black wire on hand, so every wire was the same color, which meant tracing out every circuit to find the problem. He had also wired everything as short as possible—no extra, as usually allowed, to make it possible to examine circuit elements.

Another rider put modern gear oil in the trans of his 30-year-old two-stroke, only to find that the base oil caused his seals to shrink. Drip, drip. He drained the hot new stuff, replaced it with the unexciting low-tech lube its seals had been designed for, and the dripping stopped.

Hearsay, especially in oils, can lead to all kinds of issues. Follow the owner’s manual and you can’t go wrong. (Jeff Allen /)

A friend returned to club racing after getting his family launched. He was amused by the high wind of advice he received on what two-stroke oil to use. That was in the time when anyone with a storefront and an ad budget was getting into the motorcycle oil biz: Order in base stock, dye it a wacky color (how about a few sparkles or fruity scents?), pour in an additive package from the usual sources, and decant into plastic bottles. War of the words! Fantastic claims! More power, longer life, and better gas mileage! A new and fabulous oil a week! The friend dismissed it all, calling the dozen urgent, shouting brands “mystery oil.” Which among ye shall become believers?

So the friend phoned up Ucon and ordered a 5-gallon pail of the two-stroke oil the company was at the time supplying to many of the above. He then bought several quarts of actual Marvel Mystery Oil (improving power and performance since the 1920s) and poured them into a jug, which he set aside (I’ll bet I could find it, somewhere in his dark basement). After solvent-washing the famous black bottles with red lettering, he refilled them with Ucon fluid and went racing. Other riders gathered around, staring as he mixed 5 gallons of gas.

“Uh, what kind of oil is that?”

“It’s a mystery,” he said, smiling to himself.

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