My favorite motorcycle is the one I happen to be riding.
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Kawasaki W800
- Thread starter Raymond
- Start date
Yes and yes.
The biggest faff is removing the fuel tank - cloths to protect it from scratches, loosen and lift, undo the fuel cables, gently to avoid breaking the fuel pump nozzle, fumble about and undo wiring for fuel pump & fuel warning light, lift tank away and put down safely. Easier with an assistant to unplug things.
Rocker box cover easy to remove, measure clearances, rockers simply push to the side to allow access to shims. Magnetic pen easiest way to remove the shims.
Was able to reuse rocker box gasket, refitted with a smear of grease.
That is true. Or if it ceases to be true for any bike, probably gonna part company with that bike.
Ha. Your post reminds me of when I once asked for a rocker box gasket at a NAPA in Edmonton, AB., and the counter man looked at me like I had 3 heads. We still had bonnets and mudguards in Newfoundland, but trunks and windshields instead of boots and windscreens. Lots of old West Country sayings and Cork accents still strong after 500 years.
I replaced a rotor again on the weekend. I got home last night and my right muffler was hanging by a hope and a prayer. A steady diet of character is getting to be a bit rich. A nice shiny W800 looks mighty tempting.
This week, took Polly on a trip to see my friend in Cheshire, lend a hand rebuilding the wings for his Taylorcraft. It's a little more than 200 miles each way and to avoid the M6 motorway, I tend to follow little roads over the hills. So instead of sitting in an HGV sandwich wishing I was there, I get to stop and eat me sandwiches in a spot such as this:
Just because you asked @Jim, here's some pics of the w.i.p. plus Anthony's VW van.
Didn't realise just how much work is involved in refurbing an old set of wings. He has two sets - bought one cheap Taylorcraft to restore and another very cheap wreck because it has better wings - that sounds odd but true.
Checking what he has, painting, drilling attachments to the new spars Anthony has built. We got as far as having front and rear spar of starboard wing assembled with all the compression struts fitted. Much more work required.
Came home today, same route. Rain started at Slaidburn, got heavy by Kirby Lonsdale, absolute cloudburst in Sedbergh, wet through, every garment soaked, how Mrs laughed at the squelching sound as I walked in the house with boots full of H2O. But I never doubted the W800 for a second.
Been wet on a motorbike before. And no doubt not the last time.
Just because you asked @Jim, here's some pics of the w.i.p. plus Anthony's VW van.
Didn't realise just how much work is involved in refurbing an old set of wings. He has two sets - bought one cheap Taylorcraft to restore and another very cheap wreck because it has better wings - that sounds odd but true.
Checking what he has, painting, drilling attachments to the new spars Anthony has built. We got as far as having front and rear spar of starboard wing assembled with all the compression struts fitted. Much more work required.
Came home today, same route. Rain started at Slaidburn, got heavy by Kirby Lonsdale, absolute cloudburst in Sedbergh, wet through, every garment soaked, how Mrs laughed at the squelching sound as I walked in the house with boots full of H2O. But I never doubted the W800 for a second.
Been wet on a motorbike before. And no doubt not the last time.
Little single track roads, up over the hills, narrow, twisty in places, blind summits, blind corners, some parts so steep there were escape lanes with gravel traps for vehicles if the brakes fail. Miles and miles over sheep moors - no fences, ewes and their lambs wandering about in the road. And we all know how unpredictable sheep can be . . .
You can't hurry, even in the dry. 200 miles might not sound very far, but that was more than six hours in the saddle, soaking wet, evaporative cooling, keeping focus, right wrist in 'rain mode', left hand on visor wiping duty, eyes out on stalks. Then in case you're not fed up yet, there was the broken-down lorry on the A66 main road, traffic at a standstill, trying to make progress by filtering past cars, lorries, vans, caravans.
I'm off to bed now.
You can't hurry, even in the dry. 200 miles might not sound very far, but that was more than six hours in the saddle, soaking wet, evaporative cooling, keeping focus, right wrist in 'rain mode', left hand on visor wiping duty, eyes out on stalks. Then in case you're not fed up yet, there was the broken-down lorry on the A66 main road, traffic at a standstill, trying to make progress by filtering past cars, lorries, vans, caravans.
I'm off to bed now.
Overall it sounds like a great day!
Ah England! Just the thought of pottering down those ancient lanes surrounded by verdant green and flocks of Border Leicester, Blackface and Cheviot, anticipating a warm pint and a game of darts in the village tavern! It's enough to send me reaching for my travel agent's business card. Wet might strain the relationship but what the hell, it's summer in old blighty.
And, oh to be an old bloke with nothing to do but rebuild a plane in the backyard. Magic stuff Raymond!
And, oh to be an old bloke with nothing to do but rebuild a plane in the backyard. Magic stuff Raymond!
Thank you, Gentlemen.
Yes, Georgia, Monday going down was a great day, then a great few days in Cheshire with me pal. We did a partner swap, sort of, his Mrs came to Scottish Borders to spend the week with my Mrs. Rummaging in the charity shops.
The journey home yesterday could be described as Epic in hindsight but cold, wet, tiring and just horrible at the time.
David, all-in-all, retirement, playing with old motorbikes, old aeroplanes for variety, scouting about the scenic parts of Great Britain, getting lost but knowing where you are, can't complain.
Yes, Georgia, Monday going down was a great day, then a great few days in Cheshire with me pal. We did a partner swap, sort of, his Mrs came to Scottish Borders to spend the week with my Mrs. Rummaging in the charity shops.
The journey home yesterday could be described as Epic in hindsight but cold, wet, tiring and just horrible at the time.
David, all-in-all, retirement, playing with old motorbikes, old aeroplanes for variety, scouting about the scenic parts of Great Britain, getting lost but knowing where you are, can't complain.
Picture swiped off the web - one of the actual roads I'm talking about, this one between Slaidburn and Kirby Lonsdale.
Illustrates a narrow, single track hill road.
Illustrates a narrow, single track hill road.
This afternoon I shall mainly be:
A bit better, pay a bit more attention another day.
The black paint is flaking off in places - cylinder head and wheel rims. Nuffin' to worry about. Sometimes think I should try and do something about it, then I think, Nah, that's patina that is.
Bike has covered nearly 34,000 miles in eight years.
The black paint is flaking off in places - cylinder head and wheel rims. Nuffin' to worry about. Sometimes think I should try and do something about it, then I think, Nah, that's patina that is.
Bike has covered nearly 34,000 miles in eight years.
Whew! When you mentioned "partner swapping", I thought I was on the wrong forum for a moment!
Heck, I wish I'd had those single track roads to ride on when I was over in 2011 touring through Cornwall, at least there's runoff area there.
All the Cornish ones had high embankments or hedgerows on either side, and every so often there would be a little passing area about a lane and a half wide a couple car lengths in length
Some places you can run off those single-track lanes across the moors, but very often there's a ditch - and running into the ditch can spoil the rest of your day. In the Borders, most lanes have hedges or more often dry-stone walls.
Passing places - when will people in tin boxes learn how to use them? Not just traffic coming the other way - if somebody catches up with you, pull in and let them go. Trying on one's patience when following a motorhome or similar for twenty miles and they ignore every opportunity to let you past.
Some drivers seem to think passing places are there only to allow a vehicle coming the other way to pass and it's their solemn duty to dart out before you have a chance to cheat and get past them. Doh!
Passing places - when will people in tin boxes learn how to use them? Not just traffic coming the other way - if somebody catches up with you, pull in and let them go. Trying on one's patience when following a motorhome or similar for twenty miles and they ignore every opportunity to let you past.
Some drivers seem to think passing places are there only to allow a vehicle coming the other way to pass and it's their solemn duty to dart out before you have a chance to cheat and get past them. Doh!
And here I thought these selfish road hogs were confined to the USA.
Let me assure you, in Britain we have a thriving ecology of twits, idiots, road hogs, blind drivers, phone-users and sundry other species of automotive hazards.
Unfortunately, selfishness is contagious. We deserve restriction to bus, train, and self driving cars!
Ah well Raymond, you know what they say about riding in the rain.....
