Here are some tips for the tree shade motorcycle mechanics among us. I must say that this kind of down and dirty engineering solutions have a special place in my heart. Another day we'll tell you about the thumb(or any finger of preference)-in-spark-plug-hole compression testing.
A washer on a 90 degree mini bracket attached with a screw and a wing nut an inch or so before the end of the exhaust pipe turns a straight pipe into a muffler. The washer angle versus the interior of the pipe adjusts flow through area in the pipe, adding of decreasing resistance. The savage seems to want a bit of resistance so the washer to wall angle is probably 45ish degrees right now.
The Tin Can exhaust weld
The next one I'm even more proud of: a cut open tin can, hose-clamped over the union between the header pipe and the exhaust pipe to seal it. Can be used instead of a weld (it hasn't come apart on us yet). We put a piece of that make-a-gasket sheet inside the tin can but we're not sure if it is really necessary. MacGyver kind of stuff for those of us who don't have a welder (yet).
The 10 peso skid plate / headlight guard fix
10 peso (0.75 USD) skid plate and headlight guard. I bought a piece of this, umm, net or whatever it is from the guy who sells left over metal junk (my new favourite store here in Guanajuato). It was 10 pesos for a foot wide and yard or so long piece which was about enough for a skid plate (more like skid net, but it will take a firm blow) and a headlight guard. For coolness and offroadness alike. I attached the skid plate with some wire and the headlight guard with a screw and a couple of zip-ties.
The 10 peso luggage rail
Another 10 peso junk yard fix; the luggage rail. I bought a piece of iron that I was able to bend by hand and bent a rail that keeps my saddle bag out of the rear wheel. The rail was bolted onto the rear mud guard. You can't see the rail in this picture because of the bag, but imagine a u-shaped thingy. Well, actually you can see part of it, it's the brownish thing behind the rear shock. The saddle bag itself is from work. Despite the hideous mirrors, she already looks meaner than just about any stock Harley, don't you think?
I took her and wifey out for a ride today and she ran fine. The regulator / rectifier change a couple of weeks ago seems to have fixed the charging issue and changing the starter solenoid seems to have fixed the voltage drop issue on startup as well as the current drain that left the battery dead. She started up fine, as soon as I found a loose cable on the solenoid. Before that, it was all cursing.
She did die on us a couple of times on the way back. For some time, I've been thinking about re-jetting the carburetor and the dying adds to that idea. Possibly, she's running lean, which makes her run hot. And there was a bit of back firing going on before she died out, another indicator of a lean condition. I'll try to find bigger jets this week.
After charging through the night, the head honcho's motorcycle battery still needed a couple of hours before reaching a full charge on Saturday morning. So he went about making a handy wooden box to organise his power tools out of some left over wood he had lying around. Now, the head honcho is not the kind of guy who'll write up "how to's" or take step by step pictures during the making of, but at least we got a couple of picture's of the finished product. We asked for instructions on how to make one of our own: "Just cut the damn piece of wood into smaller pieces and screw'em all together. Jesus!"
Yesterday us Swedes celebrated our national day. A depressing event nowadays for anyone who is not completely delusional about the current state of affairs in my beloved native country. In true ulbator spirit, let's be blunt for a moment: the main issue in Sweden is excessive immigration. Granted, politicians admitting excessive immigration out of fear of the social justice mob may technically display merely a symptom of the incompetence of Swedish politicians. One might argue that if we shut the borders, they would surely find something else to mess up. True. Today though, immigration is the most pressing issue at hand. So to celebrate the National Day of Sweden here are some random, recent news. Read them and weep.
On the night of the fourth (Saturday) a man of about 30 - 35 years of age who spoke Swedish with an accent assaulted two women in the lapse of about 20 minutes. The perpetrator lost his shoe as he was chased away from the first event. A missing shoe was included as part of the description when the second assault was reported. The shoeless rapist operates in Stenungsund, the native municipality of our great leader.
The municipality of Vingaker will not officially celebrate the National Day of Sweden because "We spent it all on the diversyfest" as "Experience Manager" (good God, please be mercyful) Johan Tranquist explains.
Instead of celebrating some backwards, pale national holiday, the Swedish left (commie) party decided to wish Ramadan Mubarak to all muslim fasters out there. In the mean time, local police visited an asylum centre in Ludvika as the immigrants staying there complained, let us say forcefully, to the centre personnel that the food served there was not Ramadan adapted.
We entered the website of Sweden's official promotional organism to read about the 6th of June. There is one photo portraying celebrating individuals, waving Swedish flags. These individuals are of course black. Anything else would be racist, I guess.
In the meantime in the immigrant dense Malmö suburb of Rosengård, people partied it up by setting a preschool and a few cars on fire. The story does not tell whether they were celebrating the National day of Sweden or the commencement of Ramadan.
Happy National Day, suckers.
For homework, my daughter had to research something about Guanajuato. She chose to research it's most macabre exhibition: the mummies. So we left around noon.
There were a lot of foreigners visiting. And I couldn't help but wonder if in this day and age there is such a thing as a western female without tattoos and body piercings? There sure weren't any at Guanajuato's mummy museum yesterday. My spirit was recovered though, when the cashier gave us a substantial discount on our entries for being Guanajuato residents.
We got into a lobby of sorts with some promotional vignette about Guanajuato and the mummies. Then on to the first exhibition with a handful of corpses. The guide told us about how the oldest mummy of the museum had been in exhibition for about 150 years. He showed us the mummified french doctor and mentioned that the three first mummies encountered were in fact foreigners. Two frenchmen and an unidentified asian. There were big corpses, small corpses, female corpses male corpses, thin corpses, fat corpses, clad corpses and naked corpses. One exhibition featured corpses of deceased children complete with a photo of the deceased child in the arms of the live parent. There was the mummy who was stabbed to death, complete with the killing stab wound in the belly. There was the world's smallest mummy, a prematurely born foetus brought out through a c-section which ended up killing both child and mother. Then there was the drowned mummy. And there was the mummy who was buried alive after being wrongly diagnosed as in a state of rigor mortis. When they opened her casket, they found that the deceased had turned around and the inside was full of scratch marks. She had tried to escape. This was in the exhibition room called "tragic deaths".
Contrary to an urban myth, the mummification process does not happen because of the minerals in the ground of the graveyards of the old mining town interfering in the petrification process. Mummification only happens to the corpses that are buried in above ground cemetery compartments. These are all made of concrete, completely sealed and pretty much waterproof. Furthermore they are kept dry because of the constant sunshine and as the wooden coffin in which the body lies absorbs any humidity that may still exist in the body beyond this point. The only way the surroundings may have played a minor part would be in the Guanajuato inhabitants drinking the mineral- and salt rich water of the area which left them dehydrating in the after life. The mummies are given no maintenance and used to be offered to the public eye without any protection what so ever. Nowadays, however, they are kept in glass cabinets. Out of good taste I suppose.
Becoming a mummy on display could be considered a punishment of sorts. Most mummies on exhibition ended up so because their family members failed to pay the graveyard fee. That french doctor has been paying off his debt to the Guanajuato government for some 100+ years now. Poor fella.
All good things are three: We present to you three pictures of mummies.
Not for Pussies!