The Plan

Well Wishes

My dear friend Lammy made me a postcard. I have wonderful friends.

"Day 3"

Still at home. We had to clean the carbs twice, once yesterday (after which she flooded repeatedly, shut down, and puked gas all over the garage), and again today. After lapping the needle valves with a homemade gadget and some toothpaste, checking the floatiness of the floats, and recleaning a sticky slide, we reassembled her. Again.

She ran this time, long enough to balance the carbs with another new, slightly more professional-looking gadget. (All those lines belong at the same height. I think I see a problem...)

Then I went for a ride, with Abel in a chase car just in case. I pulled up to a gas pump and was about to do the thing one generally does in that location when Abel hopped out of the car and said, "Whoa, you're pissing gas everywhere." I looked down and started. This was not a small trickle. We had a gusher. I flipped off the fuel and stepped off the bike.

After removing seat and covers, we determined that the fuel hose, which I have no reason not to believe is from 1985, had just straight-up busted a hole in itself. Abel went home for the spare (I can only carry so many spare parts, but apparently hose is now going to be one of them) and then home for real after a replacement.

I made it... I'm not sure. Not very far from the station before she died again. I realized I'd left the fuel supply off, but even with it on, there was no gas showing in the fuel filter, and she wouldn't restart. I pushed her home, accepting help from a Harley rider who happened to be out on a walk as I was huffing my way slowly up a small hill.

After fixing some hose-location issues, she idled happily in the driveway for ten minutes before the heat gauge hit the red zone and I shut her off. A test ride will follow in a little while.

World's Cutest Wrench

Belongs to Rogue. We both want to make jewelry out of it.

Carb-Free Diet

This is the current state of the Madura. Let's see what I can do in the next couple of hours...

Alternate Activity

Instead of driving to Pennsylvania yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the garage with Rogue, cleaning a carb, while Abel rebuilt the Madura's clutch cylinder. Perhaps today I will actually set out.

Below, a tiny fuel filter, one of four from the carburetor.

Three-Legged Cheetah

There are fewer than 36 hours until I plan to leave...and the Madura is running like a three-legged cheetah. Between the inspection station and the house of a friend from whom I'm borrowing luggage, she developed an awful cough and power loss that made me think there was water in the fuel.

I bought some water remover and a fresh tank of gas, but it didn't solve the problem. I rode her another hour, bought another tank of gas (93 octane this time, for good luck), and added more water remover. By the time I got home, she was clearly still sick.

I changed the spark plugs, flushed the radiator because it was already in the plans, and revved it up in neutral. She went fairly strong until 4000 rpms, and then the engine died completely. As she warmed up, the rpms needed to kill her dropped to 3000. The idle sounds funny - rough and a little too rumbly - and there's very little power on acceleration.

It seems to be a fuel supply problem, because after it dies, it takes a minute to get it turned over again. I'm going to test the fuel pump, and if it's not that, do the dreaded job: pull the carburetor and clean it out. I know I should have done this when I bought the bike, but it ran, and I was hoping to get away without it, because Madura carbs are also referred to as the Carbs from Hell.

This whole thing is beginning to feel like an action-movie countdown. "How close can we get to the deadline and still have major things going wrong?"