CBG Workshop
AFTER 250 MILES OF EVER- further distances from home, I felt happy that the BMW R100R(S) was ready for something longer. The main issues were getting the balance between timing and dwell angle and throttle and mixture settings for that perfect running compromise, so constant stops in field entrances with screwdriver in hand, and of feeler gauges when back home. The front suspension felt wooden, which affected the brakes, the seat hinges rubbed on the now-nonexistent new paint of the subframe, the centrestand bolt holes in the frame were both stripped of threads (necessitating a bolt on the end of a longer bolt, which in turn meant I couldn’t have the return springs fitted, which in turn meant I had to cable-tie the stand up…) and shifting down a gear sometimes isn’t followed by the lever retuning. But in general, I was happy. To celebrate, Maria and I took a weekend in the Peak District – 150 miles there, a glorious, tiny cottage in Bakewell (the Old Weighbridge – perfect for two), investigating the Peaks roads and lanes, eating too much, and then home. What a test!
Friday afternoon was feeling headonistic, riding the bike I’d rebuilt for a weekend away with my wife. Thanks to the BMW’s gearing, I didn’t even need to worry about speed as it’d already covered 250 miles on its new rings and honed barrels, plus 50-60mph is practically tickover! The smugness waned as we got as far as Newark, when I felt a change in the bike at the front. The death-weave set in – I had a front puncture. Your mind goes into fighter pilot speed, your body tenses like a cat being threatened, and suddenly there’s a million cars behind. If I slow I weave uncontrollably, if I don’t I have no steering, if I relax it doesn’t weave but thinking it and doing
