From a year ago, but it'll do. Was riding in a hoodie (60F) two days ago.
Merry Christmas
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Author Archives: Jason
Square pegs in round holes
Just when I was about to button up the ’64 panhead last week after rewiring and a bunch of other improvements I found the seat pivot boss to be stripped. Dammit. Decided to go to 3/8″ bolt from 5/16 as the tab is not really thick enough for a thread repair and tapping welded areas varies from troublesome to impossible. The original pivot pin is hardened and ground and made out of that incredibly tough metal that Harley used to employ as a matter of course. Carbide wouldn’t put a scratch in it. No way to bore out the original pin.
So I made one out of 660 bronze. Sorry once again, purists. Functional over stock every time, where the latter isn’t available and I’d like to actually ride somewhere.
So the only bronze stock I have is square. No way to hold it in the three-jaw chuck on the lathe. Guess I’ll break out the four-jaw. It’d been a while. Then I figured I take a couple snaps and show how to center a part in the four-jaw chuck. Here it is. . .
A three-jaw chuck is designed to close concentrically on any round or six-sided piece with a single adjuster screw. It is the type most commonly found on lathes and has a million uses. Sometimes though, you have do do offset or square work. The four-jaw chuck has four independently controlled jaws that must each be set when aligning a part as desired.
Here is a chuck I got pretty cheap and rebuilt it. It's been around the block a few times, but who hasn't?
The first step is loosely place your piece in the chuck and get it visually centered by whatever means you like. You can eyeball it, rotate it by hand slowly, use the guide lines on the chuck face or anything else you can come up with. Once the piece is where you like it, snug each jaw, but not too tight as you’ll be making further adjustments.
Square bar loosely in chuck.
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We’ve Come A Long Way . . .
It had been my dream for over ten years to own a workshop. After years of building out rented spaces and being subject to sometimes insane landlords, always worrying about having to move on quickly, I finally did it. It was scary plunking down more cash than I’ve ever handed to anyone in my life. With a baby on the way I did plenty of wondering whether it wasn’t a stupid idea.
Then I remembered that I’ve only ever regretted the things I hadn’t done. It’s more than just a platitude. Paid my money and signed on the dotted line (three thousand times it seems).
Casey, Dan, Vinny, Chris, Erik and I transformed it completely over the last year and a half. I’m proud of what we built and honored to have such friends as these. Thank you.
I look forward to our future accomplishments and good times.
Jason
Casey working the chainsaw to rid us of some big ass weed trees.
Many trips to the dump were required.
Moving day: our shuttle.
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Learning to Wrench
You become an apprentice when you lose your fear and start taking on the new and unknown with little hesitation.
As a journeyman you improve your chops, take some hard lessons and think there’s nothing you can’t fix or make.
Glimpsing mastery, you learn judgement. When you can improve something and when you should leave well enough alone. You become increasingly aware of all you don’t know. You recognize that mastery cannot be achieved, only approached.
I’m sure this applies elsewhere.
Jason
We Fix Our Own
Vinny paid a well-known shop to weld up and rethread the spark plug bosses in this set of early shovelheads. When he got them back they looked like they had been cut with a dull chisel. Worse yet, the spark plugs no longer reached into the combustion chamber because the shop didn’t machine them down enough.
Why deal with idiots twice? We fixed it.
His first time on the Bport. We’re so proud!
Jason
Set the controls for the heart of the sun. (Be careful with that axe?)
Turkey Pro National
Casey and I had an amazing riding day Sunday. Rode about 170mi. We left promptly at 8a, bundled up good for the 40F weather. At 70mph on the highway, it was REALLY cold. Easy enough to ignore when you know it’ll hit spring temps and be sunny as hell later in the day. Willpower and mental discipline will serve you well.
We hit a couple off-road sections which were fun. Went around a few “road closed” signs. Stopped for coffee a few times. Then we headed to Oley, PA for the 2011 Turkey Pro National, an annual memorial event for Snuffy Smith. Great turnout and even more cool bikes. The kind you don’t see every day. . . Vincents, Knuckleheads, rare Italian bikes, old Velocettes, etc.
Despite the crash on the way home, it was a great day that I’ll remember for some time.
Jason
Casey at Swamp Creek.
In the woods.
In the woods.
My favorite of the day. Amazing.
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Wear your damned gear!
All the time. Sure glad I had mine on yesterday. Sliding to a stop from 30mph on pavement kind of sucks otherwise. My left eye was about an inch from the street as I slid on my head and left shoulder. I could hear the helmet grinding away. SO thankful it went like this.
Holes in my 20 year old leather. Almost a hole in my helmet. Scuffed up palm on my glove. Swollen and bruised hip and elbow. Sure glad I didn’t leave any hand or arm meat behind. And it is meat and nothing more at that point.
My fault. Most crashes are the rider’s fault. Making excuses won’t help you improve your skills for next time. Failed to pay attention for a second looking off at some scenery and hit the leaves. Boom! Instantly down and sliding.
Casey took good care of me. We relaxed for a while and took stock of the situation before deciding both me and the BSA were safe to ride the remaining 50mi home.
Glad to still be here.
3/4 helmets, heavy gloves, leather boots and heavy jacket, minimum. Please.
Jason
Left arm. Got a little rash under there, but nothing major.
Lapel and collar of my jacket from sliding.
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Not worried . . .
. . . about appearances. Too busy.
Thanks, Sunshine. It's proudly displayed on our shop wall.
Sorry AMCA Purists. . .
. . . but the 47 year old cloth wiring and flag terminals had to go.
Made a mistake by not replacing all of it when I rebuilt the bike. Too much resistance. This is only a 6V bike, making it worse. Many wires are internally corroded even though the jacketing looks fine.
I kept the old sheathing/conduit at least.
Bright lights and loud horn now. Hopefully better battery life too.
Jason
Cool wires, but beat.
In with the new.
8 Years Ago
Hard to believe it’s been 8 years since I took a two month long trip around the country. I rode 11 thousand miles. I was snowed on, rained on, burnt by the sun, flooded out in my tent, swam under the Golden Gate bridge, threw snowballs off the Big Horn mountains, came face to face with a Buffalo in WY, snakes in NM, cops in Long Beach, lizards in TX, hiking in Trinity CA, stripped down bare ass naked and sunburnt when I reached SF and ran down the beach into the Pacific. Met and stayed with new folks almost every day. Picked wildflowers and put them on my bike every few days, watching them turn to dust slowly with wind and miles before picking more. Met up with old friends. Made new ones. And so on, and so on and then some. I still daydream about that trip. While cliche, to call it a life changing experience is perfectly apt.
At Lassen Volcanic park in N. Cali
Some observations and mental meanderings I quickly wrote down upon returning . . .
It happened.
I came home.
Two months, roughly eleven thousand miles, three or four hundred beers, and many new friends later. . . I came in from the cold. I paid the price on the last leg of my trip. It was around forty degrees Fahrenheit and I pulled every last ace from my sleeve in an effort to stay warm. Big deal. The Sun God was kind enough to provide me with balmy days up until the very end. Hell, I got to ride through Kentucky, West Virginia, and Virginia in eighty-degree weather in a sweatshirt, at the end of October no less. So many beautiful roads framed in bubbles of blaze orange and blood red and glowing yellow were put before me as I meandered through tiny little coal towns on the way back to my home coast. I was intimidated by the powerful beauty and richness before me. So much so that the thought of trying to capture something of it seemed a timid joke. I reverently kept my camera in my saddlebag. My natural inclination to want to borrow a snatch of this to share with my friends or to rekindle my own memories later in the bogs of grey winter were tugging at me. As I often do in times and places of great significance, I decided that this was intended for eyes and memories only. How lucky was I to have caught this perfect curl of Indian summer?