My last entry left the bike still in bits in the shed in the dark days just before Christmas. Since then it has come back to life, and succesfully did a 1200 mile trip 3 weeks ago to see family and friends.
It was an adventure of discovery and rediscovery of places and people I love. There were also adventures of the mechanical kind that give me the sense of journey that define my relationship with this hunk of metal.
By the time I took it for it's first run after the engine rebuild, it had a much smoother and resilient engine, with a new starter motor to get all the new bits spinning. The old one tried but just didn't seem to have the motivation any longer. Hardly surprising when I took it out. I say 'took' it out, but it was more like 'pick' it out, as it was literally cracking up, poor thing.
The first time I drove the outfit up the track to try it out, I did so without the body on the sidecar. I can't remember if there was a rational reason for omiting this rather vital component, other than impatience to get the feel of my new engine. Just to the end of the track, I told myself - until, of course, I got to the end of the track. It sounded lovely and there was no way I was going to turn round and come back. Suddenly it seemed important to at least put it through all the gears, so off we went down the road, minus the body. It felt light and rearing to go. At the first roundabout, I hesitated for only a moment before taking off up the bypass which goes up a fairly gentle but sustained hill for about half a mile to the next roundabout. It flew up, and my heart soared with it.
By the time I got to the top, and recovered my senses, I had completely re-entered that feeling of being on it and part of it. Only a very small part of me was keeping an eye on all the things you should watch for after a re-build. Momentarily I had the sense to focus on the newness of everything as I exitted the roundabout to bomb back down the hill to home. I made a sweeping inspection of the bike before my planned triumphant blast homeward. Oops, the battery, normally held on a rack braced against the sidecar body, was hanging perilously on the edge, about to drop off. I slowed but not soon enough to stop it toppling on to the road, bouncing, and sliding to a halt, dragged along by the cables that held fast.
"Bloody good wiring" I thought to myself as I sheepishly restrapped it to its holder, and made my way gingerly home, reminding myself that there was a lesson to be learnt here...
By the time it came to go way everything seemed to have settled down nicely, and I set off on the weekend that the storms were forecast for most of the country. I had new oil, and full set of tools, clothing and camping equipment, - but not much fuel. First stop for petrol, and I remembered my cautionary tale about checking everything. What else could possibly need checking, - aha, tyres I thought. They were fine, but I am so glad I did, for the sidecar wheel was a bit wobbly. A bit wobbly?! This sounds like an ingredient for a scene from 'Wallace and Grommit meets Buster Keaton'. Images of flying wheels, spinning outfit, - and hospital beds, filled my mind for a few self-admonishing moments, although the potential for humour didn't escape my slightly warped mind.
So half an hour later, I set off, with a properly adjusted wheel bearing, and 130 miles to my next destination. At traffic lights in Taunton I became aware that the back brake was not functioning as well it should. Nothing was visible, so I decided to carry on with a promise to inspect it properly at the next opportunity, which turned out to be the next day, when I discovered a small amount of oily grease leaking from the brake housing.
I holed up the next day and took it all apart to find the oil seal in the bevel box had failed. It was the day of the storms, so it was a good time to take it apart. I cleaned it all up, and decided to carry on but run the bevel box low on oil to reduce the chance of it leaking, until I could replace the seal when I got home. It worked, well almost, and didn't give me any more trouble until the last few days, when I got used using the sidecar brake for routine stopping rather than only for getting round left handers in a hurry.
The trip took me round Dorset, and Wiltshire and to Oxford, then to the Cotswolds by a cicuitous route, and up to the Peak District, returning to Cornwall on the A39 from Glastonbury. I love that road, romantically called The Altantic Highway as it follws the North Devon coast down to Cornwall and on to Falmouth. On the last day, I found myself exploring Exmoor in fabulous weather after camping on the edge of the Quantock Hills.
The day before I had got extremely cold. By the time I had got to Glastonbury I realised that, although I knew I was cold, I had stopped feeling it. In fact I didn't feel very much at all apart from a fearsome headache, so I stopped for hot soup and tea. Half an hour later I realised I was starting to feel cold again, and reckoned I must have been experiencing signs of hypothermia. So I spent a happy hour or more walking around Clarks village and felt myself coming back to life, bought a lovely tent (to replace the completely useless the one I foolishly bought recently from a well known motor accessories chain store) and a set of ludicrous thermals! But boy, was I glad to have them!
The trip was marked by some great riding experiences, not least of which was the A361 down to Avebury and on to Devizes. It was one of those rare occasions where just everything comes together, - the road, the weather, the bike, and the other traffic (or lack of it!), so that it was sublime.
Since coming back, I took apart the bevel box to discover the horror of a sheared off shaft on the crown wheel. It seems it has been like this for a while, the jagged irregular faces of the the surfaces being held in place by the housing. What with half worn splines, and the difficulty in fitting new parts to these boxes, it has come time for a replacement unit. I new it would happen one day, but didn't expect it so soon. Perhaps I really should stop taking it round corners on two wheels. 
I have ordered a renovated box from Motorworks, together with new timing chain (I can hear it rattle a bit), which I am now waiting for. In the meantime, I found the rear wheel bearings need replacing, and the front brake light switch has failed.
And I'm still waiting for Spike to let me know when he is ready to take it in to sort out the front sidecar mounting.
So, plenty to keep me going, and guessing whether it will get me round the next trip...
Before I go and post this on the blog, here, as snow and sleet fall all over England, is a reminder of what is just around the corner. No, I don't mean I'm just round the corner, it's the song, or at least the tune that goes with the song, - oh never mind... it's just me and my new tenor uke, ok?:
Bye for now...
