SATAN LOVES a 2-STROKE

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you may be swept off to."
Bilbo Baggins

SATAN LOVES a 2-STROKE

posted 03/23/04
I know that humans share DNA with all mammals but some more than others. Take the Pack Rat for instance. Some humans have a much higher proportion of Pack Rat DNA than others. We collect and acquire. We trade for more of what we already have plenty of! Sometimes the acquisition is useful. I'm always in awe of people who can collect stock certificates or money. Valuable coins would be good too or lots of classic rookie season baseball cards.

My acquisitive gene seems to run to mechanical things that don't appreciate. Old tools and obscure marine hardware. And motorcycles, lots of motorcycles. Over 40 in my life and six in the garage right now! And no rhyme or reason to the collection either. I've a 1947 Harley and it actually is worth far more than I paid for it but that's not my usual way of doing business. Like most people with my variant of the Acquisitive Gene my motto reads "Buy High, Sell Low".

Three years ago, as I was driving up Spring St., I happened to see a sign pointing towards the airport that said "Hanger Sale". Now pilots store all kinds of toys in their hangers. They can be the modern equivalent of Fibber McGee's closet so I quickly turned in and walked up to the hanger.

I could see lots of brass marine hardware! Tools too but what finally caught my eye were a pair of handlebars sticking up over an airplane wing. When I asked the wife handling the money if "those two old motorcycles were for sale?" her immediate reply was "you bet they are!"

Within five minutes I was the proud owner of a 1973 Kawasaki 500cc three cylinder and a 1975 Kawasaki 750 three cylinder. These are well known classic "performance bikes" with fierce reputations as widow maker's par-excellance. Two stroke motors, long since outlawed by a humorless EPA, the 750 seemed in the best shape. It was all there; no rust, but plenty of dust. It was in one piece and looked like it might run with only a little work. Home and cleaned, I found it to be in even better shape than my first impression. But the question still remained: "would it run?"

It had been sitting for three years so I suspected that the fuel was bad but being ever the optimist I added some fresh gas and tried to start it anyway. I used starting Ether to "Encourage" combustion in the old gas and though I got a couple of nasty "pops!" and one harleyesque backfire, it was obvious that nothing was going to happen until homage had been paid to the Venturi Gods.

Off came the carbs. A little complex as the "injecto-crude" oiling system has pipes going every which way and hooked to all three carbs plus engine main bearings and some secret passages that may lead all the way back to Saudi Arabia for all I know. Two stroke motors burn their oil as they go and can leave a trail of smoke behind as they happily defile the atmosphere. The complexity of this bikes system was an attempt to reduce oil use and extend the design"s life in the face of a hostile government agency.

It took a couple of hours and just as I was bolting the last carburetor in place, my friend Jack came by. If I'm known as the Old Squid then Jack must be the Giant Squid. I figured that he would be just the man to help with the kick-start chores to come.

"You're just in time," I said.

"That sounds ominous" he said.

We wheeled the bike out of the shop and I kicked it about three times and it locked up solid. I was ready to kick harder under the "stupidity got me in to this mess so brute force should get me out" mode of male behavior when Jack yells "WAIT, you have a hydraulic lock!"

It turns out that this can happen on a 2 stroke when water, gas, or, in this case, oil fill the crankcase and then is forced into the combustion chamber. The piston goes partway up and then the incompressibility of the fluid stops all movement. Out come the sparkplugs and yes, the left hand one is full of oil. I kicked her through a few times and the cylinder puked a few cc's of oil out. I decided to hurry the process by putting the two non-oiled sparkplugs in and seeing if the bike would run as 2/3 of a triple with the left plug missing. Remember the line in the Ballad of the Beverly Hillbillies where: "Jeb's shootin' at some food and up from the ground comes a bubblein' crude"? Well, think gusher!!!

I had sprayed ether into the 2 good cylinders, gave the kick starter a mighty whack and "BANG gitty bang bang!" It started running…and there was oil everywhere! I'm lookin down at the empty sparkplug hole when the motor starts so I get a face full. The rest is all over the left side of the bike. Now I know where the tank full of injection oil disappeared too. The check valve must have stuck and it all drained into the downhill side of the crankcase.

I shut it off and suggested to Jack that he could hold a cloth over the sparkplug hole while we started it again. No dummy, he allowed as to how it would be a better idea if he stood on the right side and kicked the starter lever while I held the cloth from the left. Well, this worked and after 1/2 a minute of running, I figured we'd shut it off, put the plug in, and go for a ride.

The bike re-started and gave a sterling demonstration of why the EPA hates 2 stroke engines. It laid a thick white smoke screen that you could of hidden the Bismarck in. Jack has some old DDT in a can and he suggested we add it to the oil, fog the roads for mosquitoes, and send the bill to the County. I took off down the road and after a couple of miles it did clean out and I have to say that it doesn't smoke as much under most loads now.

Riding the bike is an experiance. The engine has no power below 4000rpm and only a little more up to 6000. From there to the 7500 rpm redline there is too much power! A truly evil setup! Almost uncontrollable as you slip back on the flat seat till all your weight is over the rear axle which quickly wants to become the "lower" axle as the front starts to hoist. The front wants to shake, the frame wants to twist and flex! This is not a bike to inspire confidence in anyone. A disposable super bike.

Vibration is Richter 9 and I can tell that this wouldn't be a fun ride for a long trip though in 6th it does have a sweet spot right at 70mph so it can be ridden gently and enjoyed within this narrow range. Cornering wasn't as bad as I'd been led to believe by the old stories either. The 750 is light weight when compared to modern bikes so is light steering and neutral in the curves. With the steering dampener set to middle click it corners without a wiggle. This wasn't pushing it hard though so I don't know how it would handle leaned way over and under full power. For now, just put putt putting around the island on this could be fun except for just one little problem...

This bike's got a set of full race expansion chambers on the exhaust and do they ever sing a song of raw, harsh speed. Sure I can go faster on my 1997 Honda crotch rocket, but it doesn't feel like I'm going fast until 140mph. This Kawasaki feels fast at 70 and like a volcano erupting, it shakes, it smokes, and it spews hot stuff out of the top! Crack it towards the 100 mph mark and you envision washing machines full of tumbling grenades! Loaded gravel trucks dropping off high cliffs! The Kawasaki has all the mechanical finesse of a rock crusher. As you approach the redline, the pipes shriek and snarl. The bars blur with vibration This thing is an animal!

The longer I rode it, the more I appreciated the rawness of it. Satan invented the 2 stroke motor but like a lot of his inventions (unprotected sex-n-drugs-rock-n-roll to mention a few) it sings to our evil sides.

As I whacked on the throttle, I kept hearing that little demon on my left shoulder yelling, "Go for it! Twist this baby's tail!" My guardian angel on my right shoulder said "I'm outa here!" and got off and walked home!

Over the year, I find myself riding the 750 more and more. The 500 is in the middle of a major restoration. These are the perfect bikes for speed-crazed antiquarians like myself. Big Satan and the L'il Satan. A smoky ride with the devil!

Three years later and I'm still trying to deal with my new addiction to 2-strokes and not doing very well either. I have an "oil abuse" problem that I wasn't aware of until the Kawasaki triple twins (Ms. 500 and Ms. 750) came to live in my garage and seduced me with their injectolube pheromones. Hydrocarbon porn! I wallow in it. My wife wrinkles her nose after I come home from a ride on the 750 and says I reek of un-burnt oil. I was going to try a 12-step program:

"Hi, my name's Greg and I'm an Oil-olholic."

"Hi Greg."

But the thought of all those steps!

Anyway, instead of selling these bikes like I thought I was originally going to do, they seem to have moved in for good. Somehow, my wife doesn't act surprised. Last winter, I decided to start seriously restoring the 500 so I stripped her down and sand blasted the frame and swing arm. Of course, nothing rusts faster than a sandblasted part so not being able to paint them right that second I decided that they'd look mighty good sitting in front of the big window in the front room. I told my Fearless Wife that she should just consider it my "metal quilt" and live with it for a while, just as I live with her quilts spread out for weeks at a time. Of course as I clean and eventually paint other parts, they'll find their way into the house too and maybe the bike will get assembled here!

The upshot of all this is my realization of how homey it feels to have a front room full of motorcycle parts. All my life it's been this way. Sooner or later, the parts drift in and start to accumulate as if there is an attractive force in the house that works only on bike parts. A 5th force, it doesn't attract money, or expensive art, or useful appliances...but wait, the motorcycle is all of those to a deranged mind looking to justify its addiction. Let me count the excuses.

1) Appeal to financial stability: "This baby's gonna be worth a bundle Dear! Not many [insert brand and model] survived."

2) Appeal to her artistic sensibilities: "Just look at the lines on that thing. See how the candy metal flake paint leads your eye to the chrome grab bar? What a classic work of 70's Art!

3) Appeal to practicality: "This will be a great bike for running errands around here."

Well, the paint should be dry on the headlight housing now so its time to assemble another sub-group and bring it on up.

The Old Squid

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