Greg Field

Figure out why the clutch is dragging, and fix that first. A dragging clutch will most definitely affect shifting.

Akshully, I'm the retard who put Ohlins on my tractor.

Here in Seattle, the snow’s finally melted, and temps are again in the 30s. After what was for Seattle so much cold and wind and snow, it almost feels like summer, now. What better way to celebrate the start of summer 2007 than to go for a ride? And what better place to ride to than some place I’ve always wanted to go but never quite made it to? Many places qualify for this, but it had to be a day ride to a place where the ice had melted off the roads. Neah Bay had been on my mind for a while, so that’s where I decided to go on Monday (which is my Sunday, because I work Tuesday through Saturday). It turned out to be one of those rides that was more an “experience” than a pleasure, but it was better than sitting in front of a TV set all day. Neah Bay is a little town that has to be about as far west as it’s possible to go in the lower 48. It’s way out there on the tip of the Olympic Penninsula, on the Makah Indian Reservation. (The Makahs are a hearty band who a few years ago asserted their rights to hunt whales again, in defiance of US and international law. Despite environmentalists' best efforts to ruin their hunt, the Makahs paddled their canoe out into the ocean and harpooned and killed a whale.) There’s only one road in—highway 112—which means you have to backtrack to get out, so it doesn’t get many visitors, especially in January. It is known for its stormy weather and near-constant rain, caused by roiling currents of wind and water as the open Pacific turns the corner into the Straight of Juan de Fuca. From my house in Seattle, the best way to get onto the Olympic Peninsula is to take a ferry across the waters of Puget Sound, a 35-minute boat ride that saves about an hour and a hald of boring freeway travel. I got a late start, pushing the Eldo out at about 8:30 into the 40-degree morning air. The ferry terminal is only 5 miles from my house, so I easily made it in time for the 9:05 ferry. Motorcycles go right to the front and load first. I motored aboard just a few minutes later, parked, and walked around the boat, snapping a few pictures. These boats are huge, able to carry hundreds of cars and even full semis with trailers. There’s my Eldo, parked at the front of the ferry. She's a 1973 police Eldo. I’ve named her “Maude,” after the character in the movie “Harold and Maude,” who steals a police Ambassador that looks an awful lot like my bike. Part of the fun of a ferry ride is seeing Seattle from the water. Here’s a pic of part of that waterfront. Seattle’s waterfront is rapidly morphing from a working waterfront to an overpriced entertainment district with toney office and condo buildings rising ever higher to compete for million-dollar views. That yuppification isn’t complete yet. Here’s a half-empty freighter anchored in Elliot Bay, just off the waterfront. Sorry for the blurriness of some of these photos. My digital camera is pre-historic. It’s time for me to get a digital SLR, so I can capture the photos my mind’s eye composes. This one’s looking west. Through a layer of clouds, you can see some of the peaks of the Olympic Mountains. This is the view I have on my commute to work each morning. On a clear day, it is stunning. Here’s some of the Roadslayer Replica™ homes near the ferry terminal on Bainbridge Island, where the ferry docked and disgorged me and Maude. From there, it was a short ride to the bridge at Agate passage, which carried us onto the Olympic Penninsula. From there we got on the 101 and headed west. Seventy-five miles later, Maude and I stopped for gas in Port Angeles. The clouds parted for an instant, revealing some of the foothills of the Olympics. This is about where the temperate rain forest starts. Mossville USA. Look at the roof of the house at the left. That’s typical. Moss grows on everything that doesn’t move, and even on some things that do, including cars. Naturally enough, it started to rain just as I put my camera away, and the rain stuck with us for the 150 miles that remained to Neah Bay and back to Port Angeles. Highway 112 begins as a decent ribbon of asphalt that winds through hobby farm country for a while and then touches on the coast before droping into a river valley that is archetypical Washington rain forest. Here’s a sign that greeted us just before we dropped into that river valley. It wasn’t kidding. The state seems indifferent to the condition of the road, perhaps because it leads only to the Reservation? We’ve had three months of record rain, so the road had washed out or simply started to slide downhill in dozens of places. Things far more hazardous than washouts awaited us, though. Highway 112 through that river valley took us along the edge of that archetypical rain forest. It's Mossville USA times ten. Not only does moss grow on everything, it hangs from everything, and other plants then grow out of the moss. These trees are typical of the scenery. Not a lot of things grow well here, in the wet and cold, but what does grow here grows out-sized, if given long enough. Maple leaves can be 18 inches across. Trees can grow redwood-sized. Elk can reach half a ton. Slugs can stretch 12 inches and actually trip you or make you slip on their inch-wide slime trails. Ferns can grow higher than a man’s head. If sasquatch lives anywhere, he lives here. Here’s a closer view of how the ferns grow on top of the moss growing on top of the trees. And here’s one of those slugs I was talking about, a banana slug. These things look like a yellow polish sausage sliming along. If Mr. Slug is feeling comfortable, his head's up, his eyes and antennae are taking in the scenery, and he'll look like the most contented creature in the world. If you can get close without startling him, he'll just stare right back at you, sizing you up for a comment he never deigns to utter. I’m not so sure I’m comfortable being judged by mollusks, so I stay away from them. Like their smaller brethren, these slugs begin to quake in fear when you pull out the salt shaker. (This is not my photo. I stole it from the web because my camera lacks the ability to take such a shot.) This creature is also known to venture into rain forests: Eldoradus discbrakeus donuteaterus. This is what some consider the holy grail of Guzzi big twins, the police Eldo with disc brakes. Maude started life as a dowdy civilian drum-brake model but bolt-on conversions pumped her up to her current butch form. Man has yet to design or build a finer motorsickle. I’m guessing he never will. After rising out of the river valley, 112 carried us along the coast for the rest of the way to Neah Bay. This is where the scenery got really dramatic, with huge trees, crashing surf, and columns like this one rising from the water. Do not let this scenery distract you while riding, though. A bunch of circumstances cooperated to makes this a really hazardous road on the day I was there. The road rises and falls, and the curves writhe back on themselves suddenly over some of these rises. Here, the terrain would suggest a gentle turn to the right, coming out of the gentle left at the crest. Instead, the road plummets and turns violently to the left. Right at the apex, a stream, swollen with the day’s rain, flows right across the road. Also, many corners were graded off-camber when built, and many of the rest have become off-camber due to subsequent slides. Worse, the recent record windstorms left the road littered with boughs and sticks and conifer needles. Then, there was an ice storm, so road crews spread sand everywhere. All of this kooky engineering and detritus, added on top of the wet pavement and thin layer of moss outside the tire paths in each lane, meant Maude and I had to ride ready to slide at any time. Recent windstorms had toppled hundreds of trees per mile, which road crews then hastily cut and pushed onto the shoulders to clear the lanes. Piles of sawdust from this cutting added another layer of slickness. Many times, we hit boughs and sticks and moss in the middle of corners that had Maude sliding like an XR Harley at the Springfield Mile. Maude's been through this before, so she pulled out of it every time. Only one was really tense, when the rear end broke lose into a full-lock slide that Maude didn’t recover from until after we had crossed the other lane and were on the opposite shoulder. I think we'll wait ‘til July or August before riding this one again. Here’s our Destination: Neah Bay, 158 Eldo miles from home. By this time, the temp had dropped to 38 and the winds were whipping the rain almost sideways. We took a quick ride around the Reservation town and then headed back the way we came. One the way home, we lucked upon ‘Vert Road. I’ll let you all in on a little secret: Pete Roper, the world’s foremost advocate of the Guzzi ‘Vert, is building a huge and ostentatious new Roperville USA Compound here on the Olympic Peninsula where he’ll never have to fear drought again. The bastard wasn’t home when I rode by. I coulda used a hot drink. The rain kept up until we were back in Port Angeles, all told about 150 miles of it. The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful and saw us reach the ferry dock at 4:00. We got on the 4:35 ferry and were home by 5:10, wet on the outside and covered in mud and slug guts and fir needles, with a skunk stripe of all that goo down the back of my jacket. Total for the day: 316 miles. It wasn't the funnest ride Maude and I have ever been on, but it was a worthy start to the summer 2007 riding season. . .

Thanks. Is there anything those effing Aprilia retards couldn't get wrong?

The Guzzi service manual says the adjuster in the center of the top cap is compression damping, and the one at the bottom of the slider is for rebound. The Ohlins manual says the opposite. My own adjust and push experiment tells me the Ohlins manual is correct. Any of you know for sure?

Dang, looks like I missed another one. I'm in the market for one of those fairings, too . . .

Doc: PM me. Please be civil with him at first. He is a good guy but has to work within the constraints of his job. Be courteous but firm and persistant, and I believe you will get a fair hearing and full or partial reimbursement for costs. Do not discuss others or class action, outside of showing the pix of others that have blown up. Make this about just your bike, so it looks less costly. Then, once you succeed, it opens the way for others, but all is lost if you do not succeed.

Before you give up on the CRGs, consider using them with weights that work. Moto Intl. sells a set of heavier bar-ends that work with the CRGs. This is what I use with my CRGs, and vibration is not a problem.

If your other efforts do not solve the problem, we have a new tube that's been on the shelf for years at Moto Intl. that I would sell at a substantial discount. Shipping it to England would also likely be substantial, though.

Doc: I'll get you the SoCal address for the Guzzi/Aprilia warranty guy you need to talk to. His name is Josh. March in there with that flywheel and pics of those that busted at speed and shake him up a bit. If you haven't yet bought that clutch, there's a local guy here selling one that has about three dragstrip launches on it.

I'm not sure the Scura brackets are tighter. I looked all this up once, and they were the same part number as on some of the other Sports with the big headlight. I could be mis-remembering, though. I'll look when I get to work on Tuesday. And Helo-Jim: The Centauro headlight is smaller than that of the V11, unless I'm misremembering that, too. I think it's the same size as on the pre-01 EVs and Jacklas (160mm??).

I have the smaller Ballabio/Scura-sized light attached to V11 Sport brackets. You just need spacers on each side of the light. The Ducati light should be a very good fit in the V11 Sport brackets.

I second what Gary said. Especially so on any Guzzi with a four- or five-speed trans. In my experience, clutches that do not drag when cold can drag very much when hot. Heat was mentioned as a symptom in the case of the Sport 1100, so I'd think a look at clutch adjustment is indicated. If that doesn't work, a look at the clutch components.

The Scura light, at least all I've seen, is smaller than the V11 Sport's. It is like that of the LeMans and Ballabio/Cafe Sport/Coppa. That's why it has that thick rubber gasket where it interfaces with the fairing.

I have a new speedo in the gay raj I can trade to you. Just send me the one you have on order, when you get it. PM me with your address.

The shaped of the base of the small-pivot levers differs subtantially from that of the large-pivot levers, at least as shown on hte example CRGs I have here. If it were jsut a matter of pivot size, Brembo has a plastic adapter for fixing that.

An 8-spring clutch, kept free of oil and with good plates, will easily handle the 80-odd hp of the average V11. Unless cut down by a machinist, though, it will be far heavier than the 10-spring clutch.

The COppa and Cafe seats have an impressed "carbon fiber" pattern on the naugahide.

Guzzichondriac!

Guzzi and the dealers are replacing the steel single-platers in the Calis, so why not the Scuras? Keep after them.

As Nog has pointed out, engineers from a company that hasn't had a reputation for performance since at least 20 years prior to the time Guzzi gave up seeking performance have come up with an air-cooled pushrod two-valver that makes really respectable power and torque and doesn't blow up. Guzzi could do it, too

There are only two kinds of carnivores: Predators and scavengers. Would you rather be the falcon or the vulture? I choose the former; therefore, I must hunt. Which will you choose? Quoth a great sage: "If you can't look it in its cute, brown eyes and kill it, you should a a vegetarian."

Composite reply: Thanks, all. Slug: Not blood. This was one of the few projects that didn't leave scars. Dan: The levers are silver gray CRGs.

Gary: I found a set of Tekno brackets, and a set of the complete assemblies with bags. I can give more details offline, or on.

I grew up a scant ten miles from Osceola. Strange country, for sure. There are literally hundreds of deer per square mile there. They are thick as rats in a dump. There, hunting is self-defense. Shoot them when you can, or crash your car or motorcycle into them the rest of the year. When I lived there, it was nothing to see 40-50 in a day's hunt. In Washington, where I live now, I can hunt sometimes for days without seeing one.