THE X(j) FILES: EPISODE II

by Al

Scully: Our "friend" from the CIA is about as unbelievable as his story. As is everything about this case. I mean, whatever happened to "Trust no one"?
Mulder: Oh, I changed it to "Trust everyone." Didn't I tell you?

THE X-FILES

For those who came in late: Episode I.

I repaired to the garage to commune with my XJ900 and make a shopping list.

It had Koni shocks. It had a toolkit with bugger all in it. There was no spanner to change the shock preload, and I didn't have a spare in my toolbox.

I tried to take the seat off. It took twenty minutes to find the catches. My garage is very badly lit with one fluorescent tube, and the Body Corporate won't allow running extra power into garages.

It had no mirrors.

The tank was not attached, and it was coated in primer. It was also full of rust. Yamaha XJ900s were pretty famous for rusting their tanks.

Lasertec now fitted. The bike had Koni 7610s and Staintunes as purchased

Al didn't quite understand the carburettor piping

And the fork seals were leaking.

I went up to the Yamaha shop and ordered a pair of mirrors. Eighty something dollars each. Ouch.

I bought an air cleaner. When I fitted it, I noticed that the air cleaner boots weren't attached to the carbies. It was a bastard of a job to get them attached.

I took the rear wheel off and took it up to the Yamaha shop and got them to put a Metzeler Lasertec on it. I bought a battery while I was there. The cheapest one they had. I asked them to fill it and put it on a trickle charge overnight. No problem, they said.

I took the tank to a radiator joint, and got them to rinse it out with acid and then wash it. That got rid of most of the rust, and cost me $90. Then I took it to the panel beater just up the road and got him to paint it in Lexus white N51, which he reckoned was pretty close to the original Yamaha white. He charged me $300. Cash.

I went to Bunnings and bought the makings of a toolkit. The new tools wouldn't fit in the toolkit holder, so I wrapped them in a rag and stashed them in the tailpiece. You always need a rag when you're working on a bike on the side of the road, anyway.

I didn't quite understand the carburettor piping. There was a vacuum tube to the fuel tank, and two pipes that looked like they took fuel but only one outlet on the fuel tap. I had to take the air cleaner boots off the carbies to find all the pipes. When I put them back on I found it wasn't a bastard of a job if you loosen the airbox bolt. But I still couldn't work out why there were so many fuel connectors.

So I bought a manual. I read it, and I was still none the wiser. Nor even better informed. I checked the exploded parts diagram. It had three hoses where my bike had four.

I hunted around and finally got a brass T-piece to join the fuel lines at a garage in Willoughby. I bought an in-line fuel filter too, because I figured I'd have a bit of rust floating around. And the big night approached.

I connected everything up, and put ten litres of juice in the tank. I turned the fuel tap on to prime. I drained the float bowls, and what came out looked clean. When I connected the battery, the clock on the instrument panel lit up. Hoo-rah!

I turned the ignition key on. The clock went out. I turned the ignition key back off. The clock came on. Bloody. The bastard's got an electrical fault. And not only that, the joint smells of petrol.

I checked the tank. It had a pretty major leak right rear. It was coming through the paint. Split seam? I took it off the bike and rested it on its side.

I got my multimeter out and started to trace circuits. They all looked OK. I checked the fuses, and they looked OK too.

I put the multimeter on the battery. It was putting out 8.4 volts instead of 13.2.

I went to Dick Smith's and bought a cheapo battery charger for $19.99. I pulled the caps and put the battery on charge. It took 18 hours. Thanks for nothing, bike shop.

I put the battery back in the bike. The clock on the instrument panel came on. I turned on the ignition. The neutral light came on. I pressed the starter button. The bastard started.

It ran for about five seconds on what was in the float bowls, and then stopped. I was rapt.