The good, The bad, And the ugly

 The Good: Hey, it's all good! As long as you don't watch tv, listen to news, or doom scroll. Life in Mack is good. I have to admit that despite the grind of it all, I really live the life I love and love the life I live and all that kumbyah hippy shit that has got me this far without loosing my marbles or at least all of them. On the righteous straight and narrow path of hot nasty dirty speed I have been able to somehow keep my nose to the grind stone. Ouch, sometimes i get sparks in my eye. But did manage to get some lead out my ass and hook up the distributor on the Coyote and feed the Holly double pumper some petrol. The sawed off header pipes did not disipoint and my dog was not the only one who piddled on the floor from excitement. Damn this capsule ought to be more fun than barrel full of well oiled midget monkeys doing keg stands of Jolt Cola on a marry-go round.

And to the bad: Not so bad but, well shitfuck. What did I expect slapping a four wheeler head onto a dirt bike engine with cam lobes the size of Dolly Parton's hoo-haas and gallon coffee can for a piston. I even filled up the radiators with green stuff I was so optimistic/naive/eager to start the beast... And the kicker stopped dead locked up.... eeeee, I should have measured the piston to valve clearance. So I did. It was nilch, zip, zero, nada.... 

I did what any self respecting honkey without money would do and I turned my drill press into a mill. And I cut, and I measured again, and I cut, and I measured again, and I cut, and.... I came to rational thought about how the piston's original valve pockets were not wide enough for the +2mm oversized valves, so I cut wider, and than again deeper. And just when I thought I might not have anymore piston left to cut I finally got hit in the head with the apple of reality. My valves were only hitting the piston after a revolution. I had the god damn good for nothing scum sucking TRX four wheeler cam sprocket which has two less teeth than the sweet familiar CRF two wheel cam sprocket. I really should have noticed. Life is learning. Hoping my valves are not bent. They seem to hold pressure fine. And hoping my compression ratio is above barometric pressure.  If things progress into combustion of holly rolling happiness than praise be I shall buy a new piston. Another brand new big bore expensive ass piston. And measure clearances. 

Which finally brings us to the ugly; my favorite. I was just minding my own business when Dylan the bloke who beat me in the CHCA motorcycle points championship once and made me a red plate of his number 1 to hang on my wall sent me a text with a link to a marketplace add. It read: Free Yard Art. Doh! I showed up and they were waiting for my on the curb, actually off of it into the street with the poor old bike loaded vertically onto a dolly like Hannibal Lector. They asked what I intended to do with and did not believe me one bit when I told them I was going to revive the 73 MX250. They had even taken the liberty to weld onto it it's very own angle iron center stand that was perfect for busting open my knuckles while I snapped off rusty bolts breaking it down. "As much as I can with as little as possible" - My life's motto it seems. I got it all down and amazingly the stock bore piston and cylinder look great. After breaking loose the magneto, it turnedover free and clean. I dont think I will even rebuild the conn rod but the left side crank seal surface is not happy. Might have to do what I did on the 76 YZ125 last winter. This one might even be something I have to break my crusty patina pervert habits with and powder coat the frame, get one of those Indian repop tanks, and make all purdy and shit... we will see. I better source a new ignition...

emptied my box of band-aids.

I dont know, that's a whole lot of pretty beautiful crusty priceless patina there...

I only had to drill 5 of the 3 bolt heads. Math equations aside I have always wanted a proper pre 74 vintage class racer. Lets go!

Current Events

 

Preparing for 2026; Preparation H

 Hill climb preparations that is.

I also do discount plumbing. Plumbed the radiator form the ol Pontiac Grand Prix stockcar onto the side of the Coyote like some colostomy bag appendage. It might not make Collin Chapman approve but as Johny Cash said: " It didn't cost me a dime". Hopefully it does not end up burning my face like a scalded boiled potato at an Irish potluck. Everybody river dance! Hey, if it was good enough to cool the big ol Pontiac with the same engine I am hoping that the fans will make it happen even if direct air flow is about as good as trying to light a fart through gor-tex trousers. Now all I need is some sheet metal to enclose the side pod and create some ducting or at least make it look like a proper side pod. But I'll be damned if I am going to spend $150 on a sheet of aluminum. Thanks Chief peder-ass! Hoping somebody will donate some ol road signs so I don't have to skin my ol camper's siding. State of the union... help!

Onto things more within my control, with two wheels and parts I know how to harvest from trash bins;

The Honda I was given last year in trade for some suspension work. The joke was: I bet that will be your next race bike. Sure, why not. I need another Honda CRF450. This one will make 6 and that is half way to a dozen. I think I posted a picture on here last year of me draining the rusty rain water from the crank case. Laying around in my stash pile I had an old Racers Edge ported head with epoxied port floors that came off a TRX450 four wheel that raced pikes peak. As far as I could tell the only difference from a CRF head was the giant thermostat housing so I chopped that off and welded a normal spigot on. Cast aluminum left as many seeping little holes as my 16 yr old acne ridden poc face when I lived on gas station piza and Jolt cola. So JB weld did the finish work. The other big difference is the intake is a straight shot center port making the carburetor and rear shock share the same air space. My first plan was to benefit from the straight flowing intake tract by removing the rear shock and welding up a sub-frame to accommodate twin shocks. Old school and cool. But I am lazy so for now I just made an intake manifold to turn the carb to the side and utilize the stock air box. Hoping to at least try to rig up a proper center mount eventually if nothing else for dyno testing...

In another amazing feat of cheap skate zip zero nada I fit up a homebrew exhaust system utilizing the stainless steal oversize header Gary made me along with some of his beautiful titanium for the mid pipe and to trifecta the metallurgy an old school aluminum super trap I have been hoarding for over 15 years.

First time I have ever ground the valve guide flush with the inside of the port. Just the intakes. Using my favorite seat grinder on this head. Notice the epoxy not only in the intake ports but also blocking the coolant passages near the intake...

But I did give the exhaust guides some Tommy Lesortor weight watcher treatment because we all know thin is in.

Back cutting the valve face.

My math only works out with correct ratio of cheap and fancy beer. The PVC spacer goes inside the intake manifold to match carb to intake port size.

This required taper boing the inside diameter. I only hope the pvc will not melt when playing with gasoline...

Fits better than OJ's glove. Life in Mack is good. At least at the motorbike shop. Peace.

I went racing!!!

I decided on Thursday to go racing on Saturday. Actually my better half decided. Something about my attitude needing some improvement. This time of year can get that way for me. Winters can seem long and lonesome without my racing but let me not forget to enjoy the here and now. Yesterday is for fond memories to carry in my pocket. Tomorrow will be here and gone before I know it; Make the most out of the present moment is my goal. But expectations are often far from realities. I have been lying to myself for the past few years thinking that I can still throw a leg over my bike and be the racer I was ten or fifteen years ago. But I know that most of racing is mental. Most of it. The memories of the Wickenberg race are fond. Also known as the Mile Marker, The Duel in the Desert, and now the Outlaw Endure. "The toughest race in the west". Once I finished 3rd overall behind Destry Abbot and Max Gerston. I have finished in the top ten several times. I once got gang banged by a choa cactus and ate shit leaving Mick's Go pro in the trail only to DNF shortly succumbing to wounds from the cactus and the crash. Look up Newbold Go Pro snaps off on youtube. It has been ten years since I raced this usually fast and flowy patch of desert. I made the 9 hr drive and took some pictures along the way checking the pulse of America along the way. The Navajo Nation has always made me feel strongly of what being an American. Now more than ever. The old native lady picking up trash along the road side. The cracker critter crossing at "Forrest Gump Hill" taking selfies like life depended on it. The Graffiti is real. The windshield time was nice. For pre race dinner I had some spam, a can of black beans, and bread. I watched bikes in the pits for an hour and a half before I saw a four stroke. Times have changed. But my choice in bike has not. I wondered about my choice. But I was excited to race the ol Elvira for her first ever race. The 2006 CRF450X was a bike I built for the 2007 Baja 1000 but due to a series of unfortunate events (ask me for the whole story at the campfire) the bike never raced. Two years ago the owner sold me the bike for cheap. Poor Elvira had been sitting out in snow banks for several years and she needed nursed back to health. I about have her ironed out. What better first race for the big ol desert racer than one of my favorite old races. But things have changed with "Enduro" racing. All the two strokes, The riders meeting laid strong words on cut off times for the 4 tests, and it was 90 miles. The first test was 11 miles. Fun virgin singletrack. The only bike to pass me all day was Joe Wasson and it was awesome! I finished the test out of breath but having fun. Then I looked down to see all my transmission oil gone from a huge hole in my clutch cover. Luckily I found some quick aluminum and a qrt of oil. Test 2 was 20+ miles. It was not only long but very technical. Tight rocky washes with aluminum eating ledges, waterfalls, boulder gardens, and giant loose rock hill climbs. I finished without major mistakes and some oil left in transmission. I ate my snacks and on the 7 mile transfer to the next test my shoulders/neck became angry. It was at this point that I knew I needed to just survive if I hoped to finish. Test 3 seemed to last an eternity. I was in excruciating pain on the rocky uphills but I kept forward momentum passing downed, and limping bikes all the way. The 4th and final test was only 9 miles so after the transfer I found some shade and lay my head on a rock and tried to re-charge. I gave it everything I had and finished strong. Good enough for 20th overall, and 11th AA out of 324 bikes. almost 6 hrs to do 90 miles! The old fast and flowy Arizona race is now slow grinding Hard-Enduro. Times are what they are. The beer was good and I went to bed in the back of my van early, sleeping like a dead tree trucker after a 5 day benny binge. On the drive home I was a bit dreary of my results but after some philosophical thought I realized that results should become less important to my comprehension of fun while racing, at least as I age. There is a formula in the numbers somewhere with age. I was once fast. I was once young. I was for sure the only AA rider on a four stoke and a 20 year old one at that so maybe that is a fond memory I will find in my back pocket some day.

Things are and will be whatever we make them to be.

PEACE.

94 Pikes Peak Hill Climb

Such a cool old video. Guy must have had a vhs recorder in a back pack! I sure am greatful that I got to race it when it when it was dirt and we got to go bar to bar. I hade some good battles for four years and then did six years on pavement racing one at a time. I miss the mountain.

Getting through the winter hump

 It is the time of year that the racer finds only solace in the shop. The gear bag is giving bed to the dust bunnies. The sun shine rises late, shines low through windows giving new perspective and light to the dwelling artifacts of the shop, and then the ball of fire sets too soon to do mini bike laps in the back yard. The porcelain tea mug has darkened with stain growing long in the tooth hoping to avoid the cement floor, an immanent demise of all the racer collects and drinks from. Beyond renewing the race club memberships and reserving the holy number not 666 but rather 747, there are other responsibilities. The father, the husband, the maintainer of house and cars. Damn you Mr. Ford. The owner and operator of a full time busy as all hell motorbike shop. The balance. Constantly seeking the balance. Years are few and dreams are many. Will this be the year to focus on taking a race car to the next level. What comes after a class title. Both bike and car, was a lot but addiction says: more, more, more, If you can do it once do it more. The madness is both numbing and captivating. To take something from the brink of the trash bin and put it on top of the podium. That first Pikes Peak win ruined me. It showed me that all the consumer based advertisement fueled colosseum scene is a lie. All the money in the world will not build a race winning vehicle. The desire is was counts. Ambition, work, limber optimism, and bit of JB weld.

This here head is from an old Honda four wheeler. It has a big dumb thermostat otherwise it will fit on a Honda two wheeler. Go Honda! Go two wheels!

It is a head worth doing some work with to make work with what I have.

Aluminum welding skills are still eluding me but I figured what better way to learn than dirty old cast on a very unique and un-replaceable piece. I finally gave up chassing the pin holes and dabbed them with good old JB Weld.

Back-cutting and refacing the oversized valves. The only reason that I can do what I can is because of my stubborn refusal to spend money. That said I must admit that I am a very privileged cracker to have what I have. This old valve grinder was bought for pennies or given to me when my shop was in Denver, like so many of my tools and valuable experiences I have acquired.  I was never the fastest or most brilliant but things came to me I think because people thought, hey what will this dingbat do with this.... 
I reckon opportunity is sometimes dressed in a green mohawk with a firm yet respecting raised middle finger to the status quo. Yo. 

Toying with the idea of boring out this FCR out on my lathe but I am pretty sure I will fuck up the taper bore. I love these carbs. They are like my happy place. I would rather re-build and tune one of these any day over some electronic buzzing whimper of a robot wet fart.

Come Sunday. This winter has been delicious for riding. High 40's or even 50's with just enough moister. Not much snow pack in the mountains but I am not complaining. Yet. This ol 88 sure makes me smile. There are single track trials I can ride on this former 1996 Pikes Peak racer as fast as I can on a modern bike. I wonder what another 30 years will bring. I hope nothing much.

Feeling like a real proper race car guy shit building some sidepods to house heat exchanger for small block cheby. The Coyote calls!

Thinking I might need to bring the back of the pod back further. I didn't want to trap the radius rods but maybe I could just extend the sheet metal and roll a bead like taper flare it up/out a bit like a skate ramp with coping at the lip. What do you think? Like a field of corn; I am all ears...

Here we are. There it goes. Where it's at.

 Finally have shifter. Shifting gears. Metaphor of life. 

Grab too tall of a gear - blow the corner. 

Miss a shift - make a savings withdrawal.

 Smooth transition.  Not grinding.  Not missing.

Finding it. Minding it. In the shop I keep grinding it.

Blue lever is the twin master cylinder turning brake. Push to go left and Pull to go right or is it the other way? ... Think fast - don't die.

Not a lot of room. Not a lot of aluminum welding skill. But I just keep on finding a way. I tell my daughter constantly; "If you can think it- you can do it"

How is this LEGAL?! Driving the Discommon SVF1 Eagle | Henry Catchpole -...

A dirt biker looks at 40 (mother mother ocean, get me through the season...)

 The Solstice. The time of year to find gratitude along with repulsion. The beauty of nature along with the vile pervasion of some, mostly humanity. The Substance of life is sometimes more than I think my hill-billy country bumpkin back side can handle. The experiences I have had have been great, many, and out of this world but sometimes the common journey of fatherhood is more than mind blowing for any ol beer drinking grey haired greasy finger nailed weirdo wanker wanna-be. Through it all, the confusion gives me clarity through racing. Motor sport. The Joe Camel Marlboro Man savoir. So much is the vulgar display of commercialism that at least I know it is transparent. Despite the decades of puffing ciggies the transparency was always pure and never have I wanted to be anything fake. Only a racer. The holidays are just the off season. Waiting....  

After months of trying to meet up with Martini, the three time ago previous owner of my Coyote, I finally made the connection; At a Motel 6 in Gallop New Mexico. I pulled up in front of his ground floor room as the skunk aroma rolled. Along with the sporting goods and contraband he bestowed upon me his old Simpson race suit along with his CHCA race jacket. The torch was passed.

When Martini raced this Coyote at Pikes Peak he had her looking so good.

Trying to fit my 6 foot two inch giraffe leg having frame into this car is a real challenge. Let alone fitting a two cable shifter in somewhere right next to a two master cylinder turning brake. I figure making a shifter is about as good of a chance to exercise my brain as any other crippling aneurism.

On a bright yellow sun shine note of crisp two stroke resonance revival I did get the 76 YZ125 a proper (ish) front end so I could finally ride it a year after building. No dents in the alloy tank, whew!

Last weekend I got Danny to come down from the mountains to play race cars with me on some of the best roads. My back yard is straight out of a video game. Danny turned my old 79 Pontiac Grand Pirx back into a proper dialed race car. I would never have sold it to him if only I had the patience and knowledge to set it up like he has it now. My buddy ol Peter who showed me these roads came out with his dirt bike. It sure felt good to get back in the car after the last race in September. I was hitting corners like a slot car madman. I found a nice 4th gear road jump and flew a car for the first time. I made some corners obey my cosmic powers and it felt good. Really good.

After a near brain aneurism trying to engineer my own shifter I came to my senses and bought an old Toyota MR-2 shifter off ebay. But the leg room is a serious issue.... 

If all else fails, it is slot car season: GAME ON!