That's right,me hearties!The happy reaper is headed to Bangalore to get the bike back.Tejinder has been kind enough to let me crash at his place,so now all i have to do is show up,cart the bike over to Ron's and get her fired up.
I plan on running her in there and then installing those wicked little pipes onto her.The family has been very supportive of all this madness and I'm very,very happy.
I've never mentioned how my family has been involved in this project,so here goes.
Dad,for listening to me patiently,putting up with gross stupidity and occasional bailouts.Not to mention making his tools disappear when he most needed them.
Mom for not taking my case when she'd see my bank statements and grease stained T shirts and road rash skittered fore arms from riding bikes.
Sister no 4:Divya,helped me score parts from Bombay,gave me writing assignments for Vitamin M.
Sister no 1:Pooja,has indulged my madness,ordered very expensive stuff for me and the bike.
I'd like to thank whoever has helped me physically in getting her this far.
1)Rohinton Dara Chinoy - For guidance,taking up the engine build,learning and generally making me see some sense.
2)Tejinder Pal Singh - Friend and 2 stroke nerd extraordinaire,parts supplier and supporter.
3)Shyam Mohan - Friend,partner in crime,fellow 2 stroker and a very helpful guy.
4)Ashwani Rana - Workshop owner,ex racer.If it wasn't for him I would never have known what a 2 stroke is.
5)Mohith Saradhy - Cool Mohith,diplomatic to the core.Thanks for getting the old man to take my job.
6)Tanya and Eman - My neighbour's kids.They helped me paint the bike and get my enthusiasm back for this project.
PS:I remember once asking them for ideas for a date.Tanya was 14 at that time and i think Eman was about 9.The 14 year old said cut the power to her flat and have a candle light dinner.The 9 year old gave me very sage advice saying I should gift my then girlfriend a frog.
Gotta love astute kids.
7)Nikhil Mahajan - Uber nerd and very good friend.Helped me cart the bike and gas tank around when i managed to pull a muscle in my lower back.
It's been a very weird 3 years since I tore the bike down and crated her.All the people I've mentioned and by association their friends who have wished me well on this project will always have my gratitude.
I'll be taking a few pics and uploading them when I get to Bangalore.Till then,like someone said in a brilliant cult movie,"I'll see you on the flip side."
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Comestics,a start..
Sandpaper,fine grit,check.
Spray paint cans,check.
Neighbours kids signed up as willing help,check.
This was fairly straightforward.First,I unbolted all the bits that needed paint and set the kids onto them with sandpaper.I was lucky since the tank had been covered by body filler and sprayed down with a basecoat.
Fork lowers,upper t-plate and the gas tank were sanded lightly and then rubbed down with some muslin like cotton dipped in thinner.
Gave the kids the spray cans and told them to go ape on the thing.It came out rather nicely,IMHO.
I found a guy who specialises in powder coating and plating stuff,so next to go will be the rims and engine side cases.I have no idea of how to plan all this,so far I've been going by feel.Seems to have turned out alright.
Some pics to ponder over:
Decisions,decisions,what carb to use?TMX 34s or the TM28SS series?
LPG taps for the gas tank.Cheaper and they flow more than a Pingle.I'm guesstimating about 900 cc's a minute.Should be more than enough to keep me out of trouble.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
She lives!
And how?well,to be honest,her heart is still in bangalore,but most of here is still here.I'm gonna be uploading a shitload of images in the next hour or so.Kinda keeps things in perspective.If anyone bitches about the colour of the frame,tough shit.It's done and ain't gonna change.The tank is going to be matt black and the wheels are going to be powdercoated black too.Same with the front forks.
And,no I'm not selling my stock exhaust pipes,because I sold the bastards when I took the bike apart.So there.
Note:Those are TZ350 F pipes.Yamaha factory.Don;t ask how much or why or when.My credit card statement haunts me.
She does look kinda hot,though,doesn't she?
Thursday, September 3, 2009
getting bored.pissing cats and dogs in delhi.But,I did do some smart spending.I bought me a brand new pirelli scorpion MT tyre for the bike.Rear wheel,110/90/18.Soft rubber.The rolling frame is ready.flat black paint(i know it's ghetto,but cool in an 80's kinda way) with one russian federation star on either side of the gas tank.Now,to figure out exhaust pipes.I did see some cheap DG pipes on ebay and am kinda hoping I can get something like them.Ron refuses to do pipes for now(read,eternity).So,I'm going to have to resort to something else.I've got 2 crates of motul 800,2 liters of motomix and about 7k for gas money.I'm pretty much set for 2 months of riding.
I'll be taking it easy on the bike for about 2 days or so,running her in on ring road.lots of flyovers and sweeping turns.I'm still trying to decide if i need to throw high test fuel into her or not.I'll avoid detonation for sure,but considering she's going to be breathing with 28 mm mik flatslides with powerjets,bigger reeds and uni filters,I'm worried about how much ignition advance she'll be willing to take.i'm hoping all she will do is offer a fouled plug in protest,considering how foulmouthed she was.
the wait is torture,but,as the old saw goes,everything good comes with time.On that note,I say goodnight to my loving readers and hello to my alprax.
I'll be taking it easy on the bike for about 2 days or so,running her in on ring road.lots of flyovers and sweeping turns.I'm still trying to decide if i need to throw high test fuel into her or not.I'll avoid detonation for sure,but considering she's going to be breathing with 28 mm mik flatslides with powerjets,bigger reeds and uni filters,I'm worried about how much ignition advance she'll be willing to take.i'm hoping all she will do is offer a fouled plug in protest,considering how foulmouthed she was.
the wait is torture,but,as the old saw goes,everything good comes with time.On that note,I say goodnight to my loving readers and hello to my alprax.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Depression days.
Well,it's been a long time.Commitments at work,including bizzare work hours and keeping up with the parents during the day has started taking it's toll.I'm grouchier,nastier and generally spend my waking hours in a foul-bordering-on-pissed-off mood.
2 weeks ago,I celebrated my 28th birthday.Total downer.No girlfriend,no bike,quit booze(long story) ,almost turned vegan(I though it had something to do with Las Vegas,but we'll get to that) ,friends were at work and to make things funnier,I was wide awake with nothing to do.
When a person tries quantifying what he/she has achieved at the grand age of 28 on said individual's birthday,it generally leads to disaster which could cause bouts of depression resulting in temporary insanity.
It's going to be a year and a half of no bike.I'm driving a new Wagon R(nicknamed the Nerdmobile) by me and I've started hating it.It's a nice,quiet,comfortable and boring car.Nothing like the old souped up 800 of yore,which used to run a blatty exhaust,free flow filter,dropped head and body panels which would be hanging on by some unknown law of physics.It was crude,loud,agile and a complete hoot to drive.I had many happy memories in that car.First necking session.First speeding ticket at 138 kph in front of a hospital.First major accident in which the floor got ripped open.Blasting down the road in front of the lotus temple at 2 am with the rear end fishtailing around corners.Pitching it wide and barelling up a dirt road sideways,like Tony Pond in one of the great lakes rallies.
Sigh...all the fun thingsI used to do have been away from me for so long,that I'm beginning to get worried if I'll ever be able to do crazy ass shit again.Maybe it's a sign of aging.I'm definitely crabbier and I keep on lusting after things I'm not supposed to do for all practical purposes.Like get piss drunk and drive down to Rishikesh to get high on some good hash.Then stop by a sugarcane farm and buy a kilo of fresh,hot jaggery and eat that on the way back home.Like listening to metallica at earsplitting volume while gargling with beer and cigar smoke,trying to sound like Hetfield.Or that one night of unlimited drinking resulting in me waking up in bed with the office whore with "Stud muffin" written on my chest in red lipstick.
You know.Crazy,fun shit with not an iota of thought spent on the possible consequences.
That's when I start thinking,the Rd will come back and chaos will rule again.Girls will start calling .Dope will show up in the mail.Alcohol will be administered by IV,the Rishikesh cops will start calling home.The Doon sugarcane farmers will rejoice.The mind will be at peace for it will be too tired to think.Brain dead riding for the last 300 kms.The word "smashed" will take on a much more peaceful meaning.
Ron,I hope your reading this,becuase I need my bike.Bad.Just like that fucked up offspring song.
2 weeks ago,I celebrated my 28th birthday.Total downer.No girlfriend,no bike,quit booze(long story) ,almost turned vegan(I though it had something to do with Las Vegas,but we'll get to that) ,friends were at work and to make things funnier,I was wide awake with nothing to do.
When a person tries quantifying what he/she has achieved at the grand age of 28 on said individual's birthday,it generally leads to disaster which could cause bouts of depression resulting in temporary insanity.
It's going to be a year and a half of no bike.I'm driving a new Wagon R(nicknamed the Nerdmobile) by me and I've started hating it.It's a nice,quiet,comfortable and boring car.Nothing like the old souped up 800 of yore,which used to run a blatty exhaust,free flow filter,dropped head and body panels which would be hanging on by some unknown law of physics.It was crude,loud,agile and a complete hoot to drive.I had many happy memories in that car.First necking session.First speeding ticket at 138 kph in front of a hospital.First major accident in which the floor got ripped open.Blasting down the road in front of the lotus temple at 2 am with the rear end fishtailing around corners.Pitching it wide and barelling up a dirt road sideways,like Tony Pond in one of the great lakes rallies.
Sigh...all the fun thingsI used to do have been away from me for so long,that I'm beginning to get worried if I'll ever be able to do crazy ass shit again.Maybe it's a sign of aging.I'm definitely crabbier and I keep on lusting after things I'm not supposed to do for all practical purposes.Like get piss drunk and drive down to Rishikesh to get high on some good hash.Then stop by a sugarcane farm and buy a kilo of fresh,hot jaggery and eat that on the way back home.Like listening to metallica at earsplitting volume while gargling with beer and cigar smoke,trying to sound like Hetfield.Or that one night of unlimited drinking resulting in me waking up in bed with the office whore with "Stud muffin" written on my chest in red lipstick.
You know.Crazy,fun shit with not an iota of thought spent on the possible consequences.
That's when I start thinking,the Rd will come back and chaos will rule again.Girls will start calling .Dope will show up in the mail.Alcohol will be administered by IV,the Rishikesh cops will start calling home.The Doon sugarcane farmers will rejoice.The mind will be at peace for it will be too tired to think.Brain dead riding for the last 300 kms.The word "smashed" will take on a much more peaceful meaning.
Ron,I hope your reading this,becuase I need my bike.Bad.Just like that fucked up offspring song.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Still going on!
Phew,It's been a hectic few months,what with the recession and the other palaver.My rolling frame is ready,will be adding pics shortly.Now to score some rearsets, tyres and a seat and I should be pretty much set.
I got an interesting call from Ron today.Mostly filled with invective and something about thermocol beads running around the house and landing in his fishtank,the neighbours' house and infiltrating his living room and something about rooting around in a bucket for carb parts.
I managed not to laugh,but had to give in because my lungs were about to explode.
It was just too funny for words.To make matters interesting,he kept on ranting about having little balls all over the place.
The fact of the matter is that I prefer packaging delicate parts in thermocol beads from my deflated bean bag.If that thing can cushion my butt,why can't it cushion a few parts?
Using this deadly logic,I forgot to warn him the first time I sent my bike's crank to him.
Result:complete pandemonium when the crank was fished out.Except this time the fishtank wasn't setup.It led to a few laughs initially,with Ron getting his maid to clean up and the Mrs looking on with a benevolent(if slightly irritated) eye.
When the second package was opened,old Ron didn't have any warnings then as well.Except this time it was opened up outside with a mild breeze and I had taken the liberty of compressing it a little this time.
Result:One invective filled phone call that left me holding onto my ribs for the better part of the day.
You haven't truly lived until you've sent the old man a parcel packaged like that.
I got an interesting call from Ron today.Mostly filled with invective and something about thermocol beads running around the house and landing in his fishtank,the neighbours' house and infiltrating his living room and something about rooting around in a bucket for carb parts.
I managed not to laugh,but had to give in because my lungs were about to explode.
It was just too funny for words.To make matters interesting,he kept on ranting about having little balls all over the place.
The fact of the matter is that I prefer packaging delicate parts in thermocol beads from my deflated bean bag.If that thing can cushion my butt,why can't it cushion a few parts?
Using this deadly logic,I forgot to warn him the first time I sent my bike's crank to him.
Result:complete pandemonium when the crank was fished out.Except this time the fishtank wasn't setup.It led to a few laughs initially,with Ron getting his maid to clean up and the Mrs looking on with a benevolent(if slightly irritated) eye.
When the second package was opened,old Ron didn't have any warnings then as well.Except this time it was opened up outside with a mild breeze and I had taken the liberty of compressing it a little this time.
Result:One invective filled phone call that left me holding onto my ribs for the better part of the day.
You haven't truly lived until you've sent the old man a parcel packaged like that.
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