Oils Ain’t Oils

(Or, on the lighter side of total loss)

 

Gleaming in maculate glory (probs not the AJS) were the Heritage Club bikes of various vintage, shining in the morning sun.

Debriefing of the route by a knowledgeable local proves significant.

“ At this point we rise sharply up River Road.  Ian.  You get in the trailer at this point, it’s too steep! History shows Repton can’t make it.”

“But I’m a skinny bastard.”

 

Flat tankers off first, dawdling cautiously west along Throssell Street, the second right turn was best to avoid traffic.  Dennis abreast the 1927 decides to take the first right instead. Last away was the BSA.

 

Heading north and west through suburban fringe a relaxing sensation overcomes riders, some missing not one, but two junctions.  “Do a blocky at the next intersection” he thinks to himself.  Turn right.  Turn right again.  “Bugger! a cul-de-sac.”  Push off again.  Back on Moira, left into Harris, some way along the road forks (someone has realigned the Harris street sign) such unsolicited confusion is not helpful to a belt rider.

 

The country side pulses between fields and forest before a long stretch west on Mornington Road.  The intersection of Gastone and Coalfields Road proves easy with sweeping views to either side of the junction.  A median acceleration lane enables bikes to integrate with traffic.

 

Feeling more relaxed, eyes on the scenery, ears attuned to the pulse of the engine, the controls of the belt drive are periodically adjusted to get the feel of the new the engine.  The undulations of Wellington Dam Road are relaxing.  But wait.

 

Rhythmic hmmmm turns to …clunck, cluck, thump, thsshhh.

 

Immediately de-throttle, clasp decompression, reduce advance. Stop.  Total loss?

 

“You know,” says Bowe at the weir cafe,  “…the dam wall has been closed to construct the walk over the weir.  That has meant no café either.  It’s under new ownership.” [Ed. Got that feeling, café service was struggling].

“Yes sir what would you like?”.

“Morgan.  Ya Voule.  Ein beer bitter?”

“ A bitter beer young man ?”

No. Just joking.  I’ll have a double shot black.” says Bowe the BMW rider.

 

“Had enough? Let’s go.”  With a puff of smoke, the 1927 started immediately.   Last away was the BSA.

 

Return along Wellington Dam Road left into River Road where the climb commences.  It is safe.  It is one-way.  Plenty of time to take in the forest and deep valley views.  River Road comprises an all-time sensationally, sinuous, series of scenes selectively seen through the valley’s tree canopy.  Riders’ anxiety slowly builds with ever increasing gradient.

 

At this point, Dennis’s 1927 comes into view, engine lubrication aflush.

“ He’s paddling.  But it’s still going.  Good effort!”

“ Wonder what the Tourists’ behind us think?” comes the reply.

 

Sometime later, there was an Aussie, a Pohm, an Italian, an Indian ,oh, and of course a Kiwi:

“Yeah, I use Penrite Shelesley 40/60 weight for classics.”

“I heard its good for older engines; thicker oil, mre zinc, less leaks.”

“I’ve tried 40/70 when I can’t get Shelesley as it’s a similar replacement.”

“I’ve been told by some it’s too heavy for total loss engines; lighter oils mist which is what you want for total loss”

“Well!  I’ve been told all sorts of things….”

“Yeah me too.”

“… so I decided to do a bit of reading [Ed. Now there’s a thought].  Seems the difference between 20/50 and 40/60 is in significant – the big number I mean, 50 to 60.  50/60 comparison is negligible.”

“ Io non compredo !”

“Yeah me too.”

“Burr I reck’n , wass a diffress?”  It works in the AJS – 20/50.  It’s ooils ya noo.  Betta than the older days.”

“Ya can’t tell me any oil isn’t better than the oils of yesteryear?”

“I know blokes who only use Castor Oil.”

Whart’s that made of ?” comes the query.

“Castor Seeds.”

“Multo bene!  Io applicato Olio Olivi !”

 

There is a pause in the conversation.

 

“What does the 20 in the 20/50 mean?” [Ed. Is this a total loss?]

 

Pies consumed, the bikes were off.  So too a pair of Gloves left on the turf.  With a puff of smoke, the 1927 started immediately.   Last away was the BSA.

 

Back up Fergie Road, left up the gradient of Pile Road and into an immediate climb.  At this point, Dennis’s 1927 comes into view, engine lubrication aflush.

“ Shall we turn on the Air Con Bowe?”

 

The scenery unfolds into beautiful rolling hillocky grazing country and cow shet interspersed with endemic forest and atmospheric odour of dead roo.

 

Tortured and consumed by the unknown, why did it stop.  “Did it cease.  Is it a total loss?’

So, on arrival at Collie, we push the bikes into the gated beer garden of the Fed.  Curiosity takes over (no beer drunk at this stage).

“Let’s take it apart” says Dennis.

“Why not! I’m interested,” says Martin.

Tools come out [Ed. Various meanings within that] “Let’s get the head off.”

 

Its happy hour at the Fed.  Locals gather in the beer garden, sipping beverage they gaze on.

 

With the Carby off, the tortured enthusiast bites, “I’ll get the exhaust.”

“Cut the cable tie to loosen the cables.” Says Dennis enthusiastically

“I’ll take off the top centre bolt to make room.”

“Lean the head forward then we have space to remove the head.” says Dennis.

 

Front and centre emerged two Galahs, one pink and one grey, pints fisted to hand:

“Gudgeon bush?” says one.

“The bearing in the crank case, what is it?”

“ How’s the big end; sleave bearing or needle rollers?”

“The piston is aluminium; that expands at different rate to cast.”

“What is the clearance?”

“Six thou? Some suggest eight or nine thou.”

“The piston looks scored.”

“You want to open up the oil channels to piston.”

“Are the gaps in the piston rings right?” [Ed. Evidently there are gaps all around].

“How’s your beer!” comes the scathing retort.

“Let’s take the piston off.” Comes another suggestion.   And where will that take us; total loss ?

 

Evening discussions by the fire and over dinner cascade from bikes to belts, from scenery to coffee, from salad to steak, tesla to towing belters up River Road, vote yes or vote no, and back to oils ain’t oils.  Total loss.

Unsurprisingly, the second day’s scenery does not disappoint.  Some roads are revisited, but this time from the other direction; some circuitous.  Out of Collie along Throssell, left into Mungalup Road becomes Pile Road, right into the descending Falcon Road to the base of Wellington Wier.  We take time to admire the brilliant Wellington Weir graphic.  Last away was the BSA.

Return and right down Lennard Drive; easy, it’s a one way road.  Then sharp left  into River Road to Pile Road, Wellington Forest Road into King Tree Road and Wellington Mill Road.  Where upon we come across a shiny headed Gnome, screwdriver to hand, squinting eyes, dripping with fuel – Matchless? AJS? BSA?  [Ed. Let’s leave that for another day].

Onto Ferguson Valley Road and left at Gnomesville.  King Tree Road turning into Wellington Forest Road, back to Pile Road that becomes Mungalup Road.  Collie for lunch.

It wasn’t a total loss – never is.  See you next year.

 

Thanks to Dennis for his enthusiasm and to the two Gallahs for their guidance.  Bowe for back-up.