A Fizzy History (well mine anyway)

[davecumbria]

Ok we could say that these days with our experience and with the assistance of our mates on ‘tinternet, a fizzy rebuild would be a piece of cake. At 16 I had a little bit of experience in taking things to bits, and more often than not getting them back together again reasonably successfully, albeit with one or two bits left over.

But this was a challenge, as I’d not taken it to bits. So parts were identified and fitted, fitted again the right way round, and then removed again. But slowly and surely the bike began to look more like a bike again, forks in, wheel and mudguard fitted, headlamp ears, top yoke, speedo, and the black headlamp bowl. All the time adding the parts,. I took greater concern at the mass of wires building up through the holes in the back of the headlamp bowl. The handlebars went on next, meaning even more cables to sort out, but I do recall sitting on a box down at the front of the bike and taking very little time to connect everything up.

Last was to connect up the battery and the bike was ready to go.


Opening the garage door on to the drive, which was now in darkness I wheeled the bike out and turned the original key in the side-panel ignition switch on with a reassuring click.

A beautiful emerald green neutral light, which seemed absolutely huge in the darkness glowed in the bottom of the speedo. Fuel on, choke on, (lever broken), kick, nothing. Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, still nothing Hmm.

So with a shout down to dad I had him pushing me down the street until the little fizz spluttered into life!

But all was not well, it was running very poorly, and not sounding just like it should.
Dad, being a former two stroke owner identified it as the baffles being blocked, so back into the garage and after a little more sweat and swearing, the offending baffle was removed from the exhaust, and it was blocked absolutely solid with carbon.

Not bothering to clean it up I raced out of the garage jumped on the bike, still in motion into first, dropped the clutch and the fizzie took off like a scalded cat with me hanging on trying to lean down to turn the ignition key to the lights on position. She’s Alive!!

Putting the bike back on its stand outside the house I checked things over, back light, brake light, horn, lights and indicators.

Hmm, diagonal Indicators, that’s novel, still, soon sortable.

So after cleaning the baffle in some chemical from my dad’s work, which is probably banned by now for being either a carcenogen, or could be used by terrorists as a WMD, all I know was it dissolved carbon like sugar dissolves in water, stank the whole house out and made my hands look sun-tanned where I’d got it on them, I cleaned up the mess I’d created in the garage. (she who must never be talked about, considered garages as rooms where washing was hung on rainy days and where the freezer was kept)


The final thing was to peep through the gap as I closed the door and turned out the light, to look at my own Popsy purple Fizzy standing in the centre of the garage.



More to come (if you want?)

[pertheswede]

More to come (if you want?)

Yes please!!!