With some time between the debacle that was Jeepskool and the next race in Carolina, I took a long, honest look at the ol' Triumph and realized it was a pretty sorry sight. It had been half assed from the start, not surprising considering it was kinda meant to be disposable (the nature of CC being what it is), but it was now half assed AND pretty worn out. I had a month until the two day Carolina White Lighting, so made a nice long list of all the things I needed to do and wanted to do. Along with better suspension, oil filter, redesigned air box, fix leaky gas tank seam, new rings, top end overhaul and modifications to the oil tank, I decided the rattle-can sparkly metallic bass-boat purple paint job had to go. It was time to make the bike look like it was gonna be around for a while, and that's where everything went completely wrong. Gussying up a Triumph just makes it into a petulant prima donna. The oil tank was modified to move the oil filler cap from its stock location which was pretty much under the seat. Having to remove the seat to put in oil, check oil level, or see if oil was actually returning was stupid, so I moved it to a more user friendly spot which entailed a good bit of welding, grinding and sandblasting. None of this is a problem if you get all the products of the welding, grinding, and sandblasting out of the tank. Apparently I did not. There were no big chunks, mind, only what could get past the screen in the tank, fine grit at best. I will take all responsibility for apparently not removing every sub-micron sized particle from the tank, but despite any abuse I may receive for this next statement, I stick by it with all my soul: the Triumph oil pump is an antiquated, shoulda-been-left-in-the-thirties-where-it-came-from piece of trash. I had already had a run in with it before, when some microscopic particle had fouled one of its ball checks and it stopped returning oil to the tank. Luckily that was on the return side, a feed pump failure likely killed Max's 650.
So much for foreshadowing. We (Me, Max, George and a co-worker of Max's with his son) got to Brushy Mountain Off-road park, site of the race, a day early to play on the trails and try out the refurbished, shiny, repainted Triumph. Compared to its old incarnation, the new bike with improved front and rear suspension was pure joy to ride. A happy day was spent thrashing around with the only trouble occurring to Max's bike which was having problems breathing through its air filter. We got back to camp where Max was sorting that out and when he thought he got it headed off to the MX track to check it. I went to join him only to find the Triumph seized solid. This was curious. It hadn't given any indication of seizure up to that point. Over the course of the afternoon, and through the next day the pump was stripped, cleaned, and refit 4367 times as it alternated between working, not working, return side stopping, and generally mocking me. It was clear the damage was done, upon starting it would almost immediately begin pouring smoke from everywhere. I had obviously done something terminal to the bottom end.
Leaving the greenhouse gas generator for a sec and getting back to the racing, we were joined that weekend by Jay on the venerable Field Pig
as well as a happy group of usual suspect spectators/beer drinkers: Alex (still broken so not racing) and girlfriend Amy, and Patman. Chad couldn't make it because he had lightly broiled himself when his BSA..erm...came alight from a backfire through the carb. Both bike and rider would live to tell the tale, but they were both a bit too crispy to make it. Jay had a good solid race, getting first in Classic Int, Max was unopposed in Expert for a first, and George and I were out for the day.
Day 2 the Triumph was sick but running. I decided with the engine needing a total rebuild when it got home I might as well run and try to salvage what points I could from the weekend. In the end, I'm glad I did, mainly just because the course was incredible. The Carolina boys had done a great job and it was easily one of the most fun courses of the season. Scrabbly, good climbs, some decent long roads you could just bomb along, good stuff. Max was again running unopposed, so got another first. Which was good, because he had some stiff competition in his class and would need the points as the season wore on
Jay started out running ahead of me, but I think the heat was wreaking havoc on his bike (it was reeeaalllyy hot that weekend) and ended up dropping back for second
My bike decided to somehow keep running. Seeing the damage to the bottom end when it was stripped after the race I have no idea how it managed the feat. After one lap it was still running so I figured I'd try for another. It was puking smoke and sounded absolutely-friggen awful, but it kept going
Coming around for a third lap it sounded like there was a bag of hammers in the bottom end but somehow was still making power. It wouldn't last, however, getting about half way through the lap before beginning to feel like it was actually dragging things around in the crankcases. As I passed a road I knew headed down and out, I had to make the decision whether I was gonna ride it off the mountain or have to push it off. I chose to ride out. It almost made it. Just a couple hundred feet from the edge of the woods it stopped. I figured it was permanent and walked out to watch the end of the race. After, Max went back to help me retrieve it, but felt it deserved to get out of the woods on its own power. With him pushing valiantly, it did actually start and though sounding like the horrible stricken machine it was, made it back to camp. There's a lot you can say about Triumph engines, good and bad, but damn it if they aren't tough little things.
Excellent post, as always. I can almost hear the buzzing of fat, black flies.
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