First Impressions and Fitting the Skidmarx GPz-style Nosecone

Well, it took nigh on six weeks to arrive, but finally my GPz Nosecone (or bikini/cockpit fairing) arrived. First impressions were mixed. Packaging wise, it was reasonably well packed in a roomy box, with the fairing, screen and mounting kit all being supplied in separate bags. Both the fairing and screen are reasonably thick and feel quite sturdy. The only issue I had was that the inside of the fairing was a bit rough and I cut myself a couple of times on the rough fiberglass. The universal fixing kit was straightforward to assemble and was again made sturdily. None of the brackets felt at all flimsy. 

The instructions however, left a little to be desired as they were clearly a handdrawn diagram of the fixing kit that had been photocopied. As such, it was hard to really work out anything beyond the basics. Still, as I said, the fixing kit was reasonably simple to work out and the whole assembly is hardly rocket science.

So, overall, the nosecone seemed well worth the £50-odd pounds I paid for it, it may be a bit rough on the inside, but it's robust and the outside is well finished, The sculpt is good too, to the point where it looks like it was molded from a Z1100R nosecone. Obviously, there's the matter of the six weeks I had to wait for it, but I get the feeling that was an error on the part of the place I ordered from, rather than being typical.

Now, that's the boring standard stuff out of the way. As is always the case with these things, I ran into a couple of issues fitting the nosecone to my bike. The most pressing being the fact that the 'scoops' that cover the radiator from the sides were hitting the fairing when it was trial fitted on all but the most minimal amount of steering lock. Since the scoops are one of my favorite pieces of styling on the bike, they weren't going anywhere.

As the scoops were staying, the fairing itself needed to be modified. Working with my Dad, we made up a template using the fairing's existing curvature, to keep it looking as standard as possible, and I got to work with the Dremel. I used a cutting wheel to chop down the lower part of the fairing, using the template to keep it from looking like a hack job. With one side done, the template was transferred over. By measuring the distance from the template edge to the end of the fairing (in three different places along the template) the first time, it was a simple case of making the measurements match on the other side, to keep things symmetrical. Once I was finished cutting (and the fiberglass dust had dispersed) I got busy sanding the burr off the edges. The job wasn't perfect, but then this was my first time reshaping a body panel and I'm pretty impressed with how it came out. It doesn't look like a total hack job, and once an edging trim goes on, it'll look even better. 

That's before it was fully sanded, there is some discolouration to the gelcoat where I made the cut.

After that, assembly went pretty well. Holes were marked and drilled and the fairing was united with its mounting kit. My bike's idiosyncrasies weren't done with though. Good thing, too. It's boring when things just bolt together! The way the different bolts involved sat, it was impossible to fit the fairing with the headlight in place. You need to be able to reach inside the bowl to do-up the mounting bolts (as used by the fairing) and once the fairing is in place it is impossible to put the front of the headlight back on. There seems to be a provision to get around this on some of the bracketry, but in practice, once every is in place and tightened up, it would be impossible to gain access to the bolts needed. Still, this problem was easily solved by cutting the ends from two of the brackets, changing the slotted holes going the headlight into more of an open fork arrangement. This lets the fairing be mounted by backing off, rather than totally removing, the headlight bolts. 

With this done, all that was needed was to move the bike's indicators out a little so that they stuck past the fairing and it was finished.

Well, apart from one last little finishing touch to tie it in.

Caution: Motorcycle Based Introspection Ahead

Like all the best prog bands, I feel that the sometimes there's no avoiding a voyage up one's own arse, no matter how ill-advised said voyage may be. Today's topic came to mind whilst I was surveying an all too familiar sight: my bike sans its bodywork (and as an added bonus, its rear suspension). I started wondering why riding is such an important thing for me. Why I invest so much time and effort into my bike; why, when the vast majority did the driving route and got a boring little hatchback shitbox, I felt the need to learn to ride and have the joys of freezing my nads off in the winter and getting wet when it rains. As well as never having to wait in a traffic jam or be expected to give people lifts places. It's all good.

I can't imagine not being a biker, but I don't know where the impetus came from. Yes, my Dad had bikes and was heavy into them, but it was 8 years after he sold his last one when I bought my first. The bikes he had in my lifetime were very much a comedown from his biking heyday too. He had a CBX550 when I was very young, which I can remember precisely two things about: him replacing the starter motor in the sun on the drive outside the house we lived in then, and being told to "get away from that fucking exhaust!" when I was about to touch said fucking exhaust... for some reason, after he'd just come home and it was still massively hot. The last bike he had I remember even less about: only that the switchgear was fascinating to me, and that the clocks and idiot lights (from the far off future of the 80s) had some sort of sci-fi quality in the mind of my younger self. For reference, the bike was a CX500EC, also known as the 'plastic maggot', owing to the fact that though it was reliable and hardy, it was also "dull and lifeless". The father's words, not mine.  

So here I am a bit nonplussed. One of the biggest parts of my life, my hobby, my passion, my transport, a huge sink of my time and money; something that often informs how I dress, act and how I look at the world; a huge part of the rich tapestry that is Jon ( XD )  and I have no idea what made me do it. But maybe, I'm over-complicating this by trying to look for a key underlying cause. Maybe its what's left of  the historian in me trying to trace the events backwards in order to divine a  chain of causality which led me from there to here. It could just be that I wanted to. Yeah, that seems about right. I became a biker because I wanted to. 

So I became  I biker because I wanted to, and if I want to do something then (within reason) I do it. So that answers that, but the question remains, why is it so important to me? Well, I think I may have answered that on the way here. Bikes and riding things that massively inform many aspects of my life. I also owe almost all of my practical knowledge to my bikes. Working on them, more than anything has given me not only the knowledge needed to embark on mechanical and electronic tasks, but also the practical mindset which colours how I approach not only tasks, but the world as a whole. How can something that has added so much to my life be anything other than important? That's not to say that its taken over, the sheer amount of stuff I've written about games and models and films is testament to that. Nevertheless, biking's importance in my life is a direct consequence of the huge part it plays in it.

Moreover... bikes are fun and go fast and make a lot of noise and I love them!

Tamiya VFR750R RC30 Model Kit Review

At over £15,000 for the real thing, the Tamiya 1:12 scale VFR750R RC30 model kit may be the closest most people can get to owning Honda’s legendary homologation special. The question is how much of the bike’s amazing pedigree has been translated into the kit?

First impressions upon opening the box are good. Each sprue is contained its own protective bag, with the clear plastic sprue even coming in a box. A wise decision, given the relative weakness of clear plastic. The rest of the plastic sprues are appropriately coloured: body panels in white, ‘unpainted metal’ parts in grey, etc. They need to be painted anyway, but it’s still attention to detail that really points to quality. Another detail that jumps out is the colour printing on the inside of the box. Admittedly it’s only box art for other model kits, but it is confidence inspiring nevertheless to see that some care has even been taken with the design of the inside of the box.

Inside the box!

Inner box design is not the only quality touch on the kit either. The kit comes with machine screws and bolts for affixing certain parts: the wheels; the fairing; the engine; etc. The screws are not be a big deal in themselves,  but the fact that the included screwdriver is magnetic along its entire length is. When the biggest bolt in the model is an M2 (2mm diameter shaft) and some are only 4mm long, it’s a godsend to have a fully magnetic screwdriver to rely upon. In the grand scheme of things, a tiny magnetic screwdriver may not seem like much, but it does show that kit has been designed by people with an understanding of the realities of assembling it. 

This fact really comes across through the instructions. Scale model instructions can, at their worst, be downright confusing. Everyone has come across the problem of following the instructions to the letter only to find that in, say, Stage 12, you’re now expected to paint a part that became inaccessible in stage 10. Not so with the instructions in this kit. The pictures are large and detailed, and the paint/decal applications needed are listed when a component first becomes appears, ensuring that the aforementioned nightmare scenario can’t happen. On top of this, it’s always made clear where parts attach. Even the potential minefield of the rubber hoses used to simulate the various cables, hoses, and wiring on the bike is made simple. The various attachment points are made clear, and there are helpful measuring marks for cutting lengths on the appropriate steps of the instructions themselves. Each cut hose is also given a letter designation so when it reappears in later steps you know exactly which hose is being referred to. The kit also comes with a good amount of spare hose, ensuring that slightly generous cuts won’t mean running out later.

Note the measurements for the hoses.

The attention to detail even extends to explaining exactly how components fit together, not simply relying on a single vague arrow from component to component. In the case of the exhaust downpipes for the rear cylinders, which need to be manoeuvred and twisted into position, the instructions give a step-by-step walkthrough on how to get the pipes to fit properly. Assistance that is much appreciated on such a fiddly task, and a simple touch that further shows that the people writing the instructions have actually assembled the kit themselves... or are psychic. 

The plastic of the kit itself, the clear notwithstanding, feels to be high quality; it’s easy enough to strip the excess material left after cutting parts from the sprue and to slice the mould lines off. The plastic also feels reasonably resilient and not at all brittle. It’s in a good middle ground between being soft and being strong. The moulding of the plastic parts is also top-notch. There was no excess mould flash on the pieces, and even the unavoidable mould lines were very minor, to the point that on some pieces it could be hard to tell if it was a mould line or a sculpted seam. Speaking of detail, this kit has it in spades, right down to the idiot lights on the clocks and the valves on the wheels. The best part is that all of the details are also crisply defined, really helping to ease the painting process. 

No, they aren't totally straight.

It is worth mentioning though that there was one defect on this particular kit. A screw hole for holding the engine had not been drilled all the way through. Without buying another it’s impossible to know if this is a problem with all RC30 kits or just with this one, still it was easily fixed with a Dremel (a pin vice would work too). For a kit this detailed though, a single minor issue in the sculpting isn’t really all that much of a concern, and in no way undermines the integrity of the kit as a whole. 

The only potential problem to be aware of with the kit is that if you decide to go with the HRC paintjob, the red portions are provided by large printed decals with both the red ‘paint’ and the markings on them. This does mean that nobody has to perfectly paint three matching coloured lines on the tail panels, but it does mean that perfect decal placement is a must. Especially as such large decals can be difficult to place properly on panels with compound curves. The curvature also seems to become more of a problem as the decal dries, so even one that was perfectly laid can end up looking less than stellar when fully dry. How big a problem this is all comes down to personal preference. Whether you want HRC colours or not, how skilled you are at decal application, or if you would just want to paint the scheme rather than using decals at all, are all considerations to make. This approach of using decals rather than painted surfaces is an interesting idea and whilst it can be tricky, it’s far from a deal breaker, especially on such an otherwise high quality kit.

The Tamiya VFR750R RC30 kit is a kit of unmistakably good quality, from the cleanly sculpted, detailed components, to the clearly written/drawn instructions. Even the niggles with the kit are so completely down to personal preference that it almost feels like nit-picking. It’s so very good that all that remains to be said is that for anyone looking to build a motorcycle kit in 1:12 scale, this one comes highly recommended.

Completed with clear fairing.

Regular Maintenance: Serious Business.

With it being unseasonably warm the last few days, I took the opportunity to get some bike based housekeeping (bike-keeping?) done. Namely replacing the air filter, which I checked about 5000 miles ago and decided that there was about 2000 miles worth of life left in it, and changing the oil. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but they needed doing, and given the weather I needed to do something other than jobseeking (boo), sitting on my arse writing, or sitting on said arse doing/watching/playing something to write about later. Oh irony!

I’m still trying to get into the habit of taking pictures of jobs as I go along, so even with this being an easy job, I got a bit snap-happy. Brandishing a digital camera was a bit at odds with the Fred Dibnah Business Suit™ (a must for any serious work), but I still got a little too into it, taking far too many pictures for such a simple task. Many of these pictures will be interspersed into this just so I wasn’t wasting my time.

While the bike was running to warm and thin the oil, I got busy with the first challenge to be overcome: constructing my oil tray. Some people will buy a purpose made drain tray for upwards of £20, these people are decadent bourgeois fools. Others will use some sort of scummy old bowl, paint tray, or the like. This is also a stupid idea, but for practical reasons: you want a clean drip tray so you can see if there’s anything floating in the oil you’re draining. Things like bits of metal can tell you a lot about the health of the inside of your bike’s engine. Protip: bits of metal in your oil aren’t a good thing.  

Anyway, crafting the tray was a doddle with my amazing craftsman skills. Yeah... yeah. It is a just 6 pint milk carton with a hole in it. Still, even if I can’t claim that it was my idea, it is ingenious. Empty cartons always available and the screw cap lets you drain it out into a suitable container for storage with ease (more on that later).

Oil tray reporting for duty!

One more step it’s a good idea to take before removing the drain plug is to remove the oil filler. So I did (it lets atmospheric pressure act to help drain the oil quicker). This done, I finally got down to business and removed the sump plug. Remembering to put the drain pan in place under the engine first, I didn’t want the garage floor looking like the aftermath of the Exxon Valdez.

Here we go.

As I left the oil to drain, I cleaned up the sump plug and replaced the crush washer ready for reinstallation. As the name hints, the washer crushes down as the plug is tightened up, providing a good oil seal. For this reason, you’re meant to change the crush washer each time you change the oil. Few people do though.

After this, since the oil was still going to be draining for a while, I got on with replacing the air filter: efficiency and all that. Changing the air filter was a simple enough job. Just three bolts retaining bolts and the cover was off. The old filter itself was even easier: it just pulled straight out. The aperture was clean so it was just case of pushing the new filter in and replacing the cover. All too easy for someone of my mechanical skill :P . 

As a side point, since the threads for the cover were metal set into plastic, I decided to apply copper grease to the retaining bolts before replacing them. Copper grease in general is used to help prevent corrosion from fusing the bolt into the nut or thread around it. This helps to stop bolts seizing and then shearing when you attempt to remove them. In this case, I envisioned the bolts fusing into the embedded threads of the air box and these metal threads then ripping free of the plastic next time I had to remove the bolts.

The old air filter, check out the dirt.

Additionally, a little copper grease on bolts was apparently a sign of a well looked after bike in the old days and old bikers now get annoyed by people like me who use it where it may not be strictly necessary. Honestly this just amuses me. So long as it isn’t going to cause contamination, like using it on any bolt that goes into the innards of the engine itself, I don’t see the problem. Even if a bolt was never going to seize anyway, putting a little copper grease on it isn’t going to hurt.

The new, much better.

With that over with, the oil had about fully drained. I waited until the final drops finished and replaced the sump plug. Doing this involved breaking out the 'mighty' torque wrench. Some see the torque wrench as the physical manifestation of OCD. This has a little truth to it, some things can be safely tightened by feel and using the torque wrench just slows things down. However, I personally find the torque wrench to be invaluable for giving peace of mind by ensuring that vital bolts, such as the yoke clamps for the fork legs, are as tight as they were when they left the factory. In the case of the sump plug, using a torque wrench is important as aluminium sumps are vulnerable to cracking if the plug is overtightened. Overtightening is a real possibility too, as the sump plug is often very tight before removal. This is because the endless heating and cooling cycles of the engine make for constant expansion and contraction of the metal threads, which over time leads to them becoming more tightly interlocked than they started out. The torque setting for my plug is 35nm which equates to about 25 ftlb (my torque wrench doesn’t do metric) which barely feels like anything at all; hence the danger of overtightening from the more nervous home mechanic.

Behold, the magnificence that is the torque wrench.

This done, it was finally time to refill my bike with beautiful golden nectar. Just take a look at the colour difference between the new oil and the old (see the bottom). It’s a misconception that engine oil is/should be black. As per the figure listed in Haynes, I measured out, using a measuring jug and filling one litre at a time, 2.9L of (only the best) Halfords motorcycle oil. This hurdle overcome, I replaced the filler cap and ran the engine back to temperature. A quick check of the dipstick told me that the oil level was... just over the minimum mark. This isn’t totally uncommon. Even if you measure out the correct amount, engine oil has a reasonably high viscosity; you never get it all into the engine. Some always remains in the measuring jug or inside the funnel, and that’s not taking into account spillage. Four more cycles of topping up by 100ml, running the engine, then checking the level were needed before the oil level was right.  

With all the fun over, all that remained was getting the oil from the master-crafted drip tray into an appropriate receptacle ready for transport to an approved disposal site. As I stated before, this was a simple job thanks to the screw cap. All I had to do was place the tray on the workbench, put the masterwork funnel into an empty oil container then remove the screw top. This let the oil flow out into the appropriate receptacle. The appropriate receptacle will now be responsibly dealt with by leaving it in the garage for a few months until nobody can remember where said appropriate receptacle full of used oil has gone. The tray just went in the bin. 

Feeling satisfied of a job well done. I indulged in a dinner (lunch for devious foreigns) of champions. There is no better way to finish a job. 

So there it is. A small job written long. As always, it felt good to finish something and be able to  see the fruits of my labours. Someday I hope to get paid to have that feeling. Until then I’ll just keep writing to get it, and pursuing projects... which I can then write about.

Addendum: Since I couldn't get it to read well with all the pictures interspersed with the text. Here are further reference pics:

A used crush washer. Notice the deformation.

 

The new air filter.

The air filter housing. Notice the embedded metal threaded holes.

Copper grease applied to a bolt. Purdy.

Old black oil vs new golden nectar.