low tech Sunday
While intelligent people were enjoying yesterday's perfect weather in a multitude of outdoor activities, I decided it was time to catch up on some bike work. It might not have been a walk in the park, but a nice breeze and moderate temperatures keep things tolerable when sweating through grease-coated repairs.
From 9:30am till 6:30pm, I was disassembling, drilling, installing, and reassembling, with a quick trip to AutoZone for a micrometer in between. The entire escapade was punctuated with ample cursing, especially when trying to remount the carbs, but ultimately the bike made it back together with the upgrade installed and no extra bits lying around.
"Old tech" machinery is notoriously fickle, especially highly-evolved analog devices that require Rube Goldberg-esque machinations to balance physics and craftsmanship. This was proven when I tried to start the bike; one turn over, then nothing. With all my hours of work for naught, I moved the bike inside and resigned myself to a humiliating trip to the shop to have my repairs repaired by professionals. But when I demonstrated the woeful predicament to my wife an hour later, lo and behold, the bike turned over like normal! Despite a cacaphony of rattling and smoke blowing out the wazzoo (i.e. the tailpipe), the problem had cured itself.
Scenarios like this have pushed manufacturers to add precision and predictability through computerization. And now, computers are so cheap and so good at things like fuel injection, it doesn't pay to keep motorcycles carbureted anymore. After eight hours tweaking the guts of my bike, it would be an easy sell to pay $250 for a computerized gizmo that does the same job and installs in 20 minutes.
But even after toiling indoors on a perfect day, the accomplishment more than outweighed the effort. The magical tangibility of mechanical instruments provides a soothing correlation between physical inputs and outcomes. I may be happy to save time when upgrading a fuel-injected bike, but I'll certainly miss the experience.
From 9:30am till 6:30pm, I was disassembling, drilling, installing, and reassembling, with a quick trip to AutoZone for a micrometer in between. The entire escapade was punctuated with ample cursing, especially when trying to remount the carbs, but ultimately the bike made it back together with the upgrade installed and no extra bits lying around.
"Old tech" machinery is notoriously fickle, especially highly-evolved analog devices that require Rube Goldberg-esque machinations to balance physics and craftsmanship. This was proven when I tried to start the bike; one turn over, then nothing. With all my hours of work for naught, I moved the bike inside and resigned myself to a humiliating trip to the shop to have my repairs repaired by professionals. But when I demonstrated the woeful predicament to my wife an hour later, lo and behold, the bike turned over like normal! Despite a cacaphony of rattling and smoke blowing out the wazzoo (i.e. the tailpipe), the problem had cured itself.
Scenarios like this have pushed manufacturers to add precision and predictability through computerization. And now, computers are so cheap and so good at things like fuel injection, it doesn't pay to keep motorcycles carbureted anymore. After eight hours tweaking the guts of my bike, it would be an easy sell to pay $250 for a computerized gizmo that does the same job and installs in 20 minutes.
But even after toiling indoors on a perfect day, the accomplishment more than outweighed the effort. The magical tangibility of mechanical instruments provides a soothing correlation between physical inputs and outcomes. I may be happy to save time when upgrading a fuel-injected bike, but I'll certainly miss the experience.
Monday, October 10, 2005
posted by wae at 8:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home