Monthly Archives: October 2016

Tech Day

With the Airheads..

I have long been an Airhead, meaning a devotee of air cooled BMW motorcycles, a design last manufactured in 1995 but dating from 1923. Derived from an aircraft engine, air cooling was a natural and the longevity of the design is reflected in the unusually long life expectancy of the motor. Indeed, the BMW blue and white quadrant logo is an abstract representation of an aircraft propeller turning against an azure sky.

I have owned mine since 1990, the second owner, and you can read more of that experience here.

Most major US cities have at least one expert mechanic devoted to airheads and in Phoenix that man is named Dave Alquist. (The factory, criminally, wants nothing to do with its heritage. How many of the pigs cutting you off in traffic in their BMW cars even know of that heritage?). After getting his contact information from the Airheads club I dropped by with my carburetors, sorely in need of an overhaul after 60,000 miles untouched. Dave, who has been working on airheads some three decades, immediately puts one at ease with his gentle charm and boyish enthusiasm for the marque. It did not take much time to know that that this was the right man to entrust with my work.

As luck would have it Dave was holding a tech day this past weekend, a free session during which machines are brought in by their owners for free surgery and advice, overseen by Dave and others like minded. Use of the several motorcycle lifts is free, tools are generally provided by the owners as the kit which came with the machine is sufficient for almost any task, and the abundant coffee and snacks on hand are happily paid for by an unsolicited donation in the adjacent jar. The day started at 8am but much exchange of war stories was called for first, so much so that the first wrench was not wielded with intent until mid-morning! Here are some snaps from the day, one of quite extraordinary friendship and satisfaction from watching experts at work:


A small part of Dave’s very large shop.


Alloy wheel on the truing stand. Welding gear below. Extensive use of alloys keeps these machines delightfully light and easy handling.


A 1951 R25 single. Pretty as a picture, but the modest 12 horsepower won’t take you anywhere fast.


Crankshafts galore.


Earles forks on a 1960s R60/2, an early anti-dive technology.


Dave Alquist checks the owner’s work on replacing the cam chain in this R100GS off-road machine.


Inserting the linking circlip for the cam chain is a tricky job, owing to the narrow clearances.


Rick (at right) contemplates gas tank removal on his 1968 R69US. The top end valve job will be the first since this machine left the factory almost a half-century ago. The number of computer components in these machines is precisely zero.


Chet Gandy, a former aircraft technician, rebuilt this R100RT from a basket case.


Chet (right) checks on the rear drive shaft boot. He has restyled the bike as a café racer.


Roy helps Rick get that gas tank off. A two minute procedure on later machines, this took 30 minutes ….


A beater to your eyes, but this R80/7 has been a reliable daily companion for 325,000 miles.

All snaps on the Panny GX7 with the kit zoom, mostly at ISO1600.

The Arabian Library

No perpendiculars.

The Arabian Library, a stone’s throw from my home, was designed by Richard + Bauer architects and opened in 1997. It’s the Scottsdale branch of the Phoenix Public Library and while not large is an architectural thrill.

There are no right angles to be found, with the walls clad in mild steel which is rusting quietly away, conferring the patina. The architects specialize in public libraries, their site attesting to the many awards for their work.

All snaps on the iPhone6 processed in LR.

Pottering about

Doing nothing with a vengeance.

I feel that I have been working like a Welsh Collie all week, or a West Virginia coal miner if you prefer, yet the herd remains in disarray and the coal face has not budged one bit. Such is the process of moving one’s home, one which makes a root canal an event to be gaily anticipated by comparison.

But, on reflection, things have moved forward. Yesterday I spent a pleasant few minutes just pottering about in the garage. ‘Pottering’, an old English tradition, is based in the pretence of being busy but practically achieving nothing. I suspect it originated as a means of avoiding the spouse. I moved a tool from here to there, arranged a few things just so, accomplished exactly nothing and had a heck of a time doing it. I excoriated myself for the 1/8″ drop across the 20′ run of the pegboards on the long wall, but concluded I could live with it. Even Titian’s horizons were imperfectly straight, after all. And gazing on tools here and there, handled with warmth and love, I realized how many were old friends, not given to answering back but just dedicated to doing their job.

When it comes to tools, the toolbox is the mechanic’s worst enemy. A tool not on display is a tool lost. This is the right way:


This does not just happen ….

I am so used to the layout of these pegboards that it’s a simple matter when moving to take a few snaps then recreate the result. That’s not to say it’s a speedy process and, in fairness, rushing the disposition of old friends along the acres of boards with holes and pegs would be poor judgment indeed.

Next, for one sadly never blessed with stereoscopic vision thanks to a poorly corrected childhood squint (you really do not want me pouring red wine over a white tablecloth at dinner), is this millimeter-perfect high tech positioning tool, one with laser precision which would nevertheless warm Fred Perry’s heart:


Drive in, center the ball on the steering wheel, touch gently.

Have you priced body parts on a 911 recently?

Finally, after falling flat on my face on the step in the garage many times, one rendered invisible by the mottled brown epoxy garage floor, I went to trusty Amazon (because you cannot find this at Home Depot or Lowe’s – which is why they will die) and bought some broad gaffer’s tape, beloved of professional cinematographers, for it clings like a politician to his donors and leaves no residue, with this happy result:


No more Garage Language.

Now, as I make my way through the new manse on a Friday night, the cares of the world a distant memory, I realize that maybe things are really moving along jolly well after all. The Engineer’s Curse is one that sees his love of accuracy forever dominated by his desire for precision. Tonight accuracy was the winner, as it always should be.