An egregious marketing error repeated.

In the 1980s Toyota and Nissan decided that the last bastion of the car market – Germany’s luxury brands – was ready to be conquered. Both spent immense amounts of money developing and perfecting their 5 seater sedans with new V8 engines, a first for the Japanese. And both came out with magnificent vehicles of which a BMW engineer remarked “What are they trying to do? Kill us?”. And indeed the Japanese sedans, marketed under premium names, Lexus for the Toyota maker with the LS400 and Infinity’s Q45 for Nissan’s offering, were superior to the German high end offerings in every way. Performance was equal or better, the interiors were severe just like the Germans’ but, crucially, the Japanese vehicles were reliable, which could not be said for Mercedes’s S Class or BMW’s 7 series. They were also $10-20,000 cheaper.

Yet of these two great machines the more modestly spec’d LS400 wiped the salesroom floor with Infinity, and has maintained that lead since 1989 by a large margin. The cause was the now famous ‘Fields of Wheat’ advertising campaign waged by Infinity and its disastrous US marketing advisers. To emphasize the zen perfection of their car they showed waving fields of wheat with a pretentious voiceover, but omitted to show the vehicle. The LS 400 sold by the dozen as its prosaic ads actually deigned to show the rather staid looking vehicle. The Q45 was disregarded. No one knew what it looked like.

Now let’s jump forward 30 years and we see a variation of this marketing disaster rolled out by none other than Harley Davidson, one of the savviest marketers out there. After all when you saturate the US and much of the rest of the world where roads exists with antiquated, poorly engineered and premium priced motorcycles you must be doing something right and Harley has been doing that for a very long time. But some marketing whiz at HD decided that the time was ripe to introduce an electric Hog and here it is in all its glory:

Probably worth $5,000 or so.

What brought this to my attention was a recent reality TV show named ‘Wrong Way Up’ where two famous long distance riders decided to ride their electric Harleys from the southernmost point of South America to Los Angeles. Those riders – Ewan McGregor of Star Wars fame and Charley Boorman whose dad is a famous Hollywood director – are as likable as they get. Grown men who never outlived their boyhoods, they are fun to watch and are great motorcyclists. So they decided to ride their electric bikes, supported by a large staff driving Rivian electric trucks, seemingly amazed that in cold temperatures the Hog had a range of maybe 70 miles, provided you could even find a charging point with sufficient current to ‘fill up the tank’.

Now it is true there are many unfortunate souls reading this journal who have never thrown a leg over a motorcycle saddle and regard powered two wheels as the work of the devil. Their loss. But even these poor folk know that the one thing above all which Harley sells is noise. So much so that the company tried – and failed – to patent the noise of the Harley’s exhaust a few years ago, a noise which results from the uneven firing intervals of the two cylinders in the gas bikes. This approach to ‘engineering’ also ensures the bike vibrates as if infected with St. Vitus’s Dance. Next time you pull up to one idling at a red light check it out for yourself. A silent Harley is anathema to its white trash buyers and, boy, is the electric Harley silent or what? It does not rumble. It whines. All those jokes about aficionados of other brands riding washing machines will come back to haunt Harley as they look down the barrel of the worst marketing idea since that Infinity Q45 of yore. Comical. Then check the price ….

As for the LS400, mine is a 2000, last of breed before the engines started growing. At 140,000 miles it is like new and it’s some testament to its reliability if I disclose that failure of a stop bulb a couple of years ago saw me angered. But temperate mien returned quickly when I reminded myself that repairs on the predecessor Mercedes S Class were pretty much a monthly occurrence. Switch gear, gearboxes, motor mounts, disastrous air conditioning, awful radio, you name it. All failed regularly.

Got $30,000? Buy a nice BMW classic airhead and bank the $23,000 left over.

Japan rules.

BMW airheads first saw the addition of electric starters in 1970, and still came fitted with kick starters as a back-up. These were deleted for the 1975 year but the original owner of my 1975 BMW R90/6 had one fitted at the factory before importing the machine. It’s pretty useless on a cold motor, but works OK with a warm one if the whole macho scene is your thing.

To say that the massive Bosch starter in my bike is an enthusiastic participant when it comes to getting sparks and explosions going would be an overstatement. It always struggled a bit getting over the compression hump with a cold engine and things deteriorated further in recent months, so much so that I would use the kicker to position the motor just past compression to give the ailing German starter a running start at things, so to speak. But clearly, a rebuild was indicated, reverting to a properly tuned but still weak willed Bosch original, for some $250.

Now engineers are always looking for something better though I do rather struggle with the idea of installing non-OEM parts in my classic machine. I corresponded with a riding friend explaining that there is a Japanese alternative but I felt rather uncomfortable mixing races, if you know what I mean. No problem with Japanese bikes; in fact they are the most reliable and well made machines out there. “Well”, he replied somewhat caustically, “they seem to have got on just fine in the last World War, so I wouldn’t worry about it”. OK!

Why Japanese? Well the Bosch starter in my bike is 1970’s technology – probably more like 1950’s, truth be told. And aftermarket places have been modifying a Nippondenso/Toyota starter with the right Bendix (the geared teeth which the solenoid advances into the flywheel when the starter button is depressed) along with the correct nose cone for aforesaid Bendix, which allow the whole thing to fit just so in the innards of the bike.

The Bosch unit was discontinued many years ago, replaced with a French Valeo which used to shed its magnets destroying the starter. That problem was fixed and manufacture moved to Poland, a nation not renowned for its engineering prowess, and a new one can be had for $300 with the correct 8-tooth Bendix. BMW later reduced gearing – acknowledgment of the marginal power of the Bosch – to 9 teeth but that would also dictate changing the flywheel, which is overkill for a little more turning force.

Over the years the Nippondenso variously used a Toyota truck starter, a forklift starter and a small car starter, and it’s the latter I decided to pony up $350 for after reading of some 20 years’ good experience with the Japanese part from any number of Airhead riders. Toyota trucks and cars routinely run the distance to the moon and back several times, so there’s reason to be confident here. I estimate that the Bosch starter had some 2,500 starts under its belt.

The Nippondenso is 1995 technology, this model being from a 1995-97 Toyota Corolla 1.6 liter four banger. If it can spin a four cylinder engine, I reckoned it should make mincemeat of the twin in my bike. Weight dropped significantly:

A porker at nearly 10 lbs.

Modern materials see a big drop in weight.

The lighter weight means that the alignment bracket on the Bosch starter can be dispensed with.

1995-97 1.6 liter Toyota Corollas come with these.

Installation is a breeze. After disconnecting both battery terminals the starter cover comes off in two minutes – two Allen bolts – the two starter retaining bolts are removed (wobbly extensions come in useful in the tight confines here), three electrical connections are disconnected and the new starter is installed. The Nippondenso used threaded eyelets and uses the stock 13mm metric bolts to hold it in place. Being a belt and suspenders type I also installed the washers and nuts which are used with the original.

Installed, a perfect fit.

All sorts of claims are made for the lower power draw and the superior cranking power of the Nippondenso. The only data I can find suggest that the 120 amp draw of the Bosch falls to 80 amps with the Nippondenso. In the absence of further data I can only report empirical findings. Simply stated, the compression hump hesitation is notable for its absence, and the new starter spins a cold motor faster than the former Third Lady can say “Leave the Money on the Dresser”.

Recommended.

The scissor jack and related modifications were detailed in Part IV.

The primary use of the jack is to raise the motorcycle close to its fore and aft fulcrum, using the oil sump as the jacking point. This process is required when either wheel has to be removed with the bike on the lift. The front wheel cannot be removed without use of the jack as it is anchored in the vise on the lift’s table. The rear wheel cannot be removed without use of a jack as my BMW airhead favors the rear wheel at rest. And the center stand cannot be deployed safely on the table without considerable strength and a host of related issues. As the bike is pulled up and back onto the center stand it moves back several inches, which cannot be done if the front wheel is in the vise, though there is a way to do this. See below.

Using a socket drill adapter bit to get the jack into position.

A 3/8″ socket drill adapter is used in a hand drill to raise the jack’s platform close to the oil pan. The screw in the jack has a fine pitch to confer mechanical advantage (not much stress on the user) but the trade off is that a lot of cranking is required. The electric drill makes this a speedy process.

Using a ratchet to raise the bike using the oil sump..

The front part of the oil sump is just ahead of the bike’s center of gravity which resides an inch or two behind the center stand pivot. That’s a small distance so there is very little turning moment on the jack itself, and little risk that it will tip forward.

As the ratchet is cranked first the rear wheel will rise off the table, permitting removal of the drop-in rear panel, removal of the wheel’s axle (one pinch bolt and one axle nut). The wheel can then be dropped down through the open panel space.

Drop-in panel removed to allow removal of the rear wheel.
Note the pneumatic bellows which are the raising device.

As the ratchet is operated and the bike rises, the front wheel, still clamped in the vise, permits rotation of the machine about the front axle. I have tie down straps installed at the front and these tighten up slightly as the front shock compresses. I did not find any need to loosen the tie downs.

Center stand deployed. No stress, no risk, no scratches.

If you are really strong and a master mechanic like William Plam, you can slam the center stand forward with the front wheel locked in the vise using skill and strength, scratching up your table’s surface in the process. You can see William do this at 27:03 in this video. His large collection of professionally made videos is a joy to watch, full of his decades of expertise and containing lots of tips and techniques. Highly recommended.

I am neither strong, nor a master mechanic and do not like scratched up tools, so I keep cranking on that ratchet until the bike rises a couple more inches at which point the center stand can be deployed by hand, no strength involved. As you can see, I use a monogrammed towel to protect the surface of the table. You can use a plain one if that’s all you have.

At this point the jack can be dropped and removed. If you are pulling the rear wheel you must secure the cross rail of the center stand to the front wheel’s rim, or to the exhaust cross flow pipe, or to the vise on the table. This obviates the risk of the bike falling off the center stand which has no rear wheel to prevent it doing so in the event the front wheel is not locked tightly in the vise.

Wheel vise loosened, crossbar removed and front wheel ready for removal.
Tie downs have been moved to the rear.

I am working on replacing the taper roller bearings in the front wheel hub so have to remove the front wheel – two axle pinch bolts must be loosened and the axle nut must be removed, along with a washer and spacer, for the axle to be withdrawn and the wheel rolled forward and out onto the workbench. In the next image I have removed the cross brace on the vise and made it possible to remove the wheel forward.

So that inexpensive jack paid for itself very quickly.

Front wheel removed, ready for bearing replacement.

Rear wheel removed, ready for bearing replacement.

Storage of the lift is easy, with movement about the garage greatly facilitated by the furniture dolly:

The lift is rolled into its storage location.

While I find the smallish workbench adequate for my needs, if additional workspace is needed the lift can be raised to workbench height.

Click here for a brief video showing how to place the bike on the lift.

Modifying the scissor jack.

Part III is here.

BMW Airheads appear to be variously balanced when on the center stand. My 1975 R90/6 rests on the rear tire, if lightly so. By contrast, the two R100RTs (1989 and 1994) I have owned rested on the front tire, likely owing to the weight of the large touring fairing on the front axle. Thus, for my 1975, I have to get the weight off the rear wheel if I am to remove it from the bike for tire change or maintenance of the taper roller bearings in the hub. This is how I used to do that in the pre-Handy lift days:

Rear wheel removal before the motorcycle lift arrived.

There are many ‘motorcycle’ jacks on Amazon, purportedly designed for two wheeled use. They are mostly flawed as the scissored assembly does not rise centrally to the base, so the higher you go the tippier the whole thing becomes. Plus, at $80 and up they are seriously overpriced. Enter Harbor Freight tools, purveyor of all that is cheap steel and labor from China. Hey, try and find a jack which is not made there. You can bet the one in your fancy top of the line BMW automobile comes from there, too,

They offer a variety of scissor and floor jacks and I opted for the cheapest scissor design, which ran me just $26 with tax, picked up at the local Phoenix store. The greater lifting capacity of the costlier one makes no sense in this application.

Click the image to go to the Harbor Freight site.

However, several modifications are required to make the tool functional for use on the Handy motorcycle lift.

The Harbor Freight jack.

The jack ships with a thoroughly inept hook and rod torquing device to raise and lower the saddle. It comes apart all too easily and is an aesthetic horror show. So I expoxied (using JB Weld – be sure to use the linked product. Their other lines are weaker) a 12mm 3/8″ drive socket into the end jaw which permits attachment of a regular ratchet with an extension. JB Weld, a superb 2-part epoxy, is more than up to this, though a weld would have been nicer. Sadly, I have no welding gear or skills.

12mm, 3/8″ drive socket epoxied into the drive jaws.
An electric drill-socket adapter will speed elevation to
approximate height before hand cranking takes over.

Next, a broader, more stable saddle has to be made to supplement the stock steel one which is intended to locate under a car’s longitudinal rails. A small piece of hard oak does just the trick, and a few minutes with a Makita chop saw and overnight glueing with wood glue is the answer. Oak machines to a very sharp edge so I have knocked off those edges on a Makita flat belt sander. Note that I have also glued a small rubber pad to the metal foot of the jack, to avoid marring the surface of the Handy lift table and to confer anti-slip properties. The glue used was 3M Weatherstrip adhesive.

The oak saddle extension.

This fits perfectly atop the stock saddle, provides a broad area for the sump of the motorcycle to rest on, and will not mar the finish; I will epoxy it to the stock saddle for a permanent installation:

The oak saddle extension in place.

Finally, the screw in the jack needs lubrication and the instruction booklet advises the use of a light oil. This is exactly wrong. What is called for is a thick grease, and I use LiquiMoly LM47, an excellent all purpose grease where high temperatures are not involved:

Screw greased with LiquiMoly LM47.

The jack is now ready for use with the motorcycle on the Handy lift.

The extended saddle painted red, and epoxied in place.

The width is identical to that of the airhead’s oil pan, to provide maximum contact area. The lifting point will be aligned with the center of gravity of the motorcycle, providing maximum safety. The transverse dimension of the red top is small enough that it will permit full deployment of the center stand once the motorcycle has been lifted, with the front wheel secured in the lift’s vise.

In Part V I look at how the jack is used on the motorcycle lift to remove the front and rear wheels as well as aiding in painless deployment of the center stand on the lift.