Tink, tink, tink.
It’s both amusing and frustrating how often in life fixing one thing creates new Unintended Consequences.
Case in point, after finally fixing a missing starter lock-out cable on my 1975 BMW motorcycle, a new problem showed up. The purpose of this cable is that it permits the electric starter to be used even if the bike is in gear, so long as the clutch lever is depressed. Well, my cable from the clutch lever to the wiring harness had gone AWOL many years ago, meaning that should I stall at the lights (not, you understand, that I would ever do such a thing ….) I had to rush the ‘box into neutral to permit a restart.
This would set off Psycho Mommy in the 4 ton SUV behind me into a frenzy of honking and screaming for it meant that Little Johnny would be 2 seconds late for ballet practice. And it’s a function of life that the less your time is worth, the more you protest about it.
So, fearing for my life, I replaced the cable only to find that now the neutral light would illuminate every time the clutch lever was depressed, whether in gear or not, rendering the indicator useless. Yes, I could start in gear but could not be sure which gear I was in.
Well, much digging later I determined that a related diode – which passes current one way only – had gone closed circuit and it was a simple matter of $4 for a replacement from Amazon (or $1000 for the original from The Fatherland) and proper restoration of the neutral indicator’s function. Now I only get the green light in neutral but can still start the bike in gear with the clutch lever depressed, saving me from the depredations of PM. The law of Unintended Consequences had struck, only being conquered after much head scratching.
The $4 diode encased in vinyl tube for insulation, with crimped connectors.
But this appears to be my week for UC, for the living room had developed a mysterious ‘tick, tick, tick’ sound during daylight hours. There was no wind so it could not be the oleanders knocking on the glass, and boy was it ever irritating. Like Chinese water torture I suppose (I don’t propose to check it out any time soon), and when you live in paradise you expect total silence to be part of the equation of graceful existence. Silence has never been cheap.
Turns out the cause of the noise was two small birds, the size of sparrows. Last summer I had installed far darker film in the southeast corner window to mitigate the blast of sunlight entering the room and, this being the desert, that happens some 340 days annually. All was well until the other day. These pesky birds had discovered that they could see their reflections in the newly tinted glass and would spend all day pecking at themselves in the ‘mirror’. Now I know why the genus is pejoratively referred to as ‘bird brains’. You can see them at work here.
A quick temporary fix saw me putting up scraps of paper to block the little buggers’ reflection and it was quickly disclosed that every last inch had to be covered or back they would come. Tick, tick, tick.
The temporary fix.
Off to Amazon – is there anything they do not stock? – and a roll of matte black vinyl tape made the fix permanent:
Fixed, good ‘n proper.
But wait. What new hell is this? I’m making bacon and eggs for breakfast and a mighty hammering noise invades the kitchen. Stepping outside I see that the neighborhood woodpecker is doing a number on the metallic chimney top, some thirty feet up ….
