This isn't a fully-fledged rant, so I'll post it here instead. Last weekend, I changed the faulty starter motor, the relay and some of the wiring on my son's Peugeot scooter, with his assistance. He had broken down on the Saturday morning and was recovered by the AA. Luckily, there is a bike and scooter breakers' yard in Rochdale, so a quick phone call and a road trip later, we had the bits to fix it for the sum of much cheapness. 
As we worked on the bike, I took the time to try and educate him about relays and starter bendix gears and how they worked, as well as him working with me to remove and replace the bodywork. All good mechanical engineering stuff.
It was just about 0 centigrade in Manchester last Saturday and I was
cold. The starter motor is about half the size of a standard soda can and the little "£$%! is located right underneath the bike, near the centre stand, with almost inaccessible bolts. :huh:
With a few socket adapters and Dad's Big Bumper Book of Swearing, we eventually managed to get the motor off. Replacing the starter motor went well, until we tried to get the bolts back in, you could hardly see to fit them. With the careful use of some grease, we were able to 'stick' the bolts into the socket and were able to fit them without them falling out, yet we were able to remove the socket once the bolt had threaded up (Handy Tip #1).
When I came to tighten the bolts up, as I tightened the last one, the bike came off the centre stand and my hand was jammed between the stand and the frame. I can tell you, several new chapters in the Big Bumper Book of Swearing were written that morning and I seriously thought I had broken my thumb, as well as removing a layer of skin from my thumb pad... :wooha:
After four hours of blood, sweat, tears and the liberal use of Anglo-Saxon, the bike was finished. I had hands like raw steak, they were really sore and I was on the brink of hypothermia (the rotten git only made me one cup of coffee in four hours
) but the sense of achievement was massive. My son was grateful, as he was able to go to his work's Christmas do that evening on his bike - Cinderella managed to get to the ball after all...
With hindsight, I had forgotten how therapeutic twirling the old spanners was, but I had equally forgotten about how much spanner rash you gain whilst doing it.
As we worked on the bike, I took the time to try and educate him about relays and starter bendix gears and how they worked, as well as him working with me to remove and replace the bodywork. All good mechanical engineering stuff.
It was just about 0 centigrade in Manchester last Saturday and I was
cold. The starter motor is about half the size of a standard soda can and the little "£$%! is located right underneath the bike, near the centre stand, with almost inaccessible bolts. :huh:With a few socket adapters and Dad's Big Bumper Book of Swearing, we eventually managed to get the motor off. Replacing the starter motor went well, until we tried to get the bolts back in, you could hardly see to fit them. With the careful use of some grease, we were able to 'stick' the bolts into the socket and were able to fit them without them falling out, yet we were able to remove the socket once the bolt had threaded up (Handy Tip #1).
When I came to tighten the bolts up, as I tightened the last one, the bike came off the centre stand and my hand was jammed between the stand and the frame. I can tell you, several new chapters in the Big Bumper Book of Swearing were written that morning and I seriously thought I had broken my thumb, as well as removing a layer of skin from my thumb pad... :wooha:
After four hours of blood, sweat, tears and the liberal use of Anglo-Saxon, the bike was finished. I had hands like raw steak, they were really sore and I was on the brink of hypothermia (the rotten git only made me one cup of coffee in four hours
) but the sense of achievement was massive. My son was grateful, as he was able to go to his work's Christmas do that evening on his bike - Cinderella managed to get to the ball after all...With hindsight, I had forgotten how therapeutic twirling the old spanners was, but I had equally forgotten about how much spanner rash you gain whilst doing it.
