 Shifting Gears - Sept 2008
Over the years, I’ve learned to expect the unexpected when riding one of my older motorcycles. It’s not unusual for my Harley Knucklehead or Panhead sidecar rig to malfunction or need attention. And, over the years, I have learned how to recognize, diagnose, and repair most of the more likely problems.
I really love riding my older bikes, but I also enjoy putting down some mileage on my Harley Ultra, which has over 60,000 miles showing on the clock. This is the bike I usually choose if I need to get somewhere in relatively quickly. Thanks to all the Screamin’ Eagle parts, Rinehart exhaust, and Andrew Rosa’s magic tuner touch, it’s a pretty fast bike, especially for a big bagger. It’s close to bulletproof and comfortable at all but the slowest speeds, and I can pack a lot of stuff into and on it. Plus, it has a radio for tunes on the road.
Over Memorial Day weekend, I hopped on the Ultra with my camera gear to ride the 100 or so miles up to Lime Rock Park to check out the car races. I am a big fan of Porsches, and some fast ones were going to be racing on this national circuit. I’d arranged to meet my riding buddy Jim Sims for an early breakfast at Marcus Dairy, midway between where we live. He showed up on his beautiful Screamin’ Eagle CVO Ultra.
Not having ridden my Ultra recently, I’d checked my air suspension and engine oil, and added a little to each, the night before the ride. I’d also checked and adjusted my tire pressure. After breakfast, I checked the oil once again. It was fine. Then we took off for our ride up Route 7 from Danbury to Lime Rock. It was a stunning early-morning send-off. Traffic was light, and the bikes ran great as we motored up a stretch of highway where two-lane Route 7 runs along six-lane Interstate 84.
All of a sudden, Jim, who is usually a pretty mellow guy on the road, pulled up next to me and frantically pointed at my engine. I smiled and gave him a “What’s the matter?” look. He appeared worried and kept pointing at my engine. I backed off the throttle and glanced down to see a film of oil all over the right side of my engine and saddlebags. I looked down again and saw the oil dipstick flapping around with oil coming out of the filler. Not good.
I scanned the traffic immediately behind me, slowed down, and when the lane was empty, pulled into the left-side breakdown lane and rolled to a stop. Jim rolled in a few yards ahead of me. We pulled the bikes well away from the traffic flow and investigated the situation. The dipstick was loose, and I felt lucky it hadn’t jumped out and disappeared somewhere on the highway. I assumed I had somehow not installed it properly when I checked the oil after breakfast. I pulled out a rag and wiped off as much of the oily film as possible from the engine area, rear tire, saddlebags, seat, and exhaust. After adding a little replacement oil, we were back on the road. For the next couple of miles, I was concerned about oil on my tires, so I took it easy each time I leaned right. Then we got to an area with less traffic and wide, dirty shoulders. I pulled off and used some dirt to wipe down the right side of the tire to absorb as much of the oil as possible.
A few miles later, we found a do-it-yourself car wash and hosed down my oil-stained bagger. I rechecked the dipstick and got back on the road. No harm, no foul … until about 20 miles later, when I happened to look down and see the dipstick loose again and a new coat of oil all over the rear right side of my bike. I knew I had installed the dipstick properly, so I suspected there were other issues to deal with. And this from my “dependable" new bike!
This time, I simply wiped the bike down and refilled the oil -- no bother with another car wash, because I suspected this wouldn’t be the last incident of the day. It wasn’t; the dipstick popped out a total of four times on the way up to Lime Rock. Based on my experiences with my older bikes, I tried to diagnose the causes of the problem. Eventually, I figured out that the dipstick stayed in place under gentle riding conditions, but if I accelerated hard, and power-shifted the gears, out it would pop. I’m not sure how or why, but I guessed there was a venting issue in the engine. After I figured this out, I rode home more gently and the dipstick stayed in place. Unfortunately, by the time I sorted this out, I’d already oil-soaked my rear disc brake, making it all but useless. Thank goodness for the dual discs up front, away from the oil spray. Now I have to figure out the cause and the fix. Perhaps next time I’ll take my 1947 Knucklehead on the road. Never had a venting issue with my Knuck. Electrics and brakes, yes; venting, no.
Ride safe, ride smart, have fun.
Buzz Kanter
Publisher/Editor-In-Chief |
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