rebelpacket.net weblog

Months ago, my friend Zsolt asked if I had any garage space to spare for a handful of weeks. Seems that while he was out in California, his KTM 560SMR’s top-end bushing had went south, and he was in need of a rebuild. “Of course! In fact, why don’t you just do the whole assembly here?”

Zsolt introduced me into the world of Supermoto racing shortly after I bought my Husqavarna SM510. “Come to the track! Do a practice session, and see how you like it!” He knew what he was doing, as shortly after I found myself buying race plastics and 5″ racing wheels. Now I had a chance to let the pendulum swing and repay him for my countless inquisitions during the previous season, simply by giving him a garage door opener and a brief introduction to the ancient French coal stove that keeps the shop warm during the coldest months of the year.

Tirelessly he would show up during the week, and on weekends to work on his motor. As time allowed, I’d sit in a queen-mary chair passed down to me from my grandfathers law office, drinking coffee and pestering him while he worked. A perfectionist with an unyielding attention to detail, Zsolt would inspect, clean, inspect and clean every single part he touched. Every bolt was cleaned, and measured before anything was done with it. Mating surfaces we’re cleaned, planed, cleaned, inspected, and then cleaned again. He went through contact cleaner like he owned stock in the company, the garage in constant risk of going up in flames every time I’d light up in the haze of CFC fumes. Bearings and other parts, became a common sight in the freezer where the coffee was kept. Gradually, I watched as the motor came back together in perfected segments, until sitting on the bench was a complete motor with brand new internal parts. The KTM Racing logo emblazoned on the side of the clutch cover gleaming in the dim shop light. Could have been a brand-new crate motor from Austria, it looks that good.

Sunday, I helped him put the motor and swingarm on the bike and then set up the 900SS in a corner to finish connecting things. I halfheartedly worked on the 900SS, while Zsolt built the bike up from box of parts in a day. Halfway through the day (six hours of straight work on Zsolt’s part) he hit the only snag in the rebuild. The kickstarter assembly was in backwards. Frustrated, we shot to the local pub and talked tech over a few pints, and then headed back with clear(er) heads. Four hours later, Zsolt was splashing some 93 octane into the tank while I filled the crankcase up with fresh 10w50 oil. After a verbal checklist and the required pre-start smoke, Zsolt jumped on the kickstarter. *Ka-flub-flub-click*. He re-positioned it and jumped again. *Ka-flub-flub-flub-click*. We both figured we needed a few revolutions to get gas up and through the carb. Zsolt gave the bike another kick, and it simply became running. No protest, stammer or shudder. No noises of grave mechanical disappointment, just the smooth and rhythmic tick over of a precision built motor running, perhaps better than it did from the factory.

This is how rebuilds are supposed to go. Things just work the way they should, without hours, days of months of troubleshooting. Weeks of work vindicated by a single moment. I looked at Zsolts immaculate engine, nestled in the steel frame of his SMR, parked next to my 900SS. Under my SS, a few drops of oil from gradual leaks, road grime coating every external facing part of the motor reminds me that maybe my attitude to building motors is a little off.

You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.