Chrome won't get you home.

But it does look really good. After the first round of chrome plating, there were some details that stood out even more and needed some attention, and here they are:

First of all it was the kickstart lever (which had been "forgotten" the first time around, don't get me started), then the small bracket for the blue marker light, the domed nut and washer for the avionics box and finally the actuating rod for the rear brake, complete with the little coped spacer and wingnut. It all comes together like a French pastry...

These may all seem like very small details (a nut, a washer...) but believe me, they add up to that "quality feel" I'm going for. That's not to say that the Rising Star will ever be one of those gleaming, impeccable, world-famous show bikes but that's fine, I don't need it to be. This bike will always be very much a shed-built special and I'm ok with little imperfections here and there, but I will still try to make it as neat as possible. Rather than pour effort into making it perfect, I want to look at it immersed in nature somewhere and think "man, what a cool ride". Isn't that the point to it all?

Electricity, nostalgia.

In the context of the ongoing upgrade of the Rising Star, another thing that seemed simple enough was to go over switches (the headlight dip switch and the three toggles on the avionics box) and check all light bulbs: the one above the license plate didn't work properly so I chased down the gremlins with a multimeter until I found an oxidized connection at the actual bulb. Cleaning contacts and grounds, making sure connections were tight and well insulated took care of most things. In the end though, the real culprit is the battery: it's fine while the bike is running (the alternator is up to snuff and the Boyer-Bransden Powerbox🗲 certainly helps) but it just doesn't hold much of a charge anymore, poor thing. Eventually I will replace it, but I can live with it for now.

I also checked the horn, which works just fine: beep! 
All this dealing with the devil's spaghetti seemed like the perfect time to go for something I've secretly liked since I was a rebellious youth, so I've decided to finally go for it and fit the coolest of accessories... a blue marker light. Heck yeah.

This running light is something that may seem tacky at first (and I have to concede, it is a bit!) but this is pure nostalgia materialized: in the early '90s, some people were fitting these to their rides, be they motorcycles, choppers or scooters. Once in a while you'd catch a glimpse of a cool blue light in the stifling hot nights of a Roman summer... it always looked amazing going down a quiet street late at night, and it conjured up thoughts of freedom and the open road.
Time passes, and things fade out of fashion and away from memory (and because there was no internet and no digital photography back then, there really isn't much in the way of records of this cool trend left behind for us to look at).
But I always thought those little blue lights were cool, and so now, finally, I can have one too.
Uncle Fester cut a very simple bracket out of mild steel, then mounted it to the rear brake stay bracket. Sandro (no, the other Sandro. No not this Sandro either, the other Sandro!) then ran the wiring along the hardtail and over to the "avionics" box, plugged it into a switch (it can be switched on independently of the other lights) and tidied everything up. I am so stoked with this. 

Another thing I did, that can still be filed under "electrics" is that I flipped the ignition coil over so the leads are now pointing up. I think it looks better this way and it's a good thing I did it, as I was able to spot a problem: one of the HT leads had obviously been rubbing against the cylinder head and the insulation was almost completely gone in one spot; you could just see the core wire strands starting to come through, which probably explains why the bike had been hard to start when I got it out of storage. Add to that that both leads were stiff and prone to cracking, it was time to make some new ones.

These are much better quality leads with a copper core, and the way I routed them makes them be much shorter than they were before, I like how they look.
Lots of small improvements add up to a more noticeable "quality feel" overall; it's important to do this stuff!

There is more coming, just a matter of finding some time to do it...

Luggage on the Rising Star

The sissy bar on the Rising Star is very useful for carrying luggage, that's why it's there, but there are some things to remember in order to secure everything properly in a way that won't move during transit.

First, whatever roll ends up on the back of the bike should have no way to contact the rear tire. This may seem obvious, but it has happened to me in the past and I ended up slightly damaging my trusty poncho one time. 

Basically, anything that's truly "rolled up" should also be strapped tight to itself before it is put on the sissy bar; as an alternative, something like a dry bag works well (and it's a good idea to check it to see it's all staying put every time you stop for whatever reason).

As for luggage straps, there's technique to how they're used, you can't just plop the bag up against the sissy bar and then wrap the strap around, or it will likely slip. Instead, the strap is fed through the sissy bar and then around it, that way it has no way to come off. Something like a trucker's hitch also comes in handy and is a good way to secure your luggage.

I considered adding these two clever little rings to the topmost mounting bungs on the sissy bar:

They can be used in various ways, as mounting points on the yokes (or triple trees) to secure dirt bikes to a trailer during transport, or as bungee hook points or to feed straps through... very handy.
With that being said, once I actually had the luggage on, I didn't really need them so for the time being they're in the box of spares, I'm sure they'll come in handy at some point.

I'm using a Ferrino dry bag to hold the inflatable mat, sleeping bag, tools and spares, a canteen and the rain gear; obviously this is not a very large bag at all but it has the advantage of being just the right size for the sissy bar.

As I've mentioned before there is now extra room in the cockpit: the shape of the handlebar means that a light roll can easily be strapped to it, in this case with the tent, a change of clothes and the extra blanket, which can be useful to free up space on the sissy bar in case I need to carry yet another bag (for things like a camping stove, for example). This roll sits up against the handlebar and the top yoke, and is secured with a couple of old-school bungee cords. Conveniently, there are two attachment points on the lower yoke (vestigial remnants of the original OIF headlamp brackets), the cords are then looped around and fastened to themselves, which makes the roll sit nice and snug.

Same revs, less noise.

Galassetti is an exhaust manufacturer that's been around almost as long as I've been alive. Their exhausts were fitted to many of the scooters that were zipping around Rome in the early 90s and they are a household name in our circle. I took the Rising Star's "silencers" over to them so they could make some new baffles (this is after seeing it done on the Gilera 300 chopper at the Old Irons rally in 2017) in an attempt at reducing the noise levels, which are far too high otherwise. I think I've said this in the past: I really don't mind a motorcycle being loud if that noise comes from a properly tuned engine in all its components, including its exhaust system; but I do think it should not be obnoxious, especially if one is to ride that motorcycle for anything longer than 20 minutes (loud for the sake of being loud is just childish and absurd). For the Rising Star this is absolutely essential and is one of the three main things I had identified as a "must fix" item (the other two being a larger gearbox sprocket for better cruising speed, and sorting out the front brake for overall enjoyment of the machine, and my own life). Those three things are what made this motorcycle not enjoyable, so it was very important to sort them out.

There's only so much you can do with these silencers: they are small in size, meaning there isn't much room for packing soundproofing material, and they're shaped like trumpets, meaning they are going to be loud by design. Still, they're better than they were before.

Galassetti's solution was to remove the existing baffles (which were small, completely ineffective and stuck solid) and fabricate new ones that reach all the way down to the bend in the silencer, while also extending past the opening: this is so that sound can actually exit the silencer rather than reverberate inside it. They do look a little weird at first, but it's fine really, and what matters is what they sound like. Obviously still loud, but far less disruptive than before and once back on the bike I noticed that if you get carried away with the throttle, they produce a wonderful full-bodied roar, but if you just cruise along where the engine is turbine smooth, they are nicely muted and just burble along, which is even better. I would go as far as to say that the notes they produce are conducive to a calm state of mind for relaxed cruising with no distractions, it's just you and the road, surfing on a soundwave of British horsepower.

It took them a little while to get it done, though in fairness I didn't rush them at all and they were very cordial whenever we spoke on the phone. When I collected the silencers they asked me to come 'round with the bike so they could see it and hear it, and said that if there was anything they could do to further tune the baffles, they would be happy to help. This was also not a terribly expensive fabrication job so all in all I'm happy I went to them.

As I have mentioned in the past, this is a hard, tough and uncomfortable bike, and yet together with all the other little improvements, I believe this bike is reaching its final form, and it is even better than what we started with: it is still rather uncomfortable, but the overall quality is now such that it feels smoother and therefore more enjoyable, more capable of tackling the open road in search of those elusive spots among nature that we love so dearly.

Chromium (Cr), atomic number 24

When uncle Fester made the sissy bar for the Rising Star we left it raw, partly because I just didn't have time to take it somewhere to get chrome plated, partly because I thought I might have just painted it black.

It was fine leaving it as a purely functional piece just to carry gear to the Old Irons rally; that said, right from the start we both agreed we did not want to see his creation tarnish and rust away. We can finally take care of this and after some thought I ruled out black paint (too crude) and bright chrome plating (too flashy). The proverbial Goldilocks zone turned out to be trivalent chromium:

Thanks to the uncle Fester connect, the electroplating was done by Galvanica Partenopea in Casandrino, just outside Naples and they did a really good job.

Before handing parts over to them, Fester cleaned up every minor imperfection that was left over from when the sissy bar was welded together (again, at the time I needed it in a hurry and didn't have time to make it look pretty). At first I thought we could have preserved the weld at the top because I think it looks cool, but on second thought it was better to smooth it out for a cleaner look once plated. 
What you don't see in the finished product is all the time and effort that goes into getting a part ready for plating: "molding" the imperfections away to obtain a smooth surface is labor-intensive and takes real dedication. Then plating itself: copper first, to create a generous layer, up to 2mm thick in some cases, to preserve the original part and cover up any imperfections, followed by nickel. As we're talking about microns for the final stage, even the slightest imperfection will show through if you don't get rid of it first, on the bare metal and every subsequent step of the process until the part is ready for nickel and finally chrome.

I'm happy with the way this turned out, it has a nice hue, a bit warmer in appearance than the type of super bright plating you often see these days.

In addition to the sissy bar, I decided to have the short fender struts, the steering stem top nut and the kickstarter pedal plated as well. The short fender struts can be used in lieu of the sissy bar and give the bike a much sportier appearance. It takes only four bolts and a few minutes to switch over. The kickstarter is something that had been bugging me for a while because the overall finish didn't match and ended up being untidy. Also, in terms of color, brass doesn't really go well with the rest of the bike. It's ok to have one or two little details with the taillight and license plate light, but in general I think it's better to tone it down a bit.

I shouldn't be surprised by what a big difference it makes to have the sissy bar and the other parts all shiny and clean, but I am! These little touches are the kind of thing that's going to make the bike look a bit more refined overall. A bike like this should not look shoddy...

Perhaps the biggest difference is when looking at the sissy bar mounted on the bike. The way it was before, all you noticed was the topmost portion, above the rear fender and I must confess it always seemed a bit short that way (cue usual jokes of "it's never big enough"). I'm well aware that dimensions haven't changed, but now that the chrome makes it stand out so much more, you suddenly see the whole thing and the proportions appear different, better in my opinion.

1200S: service time, part 12

You thought the Sportster was all done... but wait there's more!

The belt - it's a good idea to inspect the belt for wear and correct tension at this point. A belt is surely the lightest, simplest and least demanding in terms of maintenance, unlike chains and drive-shafts. There are only three things to do here: 1) make sure it's clean (I checked every tooth, as well as both pullies) 2) check that the tension is correct, and 3) check that the rear wheel axle is perfectly perpendicular to the swingarm so the belt isn't contacting with the pulleys' edges, that's it. And how do you do that last part? The Sportster has this neat little built-in feature to help you ensure the axle is straight: there is a small "index" hole on each side of the swingarm, that you use as a fixed reference point from which to check the distance to the axle. I used a coat hanger with a thin rubber washer to make my version of the tool, and it worked well.

The mirror - When I fist bought the Sportster, it came with a hideous billet mirror that I quickly dispatched. If you want to relive the horror of those early days, have a look at this post. After that, I adapted a bar-end mirror with the help of uncle Fester, who fabricated a spacer so I could mount it on the clutch lever perch (I don't want to cut the grip and I don't want to make the bike look wider), but this was never an ideal solution and it provided very little in terms of visibility. Looking through the myriad options available on the aftermarket (I didn't want to fit the original mirrors I still have from my previous Sportster), the only one I found that seems reasonably sized, fairly elegant and simple is this spot mirror from Lowbrow Customs. It's also the only one that has a threaded body (instead of an integral threaded bar), which means you can mount it with a bolt in many different ways, such as I did here, just with a longer 10-24 bolt than the one provided.

Regular service - as this all became more of a sprawling saga, I will spare you any more ramblings at this point, but it goes without saying that I also took care of regular service items such as oils and fluids, spark plugs, filters, lubricating cables, checking fasteners, inspecting the brakes, etc. For more on those, refer to this older post. All of these things are worthwhile and so important.
A couple of hiccups I need to mention, for full disclosure: the derby cover sprung a leak as soon as I put the bike on the side stand, and the carburetor too leaked a little. It was probably a little bit of incontinence due to excitement and it stopped after a short while (just long enough to go looking for a new gasket). Happens to the best of us. As for the derby cover, I put the bike back on the jack, took off the cover and found that the quad-ring gasket had come out of its groove (I must have knocked it out of place when I put the cover back on before). So, I cleaned the groove with a rag and some brake cleaner, then I applied a thin layer of gasket sealant, put a new gasket back on, making sure it stayed put in the four pinch points along its groove and very carefully replaced the derby cover.

I had to replace the battery, which was not cheap and really annoying: had I been able to ride this bike regularly and take care of all the repairs in a short amount of time, the battery would have probably survived and kept going for a few more years. Sadly and worryingly, the reality is that since I don't get to ride anymore, these bikes are sitting idle and the batteries are wasted. The idea that you can hook them up to a Ctek or similar battery tender and just keep them on, and expect everything to be fine one or two years down the line is pure fantasy: those chargers are just meant to save your battery from going totally flat, but they can't do miracles (and keeping them plugged in all the time eventually wears the metal plates off, and your battery is dead anyway).
Now, for the sake of objectivity, I should point out that this particular battery is at least 10 years old anyway at this point, so it's not a complete waste as it was probably on its way out anyway. That said, an original Harley-Davidson battery, which is so beautiful it forms part of the bodywork, is just prohibitively expensive, whereas the Motobatt I got is less than half the price (still expensive), but ugly as sin and needs to be covered up.

That concludes this particularly thorough round of servicing & repairs. I started about seven months ago, even though the bike had been waiting for a lot longer than that; the actual time needed to get everything done is of course measured in days, not even weeks, but it is what it is.

Anyway, I can now take the bike out for a test ride to see how it all performs.

I had not ridden the Sportster in three and a half years, so setting off on the test ride felt new and exciting, not only because of all the unknowns I needed to verify, but also because I was re-familiarizing myself with this awesome machine.

The engine fired up easily thanks to the new battery and a quick boost from one of those "engine easy start" aerosol cans that spray a high pressure mix of highly flammable hydrocarbons and other goodies. Because the bike had been sitting for so long, everything inside the engine must have been bone dry and needed to get moving again; the hydraulic valve lifters were obviously completely drained: the engine ran but with a worryingly loud "clack-clack-clack-clack!" coming from the valves. First thing I checked was the oil pressure light, which went out immediately, and oil returns to the tank as expected, so I left it to run with the choke on for a short while, then it settled into its familiar idle tone. After a couple of minutes the lifters resumed their normal function and the engine ran beautifully. Everything is new from here on, starting with the clutch, which is perfectly smooth at least at the lever. The diaphragm spring is the same as before, so effort is no different than before. Followed by engaging first gear, which feels very slick (so is finding neutral again: the first thing I tried was to select neutral straight away, and I can do that from first or second gear engaged, both with the engine running and with the engine off). I pull away eeeever so gently at around 900/1000rpm as I go down the long dirt lane towards the open road, then pause as the tires contact the tarmac. The moment of truth is now a twist of the throttle away: if I got it right, the bike will pull away from a standstill, in first gear, with lotsa torque and a reliable climb up the rev range towards second gear and beyond. But if I messed up somewhere, that horrible clunk from the gearbox will return, or possibly something worse and I'll have to limp back to the workshop and start all over again. There is no point waiting around, I don't try to wheelie or do a burn-out, obviously. Just a normal, decisive take off in first gear: all signs of the old problem are gone, the gearbox just works like it's supposed to, so although it may seem obvious now, I can say with certainty that this was indeed the issue: the dogs on the countershaft 1st and 3rd gears were worn, and even though it was apparently minimal wear it was enough to cause first gear to jump out of engagement. What a relief to have this finally fixed!

I can also notice how the new clutch is doing: no squeals, chirps or other farm animal noises; it's not particularly grabby, rather just smooth and precise. Very nice. The original setup with the spring plate in the middle of the clutch pack is a bit odd, I definitely prefer it like this with the extra plates and no nonsense. As I ride, I can feel everything in this machine working properly, everything is perfect and any issues there may have been, big or small, are gone.

After a few miles of country lanes, twists and turns, hills and swooping corners, I cannot believe how well this motorcycle rides now, how reactive it is, between the refreshed steering bearings and the properly set up suspension, it feels light on its feet and capable of almost reptilian handling... it's amazing. The new clutch and the Dynojet kit also definitely work together to deliver instant power to the rear wheel, making it feel like there is no distinction between intention, throttle and acceleration: as soon as you think it, it happens, and the motorcycle is where you want it to be (I'll report back with a photo of a plug chop after I've had a chance to put some miles on this thing, it should give me an indication of how it really performs and whether the mixture is right overall). You ride on a surging, colossal wave of torque that actually made me utter some profanities inside my Arai as I overtook a large truck in a single glorious charge; I swear to you this is no hyperbole.

What is most remarkable about this engine is how light it feels at the throttle. What I mean by that is that as you blip the throttle, engine internals respond instantly and pick up revs with great ease. Of course this is not simply down to a jet kit, air filter and exhaust, but is the result of careful work at the factory in lightening and balancing the crankshaft, pairing it with light forged pistons and optimizing compression and combustion chamber shape. The effect is that a long-stroke 1200 twin ends up feeling like a two-stroke 250 in the way it "spins". By the time I return to base and shut the engine off, I'm left in stunned silence as I look at this beautiful machine, and think about all the work I have put into it to get it to this level. There really isn't much on this motorcycle that I haven't personally serviced and improved. Everything works.

After getting so hands-on with this motorcycle, and really appreciating how well it is engineered and built (the materials, the metallurgy, the fit & finish, everything), I scoff at those idiots who belittle the Evolution Sportster as any number of pejorative appellations (outdated, heavy, underperforming, underpowered, unreliable, etc.): based on my first-hand experience, it seems to me that this is an extremely well put together machine, with plenty of torque and power, easy to work on (far easier than any British or BMW, or god forbid a Japanese multi... or god forbid again, an Italian!) and very dependable and reliable even on tough trips. Sadly, those who don't like it, or can't handle it are really missing out.

There are very very few motorcycles that elicit the type of feeling that the Sportster does; it may sound corny, and it may sound like something out of a Harley-Davidson sales brochure, but the Sportster really has something special about it that can't be put into words; this is the ideal motorcycle I always wanted, the one that's just the right blend of brutal and traditional.

This is an amazing bike, that's strong as the steel it's made of. 

"Ten times better with the 'S' on the end"

Gift horse - part 15

One of the many things this motorcycle needed was a set of new shock absorbers. That's right, absorbers plural, because this is still a wonderfully antiquated twin-shock model. In the 1980s BMW moved to single-sided swingarms that it has refined with various torque reaction arms over the years (to overcome the inherent issues of having a drive shaft on a motorcycle, dummies!) and never looked back. Anyway, where was I... oh yeah, we need new shocks. In an effort to save some money and also to use what we have, I thought about repurposing a pair of FAC (Fabbrica Ammortizzatori Cremona) shocks that I originally had on my Fastback, but that I eventually set aside as they were too short. Unfortunately, since the spring they use is also too short and too soft for the /7, that just turned out to be a very long detour to a dead end.

So, in the end I had to source a new pair of shock absorbers, and the winning ticket was a set of cheap and cheerful YSS Bravo. These are very basic but will do just fine for what we need this motorcycle to do; here's one next to one of the OEM items:

Sure, the original Boge shocks are very neat in that they have a built-in handle to adjust the preload, and we lose that feature here; but these YSS are going to work just fine. Installation was very easy and straightforward, thanks to BMW's rational layout of all components involved.

Get a handle on things!

Building a chopper implies that you either follow established canon or go your own way to create something unique: unless you're incredibly talented and gifted, don't go for the latter. Yes, choppers were born out of rebellion and non-conformity, but over time they established a visual set of fixed references that are as valid as those you'd find among café racers, pre-65 offroaders, Isle or Man racers and so on. I tried as best I could to do something with this bike that would result in a classic slim chopper, and I believe the proportions on this bike are damn near perfect. Once it was done, my friends and I looked at it, rode it around and decided it was "il chopperino sportivo" owing to its dragbar handlebar, sporty brakes, upswept exhausts and tidy rear end. I think it looks like it's from the 1940s, has an engine from the late 60s and a frame from the new millennium. The addition of the sissy bar (for functionality) began driving this aesthetic away from the sport and towards a more conventional ideal of what you'd picture as a "chopper". Now I have decided to swap handlebars for a mini apehanger, which I realize sounds like a contradiction (you could say the same about miniskirts, yet they're awesome), but in order to be practical and still look right, it must have a rise of no more than 25cm.

I had briefly considered the Norton Hi-Rider handlebar, but it's a little bit too... cartoonish (and the width at the base is excessive), so the one I ended up choosing, after much searching, is the one off the USA-spec t140/tr7 Triumph, which can use all ready-made cables (brake, clutch, choke, and throttle). The bend on this handlebar is SO nice, I immediately noticed it as soon as I pulled it out of the box.
I like the fact that this is an original BSA/Triumph OIF part, which I have tried to incorporate along the way any time I could (the whole front end and the brakes and wheels obviously).

Since swapping the handlebar also meant sourcing control cables of the appropriate length, this also means that the dragbar and at least its throttle, grips, brake and clutch levers and control cables can be set aside as an assembly for if and when I decide to go back to the original configuration.

The reason for this change - which is easily reversible - is to evolve this ride into something better suited for the Old Irons rally, the same motivation behind every other change I'm making, including things you've not yet seen. Rather than move the throttle control over, I just fitted a really really nice Doherty one Witold gave me, with a set of the very popular Recoil grips (which you can see in the last shot). 

This throttle was first introduced in 1959, and the one I have can't have been made too long after that. The action is still perfect and the chrome plating is really not in bad shape at all. I would not consider having this re-plated as it would almost surely mean losing the detail of the Doherty sigil. It seems fitting that the one part that comes from Witold should be the throttle, don't you think? And for some reason this seemingly simple part has taken on something of an animistic quality to it and I keep staring at it and thinking "this is so cool".

Another big change is the control levers: uncle Fester had these good looking items that are sure to provide better leverage and a stronger mounting at the handlebar. Happy to give it a go:

It may seem odd but the bike feels different to "hold" with the combination of these new parts, the handlebar, the throttle control and the grips: the riding position is much more relaxed; because you're not stretched forward to reach the dragbar, it actually makes the bike feel more compact. The thicker grips and stouter levers make it feel like a bigger "proper" bike, whereas the increased leverage of this handlebar makes the bike seem even lighter (for example when moving around the garage).

Aside from a bit of work on the throttle cable and the horn/dip switch wiring, fitting this handlebar was very straightforward. 

There will be plenty of opportunities to take some prettier photos of this and other details soon, but for the time being, here it is:

All this extra space in the cockpit means I can fit a mirror, what a novel concept! I opted for this short and fairly small item, simple. I think it is both functional and visually acceptable for this setup.

Again, prettier photos coming soon.