My Life As A Carberrator

[PaulG]

My Life As A Carberrator (Or : How Not To Perform Carberrator Servicing 101)

"Editor's" Note: The following is a true story. No liberties have been taken with the facts (though some poetic liscense has been used in the narrative).  What happens may cause distress in some readers and should only be read if you have no underlying medical conditions.   

I came into existance sometime in 1992 in a flurry of machining, drilling, polishing and somebody's cold hand fiddling with my innards. My first taste of gasoline came quickly.  Odd at frst, but I soon became used to it.  In fact my preference is for premiuim unleaded, no alcohol please!

Anyway I was soon attached to my life-long ride, a 1992 Yamaha FJ1200 ABS. Kinda porky but I was up for the job of supplying the vast quanities of fuel needed to propel it's bulk around.  Off to Canada I was sent.  A godforsaken frozen land barely fit for a motorcycle.  Hell, their riding season isn't even six months long in most places!

What brings me to this point is for 15 years and a succesion of owners I was left unmolested and free to operate as I chose.  Yes I was burning a little rich, maybe too much but what do you expect when I haven't been serviced my whole life.  Until my latest owner decided not to leave well enough alone.

His first attempt was the winter of 2008.  After purchasing me in 2007 he succesfully replaced all the wheel, steering, and suspension bearings, and fork seals.  Feeling confident, he thought it a good idea to give me a servicing.  He tried this by disassembling, cleaning and reassembling me.  After following all intructions he was in shock when upon start-up I started puking gas from every orifice I didn't know I had.

Somewhat perturbed he takes me to a Yamaha dealer who proceeded to charge him "a few" hundred dollars only to return myself and the bike, leaking slightly less than before.  Since most of these "mechanics" were still in diapers when I was made, that's not surprising.  If they can't plug it in, they can't fix it.  Finally, he found by coincidence an old aquaintenance who was still in business.  He properly gave me a good cleaning and set me up so that I ran nearly as good as new.

A few years have passed now.  I've covered nearly as many kilometres (or miles) in the last seven years as I had the previous 15.

Until now.   

My present owner, though caring for me better than probably the previous owners has become somewhat forgetful in his dotage.  Having no garage he finally bought a portable storage tent-like-thingy. Building a small floor of pallets and plywood, I was stored under my cover inside this shelter for this past winter.  Oh yes, the coldest winter since winters were recorded in this geographical freezer.  Though dry, it literally froze those balls on that brass monkey.   

And that dotage I mentioned?  Seems he forgot something that the newest of owners is told from the beginning.  He forgot to put stabilizer in the gas tank and run it through me so that it doesn't turn into hydrocarbon syrup and gum up my innards like the plaque that is clogging his own arteries.     Of course he finally realizes his bonehead mistake far too late. He goes to start us up.... and I vomit gas out my overflow tubes.    He says, "Oh well, my own stupid fault. I'll just have to take them apart and clean them.  I'm sure I can do it this time.  How hard can it be?"

Oh God - please don't let him touch me!  Oh right - there is no God for carbs is there?  I'm fucked. 

He takes me apart - cleans me thoroughly with approved carb cleaner and rinses me with acetone - I got real high then.  He carefully puts me back together. He re-installs me with full confidence upon which I reward him with a shoeful of gasoline as I piss on him like an insolent puppy with a bladder infection.  Despite my condition, I feel a sense of glee as I hear him swear in disbelief.      What's that?  He says I have to come off again and he'll give me another cleaning?  Fuck You Charlie! To paraphrase : "Keep your damn hands off me you dirty stinking ape!"  To no avail.  What can I do? I have no arms to hit with, nor legs to kick.  Life is cruel.   

Well the inevitible happens again.  I'm still pissing gas.  Now I'm even embarrassing myself.  I feel like an incontinent wino in the stairwell of the city hall parking garage.  He is in despair.  Fuck him.  I'm the one who's hurtin' here. I hear him clicking away on the computer.  He's ordering some new innards for me.  A complete rebuild kit of Keyster parts. I am filled with trepidation.  I could probably use a rebuild like this, but not from him.  You might as well make the Mona Lisa with pigs feet and cabbage.

The parts arrive a few days later.  He proceeds to violate me once again, confident that this will cure "the problem".  Wellll.... It doesn't. HA! HA! HA! You Idiot! He franticly calls another FJ club member with infinitely more knowledge than him.  They troubleshoot over the phone - what's this?! - my leaking has stopped!  Much joy and self-congratulating is heard.  But he has to go to work, so I sit and wait for four days..... simmering in the knowledge that when he starts me up to balance and synch me - I LEAK AGAIN!  (Sounds like a John Carpenter movie.)   

Find somebody to fix me dammit!  What's that?  Your going to check my float levels?!  Oooohhhh Noooooooooo.....!  There's nothing wrong with them!  If there was I would have leaked gas last year!  This can't be happening!   

.... I'm fading in and out.... he's bending... twisting.... cursing....  pleeease stop....

I come out of my haze. He's hooking me back up.... guess what.... I still leak.  I'd laugh but I just vomited in my mouth instead.   

I can hear him calling someone on the telephone.  Something about ultrasonic cleaning.  My ears (if I had some) perk up.  Something about single-malt Scotch.  Yes!  Drown me in it. Anything but this!

I have been transported an hour away to a place called Erin and left with complete strangers.  But... hey what a garage... and two FJ's!  His brother is the one who is going to give me the ultrasonic cleaning and rebuild for the cost of some expensive scotch.  Ohhh that bath.  What a relief.  All I need is some hookers and blow and life would be perfect.     Just kidding!  Both are bad for the seals!  I hear more cursing.... my floats? What do you mean "Look at these floats!"  What's wrong with them?  What has that inept owner done to me!  Oh the humanity - er I mean - Oh the machinery!

Despite these observations, I am repaired as best as possible, and am returned to that Bedlam of Iniquity.   

He is absolutely over the moon, and I must confess my spirits have risen too.  I am installed, and ignominiously pee my proverbial pants (if I had legs).  He decides to re-install his old float needles and seats.  Why? I'm stumped.   

His manic depressive phone calls and texts are showing that his psyche is on the verge of collapse.     At least he acknowledges that he has no-one to blame but himself - despite the disturbing reference to a bonfire - did he mean me?  Again he contacts that guru of gasoline and they troubleshoot once more, even bypassing my best pal the fuel pump but it's no use.  I hear that awful p-tiiinnnggg as the spring clamp for the fuel line disappears from his pliers.  I would laugh but I will probably shart myself.   

Upon removing the new seats he sees they are the wrong size according to the manual.  They are marked 2.3 while stock should be 1.6  Could this be part of the problem?  Trying to remain calm, he reinstalls all the old seats and hooks me back up.  With a grimace he pushes the starter button and... hewwwaaaauuugghhhh - I puke again.   

He is despondant - boo fucking hoo!  He tries to gravity feed again but it's no use.  He texts his contacts to tell them he's given up.  He is going to write me off and not ride this year.  But a helping hand once again comes from the blue.  Again I am transported back to that nice garage (along with another bottle of that Scotch stuff), and again I am given the once over.  But now I am installed on different 1992 FJ 1200.  I don't leak! I am synched and balanced and he comes to pick me up.  Finally!  I can be installed and go for a ride! 

Well the magic day has come (actually the next day). I'm installed and........ yes I'm still leaking.  You could hear him deflate like when you stretch the end of a balloon and it squeals as if he were a pig on a spit.  "How can it leak here, yet not on an identical FJ an hour away?", he whines. 

Then a post on the website reminds him of the fuel pump.  You remember, my "best pal"?  He removes the pump and cycles it on and off while putting his finger on the outlet.  It doesn't stop when the outlet is blocked. Hmmmmmm... he thinks, "Could this have been my problem the whole time?"  I know he thinks this, not because I can read his mind, but because when he thinks it's like a chain gang pounding rocks with sledge hammers.  "But then how can they still leak when gravity fed?", he clangs.   

Off he goes and gets a replacement fuel pump, but with work and weather he is unable to do anything.  And.... again he - or I - am given new lease on life.  If he can haul the bike back up to Erin - that exotic location with the nicely equipped garage - then I would be certainly fixed once and for all.  Me?! Fixed?!     The only one who should be fixed is that senile old fart who has repeatedly taken liberties with my virtue!  But the date is set for two weeks away.

It rains.... and it rains... and it rains.  I am under cover snug and dry but still reek of gasoline.  By the way... that spring clip that went p-tiiinnnggg... he finds it a week later on the patio on the other side of the bike where he diligently searched for 20 minutes.  This time I really did shart, sorry.     At least he changes the oil and filter due to all that gas being dumped into the cylinders and draining into the crankcase.

And now that Saturday morning is here.  I am heaved onto a pick-up truck and off we go.  Upon arrival I am gently poked and prodded, and blown into (ooohhhh... that was wierd! I think I need therapy.)  I am assembled with all the requisite overflow hoses except for one difference.  My original set-up had a hose running between the T's from 1&2 and 3&4.  Was that correct?    My owner doesn't know because that's the way I was set up when he bought me.  Now those T's were given their own separate overflow tubes.  I was gravity fed some gas and started up..... I didn't leak..... the replacement fuel pump was fitted.... I was started up ..... HOLY SHIT! I'm not leaking!  We go for a 10 minute test ride and everything is fine.   

So.... What the hell went wrong?     Forgetfulness, Ineptitude, no gasoline stabilizer, old jets, new jets, bad fuel pump, home built on an Indian burial ground, the evil eye... take your pick.  Whatever the original cause was, it has probably been masked by all the above.

All he cares is that I'm now running fit as a fiddle, and promises never, NEVER! to touch me again regardless of how I perform.  I will have to take his word on that, because really, what choice do I have...   

Now there is the issue of that leaky fork seal that suddenly appeared.  But that - as they say - will be another story (hopefully not!).

The "Editor" wishes to thank wholeheartedly John (Tiger), his brother Peter, (and their bottomless taste for Scotch   ) and Paul (paulfj03) for their unwavering support, technical assitance, and overwhelming patience.

All this can be summed up in a song.  If you wish to sing along, the lyrics are very simple....   


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRgi4DDc8aM

[TexasDave]

Great post! Really enjoyed reading it.      Dave

[paulfj03]

Too funny, Paul,

Love it!!! 

We have to get together for a ride, soon!!!

[IceFJ]

The best problem solving story I have read 

[Tiger]

Hahahahahaha...Now that I know all is good, I can start on that 15 year old single malt 

John.

[Charlie-brm]

I got a whiff of it from here John.
Slainte !!

[novaraptor]

 

[FJ_Hooligan]

Are you saying that the overflow/breather fittings had a hose running between them? 

If so then of course it will leak same as plugging those fitting.  Without the capability to release air, the pump will pressurize the fuel in the float bowls and force it out the main and idle jets.  It will even shoot out of the air pilot jets.  The overflow hoses must be clear, unkinked and always be running downward.  If they are routed such that fuel can puddle like in a drain p-trap that will also cause leaking.

Glad to see you finally got it fixed!

[Tiger]

Are you saying that the overflow/breather fittings had a hose running between them? 

You get the cigar for figuring it out Hooli my man 

John.

[X-Ray]

One of the best write ups I have seen on this forum   
Thanks for sharing. But yes, carb issues that won't go away can be frustrating......

[ribbert]

But yes, carb issues that won't go away can be frustrating......

Maybe Jeff could exorcise them.

Noel

[PaulG]

Are you saying that the overflow/breather fittings had a hose running between them? 

If so then of course it will leak same as plugging those fitting.  Without the capability to release air, the pump will pressurize the fuel in the float bowls and force it out the main and idle jets.  It will even shoot out of the air pilot jets.  The overflow hoses must be clear, unkinked and always be running downward.  If they are routed such that fuel can puddle like in a drain p-trap that will also cause leaking.

Glad to see you finally got it fixed!

Thats exactly how it was set up, but it's been that way since I bought the bike in '07,     So why it would work for the last 7 yrs - on original jets - is perplexing.  Now that you've explained it gives me one more reason never to touch them again! 

[fj1289]

I'm just glad my bike can't type!

[fj johnnie]

 We are all glad that once again you can produce Kokaloo for your master, who seems a funny man.