Beside the Seaside

« In Which I Try To Catch Up | Home | In Which I Feel Very Small »

In Which History Repeats Itself Repeats Itself

August 27, 2008 by Mike

Split

Route: PrimoŠten - Trogir - Split

What could be simpler? A quick run in glorious sunshine down a sublime coast road to one of the great destinations of the whole trip? Yeahhrrrrrright.

Everything was fine on the road to Trogir, where I climbed to the highest turret of the tallest castle to catch a glimpse out in the bay of the World Laser 4.7 Youth Championship 2008. (Main sponsor: Stella Artois. Nice work, Stella -- catch 'em when they're young and point out that beer, specifically your beer, will make them better athletes).

It was only on the short hop from there to Split that I noticed something was wrong. Something wrong.. something very wrong.. and strangely familiar.

Yes folks, compare this picture from 16 April, taken at Peniscola in northwest Spain:

with this one, taken at 1.36pm this afternoon in downtown Split:

Dangnabbit, the danged shock absorber has only gone and danged well broken again.

That's the same shock that snapped in Peniscola, was replaced by a new one that lasted 40km or so and had to be replaced with a re-conditioned shock absorber in Barcelona.

The official verdict: I need to lose weight.

.. from my rear panniers.

Here's the science bit:

Too many speed-bumps (not taken at speed), potholes and bad roads
plus
too much weight on the rear wheel caused by three panniers, a bag of camping equipment and all that pizza I've been eating
multiplied by
the shock absorber being set at a 45-degree angle rather than vertical, causing extra strain at key vulnerable points
equals
SNAP.

That was the verdict of my new best friend, Toni, the finest bike mechanic in Split, if not in all of Croatia. (Of course, I said much the same about Michael and Paco at Moto-Sajo in Peniscola, and Juan in Barcelona, so I better not hold my breath.)

(And while I'm adding parentheseseses, that bit about the pizza was my verdict, not Toni's. He's too diplomatic.)

I found Toni straightaway by the most foolproof method: I collared a local biker and asked where where I should go. Good old bikers, they're decent, honest and trustworthy (even though it turns out that this one, Stjepan, is a lawyer...)

Toni spent over 20 years working in big bike dealerships. Now he works for himself, in his garage.

"I enjoy working for myself, yes, but the best thing is fixing things, not always reaching for the spare part or the new part and charging the customer!" (I agreed strongly.)

"I started when I was 15.. 16. I wanted to spent a lifetime working with bikes. I saw too many riders die young or suffer terrible injuries. As a mechanic, I can do this for a long, long time, and provide for my kids."

"So now, with this. What can we do? A new Triumph part? It will take at least two weeks to arrive. Yes! Or I can call a friend who may have an old Bonneville shock, but the chances are.. small. I can try to source a similar shock but I can't promise the highest quality," (his English really is this good) ".. or.. well.. hmmm..", he was turning the two ends of the snapped piston in his hands now. "I could weld these together.. it's a clean break.. as long as there are no air-pockets.. angle-grinder.. pressure points.. cross-brace.. critical angle.. blahblahblah.."

By now his English was better than mine. But I could see that what he was saying made sense. Much as I'd love to spend two weeks in Split (and I would..) I'm starting to think about the onset of winter.. eeek!.. and where I'd like the bike to be by then.

It was a pleasure to watch him work. There were insurmountable problems -- specifically, how to hold the two parts securely in place while he welded them together -- clearly, the piston has to be EXACTLY true if it's going to work, and survive -- and he solved them in a Blue Peter-esque whirl of sticky-back plastic, washing-up bottles and string. Guess how much help I was?

Amazing, this life. Within three hours of a major part breaking in a land far, far away from the nearest spare part, and thanks wholly to a man who has never seen a Bonneville before and through circumstance has never had the chance to make a trip like this, the bike was roadworthy again. (Except for the rear brake which, Toni pointed out, had "about 200km left" in it. So, with the shock back in place, I'm leaving the bike with him overnight to fix that too. Lucky lucky lucky me.)

Beside the Seaside

In Which History Repeats Itself Repeats Itself

Comments

Leave your comment

Latest comments