The Coffee Guy's blog

Wheeling the Woods for a Wet Winter

So off goes the old rubber and new shoes for the Winter Scrambler project. Pulling tires reveals oxidization on the Non-tubeless cast rims. New to me that you could have this but the Japanese seemed to know lesser in the 80’s.

Fine sanding and buffing brings down to the metal, wanting a tight fit regardless that the tubes will seal. And a not to oft inspections of bearing and brakes, Speedos and discs. VHT on the disc and the rest left with a degreasing and buffing to remove old oxidization. An Ion sink would have been nice ON these old bikes.

So the choice for DOT mild On/Off road tires is slim. Odd sized rims slims the options. A nice afternoon at Apex and I get my selections, albeit two different manufactures. In the end the Tread is identical and omnidirectional. Easy mounting. Tubes procured through the affectionately names Crook, and King City does the mounting and bead balancing.

Awaiting bearing to press into the front rim, and the mounting will begin. Will be the first look at the new stance. I’ll drop ‘er off the full freedom stand and slide the seat on for a trial of the look and stand. Make a few measurements for the kick and center.
Mocking the trials crossbar and mounts later tis week, back into fab mode. Then when I get the guides and clips for the valves, bake them in and reassemble the power plant. Nice GSX motor with 4 valves per.

After that we fab the fairings and exhaust. Will prod out to PCM for the pipe kit, fab and weld two scrambler exhausts. Low and lurking.

Slip a lil Scotch in this one Willy, its winter.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

Machina Mon Mastriani

The motors that run the motion of the cycle are internally set, calculated and precise. To tear one down requires patience and planning.

So’sa I’ve done a few. The latest, the lil GSX Snowbird is awaiting guides. Punched four out on the wrong side, so I must wait for the full rasher of another 4 before I bake and punch the other side out.

Then its to press and peen each one into its heated sleeve. Down toe the ring. Slide on and lap the valves, then reassemble the top. This is where real patience and planning have and affect on the effects of assembly. Slip the cans over the pistons and gingerly coax the rings up into the tapers. Once inside they will slide to the bottom and the next layers are readied.

Another gasket, a few chain guides, the chain, the cams all get assembled together and in concert. Setting timing and counting links on this head is where the time is consumed. The valve springs have push, so to oil in the shafts while keeping the marks attended to is tedium ad nauseum.

When the guides show up it will be an all-out onslaught of assembly for a day, don’t bother me then.
Slip a slosh of that southern Java on me Sebastian.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

 

Freedom Fixing to File Fast Features

As being released comes with restrictions, time shortens when you have more of it. Weather releases the mind until precipitation precipitates the need for more space. Oh, there is no rain in space, only in Spain, as long as Spain includes the rest of the modern world.

Modernity brings the olde to the fore as antiquity brings all things new again. Hectic days ahead as I see them. I compatriot of mine stated, “Never finish the list.”. Wise words to the wary worker wending his way through the miasma. As the trial of the tribute trickle through my days, the list pushes one end off and leaves freedom on the new end filled steadily.

Stalking the stock of stores, looking for that last scrap of incidentalism needed for and other to fall off the end. After all, it’s the minutiae not the masterpiece to look for. Whence cometh the pairs two by two, you had a world of Animalia, we just had the arc. Can you bring current weather statements into your everyday palaver?

The Sic Fiddy is finally filling out, hopefully no more flailing in the breeze of the build. Liquidating some, bettering others. Tinge whitewashing of things dry, plant and planter potting as possible, integration of electrical inputs, a new tempest tamer, sundry others all posting progress as I posit here.

You too can be a number one. You too can be the latest. You too can make a different one. You too can go fast or slower as you would do when. Never end a sentence in a preposition. Push forward with successes and wash over your waste. No dwelling on dwellings that don’t matter. Be yourself ion the house of pride. No lyin’ there!

Appointments not positions are only ideas. Timelines are points to ponder not to vexate over. The world will still turn, Pig lady or not, Trumpster or DPRK atomization or not, will it come forth of fifth? In the tiny scheme of all of our individual worlds, it will no matter a dram of scotch which way the wall falls. As Frankie said, “Relax don't do it, when you want to go to it”. It will be done.

Make it Hot and Wet Miranda, Coffee is a beverage.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

Not far from Nearby North

Whilly Nilly goes the door as spring waffles at the entrance. Mom would say “Shut the door!”, dad would say, “Either stay in or get out!”. But not merely for pancakes does the equinox bring other sweets. Some do prefer the waffle, steady or wavering.

Waffles were originally the branded part of a steer’s skin after roasting over a fire. Just the crunchy part. When the dermis is dipped and deliriously fried, puffing up like Chicharron it resembles the infamous Belgian Waffle we drench in the syrup of the Maple tree.

Don’t believe me, don’t look it up.

While a fortnight of warm had passed by some weeks ago, there is no doubt that the lion we dread is nigh on our doorstep. The upside being, that the whole world is not going to pot, but that the penultimate day of the 6-week hiatus is Wednesday, bringing Thursday, as the last of the season. Rodents are Rarely Right. I read the book.

Book the removal of mudders and all and sundry accoutrements designed for winter traction control from all methods and modes of transportation. Trust me on this as I can run the numbers if you like. A Cuz’in I know you like when I do!

Not happen’in dis time Cocky!

I will or have Pruned that which bears fruit. The real Macintosh detruncated water sprouts and to beautify. Like a Bonsai but more timely. Using the DDD method of course, Dangerous, Dead, and Desired. I trilogy of guidance for the uninitiated. Of course, the unwashed and I know that which follows. Gleaning from marrow to pith and pome that tasty apple from the tree we prune.Let the cold rule till the day Thor called his own.

Pulling on a pulli till then.

Make it a Macchiato Mary, its cold out there.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

To Bog the Blog with Bludging Bloggers,,,,,,,,Or Not

Bludgers are everywhere these days.  Seek them out?  Out seeking them?  They are sought out.    These are the terms you need to be aware of as and English confabulator.  Reek, reeking, wrought?  One would have thought, but no it is nought correct.   Or better yet, you have nought correct.

Are you naughty then?  Or a bacon buster?   Have you seen and been to the scene where it goes wrong?  So now that used to be an honest 454 its now either 300, 375, or 500.   With out the mathemagical mystery tour, you too can be un-baconed.  Yeppers, as you know I can, I ran the numbers.

A pound of the pavement weighs the same as a pound of the buttered yams, battered and beaten mushrooms, or even the unleavened feather bed.  454 grams is the equivalent in the Celsius scale. Chew know what I mean mang.

So, for 6 and 99 you can buy, 300/12, 375/18, 454/20, or 500/20.  Reading is not a skill set partaken by the unwashed.  Not that they haven’t opted for the ASL version of my blog.   You tell me the bitter truth of the better buy!

Sweet smoked, hickory smoked, maple infused, salt reduced, “light” (but not lean), Salty smoked, dry smoked, wood smoked, but no speed smoked.  How heavy is salt compared to fat or protein or smoke?  Which is heavier per pound?   Answer me that.  They all go up, but only one as smoke.

So respectively, you pay 58 cents for a 25 gram slice, or you pay 38 cents for a 20 gram slice, or you pay 35 cents for a 22 gram slice, or you pay 34 cents for a 25 gram slice.  Do we have you confused yet?   Same swine for sure.   How could one picked pork belly be better than another?

And once you fry the grams out of these, there is probably only about 3 grams left.  Conclusion, eat them smoked and not fried.

Look at your grammage and not my grammar.  There used to be one size fits all.  Ok yeah you can sift through the bin to find what looks like a meatier package.   3 slices in, the meat changes to fat.   Bacon is a gamble, that’s half of why guys like it.  Some fool marking guru thought they would change the package size, slice thickness, and method of production.  Basically, bought themselves a job.

Now, with sales still in the “gut”ter, (get it?) they belly ache about the belly sales.  Pack’em in 454’s like they should be, slice em the same, you will sell more.  Package faster, cheaper, easier. We just like bacon.  

The introductory meat for Vegans and Lactos.

Make it the French way Francine, I’ll have a Continental.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

My Heavy Hiatus Hovers over me like a Humpback

Wales wails about Whaling at this time of year. We in Canada rue the drop in temperature and contemplate hibernation for the nation. I on the alternate appendage, see this change in temperature practice for the apocalypse.

Position yourself as a teaching nation. Ready to accept all comers to the north with zero cold weather skills. We could preach and teach on, Icy road driving, coping with the cold, the diseases that chills bring, warm indoor eating, cold weather sports, snow carving, ice sculpture, shoveling techniques, snow clearing technologies, footwear for ice and snow, cranial protection for both the cold and slippery. The list would be endless.

And you are mostly glaring at the screen pushing buttons in anger,” Its Global Warming, not Colding!” YUP. But hear this out. The global warming will take place about up to about the 45th, not much past that. Puts us in the desirable position of the holiday spot of the future. You heard that right. Do you not think that after 330 days of 100 plus degree heat all year that your vacation will be in the tropics? That you will be searching for that perfect cool spot to put your feet up in?

Canada and its North coast, (yes we have a north coast), will be the holiday playland for most of north and south America. Europeans too will be tired, as most of us are of the fjords by then too. And no matter what the Russians post out there, the majority of people still won’t think of them as serving up good Mongol hospitality.

Nope, we will be come the Mecca of modernity for the wayward worker looking for a nice relaxing beachside resort for their meager two weeks of holiday cheer. Mushing, and sliding, making steam rings with their breath, snow volleyball will develop as a Olympic sport, Quinzhee construction, ice walks on the tops of pressure ridges. All these and more are awaiting the summer holiday revelers. Even that stressful March break period will see party towns like Alert thrive and grow to hip university holiday destinations.

No way MoBay, yessir Kugluktuk. The holiday wear industry will revive the trapping industry. Northern mining will become a tourist attractions offering deep bore underground tours. People will buy prepackaged bits of muskeg to bring home to show their family and set on the mantle like a giant sea conch. Ice will be sold in small liquid nitrogen containers at the airport for those of you who want to bring one home and show off. Boredom eye covers for the long flights will become feature and benefit points for selling trips by many of the new upstart airlines like, Northern Tern Air, Ice Vacations, Cold Comfort Cruises, or Canadian Freeze Dried.

Can is sign some people up for teaching: warm indoor eating?

Who will be the director of: cold weather sports?

We must have an artist who can polish: snow carving?

Of all the art fest types we could get a department of: ice sculpture?

Definitely the government would have to lead the: shoveling techniques division. Universities could teach and develop: snow clearing technology.

Business leaders could be given grants to invest in: footwear for ice and snow.

Hospitals can work together with Universities to bring up to speed, cranial protection for both the cold and slippery.

Slip the java into the mug snugly sister, it’s cold out there.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

Spring, Leap, Pounce, Bound

So the uplifting time of year is nigh, near to the touch for trimming and digging.  Burrow and tunnel your thoughts for what we will do when.  The weather gets warm?

So who will posit positive ruminations of temperatures in climes of summer.  Will you BE the hex?   Will you be the vanguard?   What warrant do you wave for wistful thinking?   I like it 20 in the metric scale of things.  Not that riding will be forthcoming until the Good Surgeon Schwike clears me for ambulation.   Hopefully the 4^th, Be With You.

As the best of us we regale on the eve of the Cinco De Mayo, pronounced, [ˈsiŋko ðe ˈmaʝo] I will be in sincere jollification.  Do you have your deco’s up?  Do you have a nice Matador arranged for a small slaying of El Toro on the festive day?

Slaggards who have not appropriately prepared.   And I am not talking a few Tacos from the shelf filled and flogged.  We must, by edict ,direct the detection of derelict delinquents to become forthwith less enebriated than those not forthcoming.

You sloth commas are as lethargic as detritus emanating from the hind of a bovine.

Make it good.  Dine as you need.  Need as you wine.  Let’s kick this up a little.   We Mex our Tex, Paco our Taco and strut the Avenue like a Rockefeller. 

Wake and roll this festive day.  What for a dead person 2000 years old we take the whole week off, practically the whole month?  So lets out aside the conifer and pull out the Cacti.   Cinco De Mayo goes hi oh.

Slip it smooth Santamaria.  I have it hot.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

“It’s all going to pot, whether we like it or not”

The Interweb Thingy

Best video I’sa seen in a while.  Lookie it uppie on the thingy.  So let me ask the age old question, “why do you need to know?”   We are all on a need to know basis these days and for the most part, we don’t need to know.

What was your desideratum for searching out this blog?  Was there something about coffee you needed to know? What could anybody possibly NEED to know about the Java?  Was it Arabica or Robusta?  There are ONLY two kinds.  And you needed to know that?  So’sa now as you sippa you can twitta, “hmmm that was some fine Arabica”?

The difference here is that I NEED to know to be able to write this.   I have been the portent of information since time immemorial.  Well at least as the 24-hour new rotation goes.  The exigency of the corporeity is that we all know too much.   Oh wait.   Want to think we know too much.  What would you do when?

“Cogito ergo sum” that should be the end of it.  Just being cognitive of our own cognition allows us to exist.  Proves our existence.   I, just seconds ago, used the Googler, (Even though I use DogPile, I still call it the Googler), searched “two dimensional protoplasmic array”.   35000 references came up.  I posit that the last few of these would have a tenuous connexion to the ole protoplasmic display.   In fact, I just jotted those four words down out of pure haphazardness.  Hard to believe I know.

So next time you get the compulsion to get out the info thingy, put it away and be thankful that you are in complete knowledge of your existence.   Any and most of the so called information you would glean from your device on the aforementioned topic, you will either forget shortly, won’t understand, or it will be just out and out false.  Not false information, that’s an oxymoron.

Short and strong today Carmela, I need to look up to it.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

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Cold is a Concept Caught by the Common Cold

Common: as in the area we share? As in pedantic or pedestrian? As in happening every day? As in the norm? as in indistinguishable from other colds? As in respectable? As in orthodox or unorthodox?

We have an English nomenclature for maladies I am daft to understand. Now, now, keep those comments to your selves in the peanut gallery. A “Fever”?; the only part it resembles its name in is the heat aspect of it. Not really anyone with a Fever is in a frenzy, or in ecstasy, or having passion. Not many even in enthusiasm, possibly a few in mania, nobody would call it the newest wrinkle…let alone infatuation.

Mono fits though… nobody wants to be around someone with it.

Do you take Strepsils for strep throat?

Rhinitis, do pachyderms get this?

Tone deaf; can these people tell the difference between egg shell white and snow white?

If you have an aneurism, does it come back every year?

Influenza: did she ever leave?

And I also, as well, hope to, make room for, conjunctivitis.

Allergy; when you can’t yet fully prove that the priest did it.

Acute bronchitis, is this what the old dinosaurs would say when they were courting?

Deep vein thrombosis, I can’t get this, I play the Saxophone.

Do people in Galway get gallstones? Is that what their houses are build from?

Can an apiarist get hives?

Since we are past the Mesozoic period can we still get Mesothelioma?

Do mailmen get post-nasal-drip?

Can you have a stoke playing golf?

Will lip balm help throwing a football?

If you lost a missile, can you have a broken arm too?

If you are a pinhead, can you still sew?

Pour with Creme Cathy, I like a little froth.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.

 

Flow Tracker, Flat Tracker, Street Bob, Café, Bobber, Brat, Rat, or Chopper.

If you build it, nothing will come of it.  The inoperative cooperative dystopia will not cajole you into participating.  If it ain’t broke, then go fix it.  Again, it is hobby time, and there are no hobbits around.   I was taking a Bitcoin to the bank when I ran across a cashier.  She still didn’t bulge when I tried to pay her off.

Sunday can be fortuitous or it can be waistrous.   I spent the day standing, so fortitude was on my side.  Thence cometh the snow and I fainted to sleep.  Waking to refreshed melting, if not somewhat behind MY schedule.  The Date of being Good is nigh.  Now nourish the noggin and parry up the positive mental attitude and carpe diem.

What build will be built by the builder this year?  Personally I am in the throes of cogitating on a new wind vane.  Of course, there is always the possibility of selling off a couple of two wheelers and getting a new one.  Something I like.  Love the CX’s and the R60’s.  Of course, there is the ever-present SX ‘es and the Rd400’s.  Any ideas out there?  I also take ‘em free. 

Then the titular question arises. Stylin’ and whilin’ away the hours, starin’ and comparin’.  Then it hits you like a big pizza pie with the moon in the sky.  The desideratum need not meet your expectations.  I will be on board with drawing this year.  What will extricate itself from the parchment will be up to it.  Get a round toit?  I prefer mine square.

Slip a little cream in my Java today Sabrina, I need the Moo Cow Mirage.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.  Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai.