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Favorite Bodge

Favorite Bodge

Riding from Pickerington, Ohio to Duluth, Minnesota.

Between 2000 and 2007 I rode from Minnesota to Ohio and back several times a year, always aboard a 1981 BMW 800. These were wonderful bikes with famously weak electrical charging systems. My outbound route was east across US2 to the Mackinac Bridge then south on I-75 to Columbus. The route back was via a matrix of little roads up to the Ludington Ferry, then across Lake Michigan and then a bunch more little roads across Wisconsin northwest to Minnesota. About nine hundred easy miles each way, spread over two nice nine hour days. 55 and 65 mph two lane speed limits across sparsely settled northern Wisconsin and the U.P., then 75+ freeway south of the bridge all the way down to the Ohio border.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007, Pickerington, Ohio

Fed Ex arrived at about a quarter to eleven. Spent the morning in the hotel lobby, typing e-mails off line, waiting. Just as I’d unwrapped the bike parts Ken comes down. We have a good fifteen minute talk. He suggests the high speed ferry that takes only two and a half hours and lands at Milwaukee. He looks up the scheduled Muskegon depart time on his Blackberry, and I program the GPS and it says I can make it with 45 minutes to spare. So we forgo breakfast and I take off, zooming along following the purple line of route directions on the GPS and taking only a single fast gas stop (11 minutes from exit ramp to refill, to peeing, to back onto the entrance ramp…) and no food. I think I’ll just make it. Still my mind begins to gnaw on the timing, and the alternator warning light gets worse and worse. Hardly ever coming onto charge mode now, but at least I have a replacement diode board, and hopefully brushes (I did not see them, but assume they are there, inside the bubble-wrapped diode board package…). Things should be ok.

After thinking about the time the ferry leaves, 4:45pm, I wonder if it is on eastern time or central time? If it is central, I’m early by 45 min. If eastern, I’m late by fifteen. After pounding butt for six hours, it turns out I’m late by fifteen. I remount and ride along the shore toward Ludington, another 50 miles north to the old Badger ferry and a four hour crossing, arriving in Wisconsin at about 11pm. Twenty miles before town the bike goes onto reserve so I stop to fill it’s tank. Aboard the ferry I buy a salad and bottle of water, and read magazines. I also call ahead for a room at the dockside Best Western in WI. The only thing they offer is a smoking room, at a special rate of $98. Yeah, right. I ask if the windows open, and they say “yes”, so I’ll find out how stinky one of these smoking rooms really is when I get there. It’s been a few years since I was in one.

After the magazines were read, I typed this trip journal. The lights of Wisconsin just came into view. I’ll probably try and take the now full gas tank off in the motel parking lot in the morning and see if I can replace the brushes and diode board before riding the last six hours home. If I can’t, I can buy a battery or battery charger and ride home in the daylight in total-loss mode, so there is a ‘plan-b’. That gas tank will weigh about 80 pounds. I don’t remember the last time I took off a gas tank that was nearly full. Eight or nine gallons. Yuck. I hope I don’t drop it or break one of the petcocks. The tone of the Badger’s coal-fired triple expansion steam engines just changed. Must be getting near shore.

Wednesday August 8, 2007

Up at 7, clear, sunny, about 75º. Last night, after the ferry landed, I’d rode the two blocks to the hotel with the headlight off, in the dark, hoping there was enough juice still in the battery to keep two spark plugs sparking, and fortunately there was. After checking in (and opening the room’s window wide…) I unwrapped the bubble-wrapped BMW parts and found only the diode board. No brushes. Crap. So I went to the hotel bar and ordered a martini. Then back to the now-slightly-less-stinky room and into bed, where I fell asleep in about ten seconds.

The next morning right after showering, I went out to the parking lot wearing shorts, sandals and a fresh shirt, carrying the diode board and the small zippered ‘miscellaneous junk’ pouch from the tank bag. (It has a Leatherman multi-pliers-tool, some bits of wire, a cigarette lighter, a hot-melt glue stick, a small compass, some rubber bands, a mini-roll of duct tape, and various other odds n’ ends.) It’s seven thirty AM on a very fine day.

First, I roll the bike about five feet so it is more directly underneath a shady tree branch partly overhanging the pavement. Then I take the front cover off the engine, and remove the outer part of the alternator, called the stator. This is the part that holds the brushes. One of the brushes, the forward-most one, was much shorter than the other. The spring behind it was fully extended, so it was not making a continuous direct contact with the copper ring on the rotor beneath. I was sitting on my butt, cross legged, right next to the front wheel, facing the engine while doing all this. On the asphalt next to me was the bike’s unrolled tool kit, the motorcycle’s unlatched saddle, the tank bag’s ‘junk’ pouch, the Leatherman pliers, and half a dozen engine cover and alternator assembly fasteners and washers. Everything except the saddle was neatly laid out on an Aerostich envelope bag.

Right next to all of this and directly on the asphalt was an unused wooden kitchen match. I picked it up and stared at it. With the wire cutters of the Leatherman, I nipped about half an inch from the end. Exactly the right size. Using the tool kit’s small screwdriver, I positioned it behind the worn-out brush, re-installed the brush’s spring, and then put the alternator and engine back together. Then I rolled up the tools, put away the Leatherman, stood up, clicked the bikes saddle back into position and turned the key. Immediate vroom. Immediate 13volts of charging power. Fixed!! Yeayyy!!! This whole MacGyver job took less than thirty minutes. I went back to the room, packed, dressed, loaded the bike, checked out, and was riding north toward Green Bay by 8:15AM, with a nice tail wind, the XM radio on a forties channel playing thru my ear speakers, and a song in my heart. ‘Zip ah dee doo dah…zip a dee day…’ was literally playing.

By two thirty I was at Ashland, where I gassed the bike, ate a banana, a hot dog and drank a bottle of water, and then rode the last fifty miles to Duluth. At five minutes to five I stopped at Aerostich and worked there until seven. Then home to read and enjoy a Subway veggie sandwich. The bike will get it’s new alternator brushes and probably a transmission gear lube change this weekend, and then should be ok for a while. The day before leaving for Ohio I’d changed it’s engine oil.

– Mr. Subjective.

What's your best bodge story? Be sure to leave a comment below.


6 comments


  • Ron Kuprevicius

    Yes, I too had a broken throttle cable on my 1970 CB350 Honda. Back in the summer of 1971, I was on my way to work on a busy highway (QEW) to a summer job in Toronto, Ontario . As I was cruising along the throttle mechanism became free of it’s nipple at the throttle grip end. The problem was caused over a few months of use of a rerouting stock throttle cable to accommodate a set of clubman handlebars. Quick thinking under pressure of having to get to work on time, the presence of rush hour traffic and being stranded on a narrow shoulder, a solution was found. Using the bikes tool kit screw driver I loosened the switch assembly holding the throttle grip and inserted the nippless throttle wire between the 2 halves of the switch assembly and tightened with sufficient torque by applying vice grips to the screwdriver shaft. To apply throttle I had to pull on the throttle cable, not a comfortable or smooth action but quite jerky and still functional. The approach to fit into the hectic rush hour traffic was a rather scary ordeal. This repair took all of 5 to 10 minutes.


  • Jim Ward

    I had a very similar experience returning from Alaska with the weak charging system on my 1988 R100GS. When we would stop for lunch we would jumper my bike out to my buddies 1995GS and charge my bike. Every night we when we camped we were lucky enough to borrow a battery charger to top off my battery..
    we did this on our last 3 days getting back to Florida.


  • Pierre Lafontane

    Many years ago I was dating girl and we lived about 75miles apart. I had a bachelor apartment in Guelph Ontario and she lived in Toronto. Neither of us had a car but I did have a 78 Honda 550K. I rode that thing from first thaw to freeze up every year. Every Friday after work I would load up some extra clothes and head out down the back roads till the hwy 401 cut in and take the slab into Toronto. Every Sunday at 3:30 AM I would get out of bed and kiss her goodbye and hit the road for home so I could get to work for 6 AM. The highway was clear (as clear as the 401 ever gets…) and around 4:30 I headed for the hwy 25 exit that took me onto the backroad two laners. Nice and twisty – with no one around – a hoot to ride (just watch for deer…). About half way home, just outside Rockwood there is fantastic sweeper – just sail around it and crack the throttle at the exit! However, today there seemed to be a “small” problem…no acceleration…Hmm…I pulled over the side of the road and soon discovered the problem – I’d blown the throttle cable. Great 4:30 AM, middle of no where, no road side assistance and cell phones were far in my future. I didn’t want to be banging on any farmhouse doors at 4 in the morning and didn’t see any lights on anywhere anyhow. I had to get the bike home and get my butt to work. Standing there I realized I was on my own and if it was going to get done I was going to have to do it. I started by analyzing the problem at it’s most basic level. The throttle can’t open because the cable is not connected. The cable runs around the flywheel under the gas tank. I need to open the flywheel to make the bike accelerate. Now, how to do it? After a few minutes I opened up my tool kit and pulled out the stubby breakdown screwdriver. It was just long enough to reach the holes in the side of the flywheel but could not be accessed while on board. There was nothing in the kit longer. What now? Low and behold a sign! More specifically, a driveway reflector on a wire post. I don’t condone “borrowing” but I didn’t need to get crap from the boss either. A few quick bends to work harden and snap the reflector off and I had an instant extension. I always wrap a few feet of duct tape around my screwdriver handles (for just such emergencies…) and by combining these components and jamming it through the flywheel I got her lit and idling. The wire rod stuck out from under the seat about 6 inches and when I lowered my leg the rpms rose just like the handlebar control. A little experimentation and I was off. The ride wasn’t the smoothest (everything you learnt was backwards and the wrong limb) but it got me home and to work on time. The only issue was the screwdriver held the throttle slightly too far open so the idle was about 2500 rpm. Not a real issue if you slip the clutch but the guy on the Harley at the lights on the way home from work gave me a look of distain and floored it on the green. I guess he figured I was being uppity and wanted to drag! That bike held on for another few years with a few other quirks but got me and the girlfriend to many destinations. However, I cracked a ring on the way to work a few years later and I traded it to a dealer for a new helmet. I’ll never forget that early morning breakdown and the crazy fix on the side of that lonely country road. As for the girl, I married her and several motorcycles later we still ride together today.


  • Daryl Stamp

    Fine story Mr. Subjective. Your stuff is legendary, and it’s fabulous to own, use and enjoy. Saw my first Aerostich gear up close in person 12 years ago, at BEAKSTER BASH IV in Central Park PA. Spent most of today riding to/from Thomas WV for lunch at the Purple Fiddle with friends attending BEAKSTER BASH XV in constant rain. The CBT Lites and Darien Jacket Pants kept me nice and comfy on the GSA. If it was all stolen tomorrow I’d buy it all over again, only this time I’d buy new instead of used. Only new stuff I’ve had is the boots and gloves, Keep up the great work out there.


  • S R Kelley

    I have had occasion to use cigarette filters for a similar purpose. What do you use the hot melt glue stick for?


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Favorite Bodge