Update: Yamaha: 5 – Miss Busa: 1Posted: February 29, 2012
No wonder I was about to pull my hair out and commit arson.
The following morning the husband, in an attempt to make me see reason, plopped down a cup of coffee in front of my lifeless body slumped over the kitchen table and waited. Waited for me to start imbibing my morning dose of liquid wakefulness. I grimaced slightly as the first sip of dark roast assaulted my palate. He nodded: “Jet Fuel. I thought you needed Jet Fuel this morning.” I respond with a half-hearted “Uh-huh.”
He waits a little while longer to make sure the first cup is working its magic, then states the painfully obvious with the grace of a news anchor delivering the latest in human tragedy: “You have to put the bike back together so you can sell it.”
I groan. “You have to be logical about this? The thought had occurred to me.”
“Collect all your parts and take your problem to a shop.”
Did he just tell me I needed professional help? He did, didn’t he?
Later that same day, I miss a phone call from said professional, leaving a VM telling me they need authorization to order some parts.
A projected bill of $160 in parts and $30 in labor confirms that I wasn’t going crazy, after all. The R1’s rear axle was so funked up that it was no wonder that I couldn’t figure out what parts went where because none of them matched the service manual nor the microfiche and none of them were actually OEM, save for the missing ones I had already acquired. All the internal bearings were the wrong type. A lot of the parts showed damage. Some of them were shoved in there backwards, which I had already surmised, and required brute force removal to free the hub of its alien internals.
They will rebuild my axle to OEM specs with OEM parts.
Another one of those situations where my lack of confidence in my own abilities caused unnecessary distress. I had an inkling something was off when I first rode the bike. I wondered why in the world the spacing between the chain and the rim was so tight that I could barely get a tire warmer squeezed in there. I had the nagging suspicion that something wasn’t quite as it should be when I shot a laser across the sprockets and found the alignment suspect. I also eventually stumbled across the reason why there was a notch cut into one side of the swingarm’s axle mount, but not the other. I had come to the realization that maybe some of the parts may not even be stock, but there was no way for me to tell for certain. I should have taken it to the shop right then. But in an effort to save money, and in keeping with my teutonic stubbornness (I can do this!) I refused to give up. On five different occasions I tackled this particular problem only to walk away from it in disgust.
I knew they had turned the axle around for some odd reason. The reason being, as someone in the know had explained to me, some racers do that on purpose, since they want the axle nut on the chain side. That does make sense, since a gearing change can then be affected from working on only one side of the bike. However, if stepping around the bike to loosen and then re-torquing an axle nut wastes too much time, you probably are taking club racing a little too seriously. But to each their own.
As for me, I don’t trust previous owner mods. I have to at least be familiar with the transformation from stock and know the reasoning behind said modification. It also needs to be mechanically sound, which in this case it definitely was not, as evidenced by stressed and broken parts. And I really don’t have a pressing need for the axle nut to be on the chain side, even though the Yami is the first bike I have owned that didn’t.
Yet another lesson learned the hard way. Hopefully, next time I trust my instincts (and my intellect) and save myself a whole lot of aggravation.
Maybe now I am one step closer to enjoying the beast without confidence-robbing trust issues. I hope so, because that girl is a ferocious beast and she shifts way smoother than the Pirate. I hate to admit it, but DynoJet’s Quick Shifter add-on is a freaking world apart from BMW’s implementation of the same principle of enabling full-throttle, clutchless upshifts. It is so smooth I occasionally catch myself looking down at the instrument panel to see if I’m actually in the next higher gear only to find the thing doesn’t have a gear indicator.