An old bike is reborn - The Tale.

[JonnyFoxtrot]

Right so I started writing the first part of this in the "What is the story behind your first bikes thread" but I quickly realised I'd started writing far too much for one post and decided to give it its own thread. It didn't deserve to be in the Show/Tell section so I thought I would just whack it in general for kicks.

Now before I start I make no claims to be any good at writing and/or storytelling, other than a mediocre A Level in English at college several years ago I've no experience of it so you may well find it’s written like a 6 year old. I get it. I live with it. I don’t need reminding ta

That aside here's the tale of my first bike, Enjoy ...........................................or don’t, there's a good chance you will think its shit

A long time ago in a garage far far away…..

My first ever bike was an 89' NS125F. I came on BCF for the first time ever for some advice for getting a cheap 125 for under £300, young, cocky and clueless as I was. I got told it was pretty much impossible and I was being a fool. A couple of arguments broke out over on and off topic subjects but fair do's I thought, the idea isn’t to everyone’s taste, but I was committed and wanted to prove that it was doable, and if not £300 isn't a heart breaking amount to lose I had thought.

I scoured the internet and eBay for cheap 125's and saw the NS sitting there in a picture from a guy about 20mins from me. The description was reasonable and explained it was a none runner and that if it didn’t sell it will be off to the scrappy. I took a mate who vaguely knows about bikes (I didn’t know any bikers at the time) and gave it a good look over thinking it would be a piece of piss to sort. It had been listed as none started because of a seized top end and with that in mind I didn’t even think to look at anything else. I simply handed over the £165 cash like the naive lad I was and got it in the back of the van and back home.

That’s when the nightmare started.

I bought myself a Haynes manual and with no other mechanical knowledge other than working on my car I dived right in. I already knew that the top end was fubared so that was the first to go and I quickly got rid. Bottom end looked ok, no large or small chunks of crap inside (thought I didn’t know what a good one should look like ) so with that done I started looking around to source a new one and put my attention to the other stuff that needed doing.

Skip 6 months forward.

To be fair it hasn’t been a nightmare at all, it had been hard don’t get me wrong but I’d actually really enjoyed it, I was learning loads, getting my hands dirty and not wasting my time playing arse amounts of Xbox in my room. For the past few months I had been spending a couple of nights a week tinkering away in the garage, in the cold, cleaning, fixing, replacing etc etc. I'd spent about another £150 in parts including new forks, new top end, new rear suspension, new carb, new brakes, new oils, brake lines, brakes, battery, plugs, fairing and loads of other bits. I was pretty much learning as I went and other than dad helping me with a few things I was proud as fuck that I'd done most of it myself. No sooner than it felt like I had started the big day had arrived to finally start her up. I checked the kill switch was off, everything was tight and turned on and with all my force I cranked the kick-start over.

Nothing. Na da. Not a peep.

I expected it to be fair. She hadn't been started in years and I'd done a pretty major overhaul. I double checked everything and continued to hammer away cranking the kick-start with a ferocity I wouldn’t even treat my girlfriend to (now ex-gf....stupid whore.) I posted away on various forums over the next few days, lapping up the info, trying all the techniques and tips everyone provided. I’m beginning to wonder by this point if everyone was right and it was a fools attempt but I decide to soldier on and begin the gruelling task of bump starting the thing. I'm fortunate enough that my house is on top of a hill which is great for the bump starting but bloody body killing and soul destroying for the push back up. For days I tried a few times an evening, slapping it into first, clutch in and rolling down that stupid hill as I in vain let the clutch go and pray for it to start up. It all failed miserably.

One night I'd just finished my 3rd or 4th failed bump start and push and finally decided to call it quits. It had been a good run, I think to myself, but I've got to admit that it’s just not enough and I've been beat. I'm knackered, I'm in pain and I've lost the will to carry on. I parked the bike up outside the garage and start to pack away all the bits and bobs, rags, screwdrivers, odd parts here and there. The sun is beginning to set and as I reach down to pick up the final stray bolt on the floor I take one last glance at the bike. As I do the sinking sun hits it in a spectacular way. It looks magnificent. It’s old and its rusty and there are cracks and leaks in places, but its mine. I brought it back from the depths. I gave it a second chance. The sun streams through the gaps in the frame and I think to myself, “She deserves at least one more go”.

I don’t know why I did it. I really wasn’t expecting much, I’d accepted at this point that it was a failure of a project. I’d learnt enormous amounts about the bike and bikes in general but this one little bike wasn’t destined to grace the asphalt again. Despite this I calmly walked over, pushed it to the highest point of the hill and swung my leg over for what I thought was the final time.

>>Now I admit this next bit will sound like dramatisation. You can believe it or you cannot, that’s up to you, but I remember it clear as crystal to this day. Nothing changed, nothing exaggerated and it’s still just as heart-warming to me as it was then<<

I stare down the road at the empty space before me, already knowing what the outcome will be. Call me defeatist if you will but it’s been a long few months and I almost just want the nightmare to end. What the hell I think, one last try. For the final time, I check the fuel tap, I check the kill switch and I turn her on. Down into first gear, clutch in and with all my might I push off. I get to what I think is as fast as I will go down the hill and with savage release I let go of the clutch. The all too familiar sound of the weary engine coughing and spluttering, spitting and chugging away fills my ears and for some odd reason I suddenly lose it. All the pent up frustration and anger came out of me like a caged animal and I lunged up and down on the front forks in blind fury. I’m starting to slow down at this point but I’m so furious that I don’t stop. I start to scramble with my legs, pushing the bike on with everything else I have left, red faced, flustered and generally fucked I scream “START YOU STUPID PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!”

BOOM!

With a sudden rush of acceleration the ancient engine bursts into life as the stereotypical lawn mower sound of the 1 inch 2 stroke exhaust envelop the street and for a second I’m almost in tears. Somehow I forget that I’m now in control of a motor powered vehicle and nearly bin the bike straight into the neighbour’s front garden, narrowly avoiding pain and agony by pulling handfuls of clutch and brake. The bike comes to a sudden stop and all I can do is sit there with the biggest stupidest fucking grin I’ve ever had. I own a motorbike. A real life, real revving, real (just about) braking motorbike. I cautiously spin her around and ride (not walk) for the first time up to my house, triumphant in my return, like a brave knight atop his trusty steed. Mum and Dad come out, ecstatic for me and we all laugh about the journey that got me here.

The joy however was short-lived.

After hooning about for what felt like hours (10mins below 4k revs) up and down the road in first gear (yes a private road before the safety nazi’s chime in) I decided to take it for a proper spin. I grabbed my already bought helmet and jacket, put them on as fast as I could and get ready to go. She starts up first time with no effort, I’m so over the moon it’s unreal and I can’t wait to chime through the gears up to a decent speed. I set off and after a decent speed, I decide to start climbing up the gears. Clutch in, pull the level up into second and clutch out. A horrible noise penetrates through the frame and into my body as the gear grinds away and pops up straight into 3rd. Shit. Ok no problem I think, it’s probably just needs a bit of time and help, I try again and again to coax the gear up and down into second but every time it just pops defiantly back up into 3rd. I knocked it back down to 1st and ride back to the house deflated and once again defeated, realising that throughout all my efforts, all the time, cut knuckles, blood, sweat and nearly (because I HAZ BALLS) tears, the second gear was fucked.

I lost interest after this defeat. It had felt like everything was for nothing, that I’d soldiered on through all the troubles to end up with something that was never going to work properly. I’d read enough to know that either the forks, dogs, drum or gears themselves were shagged and that it would mean splitting the entire engine to fix. So the NS sat in the garage as days turned to weeks and weeks to months and I turned my attentions elsewhere.

About 3 months later one Saturday morning I’m awoken by the sound of a bike. The throaty exhaust roars through the crack in my window and clearing sleep from my eyes, I pull myself up to the sill to look out. My neighbour Tony’s brother is visiting him, and he’s brought his Triumph Speed Triple. It’s a glorious looking bike and it sounds amazing I think. The colour scheme and shape immediately flicker the thought of the NS into my head and for no other reason than falling in love with the thought of riding it again I slip some jogging bottoms and a jumper on and head downstairs to the garage. With my new found vigour I start the process again. I clean and I tidy, clearing cobwebs as I go and get the beast looking healthy again. I know the problem already and I know I can fix it. I will not be beat again.

The story begins to trickle off here but I don’t like to leave a story unfinished so I’ll at least let you know how it ends.

Over the course of the next few weeks I don’t lose focus once. I trawl eBay and all the forums for a spare engine or bottom half. Even the dismay of having a fellow BCFer scam me out of £50 by never sending out the engine and stopping all contact does not sway me from my mission. I eventually find a suitable replacement on the bay for a tidy 40 notes and it’s swapped in and fitted the afternoon it arrives. The gears run fine, the engine starts every time and she rides wonderfully. But she doesn’t ride a lot. By now I’m 21, I’ve already made my mind up I’m doing my DAS and I’m starting to get to know biker mates with R1’s and ZX6R’s who take me out for rides and blow my mind at the power. The lure of the NS is gone and I ride it maybe 4-5 times at best. Shortly after I pass my DAS I put her on Ebay and within hours its attracted questions, enquiries and plenty of watchers. That evening a local lad and his brother turn up to have a look and the full £500 is paid in cash. Total cost of bike = £167 + £100 + £90 = £350. Profit = £150. Happy Bunny! To this day I haven’t heard back from him so I can only assume it’s still going well or its been crashed into the side of a McDonald’s car park.

I suppose to look back you would think it was a bit of a waste of time to spend that long and that much effort getting it back on the road to only ride it a handful of times. But I don’t think the passion was to ever ride it. The passion of riding was for my dream bikes, the R1’s, ZX6R’s and Speed Triples of the world of which I worked towards via my DAS. I don’t however take the experience lightly. It taught me a wealth of knowledge about bikes, bargaining, mechanics and doing something for the sake of achievement, to do things for myself and never give in to the things that set you back or put you down. I made mistakes and I had victories and though I faltered along the path I never gave up, even at its darkest time....the ’89 NS125F will never be forgotten.
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https://www.dailyhaha.com/_pics/gay_called.jpg


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'89 Honda NS125F (SOLD) -> '92 Suzuki GS500E (SOLD) -> '03 Kawasaki ZX6R B1H (SOLD) -> '96 VFR 750 RC36 (SOLD) -> '02 Honda CBR1100XX Blackbird

[JonnyFoxtrot]

What all the fuss was about:

https://i55.photobucket.com/albums/g125/HysteriaJ/141.jpg
____________________
'89 Honda NS125F (SOLD) -> '92 Suzuki GS500E (SOLD) -> '03 Kawasaki ZX6R B1H (SOLD) -> '96 VFR 750 RC36 (SOLD) -> '02 Honda CBR1100XX Blackbird

[MattJ]

Despite what you said, I thought that was well written and a good little story, I thoroughly enjoyed reading that.

You may not have ridden it very much but it seems like you gained plenty of experience and knowledge by fixing it and had fun in the process. You also made a profit so I would say that's a good result! The bike is rather nice looking too. A lot better than I expected it to be, wouldn't mind one of them myself!

[CaNsA]

Ill wait for the highlights.

[mistergixer]

Now that actually is quite a cool story, bro.

[lewis87]

Enjoyed reading that

Worthy of some kind of cool story, bro picture.

[MattJ]

https://img502.imageshack.us/img502/4578/coolstory.jpg

[bagger]

good read
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sv650s,cb350s

[colin1]

[JonnyFoxtrot]

[JonnyFoxtrot]

[pits]

[greetingsfrom...]

[27cows]

[mysterious_rider]

owned a ns125r myself. Nice bikes, damn quick too.

Loved the story mate, have to say i miss mine a bit now. I only sold it because the engine was making horrible metal noises, and after id rebuilt the topend it continued.

[Poseidon]

Very enjoyable read. Did a very similar thing myself. Bought an old heap. Spent a couple weeks doing it up, got it MOT'd and went to Ireland on it. Unfortunately the fuel tank failed spectacularly 6 months later, so she got shelved. 18months on and I've got to build her up all over again!
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1977 Honda CG125
2002 Ducati Monster S4 (currently restoring)

[MarJay]

[UKRedwing]

Just seen the thread. Good read JonnyCab