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I was reading Classic Bike Magazine last month and one of the auctioneers in the back of the mag suggested getting my hands on a copy of The Rudge Book Of The Road if you are looking for an historical read that’ll get you through a long winter and prime you for the coming springtime.

I had a look around and finally found a 1926 version of the book on Amazon for about thirty five bucks.

If you have a thing for art deco drawings, the Rudge Book of the Road will scratch that itch!

My copy was once owned by.. a W. Chapman?

Reading a book that’s almost 100 years old gives you a perspective on motorcycling that you might not have considered before.  At one point the author talks about how much Rudge has learned from building motor-bikes over the past 17 years.  I found myself becoming conscious decades of development that since went into my current 1971 Triumph Bonneville project and then continued on for decades more as found in my modern Triumph Tiger and Kawasaki Concours.  A bit of historical perspective is a powerful thing when you’re hands on with the engineering found in modern motorbikes.  With nearly a century of continuous development, reading about motorcycling from the dawn of the sport is good mental exercise.

The Rudge Book of the Road takes me back to a time when my grandparents were children and, as a modern reader, I’m left struggling to find a frame of reference in our overcrowded and mechanized world.  There were a quarter as many people on the planet when this book was written and internal combustion engines were in an early phase of rapid development as they revolutionized and democratized travel for more than just the wealthy.  This book makes a point of recognizing this exciting period in history:

Traffic jams and the expectation that everyone be commuting in motor vehicles in an increasingly crowded and polluted world makes this perspective feel particularly alien in 2022.  Can you imagine thinking about motorbike travel like this?  If anyone could do it, it’s motorcyclists – we may be one of the last vehicular subcultures that clings this kind of romance, even as the vast majority drive their appliances without a second thought for how they work or experiencing any inherent joy in the activity.

Having lived with rough ‘colonials’ for most of my life, some of the language in this very British book made me smile.  It was written for Rudge Whitworth as a sales tool but it leans toward the romance of riding as a theme throughout.  Rudge themselves lasted until 1946 before they stopped production, so you’re reading a book by a company that hasn’t existed in over seventy years, which further makes reading this feel like an echo from a distant and unknown past:

The state of the art in terms of motorcycle engineering was making major steps in the 1920s.  Earlier bikes had you oiling the motor as you rode it.  Too much and it would clog the spark plugs and leave you on the side of the road having to clean your plugs, a job most modern vehicle operators would have no idea how to do.  Too little oil and the engine would seize, possibly tossing you down the road.  This degree of involvement in motor vehicle operation was being phased out in the mid-nineteen-twenties bringing more people into the moto-fold.

The idea of sitting down with your new machine and understanding what it needs and how it works is a foreign one in 2022, but Rudge makes this process seem almost meditative.  The idea of lighting your pipe and comprehending your new machine in your shed still appeals to a few of us.  Perhaps this is another of those colonial distinctions.  I have no trouble finding programs on industrial history and engineering when I watch British television, but Canadians seem more focused on resource extraction and office work than they are with understanding how things work and then manufacturing them.  This sort of mechanical sympathy will sound particularly foreign to Canadian ears:

Sit on a can of gasoline and light your pipe!  Those were the days…

This old book doesn’t limit itself to motorcycling mechanics.  If you’ve never camped before they offer advice for those new to sleeping on the ground.  Rudge made sidecar outfits and even a trailer/caravan for people interested in taking everything with them.

When your trusty leather bound Rudge Book of the Road isn’t teaching you how to moto-camp, it’s explaining how the roads you’re riding on might be built on top of old Roman roads or how to identify the architecture of the historical buildings you’re touring past.  This makes me wonder whether Rudge’s target audience was perhaps a bit more educated than your typical rider, but it also makes me wonder if maybe people were just a bit smarter back then without a phone to immerse them in social media in all the time.

The book doesn’t stop at camping or architecture and goes on to teach you how to forecast the weather, tell direction and even tells you where the biggest hills on the island are so you know what gear to tackle them with.  It then provides charts on when the sun rises and sets so you know when to turn on your new-fangled electrical light.  Rudges were one of the first to go electric.  A few years earlier you were lighting a gas powered lamp on your motor-bike before proceeding into the dusk on mostly unfinished roads (while remembering to give the top and some oil).  There are (many?) riders now who have never turned a wrench or put a wheel off pavement.

You’ll learn more from doing things than you will from “all the books or professors in the world”.  Something we’ve forgotten in our screen-fueled information revolution?

There is another chapter written by F.A. Longman, Rudge’s rider in the 1927 Isle of Man TT road race.  He writes with a racer’s urgency and puts you in the rider’s seat as he talks you around the T.T. mountain course while it was still young and relatively new.  It’s amazing how little has changed in the racer’s mindset even while they’re using machines that have only just recently become mechanically self contained.  They were seeing huge leaps in speed as technology improved and riders came to terms with what this new technology was capable of.

After teasing you with the Isle of Man TT, the RBotR then gives you some 1920s style advice on how to get ready to compete in trials and perhaps even go road racing with your motorbike:

Civilisation continues to makes fools of us all in 2022…

Give up the cigarettes and alcohol entirely, but do keep the pipe smoking!  Can you imagine modern, liability-driven manufacturers encouraging riders to do this sort of thing on their new motorbike?  It’s difficult not to get swept up in the enthusiasm and possibility of riding at a time when it was still new to so many people, including the people who built the things!  The lack of caution is exhilarating.

The book ends with a complete set of colour maps of the United Kingdom, but not before it talks you through buying your Rudge (this is a marketing piece, remember?).  Your fifty pounds (about $1350CAD in today’s dollars) gets you the base model of the Rudge Four – for ten pounds more you can get the sport model.  New bikes were much more accessible back in the day! 

The final gift this old book gives you is a list of future readings if you’re interested in motorcycles and travelling on them:

Unknown Norfolk is on my shortlist.  I wonder how many places I’ll recognize from growing up there fifty years later.

The Rudge Book of the Road was such an interesting read that I’m going to keep digging for some of these other historical moto-reading options.  The RbotR suggests slipping one of these in your (tweed?) jacket pocket to read when you get to your destination and finally put your feet up – with your pipe, of course – after another exhilarating day of riding in the dawn of motorcycling.

A more modern motorcyclist philosopher, Matt Crawford, described riding as “a beautiful war“, the Rudge Book of the Road shows that it has always been thus.  If you ride, you’ll find this a familiar and enjoyable refrain.

No rear suspension other than springs on the seat and a tank that hangs under the frame: state of the art motorcycle engineering in 1927 seems archaic but these machines were a huge step forward in dependability and hint at the evolution motorcycles would take.

Art deco inside cover wallpaper!

Riding in the dawn of motorcycling…

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The weather’s all over the place at the beginning of March this year.  Last weekend I had both road-ready bikes out for a shakedown, this weekend we’re skiing in -20°C windchill; that’s the road I was riding on last week.

As GP from Hammy Hamster would say, ‘the elephants are against us.’  With the outside trying to kill us again, I’m focusing on doing a complete tear down of the 1971 Triumph Bonneville project.  I was originally going to see if I could get the bike in motion as it is, but a combination of factors including 1971 Triumph build quality and the early 80s muppet who tried and failed to turn the bike into a chopper’s spannering skills have me now approaching this as a frame up restoration.

I’ve been working around the edges which has been good for reconnaissance in determining what state the bike is in, but now that I’m committed to doing the bike from the frame up the first job was to remove the bottom end of the motor and clear the way for a frame restoration:

The bottom end was surprisingly light and easy to lift out of the frame and none of the frame to engine bolts caused any problems.  Some were quite loose, so a frame up resto is making more and more sense as I don’t trust anything the chopper muppet did to the bike circa 1983.

It was my first time into the rear drums and, like the fronts, they were age seized but otherwise not in terrible shape, though whenever I get into the dark places on this bike it looks like a scene out of Indiana Jones.

I’ve left the frame on the bench as I continue to strip it of accessories.  The last time I did some coating work on a project bike it was with Fireball Coatings in Elora but seven years on they seem to have evaporated.  I’ve been looking for alternate (and hopefully better) options and KC Coatings in Guelph looks promising.  I intend to get in touch with them and see if we can shot blast and powder coat the Bonneville frame, I just have to make sure they can do it on a complicated oil-in-frame design like this one.  Powder coating adds thickness and can cause problems with fasteners and fitting things back together so I need to find out if KC understands that and can can work with this one so that its mechanical pieces will still fit back together.

Following the frame I’ll sort out both wheels (bearings, tires and inner tubes) before getting the rolling chassis back together and then rebuilding the motor with my swish new 750cc head.

Motor out and on a pop up workbench by the window.  It’s lighter than it looks.

I set up the Black & Decker WorkMate by the back door to the garage to give me somewhere to work on the bottom end of the motor.  With the engine split and out of the frame, I can lift the parts off the bike around easily.  I might put the bench away and make some space while the project is in pieces.

Resources & Links

Power-coating Specialist in Guelph for the frame:

https://www.kccoatingsltd.com/contact

Where to find tires:

https://revco.ca/

Revco is fantastic at shipping (even during a pandemic) and very transparent and communicative with delivery times.  Everything I’ve gotten from them has been expertly packed, is new stock (no old/new tires).  They know what they’re doing with motorsport tires.

How to DIY your own fender: 

https://purposebuiltmoto.com/how-to-make-a-diy-motorcycle-fender/

If I had more space I’d have welding kit and an English Wheel set up in the workshop and get into a lot more fabrication.  I’d go digital too.  A industrial sized 3d printer would make me dangerous:  https://tkmotorcyclediaries.blogspot.com/2015/11/iihtm-digital-workshop.html

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The old Bonneville needs new tires and inner tubes so I’m wrapping my head around olde fashioned, pre-metric motor-bike tyre sizes.

Those would be the Dunlop K70s that came with the Bonnieville back in the day. Fortunately Dunlop is still looking after the bike they designed the tire for.

The ’71 Triumph Bonneville came with 3.25 X 19″ front & 4.00 X 18″ rears and used Dunlop K70 tires as standard equipment.

It looks like there are modern Dunlop options for vintage SAE (non-metric) wheels at Revco where I’ve gotten my last two sets of tires.  The handy chart below shows metric and imperial conversions but after some digging I was able to find SAE/pre-metric modern Dunlop K70s that are the exact fit for the bike.  Using recent versions of original equipment that give me the benefit of modern rubber durability and grip while still keeping close to the originally engineering intent in Triumph’s tire choice is fantastic.  I’m not trying to recreate riding in 1971, I’m trying to start with that technology and update where prudent for 21st Century use.

The K70s at Revco are just over a hundred bucks a pop and Counteract Balance Beaded inner tubes are actually cheaper than name brand plain old rubber inner tubes. I’ve been using the Counteract beads for years to great effect so they’d be my first choice even if they weren’t cheaper. All in I’m looking at about $320CAN ($250USD) for new rubber for this vintage restoration project, which considering the price of some of the other parts is pretty reasonable.

In order to rebuild the wheels I’ll need to replace the bearings and clean up the brakes before putting new pads and hydraulic brake cylinders back in them. All that and getting the frame sorted out will get me back to a correct rolling chassis ready for the upgraded engine.

Somewhere at the end of all of this will be a road worthy ’71 Triumph Bonneville, but it’s a lot of parts to find and get in and then a lot time in the garage to get there. I’m hoping it’ll be on the road for next year’s riding season.  As we thaw out here in Canada I’ll be out on the Tiger and GTR and not spannering so much.

Meanwhile, here are some more motorcycle tire sizing reference charts found on the interwebs:

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I’ve got a degree in English, but working on the old Bonneville is stressing out even my vocabulary:

That’d be your gudgeon pin right there.

Gudgeon: one who will bite at any bait or swallow anything, credulous or gullible person Mer. V. I. i. 102.  (that might apply to this project)

Definition of gudgeon pin: WRIST PIN

Definition of wrist pin: a stud or pin that forms a journal (as in a crosshead) for a connecting rod (that’s it!)

Gudgeon pins?  After the massive fight that was removing the seized cylinder head, I was bracing for misery, but I was able to pop the circlips (!) out and tap the gudgeon pins (!) through with no sweating and swearing.  Pink Floyd was playing on the computer and I think music from its era calms the old Bonneville down when I’m working on it.

British Cycle Supply Co. delivered my 750cc kit quickly and without any headaches (and also for about $200 less than comparable kits out of the USA), so I got the shiny new bits out and had a look:

You’d think a 750cc head would look significantly different to the stock 650cc unit, but you have to look closely to see a difference in size.

I had a close look at the connecting rods and they appear to be in good shape and the bottom end of the motor moves freely.  I think next steps are to remove the rest of the engine from the frame, give the oil-in-frame a deep clean and then recoat it with some quality paint.  With the frame cleaned up and sorted I’ll strip the rest of the motor and clean everything out to ensure nothing’s whacky before I begin the great rebuild.

The gudgeon pin itself looks to be in good shape, which is good because the head kit didn’t come with new ones.  The circlips came out nicely too but the kit did come with those.  It amazes me that even specialized material like that in these cylinders can withstand the extreme forces they operate in.  This Bonnie had done at least twenty thousand miles on these cylinders and they’re still in remarkable shape considering they were face to face with more than 17 controlled explosions every second (a spark plug typically fires about 17 times per second at 2000rpm!).  You’d think all that heat and violence would cause more wear than I’m seeing in the beating heart of this motor.

This is the 3/8 inch socket extension I used to tap the gudgeon pins out.  Nothing grabbed or slowed the process down and I barely had to apply any pressure.  I might have even been able to push them out had I been so inclined.  I caught the pin as it came loose and the cylinder lifted off the connecting rods easily.  Again, considering the extreme conditions the heart of every engine operates under, I’m impressed by the engineering and metallurgy that makes all this possible.

The new cylinders don’t have the carbon build up from all those combustion cycles and look pretty spectacular in their pristine newness:

Here’s the whole kit from British Cycle Supply.  It includes the cylinder head, cylinders, piston rings, circlips for the gudgeon pins and a head gasket.  I swiped the last one they had in stock for $688.75CAD ($535USD – told you I got a good deal).  Unfortunately I might be the last person on the planet to get a 750cc kit that cheap.  Prices will be going up on the new stock and probably even higher than that as we’re in an inflationary spiral thanks to Putin overreaching and years of pandemic fueled broken supply chains; we live in interesting times.

Another tool came in that’s interesting.  I was reading Practical Sportsbikes last week (highly recommended if you love bikes and getting your hands dirty on them), and editor Chris mentioned an endoscope smartphone camera he was using on a project bike to inspect the internal parts of an engine.  I found one on Amazon for under $40CAD and it came in on the weekend.  It lets you see parts of the engine that haven’t seen light before.  It’s an exciting thing that offers you a look into the secret life of engines.  I’m looking forward to using it as i continue to work on the Bonnie.

Through an inspection hole inside the engine – it’s disco in there!

That look on my face after the first ride in a long, long time.

The 12 year old Kawasaki (left) and the 19 year old (!) Tiger (right) were keen to turn a wheel after a long hibernation.

Bison were out bisoning at Black Power Bison Co. when I was out for a ride in balmy 6°C March Sunday.

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Imagine having an itch you can’t scratch for 112 days.  Riding a motorcycle in Canada is an ongoing act of stoicism.

It was a long one this Canadian winter.  I’m usually able to get out for a cheeky February ride, but not this year in Ontario. Winter started later but when it came it clamped down on us like an angry professional wrestler and didn’t offer any breaks from Polar Vortexes and snow.  My last ride was mid-November, it’s now March.

T’was -22°C on Friday and tonight we’ve got freezing rain and snow into tomorrow, but it was a balmy 6 today so off I went.

The C14 started on the first touch and was bullet proof on a 30km ride up and down the Grand River:

The bisons were out at Black Powder.

It was mennonite o’clock as I shook the cobwebs out of the Connie.

The Tiger took a bit more convincing but that wasn’t its fault, I’d had the whole fuel injection system out for a cleaning and it needed to get represussurized.  Once it had fuel it took off like a rocket!

Leaning into a corner, finally!

The zipper replacement on the jacket is working like a charm!

The roads were thick with sand and salt so after a cleanup everyone is back under a blanket waiting for the next break.  I’d be a year rounder if I still lived in Norfolk (UK).

On the upside, the 750cc cylinder head for the 71 Bonnie project came in so I’ve got other things to do!

On bike photos were taken with a Ricoh Theta camera attached to the windshield and auto-shooting every 8 seconds.  If you’re curious, here’s a bit on how to make awesome on-bike 360 photos.  Here’s another published on Adventure Bike Rider Magazine in the UK:  How to capture 360-degree photos while riding your motorbike.

Looking forward to leaning into more corners in less than another 112 days!

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I’m going to get past my age related hipster-imposter-syndrome and commit to taking part in the The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride this year, complete with ascot and tweed.  I bet I have a pillion willing to dress up and join me.  I’m hoping I can channel my granddad’s riding style when I do it.

From my DGR Suggestion from the summer of 2020.

My ’03 Triumph Tiger also struggles with the idea of being a faux-classic hipster style icon (DGR likes classics or faux classics to fit the image – I’d argue the Tiger is a kind of, um, scrambler?).  Tigger’s too genuine for that kind of style police nonsense, but it’s an old warhorse with over 80k on it from another era so we’re both going to commit.  I wouldn’t take the C14, that’s missing the point, but the Tiger deserves the work.

The Concours is a fine thing and my wife and I are enjoying the rides together, but the old Tiger is still my two-wheeled spirit animal.

The question now is do we fight our way into the misery that is the GTA for an event in the Six with hundreds of riders or enjoy a similarly (time wise) ride through the country to London for a smaller event with far fewer riders but without the traffic?

There are many Canadian DGR events forming this spring to ride on Sunday, May 22nd:  Get out to one if you can, and don’t be anxious about not meeting the hipster bike style code (though do dress nicely).

This is last year’s poster – I’m sure they’ll come up with a 2022 one shortly (it’s on Sunday, May 22nd.)

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I’m up early on a Sunday morning out of a nightmare. It’s a recurring one where I’m forced to do nonsensical things at work designed to run me into the ground and make me feel like my presence is meaningless and I don’t matter. It’s your typical lack-of-control nightmare and I always wake up from it in despair, but relieved that it isn’t what’s actually happening (at least not that badly).

I’m in that space late in my career when I want to direct rather than act but don’t have the network around me that enables me to do that.  As I approach retirement I know more and more people who have crossed over into it.  I also know more people who are getting properly old and are struggling with the complications that brings.  Getting old is difficult and few people seem able to do it with any kind of grace.

Getting old and retiring from riding has come up before in TMD.  A few years ago Jeff and I rescued a BMW from a retired rider which led to For Whom The Bell Tolls.  This guy had ridden the BMW home from a conference fifteen years earlier, parked it in his shed and it then sat there.  He finally sold it on to Jeff when he honestly told himself he was never going to ride again.  I get all Dylan Thomas about that and think I’ll be riding to the end no matter what.  Twenty years of deterioration with no time in the wind at the end of life doesn’t sound like living at all. 

Another time the Canada Moto-Guide wrote a strange obituary on a rider who crashed at over twice the legal limit on a rural backroad, suggesting that he was a motorcycling martyr rather than reckless rider who caused his own demise.  There is a different kind of abstract fatalism here that has more in common with the stingy pensioner than it does with those rare elders that have found and express wisdom even in their weakness.  Being honest is a big part of growing old or riding well.  Understanding your limitations honestly allows you to be genuine in your being in whatever state it’s in.  There is an unfortunate arrogance around motorcycling (and aging) that often prevents us from thinking about either thing rationally and honestly.  If that’s all true, then if I ever get to the point where I can’t ride effectively I shouldn’t.  That guy who sold Jeff the BMW was wiser than I.

I’ve tried to apply some eastern philosophy to my riding (and aging) on a number of occasions in order to manage the challenges both things create without devolving into dick-swinging nonsense.  Machismo, or just plain old gender-free arrogance, might move you up in the world of management but it doesn’t make you a very nice human being.  I think I’d rather age honestly and retain my urge to mentor and support rather than force my way up the ladder in order to gain a fictional sense of control along with accompanying ego.  When it comes to directing, the only person I really want to direct is myself and I want to do it while enabling myself to act as genuinely and with as much fecundity as I’m able.  Perhaps then I can find myself old without finding myself frustrated and angry, hopefully while still riding.

Hasn’t happened yet in 2022 and I’m missing the Frostbite.

This is the kind of thing I don’t usually carry with me because I’d go out for a ride and ruminate on things until I found my quiet centre again, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance style, but I’m in another never-ending Canadian winter with COVID piled on top (and on the verge of WW3), and instead of being in the wind I’m stuck inside.  This is the only year in the past many where I haven’t managed a cheeky February ride on a clear day.  Riding and aging are both very difficult things and doing them well is more than many people can manage, for me it’s even worse when I can’t get out into the wind.

***

Nothing like a bit of poetry to create some perspective:

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas – 1914-1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1:

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause—there’s the respect

That makes calamity of so long life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,

The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the dread of something after death,

The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn

No traveller returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry

And lose the name of action.

Tao Te Ching Chapter 4

Tao is empty (like a bowl). It may be used but its capacity is never exhausted

It is bottomless, perhaps the ancestor of all things.

It blunts its sharpness. It unties its tangles. It softens its light. It becomes one with the dusty world.

Deep and still, it appears to exist forever.

I do not know whose son it is. It seems to have existed before the Lord.

Tao Te Ching Chapter 5

Heaven and Earth are not humane. They regard all things a straw dogs.

The sage is not humane. He regards all people as straw dogs.

How Heaven and Earth are like a bellows. While vacuous, it is never exhausted. When active, it produces even more.

Much talk will of course come to a dead end. It is better to keep to the centre.

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Back in 2016 we did a winter family holiday to Las Vegas and then drove down to Phoenix.  While there my son and I rented a bike and rode the Superstition Mountains just east of the city.  Having done some research, I thought I’d try buying a leather bike jacket while down there as US prices tend to be much kinder than Canadian ones.  I ended up with a Bilt black leather bike jacket that I’ve used on cooler rides since.  It’s not high tech protection wise but the leather is thick and the jacket is a solid thing.  It was the last of the 2014 designs and I got it on sale ($159!) as they were wrapping up their Christmas shopping season at the CycleGear shop in Mesa.  Your typical excellent American sales service too.

Since then I’ve done thousands of miles with the thing and it has always done the job.  It isn’t well vented so it tends to do early spring/late fall duties.  This past fall on my last big ride of the year I was wearing it for the 270km ride up to Deerhurst Resort and then it handled a torrential downpour when I rode into Algonquin Park the next day.

It was all good until on the way home I undid the zipper and it came off in my hand when I stopped for a drink before heading back south.  I managed to get the zipper to reconnect so I wasn’t flapping all the way back, but a broken zipper meant the jacket couldn’t be used anymore, which made me sad.  What followed was a deep dive into zipper technology as I attempted to fix it.

A six year old leather jacket might not be my first choice when getting caught in a downpour, but it did the job!  The hotel room had a lot of drying leather hanging up in it when I got back.

Some online research had me filling my head with new zipper related vocabulary.  The retaining box on the jacket had come off when I pulled the zipper down.  Most of the online advice (which turned out to be right) suggested that you can’t fix a broken box, it requires a zipper replacement, but on a thick leather jacket that seemed like a bit much.  Of course, Amazon sells crap that insinuates that you can fix a broken retaining box, so I wasted money buying that and then found that it wouldn’t grip and simply didn’t work, even after multiple attempts.

Top Tip:  don’t waste your time trying to fix an old zipper.  It took some effort, but removing the old zipper and installing another is just some work and isn’t impossible.

I finally ended up buying a quality YKK replacement zipper (after learning an awful lot about YKK zippers).  My crafty wife has all the sewing kit so she gave me a seam ripper that made removing the old thread very easy.  If you’ve got an exacto knife or craft blades and steady hands you could probably remove the thread that way, but the seam ripper does it without damaging the material.  With the old zipper removed and the outer leather separated from the inner liner, the jacket ended up sitting under my work table for a couple of weeks because the thought of pushing a needle through the leather seemed like a bit much, but it’s no harder than other mechanical work (makes your hands ache though).

I got some heavy duty coat thread when I purchased the replacement zipper.  This stuff is nylon-rope strong which helped with the sewing, which I did by hand.  The stitching doesn’t look like it’s done by a machine but it’s consistently spaced and didn’t cause any pinch points up the zipper.

I came in through the back lining and out through the existing holes in the leather.  By separating the layers I was able to line up the needle with the holes and then it was just a matter of keeping everything straight as I worked my way up the zipper hole by hole.  Alanna suggested I start at the bottom and work up – that was good advice.

Using the existing holes on the thick hide is the trick.  You might be able to do this on a machine but I don’t know how you’d do that as the jacket material is thick and you’d need to align the holes the machine is punching with what is currently there.  Doing it by hand is a bit tedious but it works and means you’re not punching any new holes in anything.

When I got to the top I tucked the zipper (I couldn’t get one the exact length of the old one so got one about half an inch too long) into the collar which had been separated when I removed the zipper thread.  With the top of the zipper tucked into the collar, I sewed everything up using the existing holes in the leather.  Once again, separating the material let me align the needle with each hole one by one.

The final product zips up like new and has no pinching or clumping on the front of the jacket.  Sewing in the other side was easy.  I separated the zipper once one side was in and then  did the other just the same way.  By the time I was wrapping it up I’d gotten quick at it.

Alanna had a thick needle and that strong thread really helped the process.  With a leather jacket the trick is to use the existing holes in the material rather than trying to punch new ones, which in my case meant doing it by hand.  The end result is that my old leather jacket, which now has some nice patina on it, is back in service and ready for the 2022 riding season, should this never ending winter end.

If you lose a zipper on your favourite old motorbike jacket, don’t toss it out.  A replacement zipper is less than $15 (CAD) and with thread and other odds and ends you should be able to replace that tired zipper with something that’ll let you enjoy your well loved leather jacket for years to come.

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