Found Objects

I’m espousing a new theory, or maybe an old one dressed up in new clothes.  It’s called, “Found Object Bracketing”.

I probably can’t claim this as my own invention, as I’ve seen many examples of the idea on motorcycles on the street, especially in places and at times when many of them gather, such as the Isle of Vashon TT, but I like to think I’m advancing the cause whenever I can.

Back in the day, which feels good to say if you’re old enough to remember it fondly, having forgotten all the bad stuff, the members of the motorcycling world, mostly including the chopper guys, were of necessity handy with tools and able to come up with ideas in solution of problems that arose.  It started with the obvious ones – drill out the rivets on that hinged rear fender and relocate the tail light to the hand built sissy bar – and proceeded from there to the far-our unrideable custom creations of today that reveal their true value when they go up for sale years later with very few miles on them.  Somewhere in the middle of that are some fancy but useful pieces that add value to a bike in the eyes of a knowledgeable viewer.

For me, it started on a road trip one time back in the ‘70s.  A few of us were headed out through Winthrop towards Glacier Park when we ran out of daylight somewhere east of Omak and decided to pull off the road by a small creek and set up the tents.  We traveled light in those days and had the capacity to make and break a good campsite, cook food, and build a small fire to sit around afterwards.

In the waning moments of daylight, I went for a wander through the adjoining field, where I spotted the hulk of an old car out by the barbed wire fence and strolled over for a closer look.  The big square bodied four door had the look of something out of the late ‘20s, early ‘30s, with the balloon fenders and the upright noses of evolved carriages.  I stuck my head in through the glassless side door and saw that everything was in the advanced stage of decomposition by rust, which had already evaporated the floor boards and most of the firewall.  But there, sticking out under the dash in the center by where the shifter would have been if there was a transmission under it still, was a hand lever that appeared to be in perfect condition, not a scrap of rust visible on its gorgeous Art-Deco style.  I reached out and pulled it loose with little effort from the remnant of the vent flap that it used to open and close and took a closer look.  It was hard, and strong, and intact, and appeared to be made of some form of cast metal with enough chrome to make it rust proof.  The mounting end had a couple of screw holes in a bent bracket.  I found a place for it in my saddlebags and drug it all over the country and back home again, where it wound up in the tub with all the other catch-alls and remnants that tend to pile up when you do things.

Some years later, that handle turned out to be the perfect choice for a hand shift conversion on an old Harley Shovelhead chopper.  All we had to do was bend the mounting end a bit to get the proper angle and weld it to that steel cover that activates the shifter on a Big Twin four speed.  So off that old vent flap lever went to a new life on the road, where it may still be, for all I know.

The idea is that every part, no matter what it is used on, contains material and labor, which gives it value.  If that part is scrapped, it only returns the value of the scrap metal to the owner.  If, however, that part can be put back into service somehow, it can return double the value, both because you already had it, so you didn’t have to go buy one, but also because you preserved the value that was already in it and enhanced that value with a new use for it.  Taking that idea to the extreme, you turn that piece into a work of art that not only works well, but looks good doing it, which thereby reflects positively on your own ingenuity and mechanical skills as a bonus.  I saw a Triumph once with top motor mounts made from modified Craftsman box end wrenches that was a perfect example of this.

On my FXR I wanted to run a Supertrapp exhaust, but the outlet for the only headers that would fit with my police floorboards was 2” diameter, and the inlet for the only muffler that would work in the back was 2 ½”, so I had to manufacture a split collared bushing out of aluminum on the lathe to take up the difference.  It is nice to have a machine shop in your garage for this kind of stuff.  Then the remnant bin churned itself and spit out two ideas, one of which, a piece of slotted flatbar with curled edges for strength,  was the perfect length and shape to bolt to the muffler, and the other was a stout length of forged square stock that needed just a slight bend in exactly the right spot with a few drilled holes that allowed it to tuck in behind the muffler and tie in to the bracket on the transmission with the use of a coupling nut from McLendon’s.  I got the exhaust pieces at the swap meet for around $60, and the coupling nut was a couple of bucks, compared to a whole new system for $800+, and this Found Objects philosophy begins to make sense.

On my Guzzi, I got a heckuva deal on new PIAA driving lights, the downside being that they came with a switch, but no mounting brackets.  The remnant bin coughed up an old solid brass bathroom towel rack that I cut the curved sections out of and put to new use under my headlight to hold the lights where I want them attached to the lower triple clamp.  All it took was a couple of strategically drilled holes and some saw work.  One side tended to loosen up, so I tied them both together with a part that looks like some form of track lighting bracket but fits in under there like it was meant to be.  For the switch, I discovered a bracket in the tub that was miraculously perfect to tuck in under the top triple clamp which I attached with a couple of Nut-Serts.

Of course, you must disregard the value of your time in a situation like this.  When you can sit at your computer and look at Ebay and Craigslist, not to mention all the facebook pages dedicated to motorcycle and parts sales, you realize there are few problems that can’t be solved by throwing piles of money at them electronically.  It may cost a bundle, but it will save time compared to the hours you may spend digging through piles at swap meets looking for the right piece.  So it’s a matter of what’s important.  Time is getting short for some of us, and getting the project done sooner might be worth more to us than the money.  But if you have the luxury of time to wait for the perfect found object to pop up in your remnant bin, you can get that extra little thrill that comes when you find something that you can turn into a work of art and solve a problem at the same time.  That’s why we rarely throw any of that useless crap away, and usually come to regret it when we do.  :-{)}