How to fix a CBX250RS-E tachometer

So, the tacho on your CBX250RS has stopped working, eh? All fine and then completely dead? Mine did that, this is what I found..

The manual states to try the signal feed from the coil, which was fine. Then to try the feed to the clock itself, which was fine. Here the manual stops, but my tacho was still broken.. Step 1, remove the clocks!

Step 2 - remove all the screws.

This will free the individual clocks, including the tacho. Step 3 is to check out the tacho because it's broken somehow.

Waaaiiiittt...

What's going on here.. Is that wire loose?

Yep. Made in 1983, broken in 2016 because of a poor solder joint. I guess this is out of warranty? Let me just resolder this into its hole..

Bam. Fixed. 1980's electrics are the best!

Scotland, 11/4 to 14/4 2016

Starting mileage - something like 77060.

The venerable CB, packed for a trip. Bungees were bought from Screwfix because they were cheap, but they're really weedy - cannot recommend. The nice thing about older bikes is they have big flat seats like this so you can strap stuff on to them, what do people do with modern bikes where there's just a perch for the pillion?

Wish the thief who stole it a year ago hadn't smashed the top box up, that would've been pretty useful.

Made it to Carlisle, all the way from Leicester! Stayed with an old mate, Monday completed.

Ahh Tuesday. Set off from Carlisle in the hammering rain. Made it all the way to the M8 which is a kind of spine road that goes through/over Glasgae, always in the rain. At this point, with nowhere to pull off to the side and loads of traffic behind me, the CB decides to drop on to one cylinder which gives me a top speed of between 15 and 40MPH. I daren't stop as it may never start again, so slog it along hugging the kerb until the rain finally lets up and the right cylinder chimes in more and more. The CB never gives any trouble in any weather, its reliability is why it is my main bike. This is extremely concerning. I also miss the turn off for the Trossachs as I haven't mentioned it on my sat nav list, so get to Port Glasgow and am slightly lost. Combine this with the cold, the constant wet and a bike that has decided now is the best time to show some vulnerability and my mood is not altogether chipper.

Back to Glasgow and the A898/M898 and we find the A82 which goes along the west side of the Trossachs and Loch Lomond, and will actually take you all the way past Fort William. It rained all the way along the Trossachs and Lomond, there were even flood signs along Lomond - very wet. The bike didn't complain though, obviously happier at the lower speeds. Eventually we made it past Lomond and the rain kind of stopped, hoorah. This is past Tyndrum but before Glencoe in the middle of nowhere. I just stopped to jump about and warm up, and let the rain that had collected inside my waterproofs fall out through my trouser legs. Oh the glamour of motorcycling.

Shortly after this the bike stuttered and I had to turn it on to reserve - IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. The slogging through Glasgow on one cylinder must have chucked a load of fuel away because I really wasn't expecting it. We (the CB and I, we are a team) made it to Glencoe after a very careful/economical bit of riding where I could fill it up. Phew.

Bunroy campsite at Roybridge, a little north of the awfully touristy Fort William. A lovely place where it actually wasn't raining. Quickly put the tent up (who cares if it's a bit wonky) and..

..Get yerself dahn the pahb! Things were looking up. Tuesday Completed.

Wednesday, Skye day. Very light rain in the morning but soon cleared, and the further west I got the better the weather became. This is somewhere on the A87, not yet at Skye. Again, stopped to jump about and clutch my fingers in agony. Stupid April.

Mountains and water everywhere.

I think this is a side view of Skye, not entirely sure. It was all becoming one by this point.

The Skye bridge!

Broadford, Skye. Stopped at a lovely little bakery shop for soup and hot chocolate, this was the scene at the back of it. It's so idyllic somehow, like stepping back in time. And everyone seems so happy. Disturbing.

Uig on Skye, the end of the A87. At this point I had to make a decision - do I follow the A882 all the way round and make today a very long day, or do I turn back and go straight back to Roybridge? The answer, of course, is obvious.

The A882 is mostly about six feet wide with passing places, I think it's even smaller than the A9 right up near Scourie. The CB250 was loving in, especially in its current "GS" form with a light knobbly on the rear and jacked up rear shocks. We were the fastest on Skye at the time, or so it seemed. Oh, and yes that is the Atlantic.

I've been around on bikes. I've been right round the outside of Scotland, I live in Leicestershire which is prime bike roads country, I've ridden alpine passes and the Grossglockner and been through Switzerland and Austria and quite a bit of Germany. But this right here, and the wider section nearer Portree if you're going clockwise, this is just fantastic. The road swoops up and down and left and right but you can always see where it's going. The surface is surprisingly good for most of it. There are no speed cameras or police so you don't need to worry about looking out for them. There aren't many cars. It's just top notch. I think they should hold a road racing event here, it's perfect for it and it would do their economy a power of good.

The last picture I got to take before the cold killed the battery in my phone. There were many more places I wanted to take pics of, I was going to get them on the way back but then couldn't. There are places far more dramatic than I have managed to show you, there are sweeping roads that snake off into the distance, black mountains, snow capped mountains, all sorts. But the best way to see it is to just go there, it's easy enough to do. You don't even need to buy special money. After this I had my first bit of haggis (just spicy minced offal, what's the big deal?), I met some walkers who thought I was a hero for camping in April and touring on a 250 so I had several drinks bought for me, and then I got hailed/snowed on during my trip back and nearly drowned on the M1 just 25 miles from home which made the bike drop on to one cylinder again. The only real way back from Derby/Nottingham to Leicester is the M1, it's impossibly difficult to find your way back on small roads so I just faffed about and kept it running until the cloud moved away. Absolute nightmare, new plug caps and plugs will be bought very soon and maybe a pair of coils. I can't be doing with an unreliable bike. The overall mileage was ~1140 miles, camping a mere £7.50 a night and fuel never over £1.10 a litre even in remote places. Just go see it!!

Ending mileage - 78221

My first job when I got back was to replace the plugs and the spark plug caps because a bike that falters in the wet is unacceptable. Removing the old caps revealed a terrible sight:

The spark had clearly been crawling down the outside of the plug. This may have been down to the plug breaking down inside and the internal resistance reaching such a point that the electrickery found it easier to go down the outside than through the centre of the plug, or it may have been down to the way the rubber seals on the plug cap had gone hard. Either way new plugs (Denso Iridium IUF22s, no less) and new NGK caps were fitted. I also fitted a sticker that had been bought back in 2014 and slapped on the old top box which is no longer with us. Thanks for the memories Paul, long shall the Green Welly Stop at Tyndrum remain in our memories.

Scotland, 12/6 to 17/6 2014

Someone said it would be a laugh to go round Scotland. Alright then..

Starting mileage - 62041

 

Screech up the motorway from Leicester, pick up Paul with his trusty (at the time) DR650RE just off he M18, screech upwards some more. And more. And more. Eventually we gave in and camped at Morpeth for the night, this place was actually pretty good.

Of course we arrived so late that nowhere was open, so Paul fired up his stove (I had no idea he was bringing so much stuff) and made Spicy Beans. This wouldn't be the first time..

North some more, the border came and went. Edinburgh came and went. The Forth road bridge came and went. This was all disappointingly normal and English-feeling, hence the lack of pictures. We got rained on a lot in Inverness, and eventually gave in and stayed in a B&B for the night. In fact, nothing interesting happened until we reached somewhere near Wick, where it rained some more:

And then, finally, it stopped raining and I could take the oversuit off again.

This is the entrance to an abandoned settlement, some googling suggests it may have been called Badbea but I can't remember. It was well worth looking around, anyway.

We pressed on and were soon at the famous John O Groats. The CB250's clutch chose this point to go a bit mental and stop grabbing, I'd guess some metal got between the plates. I chuckled to myself at the conversation I would've had with the recovery people.. Thankfully it started working again after some frantic pumping.

After eating some bread and cheese on the hillside (where I'm sure I got some windburn on my face..) it started raining again. As I was dancing around to get my rain oversuit on (again) some Germans laughed at us and said something along the lines of "In Germany we don't bother with that, we just buy Rukka". Congratulations to the Germans.. Anyway, time for some posing!

Weirdly there are two signposts like this, one you have to pay to have your picture taken at where there is a queue of people and the other is this one, off to the side, seemingly forgotten about.

After being annoyed at having to pay to use the toilets at JOG we carried on to Dunnet Head, which is of course the true most northerly point on the British mainland. The road there was tiny and very twisty, and there were hardly any tourists there.. Apart from our German friends! Paul decided he was going to reach Maximum North and no gate was going to stop him, so he leapt over the wall and disappeared over that way..

He was gone for a while, I thought he may be taken away by the police.. But no. What did he find out there at Maximum North? A very surprised photographer, taking pictures of the seabirds at this protected site!

Dunnet Head!

It was now getting late in the day so we decided to start looking for a campsite. We eventually found one in Thurso, run by an American with a strange sense of humour. Nice place though.

Of course Thurso is a small town, the first bit of civilisation we've seen for some time. After some chicken curry and a naan courtesy of Paul's excellent cooking skills, and a small amount of the Eliminator album by ZZ Top it was time to find a pub. And what a pub..

Of course the band played some ZZ Top because everything is perfect in Scotland. The rest is a blur of beer, Irn Bru and Skinandis.

The next day, feeling decidedly worse for wear, we were to continue west. Little did we know the amazing day we were in for. As soon as we were out of Thurso the scenery became like the Scotland you see on the telly, the roads were empty and it was simply fantastic. After a while we stopped in a layby for a rest and some water.. Is that a farm track over there? Is Paul on a trail bike? Do I refuse to accept that the CB ever can't do anything? Time to show him what's what..

Of course he stands no chance against the CB250..

A 45 degree climb up big rocks, boggy ground and lots of gravel is no problem. I get to the end and have to turn back, the track ends and is completely impassable. Of course Paul gets stuck, I watch the rooster tails while sat back at the picnic table in the layby, drinking more flavoured water and wishing I wasn't so hungover. I don't think I've ever been more glad to only have a small bike to deal with. Eventually Paul makes his way out, his bike covered in mud, and we carry on along the A9. How this is an A road I just don't know, it's single carriageway with passing places. There are a lot of Dutch people here, which is a bit strange. The CB250 loves it, we make great progress nipping through gaps and are probably the fastest things on this stretch of road. Eventually we fill up at Scourie at an eye-watering £1.50 a litre and have a break to eat some crisps.

And carry on all the way to Ullapool. These pictures are from somewhere along that stretch, I can't remember where. I was all a bit of a blur..

Ahhh, Ullapool. We pitch the tent at the water's edge..

..Paul plays on the slide..

..And some old German guy talks to us about the Nurburgring. Once you know you can hold the power on through a lot of turns, once you know you will grip.. You can go fast. Once you know, you can really go fast. Thank you, Mr German man Sir. Eventually we get away and get some so-so fish and chips from somewhere that is supposedly famous for its fish and chips, and are mobbed by very insistent seagulls..

..And we find the pub. Obviously.

Is it bed time yet?

I passed out in the tent at this point, my womanly stamina was faltering. Paul though is an unstoppable machine and decided to brush up on his trail riding skills by taking on the track that we could see on the far side of the water that went up a small mountain. Perhaps he had to prove it to himself, I don't know.

A farmer tried to tell him that his bike was "cuvdinmut" but we didn't have a Scottish phrase book to know what this meant. Eventually it was found he was trying to enlighten Paul to the fact that his bike was "covered in mud". Ohhhh...

The next day was a mad rush to get as far south as we could, because time for this trip was running out. We ran down past Loch Ness back to Inverness and then all the way down to Ruberslaw Wild Woods camping in Northumberland where we had a massive fire and ate yet more spicy beans.

A guy on a new CB500F also stayed the night, he was off to the Orkneys for some huge bike fest thing. Hope he had a great time but no real idea of what it was!

The next day, the final day, we ran down the northern counties and only went for a detour to find a tiny place called Esh Winning which has a fish and chip shop that is coal fired. Of course it was closed..

Sad doesn't come close. We'll make it one day! The rest was a horrible grey blur of A1, M18 and M1, the only piece of entertainment being Paul forgetting how far he'd been on a tank and running into the petrol station with a dead motor. All in all a great trip, just a shame that east Scotland is so boring and that it's all a bit far away from the Midlands. Still, I'd go again.

Ending mileage - 63453, 1412 mile round trip.