It's been almost a week now since I've fixed the old Honda Dio scooter that I rescued from the scrap heap in the basement of our work parking lot. It's been great! It's undoubtedly the most fun I've had in a long time. I can understand why people ride these things -- they are seriously fun! Whoever I talk to can scarcely believe that I was able to disassemble a scooter, fix it myself, and get it back together in working order. I'm not sure whether to feel proud or insulted. Do I look like the type of person who can't fix something? Or is it the Japanese cultural norm of scrapping anything that needs repair and just buy a new one? It seems that even many foreigners tend to adopt this philosophy here, which would certainly explain the awed and amazed looks on peoples' faces when they find out I can fix stuff!
The next step is going to be to find a scooter for Bonnie so we can both go places and ride together. It's no fun when only one of us has motorized transportation and the other is stuck with a crappy bike with only one gear. Maybe we can start taking some day trips to nearby towns and areas. It's not the most comfortable (or quickest) ride in the world, but it gets you around quite nicely for distances less than 15-20km.
Just for fun, I'm including some photos of my blue beast. They are HERE. I still haven't decided what to name her; I'm sure I will post that up here as soon as I have it figured out.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Saturday, March 20, 2004
The past couple of weeks, I had been inquiring around the office about an old Honda Dio scooter that's been sitting in our underground garage for an undetermined period of time. The head of the Japanese department figured it belonged to a Chinese student who had long since returned home to China. Truth of the matter, however, proved otherwise. It used to belong to another teacher at the company who still lives in town. He was able to give me the story behind it, and eventually even the key to it.
As the story goes, he was riding around town one day when the engine started making strange noises. He described it as "metal parts grinding together." Well, he only got a little ways further before the scooter made an ominous "pa-ching" and belched out a jagged piece of metal out from somewhere within. That's when the scooter died and couldn't be revived.
Fast forward to about a year later, when a semi-ambitious staff took a look at the scooter, tried to get it going but failed and hence decided that it was indeed dead, and not worth reviving.
Fast forward even more to three weeks ago... I walked the scooter home and parked it under the stairs of our apartment building. A week later I was able to secure the key from the previous owner, and a receipt/bill of sale for 100yen to officialize my purchase.
Well, in any case, last weekend the weather was quite beautiful, allowing me to work outside and start extracting the guts of the blue beast, spreading out its viscera across the dirt and gravel driveway of our apartment's "backyard." At this point I might remind the reader that I'm in no way a mechanic, and the last experience I had fixing a vehicle was back in university. Worse yet, the only experience I had ever had with a motorbike (or similar) was when the neighbor kids fixed up an old dirt bike, and tried to teach me how to ride it. This, of course, resulted in a quick trip up a tree trunk with the bike spinning through the air, leaving me behind, and smacking me square in the forehead, effectively putting me off motorcycles permanently.... At least until now.
A quick engine autopsy revealed the most gummed up spark plug I'd ever seen, and the cylinder head seemed to have oil near its base, perhaps from an improper seal. I purchased a new spark plug, but to no avail. The next step was to remove the cylinder head, clean it, and re-seal it with a torque wrench, to ensure I wasn't losing compression in an obvious way. I also noticed somewhere along the line, that when I held the spark plug while grounded to the frame, the spark was quite weak when I turned the engine over. As a result, I also replaced the spark plug cable, which made a significant difference. The final measure was spraying a bit of carb cleaner directly into the cylinder chamber... Success! The engine roared to life and purred away like a very large, somewhat angry kitten.
I almost began reassembling the scooter when Bonnie asked me a rather logical question: had I taken the scooter for a spin yet? That's when I noticed the rather obvious problem: the rear wheel was not spinning. Now, on a scooter, the transmission is extremely simplistic. When idling, the rear wheel doesn't spin. When you hit the throttle, the wheel starts spinning as the drive belt engages. There's no changing gears -- it's like a gas lawnmower. I took off the clutch cover, to reveal a very loose drive belt. 'Great!' I thought. A broken belt. That should be easy to fix... Unfortunately a more detailed examination revealed a well intact belt.... But the clutch itself seemed to be in serious trouble. On a scooter, the clutch is essentially a series of metal discs, (I'm being overly simplistic here for those who are not gear heads) with a heavy spring in the middle of it all. The spring causes tension on the belt when you hit throttle, which puts the wheel in motion. Well, the rear disc of the clutch was neatly sheared almost in half, and then I noticed a small hole in the cast aluminum clutch casing. It was indeed about the same size and shape of the chunk of metal that had been previously belched out by the scooter when it went "pa-ching!" The jagged piece of metal had gotten caught in the clutch, tore it to shreds, then went flying out the same small hole it had caused.
At this point I was in a bit of trouble... I had no way of removing the clutch, as I just couldn't grip it properly with my socket wrench to remove it. This was where professional help came in handy. The day before, Bonnie and I were riding our bikes downtown, trying to find a motorcycle shop that had been recommended to us by a co-worker who was really into motorbikes. He said that the fellow who worked there was a great guy and he even spoke a bit of English. Well, we soon found the shop, and after a few minutes of browsing and checking out the line of bikes outside the shop, a greasy mechanic came out and said "hello" to us in English and inquired how he could help. I couldn't contain my amazement at not only his excellent English ability, but his outgoing personality that prompted him to come out to talk to us -- something very unusual in Japan. Normally you have to flag someone down to get service... But not here. After initial introductions I realized that he was actually a 'gai-jin' or foreigner -- just like us. Except he was Chinese from Hong Kong and had lived in Japan for about six years. He introduced himself with his Chinese name, but insisted we call him "Glen" -- another trait uncharacteristic of any Japanese person -- adopting a Western-sounding name completely unlike their original one. I purchased some parts from him, and Glen insisted that we give him a phone call if we ever needed anything.
The time to need something from Glen came when I realized that I couldn't complete repairing the scooter myself for lack of tools and replacement clutch. This is when he suggested that he would come by my place and load up my scooter on the back of his truck and take it to the shop. I met him at Kofu's passport office/International Centre, which is only a couple blocks from home and a great landmark for people who have never been to our apartment before. I climbed into his truck and started giving him directions, which way to turn to get to our destination.
He commented, " You know, I live close to here." So I asked him where exactly. As we neared a corner he said: "There! That's my house."
I was about as surprised as I could ever be! He was my next door neighbor! I don't think I can ever again doubt what a small world we actually live in!
We took the bike to the shop, and three hours later we had it completely fixed, reassembled, and running the way it should. The only thing it cost me in the end was about 13,000 yen, all of which was in new (and used) parts. Glen actually didn't charge me for his labour, and just told me that I could buy him a drink sometime instead!
The final step in my project was getting a license plate and insurance for this thing... Lest the first cop that sees me pull me over and give me a ticket... The timing of this was also quite pressing, as on the weekend I actually broke my mountain bike -- I snapped five spokes on the rear wheel (don't ask me how -- I don't know) which effectively turned it into a taco. Now, I was dependent on having the newly-fixed scooter as my main mode of transportation to and from work, as well as around town. So, Tuesday morning came; I got up bright and early, to make my way to City Hall at 8:45 a.m. When I got there, I was directed to the appropriate department, and no sooner than I had arrived, I was being given the typical Japanese bureaucratic runaround. Turns out, that I can't get a license plate because I didn't buy the scooter from a shop but from a friend -- and this friend needs to formally sign the scooter over to me... They basically just laughed at my receipt/bill of sale, and proceeded to inundate me in a mountain of Japanese paperwork. I was livid! Not only could I not start riding my scooter until the next day, that meant I would have to ride Bonnie's one-speed bike all the way to the next town to get to my job interview later that morning.
To make a longer story short, I managed to hunt down the scooter's previous owner that evening and get him to sign and hanko (seal) the official documents which would allow me to assume possession of the scooter. So, bright and early the very next morning I was back at city hall, with a pile of completed Japanese paperwork, finally getting my license plate. Without getting off on a long tangent, it's completely true that nothing is ever easy in this country. Even the simplest-seeming tasks get bogged down by ridiculous rules, policies and true Japanese inflexibility. Whoever coined the phrase: "you can't fight city hall" certainly must have spent some time living in Japan!
As the story goes, he was riding around town one day when the engine started making strange noises. He described it as "metal parts grinding together." Well, he only got a little ways further before the scooter made an ominous "pa-ching" and belched out a jagged piece of metal out from somewhere within. That's when the scooter died and couldn't be revived.
Fast forward to about a year later, when a semi-ambitious staff took a look at the scooter, tried to get it going but failed and hence decided that it was indeed dead, and not worth reviving.
Fast forward even more to three weeks ago... I walked the scooter home and parked it under the stairs of our apartment building. A week later I was able to secure the key from the previous owner, and a receipt/bill of sale for 100yen to officialize my purchase.
Well, in any case, last weekend the weather was quite beautiful, allowing me to work outside and start extracting the guts of the blue beast, spreading out its viscera across the dirt and gravel driveway of our apartment's "backyard." At this point I might remind the reader that I'm in no way a mechanic, and the last experience I had fixing a vehicle was back in university. Worse yet, the only experience I had ever had with a motorbike (or similar) was when the neighbor kids fixed up an old dirt bike, and tried to teach me how to ride it. This, of course, resulted in a quick trip up a tree trunk with the bike spinning through the air, leaving me behind, and smacking me square in the forehead, effectively putting me off motorcycles permanently.... At least until now.
A quick engine autopsy revealed the most gummed up spark plug I'd ever seen, and the cylinder head seemed to have oil near its base, perhaps from an improper seal. I purchased a new spark plug, but to no avail. The next step was to remove the cylinder head, clean it, and re-seal it with a torque wrench, to ensure I wasn't losing compression in an obvious way. I also noticed somewhere along the line, that when I held the spark plug while grounded to the frame, the spark was quite weak when I turned the engine over. As a result, I also replaced the spark plug cable, which made a significant difference. The final measure was spraying a bit of carb cleaner directly into the cylinder chamber... Success! The engine roared to life and purred away like a very large, somewhat angry kitten.
I almost began reassembling the scooter when Bonnie asked me a rather logical question: had I taken the scooter for a spin yet? That's when I noticed the rather obvious problem: the rear wheel was not spinning. Now, on a scooter, the transmission is extremely simplistic. When idling, the rear wheel doesn't spin. When you hit the throttle, the wheel starts spinning as the drive belt engages. There's no changing gears -- it's like a gas lawnmower. I took off the clutch cover, to reveal a very loose drive belt. 'Great!' I thought. A broken belt. That should be easy to fix... Unfortunately a more detailed examination revealed a well intact belt.... But the clutch itself seemed to be in serious trouble. On a scooter, the clutch is essentially a series of metal discs, (I'm being overly simplistic here for those who are not gear heads) with a heavy spring in the middle of it all. The spring causes tension on the belt when you hit throttle, which puts the wheel in motion. Well, the rear disc of the clutch was neatly sheared almost in half, and then I noticed a small hole in the cast aluminum clutch casing. It was indeed about the same size and shape of the chunk of metal that had been previously belched out by the scooter when it went "pa-ching!" The jagged piece of metal had gotten caught in the clutch, tore it to shreds, then went flying out the same small hole it had caused.
At this point I was in a bit of trouble... I had no way of removing the clutch, as I just couldn't grip it properly with my socket wrench to remove it. This was where professional help came in handy. The day before, Bonnie and I were riding our bikes downtown, trying to find a motorcycle shop that had been recommended to us by a co-worker who was really into motorbikes. He said that the fellow who worked there was a great guy and he even spoke a bit of English. Well, we soon found the shop, and after a few minutes of browsing and checking out the line of bikes outside the shop, a greasy mechanic came out and said "hello" to us in English and inquired how he could help. I couldn't contain my amazement at not only his excellent English ability, but his outgoing personality that prompted him to come out to talk to us -- something very unusual in Japan. Normally you have to flag someone down to get service... But not here. After initial introductions I realized that he was actually a 'gai-jin' or foreigner -- just like us. Except he was Chinese from Hong Kong and had lived in Japan for about six years. He introduced himself with his Chinese name, but insisted we call him "Glen" -- another trait uncharacteristic of any Japanese person -- adopting a Western-sounding name completely unlike their original one. I purchased some parts from him, and Glen insisted that we give him a phone call if we ever needed anything.
The time to need something from Glen came when I realized that I couldn't complete repairing the scooter myself for lack of tools and replacement clutch. This is when he suggested that he would come by my place and load up my scooter on the back of his truck and take it to the shop. I met him at Kofu's passport office/International Centre, which is only a couple blocks from home and a great landmark for people who have never been to our apartment before. I climbed into his truck and started giving him directions, which way to turn to get to our destination.
He commented, " You know, I live close to here." So I asked him where exactly. As we neared a corner he said: "There! That's my house."
I was about as surprised as I could ever be! He was my next door neighbor! I don't think I can ever again doubt what a small world we actually live in!
We took the bike to the shop, and three hours later we had it completely fixed, reassembled, and running the way it should. The only thing it cost me in the end was about 13,000 yen, all of which was in new (and used) parts. Glen actually didn't charge me for his labour, and just told me that I could buy him a drink sometime instead!
The final step in my project was getting a license plate and insurance for this thing... Lest the first cop that sees me pull me over and give me a ticket... The timing of this was also quite pressing, as on the weekend I actually broke my mountain bike -- I snapped five spokes on the rear wheel (don't ask me how -- I don't know) which effectively turned it into a taco. Now, I was dependent on having the newly-fixed scooter as my main mode of transportation to and from work, as well as around town. So, Tuesday morning came; I got up bright and early, to make my way to City Hall at 8:45 a.m. When I got there, I was directed to the appropriate department, and no sooner than I had arrived, I was being given the typical Japanese bureaucratic runaround. Turns out, that I can't get a license plate because I didn't buy the scooter from a shop but from a friend -- and this friend needs to formally sign the scooter over to me... They basically just laughed at my receipt/bill of sale, and proceeded to inundate me in a mountain of Japanese paperwork. I was livid! Not only could I not start riding my scooter until the next day, that meant I would have to ride Bonnie's one-speed bike all the way to the next town to get to my job interview later that morning.
To make a longer story short, I managed to hunt down the scooter's previous owner that evening and get him to sign and hanko (seal) the official documents which would allow me to assume possession of the scooter. So, bright and early the very next morning I was back at city hall, with a pile of completed Japanese paperwork, finally getting my license plate. Without getting off on a long tangent, it's completely true that nothing is ever easy in this country. Even the simplest-seeming tasks get bogged down by ridiculous rules, policies and true Japanese inflexibility. Whoever coined the phrase: "you can't fight city hall" certainly must have spent some time living in Japan!
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
I have a little catching up to do. This entry as well as the next one or two are definitely being written ipso facto, about a week after they happened. I've used the correct date for when this entry happened, however.
The worst day of my life since arriving in Japan: started today shortly after arriving at work. The local gas man had come to my work to collect for the gas bill. He's been doing that lately, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, in a nutshell, I paid him 10,000 yen ($130 CDN) and he was off. I then picked up the usual company car keys to get out to my teaching location that day. When I got out to the parking lot, despite the assurances of the school's management that our vehicles had been fixed, the car wouldn't start. Obtaining booster cables was not a problem -- they were sitting happily in the back seat -- their regular home, as this problem wasn't exactly unusual. Unfortunately, there was no one around to ask for a boost, and calling my friend didn't help as he was at home, eating lunch and wasn't too enthusiastic about coming out just to help me start a car.
I thought about my situation for a moment. Acting on my idea, I tried the doors on a car sitting next to mine. Sure enough. Unlocked! Welcome to Japan... There's no crime here, right? Well, only those committed by foreigners and I was about to steal some electricity from another one of our company cars. I opened the hood on the donor car, and then proceeded to push my car around the parking lot into position. Having done so, I easily started the beast and happily drove off, thinking to myself that it might be a good day after all.
Well, my first stop was home. My left contact lens had been bugging me all morning and I really had to do something about it, as it seemed to be getting worse. When I got there and pulled out the lens, I looked at it, only to see it was obviously torn at the edge! Fantastic! I'm supposed to have these lenses for a month and this was day 1. That's gonna coast some cash.
Even after removing both lenses, my eye just wouldn't stop burning. It was almost like something was stuck in there but I couldn't get it out! Eye drops didn't help, so I hopped back into the car and made my way back to work where I parked the car across the street from the office, ran in and told the front desk person that I needed to get to an eye doctor. By this time, I was running late for my first class and knew I couldn't make it on time.
At the eye doctor, filling in forms in Japanese with only one eye, having my translator explain what was going on, I received a phone call from a friend of mine on my cell phone. He wanted to inform me that one of the jobs I've been applying for had been filled so I was out of luck. More great news! Then the eye doctor calls me in, looks at my eye, jabbers something in Japanese and proceeds to drop some burning liquid into my eye that felt like acid was eating it away! Then, through the interpreter, explains to me that I've torn my cornea and that it would take several days to heal, and I would need to use three different types of eye drops, four times a day! More money lost! That one cost me 10,000 yen (about $130 CDN).
Leaving the eye doctor, I got back to the office, only to find out I had been given a parking ticket to top off my day! In Japan, they attach a bright yellow "thing" to your side-view mirror which can only be removed by driving over to the local police station. So, off I went, to do just that. Next thing I know, I'm waiting in a little room for no less than a half-hour, for the only person in the department who speaks some English to get back from wherever she was before -- probably lunch or a doughnut break. She gave me the third degree, demanding to know why I parked where I did, and I explained that there were no signs there prohibiting it, plus it was an emergency. She said that was all fine, but I had been parked for more than 25 minutes, which was apparently contravening section blah-blah-blah of the motor vehicle code, so 15,000 yen ($200CDN) and two demerit points off my license later, I was back on the road, speeding towards the school as not to be late for my second class!
Needless to say, after my day was done I was more than ready to go out for beer and supper, as because of all the crap that had happened that day, I didn't have a thing to eat all day, and my only thing to drink was a single can of generic cola (heck, it wasn't even Coke)!...
The worst day of my life since arriving in Japan: started today shortly after arriving at work. The local gas man had come to my work to collect for the gas bill. He's been doing that lately, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, in a nutshell, I paid him 10,000 yen ($130 CDN) and he was off. I then picked up the usual company car keys to get out to my teaching location that day. When I got out to the parking lot, despite the assurances of the school's management that our vehicles had been fixed, the car wouldn't start. Obtaining booster cables was not a problem -- they were sitting happily in the back seat -- their regular home, as this problem wasn't exactly unusual. Unfortunately, there was no one around to ask for a boost, and calling my friend didn't help as he was at home, eating lunch and wasn't too enthusiastic about coming out just to help me start a car.
I thought about my situation for a moment. Acting on my idea, I tried the doors on a car sitting next to mine. Sure enough. Unlocked! Welcome to Japan... There's no crime here, right? Well, only those committed by foreigners and I was about to steal some electricity from another one of our company cars. I opened the hood on the donor car, and then proceeded to push my car around the parking lot into position. Having done so, I easily started the beast and happily drove off, thinking to myself that it might be a good day after all.
Well, my first stop was home. My left contact lens had been bugging me all morning and I really had to do something about it, as it seemed to be getting worse. When I got there and pulled out the lens, I looked at it, only to see it was obviously torn at the edge! Fantastic! I'm supposed to have these lenses for a month and this was day 1. That's gonna coast some cash.
Even after removing both lenses, my eye just wouldn't stop burning. It was almost like something was stuck in there but I couldn't get it out! Eye drops didn't help, so I hopped back into the car and made my way back to work where I parked the car across the street from the office, ran in and told the front desk person that I needed to get to an eye doctor. By this time, I was running late for my first class and knew I couldn't make it on time.
At the eye doctor, filling in forms in Japanese with only one eye, having my translator explain what was going on, I received a phone call from a friend of mine on my cell phone. He wanted to inform me that one of the jobs I've been applying for had been filled so I was out of luck. More great news! Then the eye doctor calls me in, looks at my eye, jabbers something in Japanese and proceeds to drop some burning liquid into my eye that felt like acid was eating it away! Then, through the interpreter, explains to me that I've torn my cornea and that it would take several days to heal, and I would need to use three different types of eye drops, four times a day! More money lost! That one cost me 10,000 yen (about $130 CDN).
Leaving the eye doctor, I got back to the office, only to find out I had been given a parking ticket to top off my day! In Japan, they attach a bright yellow "thing" to your side-view mirror which can only be removed by driving over to the local police station. So, off I went, to do just that. Next thing I know, I'm waiting in a little room for no less than a half-hour, for the only person in the department who speaks some English to get back from wherever she was before -- probably lunch or a doughnut break. She gave me the third degree, demanding to know why I parked where I did, and I explained that there were no signs there prohibiting it, plus it was an emergency. She said that was all fine, but I had been parked for more than 25 minutes, which was apparently contravening section blah-blah-blah of the motor vehicle code, so 15,000 yen ($200CDN) and two demerit points off my license later, I was back on the road, speeding towards the school as not to be late for my second class!
Needless to say, after my day was done I was more than ready to go out for beer and supper, as because of all the crap that had happened that day, I didn't have a thing to eat all day, and my only thing to drink was a single can of generic cola (heck, it wasn't even Coke)!...
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