Motorbikes

For the Moto Guzzi enthusiast, a trip to Italy is bound to have some fleeting highlights when driving, as the distinctive across-the-frame V-engine of a Guzzi flashes past in the opposite direction, but I have to say they've been disappointingly few so far.  Imagine my delight then, to find this parked outside the Pit Stop cafe:
1951 Astore 500cc single
Nice eh?  But my delight grew to wonderous proportions when  I discovered this ancient gem nearer to the building:
‘Guzzino’
Its a ‘Guzzino’ (more properly a Motoleggera 65, made between 1945 and 1954) and despite using what look like the bicycle wheels and tyres of the day, it's a proper motorbike (not a moped) of 65cc capacity featuring hand gearchange, front and rear suspension, as well as a sprung seat and a sprung luggage rack!

Girder front forks
Rear swing arm
Sprung luggage rack!
But most amazingly, none of these springy elements have any damping AT ALL.  The whole effect must surely have been like riding a motorised pogo stick.  Probably just as well that the little engine with its three cylinder studs and 5.5:1 compression ratio can't have made a whole lot of power.  More like the electric bicycle of its day than the 500cc Astore, which made a massive 20bhp at full chat (4300rpm!).


Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, for the modern rider (with deep enough pockets - about 30 grand new, although you can get one for 11) there's this:
Ducati Panigale
which makes a much more impressive 172bhp at the back wheel, and only weighs 188kg (wet), which gives it a fearsome power-to-weight ration of more than 900 bhp/tonne (as long as the pilot doesn't weigh anything!).  Crucially, it does have dampers at both ends.  And you can adjust them electronically, while you're riding along.  The speed limits in Italy haven't changed much though, so there's nowhere to show off your 200mph top speed.  So much for progress!

An absurdly over-complicated project, Italian style


One reason for not doing more projects is the necessity to visit relatives. Fortunately the lovely Jackie is half Italian, so she has cousins to visit in Italy. One such cousin (Elena) very kindly let us stay in the house her which father Nello (now deceased) built. He was a mining engineer, and the house features a workshop underneath. I particularly liked that the entrance to the workshop from inside the house is down a marble staircase from the hall – classy!

Marble steps to the workshop (Carlo Scarpa style)
Once down there, the workshop area has several rooms, the largest part being about 15m long and 5m wide. I had major workshop envy.
The main workshop vista
Lathe corner.  That's quite some lathe under there!
But the piece de resistance, project-wise, is a concentrated solar water heating system which features a massive mirror array on a steerable mount, focussing the sun’s rays onto a blackened copper water coil, fed through its supporting pipes and conveying the heat back to a water tank in the workshop.
I’m not quite sure how the steering system was supposed to work; I couldn’t see anything to sense which way to turn the array, but the motors and mechanisms were all in place. To be fair, this system wasn’t a home build, but a commercial product, as you can see from the back view.
Nevertheless, it’s a monumental thing to install in the garden, and a grand ambition.
Sad to say, the whole thing was a bit of a flop – the tank turned out to be too small, and couldn’t sink enough heat; the concentrator coil boiled and ruptured, and the whole thing was a victim of its own effectiveness. By this time the old man was quite old, and he never repaired it, so now it stands as a decaying monument to marvellous ambition, thwarted by drab reality. At least it went out with a bang, though.

That loft ladder


Just in case anyone out there in blogland is still eagerly waiting for a conclusion, I can now provide a report on the state of the loft ladder automation project. It’s not all that satisfying though. Basically the need for a top-closing loft hatch has now gone, with the departure of the house of luuurve from our house, and while it existed it was adequately met by the single-string manual hatch closer with bungey-powered bottom flap assistance described earlier. The main stumbling blocks to automating the whole thing were:
- Surprisingly large forces required to start the lifting process (conical capstans maybe?)
- The need to lift from very different places at different angles of descent/ascent (microprocessor control, perhaps?)
- Nowhere to to hide the machinery - motors, capstans etc (hmmm...)
- Far too many other things going on to think about it
- The necessity to have everything working every night
- The lovely Jackie saying there wasn’t any point in automation, as she could always get me to do it manually.
The last was the real killer of course, being so disarmingly true. But I’m still harbouring a tiny glimmer of hope that one day I’ll have nothing better to do than have a proper go at this. Surely mere practicality shouldn’t thwart the creativity of an absurdly overcomplicated project forever?