FRANK WESTWORTH RealClassic
This is it. This is the moment we've all been waiting for (‘we all' in this case being everyone who's ever bought a nonrunner and tried to fix it). After interminable and almost insurmountable ponderings, problems and procrastinations, the engine has started. It works. Because I'm something of a half-full glass chap, I tried to restrain my wild delirious excitement until the engine had done the starting thing a few times. As I said last month, time to retire to the house fora refreshing glass of something made from old apples and to think a bit.
May I confess to a little apprehension when I returned to The Shed a few days later? First things first: a close examination of the engine and its ancillaries to seek out leaks, should there be any. There were none. Next; open the petrol taps again and watch with a sort-of delicate awe as fuel flowed through the original 1975 plastic pipes until the float chambers were filled, at which point the flow stopped.
Does it need to be flooded? This was back in February, remember, and The Shed has no heating so does get decently chilly. Choke or no choke? Tickle or no tickle? I compromise and tickle each carb for a count of two and half-close the choke lever. Should I kick the engine over a few times to ease the burden of the electric starter? I decide against that. My wildest dream includes being able to start the Norton after a night parked outside my favourite Travelodge and in the rain which seems to be my constant riding companion these days.
Time to just push
