Right before I started 5th grade, I started hanging around with a kid at the other end of the neighborhood up near Sugarbush Park. Donny Biton was his name, and he was a student at St Paul's, so our parents thought we should get to know each other, so I would have a friend at my new school in the fall.
One day when I was at Donny's house, his older brother was in the garage cleaning out some things when he pulled out this old mini bike. I looked on wide eyed and asked what he was going to do with it. The mini bike was homemade, and it was made out of two inch galvanized pipe with a plywood deck strapped to the frame. The engine was in pieces in a box sitting on the deck. Donny's brother said he had to get rid of it and asked if I wanted it. I was like, oh yeah, I want that. My poor parents, it seemed like every time I left the house I came home with something, and it was usually some piece of junk I was sure I could fix.
I rolled the mini bike home with the pieces of engine all boxed up and ready for assembly. I don't really remember my parents reaction. I can imagine my mom groaning as I added more clutter to the garage, but I think my dad was much more encouraging. I remember him explaining how engines work and the difference between 2 cycle and 4 cycle engines.
The engine for the mini bike was a 3.5 horsepower Briggs and Stratton. For some reason the carburetor was a Tecumseh. I think my friends brother said it had a larger bore and gave the engine a little more performance. This was all new to me, so I bought a book on how to repair small engines, and got to work on my new projects. It was summer, so I still had a lot of time work on it. I worked on it for days and finally got the motor all assembled and mounted to the mini bike. With a little starter fluid and a number of pulls, I got the engine to start.
I was really excited to get the engine running, but now I had to figure out how to get the bike to run. Since this was a homemade contraption it really didn't meet any type of guidelines for safety. It had a v-belt that attached to a pulley on the engine and one on the back wheel. The belt was loose, and there was another pulley on a swinging arm between the two pulleys. I attached a rope to the swinging arm, and I would pull the rope to add tension to the belt while increasing the throttle. The only part of the mini bike that looked like it was actually designed to be a mini bike was the throttle on the handlebars. So to go, I would increase the throttle with my right hand while pulling up with the rope in my left hand. Starting was a little shaky to say the least.
Now you may have noticed that I haven't mentioned anything about a braking system. That's because there wasn't one. Once I got the mini bike started and running, the braking solution was to drop the rope and put my feet down skidding to a stop. I am really not sure how I was allowed to ride this thing. It would seem my mom would have put her foot down, but maybe she just didn't realize how dangerous this was.
My first ride on the mini bike was wonderful. After I had fallen a couple of times figuring out the acceleration and coordinating starting and stopping with pulling and dropping the rope, I rode my mini bike up and down the street feeling the wind blowing through my hair and enjoying this new found freedom. It was such an amazing feeling, and I was so happy and proud of myself for putting it together. I came home for dinner and set my mini bike lovingly next to the front porch. Since it didn't have an off switch, I just attached a wire to ground and dangled it from the frame of the bike. When I needed to turn it off, I would just ground out the spark plug. I went inside for dinner smiling at my new bike.
I ate dinner quickly because I wanted to get back outside and ride my bike some more before it got dark. As soon as I finished eating I ran outside and attempted to start my mini bike. I pulled on the starter pull with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. I thought maybe it was jammed, but it wasn't. I went inside and got my dad and asked if he could start it. When he pulled the handle the mini bike lifted, but the engine didn't turn over at all. He looked down at the mini bike perplexed and then asked the fateful question, "you did put oil in it, didn't you?", I am sure my face went blank as I simply replied "Oil?"
I knew cars needed oil, but I didn't think small engines did, they were small. I got to ride my mini bike once and seized the engine in the process. I was heartbroken. I felt so stupid for not knowing that the engine needed oil. I went in the house that evening and looked through the Sears catalog which I loved because it had brand new mini bikes and go karts in it. I found the section that had engines, and a horizontal shaft brigs and stratton was over $100. I knew I would never be able to get a new engine for my mini bike, so I decided I was just going to have to fix the one I had.
The next day I started taking the engine apart. My dad came into the garage and asked what I was doing. I said I was going to figure out how to fix it. My dad didn't want to get my hopes up, but he said if I could get the piston moving again, I might be able to get it running. I took the head off and started applying penetrating oil and hammering the piston with a block of wood and a mallet. After a couple of days of working with it, I got the piston to move, and finally was able to remove it from the block.
Carpenter Brothers hardware store was one of my favorite places as a child. I learned so much from the people who worked their over the years. I remember going to the store and explaining my situation to one of the guys there. I remember him telling me that I would have to replace the rings and hone the cylinder, but if it wasn't too scratched, I might be able to get it running again. Carpenter brothers didn't carry rings or the tools I needed, but the guy recommended Ann Arbor Implement. I was confused and asked if that was a store or something. He said yes that it was a store in downtown Ann Arbor.
I got my dad to take me to Ann Arbor Implement, and I was amazed at all the stuff they had. It was more of a lawn and garden supply than a hardware store, but they also had mini bikes and go karts just like what I saw in the Sears catalog. When I walked into the store, hanging on the wall was a centrifugal clutch. I looked at it with amazement knowing that if I could get my motor running again, I could get one those and get rid of the belt drive system altogether. Then I could use both hands to ride my mini bike. They did have a set of rings for my engine, and I believe they let me borrow a hone to polish the cylinder.
It took me several attempts and I had to get another set of rings because I broke one, but I was finally able to get the cylinder honed and the new rings installed. I had to buy a ring spreader and compressor, so I was starting to amass some cool tools as well. After putting the engine back together and making sure there was oil in it this time, I got the engine started again. I was so happy. My dad had helped me with getting tools and parts as well as a lot of advice, but took a very hands off approach to this project. I don't remember at the time, but I can imagine that he was enjoying watching me persist in solving this problem. He probably thought he had the makings of a good engineer someday.
With the engine fixed and oil in the crankcase, I rode my mini bike everywhere. One of the first places I took it was the hardware store to show them I fixed the engine. Using my feet for brakes was becoming a bit of a problem though. I still had normal size feet, but I was going through a pair of shoes every week or so. My mom would take me to Meijers and I would pick out the cheapest pair of shoes I could find. The harder the sole the better, but within a week or two the sole would be worn away.
I did go back to Ann Arbor Implement and get the centrifugal clutch I had seen when I first went there, and I converted the bike over to a chain drive. Soon after was able to install a braking system that wrapped around the clutch and stopped the bike at the crankshaft. Now I had a fully functioning mini bike that I could drive all over the neighborhood.
Driving through the neighborhood did have some issues though. For one, I wasn't old enough to drive or have a license, and for two, my mini bike made out of plumbing pipes was far from street legal, but having brakes did bring it at least close to being safe to ride. It was pretty rare that there would be police in my neighborhood as a kid. Every now and then a patrol car might come through, but usually they didn't come unless they were called. I did have a few close calls with them, but I was usually able to go off into the woods or something before they caught up to me.
There was one occasion where I had just pulled out in to the street after doing some work on my bike, and as soon as I did a police car came around the corner. I was really close to the woods, so I gunned the engine aiming toward the woods. At the same time as I pulled back on the throttle, the wire I had dangling from the frame to kill the engine fell across the spark plug and the engine died. I was busted. The police officers pulled me over and explained that it was illegal to ride a mini bike in the neighborhood. I apologized and explained to them that I had been working on getting the engine running, and I was just testing it out to make sure that it was working properly before I pushed it to the vacant lot behind my house. I wasn't exactly lying, and I think they mostly bought my story. In any event, they let me go without talking to my parents, so I was happy.
My engine repairs and upgrades had been successful, and I got a lot of use out of the mini bike. Seizing the engine like I did probably shortened the life of the engine though. One time as I was riding home from a friends house, the engine started making a loud clanging noise and then finally a loud bang and stopped with oil draining out of the crankcase. I had thrown a rod and it had punctured through the side of the crankcase. There was no repairing the engine this time. I had gotten a good year out of the engine, so it wasn't as devastating as the first time. I walked the mini bike home and went inside feeling pretty defeated anyway.
My dad looked at it and agreed that the engine was done. He mentioned that he had seen a lawnmower that the U of M Property Disposition that had a motor on it that might work. We took the trusty suburban over to the property disposition and sure enough they had an old reel type lawn mower that had a horizontal shaft engine on it. Basically it was just a manual push mower with an engine mounted on top. We bought the mower for $20 and brought it home. My dad had always had either manual push mowers or electric mowers when I was a kid, so he was a little apprehensive about letting me tear this mower apart. The mower was even self propelled, so he suggested that we see how it works first. I didn't like that idea at all. I was afraid that if he liked it, I wouldn't be able to pull the engine off. My fears were unfounded though. As soon as my dad started the mower, it took off on its own across the driveway sending sparks in the air. When it got to the lawn, it dug a two foot wide trench chewing up grass and dirt for about six feet before the engine finally stalled. My dad finally caught the mower and pulled it back to me and said "Do whatever you want with it".
I pulled the engine off the mower and installed it on the mini bike with all the components from the old engine. The shaft was at a different distance, so I had to do some adjustments, but I was able to get it running again. I rode it for a while longer, but as I got older the mini bike didn't get a lot of use, and I eventually sold it to a kid down the street.
One of my biggest criticisms of my father growing up was that when he would show me how to do something, I was always stuck watching and had very little participation. I do much better with a hands on approach. When he would show me how to do photography or work on electronics projects, he would do everything and I would only be able to watch. As I wrote this piece, I realized that wasn't always true. There were cases like this where he would help me when I asked, but for the most part he would take a hands off approach and let me figure things out on my own. I can't help but think now that he did this intentionally to help me work on my own problem solving skills.
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