A rather bore-ing day out
Recovery insurance – who needs it? There is always one way or another of getting your scooter home if it breaks down.
Each year, the summer season would always see our annual pilgrimage to Mecca, aka AF Ray speed, to visit their ever-popular open day. Attended by hundreds of Lambretta owners from across the country it had become a ‘must do’ on the calendar of any discerning scooterist. A quick blast up to Yorkshire to pick up number one and we were off on the 60-odd mile run to East Heslerton and scootering’s finest. This year I had picked the trusty old 225 out of my stable. It was fast, reliable and the sort of Lambretta that you knew would never let you down.
It was one of those rare sunny days and the quick dash up the A1 seemed rather mundane. We were just sitting there at about 70mph, cruising into the fast lane every now and then to overtake the odd dawdling car. It was at this point we came across one of those nightmare lorries, the type that had been de-restricted. No problem for the 225 though, a quick twist of the wrist to open the throttle, and the lorry was soon left behind, far in the distance. That’s when it happened, a sudden jolt and a clicking sound from the engine. Associated with a sudden drop in power, I knew it was the dreaded piston ring failure syndrome. Either that, or the circlip that held the gudgeon pin in place had popped out. The engine was still running and the wheels still turning so all I could do now was limp it to the next petrol station which luckily was only a mile up the road.
Number one had noticed the Lambretta was injured and slowed down, pulling alongside as I signalled we would pull in at the next stop. It wasn’t my only signal either as the lorry I had just passed bleared his horns and was laughing like some deranged lunatic. Tosser. Pulling up the engine died just like we thought it would, not surprising really as the compression was now nearly at zero percent. Thinking it was game over it’s at this point you get out your AA or RAC card to phone for recovery. There was a bit of a slight problem though, as I wasn’t a member of either of them, and never had been. Thinking hard what to do next, while continually kicking the engine over with the daft idea it would rejuvenate itself, a light bulb moment happened.
I had read somewhere in the past that even with low compression a two-stroke engine, if towed fast enough, would fire up and would keep running – as long as the revs were high enough. With AF Ray speed only 40 miles away, if I got it there, then just maybe there was a chance that it could be fixed. With the tank filled to the top, I paid the attendant for a gallon of
A few hours later and back home I realised I had used my Lambretta get out of jail free card and the next day a year’s membership was paid to the AA, religiously renewed every year.
petrol and one tow rope. The plan was simply to go back out on to the A1 and while being towed up to 50mph, put it into third gear and see what happens. With nothing to lose, the rope was fixed to the sprint rack of number one’s Lambretta and about 10 yards behind to my headset. After about 300 yards and a sharp drop of the clutch lever, miraculously the engine burst back into life! We pulled over and while revving flat out the rope was undone and I swiftly shot off, on a hope and a prayer, in the direction of Yorkshire’s finest Lambretta shop!
As long as I kept the revs up high the engine would run, even though it did sound like there was a bag of nuts and bolts rattling around the cylinder, in place of the piston. That was fine on the A1 but once back on country lanes not so easy. With only one set of traffic lights to tackle and thankfully they turned to green as I approached, an hour later I was outside what was about to become my favourite dealer. Getting there was all well said and done but now what do we do?
A quick strip down revealed it was the circlip that had failed and in doing so put a big double grove down the entire length of the bore. Inside the shop, Ray Kemp looked closely at it and said: “That needs reboring.” It was already 70mm but Ray returned with one measuring 70.8mm. My luck was in – there was a fix – but hopes were quickly dashed when he said it would be done next week. It was time to explain the situation we were in. And, whether he felt sorry or just didn’t want another Lambretta dumped on his premises, the reboring machine was fired up. An hour later one reborn Lambretta barrel, with somewhat thin walls I must add, but possibly a way out of this mess. By dinner time the engine was back together and with copious amounts of two-stoke added the engine fired back into life. It did smoke rather a lot but who cared? A quick run down the road signalled that the great escape was now on.
The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting, having a quick beer, thanking Ray a thousand times for what he had done, and keeping the engine ticking over... to try and ‘run it in’ of sorts. The time came to leave and the journey back was spent most of the way with the choke on as a failsafe to stop the engine from seizing. A few hours later and back home I realised I had used my Lambretta ‘get out of jail free’ card and the next day a year’s membership was paid to the AA, and religiously renewed every year. Ironically though, the 225 never failed me again probably because it was too scared of what would happen to it if it ever did!