Nambour

I arrive in Nambour soaked to the skin and dyed slightly black from my leather jacket. I should really have put my wet gear on, but the downpour hit so quickly that I couldn't find a safe place to stop. Hang on, what am I whining for? This is motorcycling - the sport of masochists!

Before I even found Sally's place, I bumped into Simon, her sister Katy's husband. He lead me there and Sal gave us all a warm welcome. The combined party included Sally, Katy and Amy (all sisters), Simon and me. We all got stuck into the lunch that Sal has generously provided for the horde of relatives. Burping and satisfied, Katy and Simon made the trip back to Brisbane, Amy had a nap and I went under the house to try and sort out the Reverend's running problem again.

Although I was still cold and didn't feel like taking the bike apart again, I had an idea that occurred to me as I was trying to get the Rev to idle when I left that morning. The choke lever had been feeling a little stiff near one end of its travel, so I decided to investigate if something was wrong with the cable. With the seat, side panels, left instrument assembly and fuel tank off, Eureka! There it was.

Because the choke lever uses one cable to actuate two choke plungers (one for each carb), there is a splitter halfway down the cable. One of the legs of the splitter had cracked, allowing the rear cylinder choke cable to stay taut even when the choke lever was off. That meant the rear cylinder's mixture was always too rich, ruining the idle and causing the engine to stall when hot. Woohoo! I'd worked the sucker out!

I still had to fix the thing, though. A phone call to Honda Australia brought the depressing news that choke cables were $80 and there wasn't a single one in the land. I told them that waiting eight weeks for it to be shipped from Japan was not an option and hung up. I needed another solution.

Everyone knows that you can fix absolutely any mechanical problem with gaffa tape (if you can't, it's an electrical problem). I wasn't carrying any, so I went to ask Sal for some. She looked high and low, but couldn't turn up any of the sticky black stuff. She thought for a moment.

"Would strapping tape work?"

"What?"

"You know, the stuff I use on people." (She's a physiotherapist, helping all sorts of people at Nambour Hospital).

"Give us a look at it."

It was flexible; it was super sticky and: IT WORKED! With his guts taped up, the Rev started instantly and settled into a smooth and sonorous idle. Thanks to Sally, a little physio on his choke cable splitter had made him good as new again.

All three of us wanted an easy dinner, so Sal took me on a tour of the fast food restaurants of Nambour. Her little, green Daihatsu Sirion is an amazing beastie, despite its advancing years. Most of the family has bets on when it will explode during one of its daily Nambour hill starts, but the little jigger just keeps cheating us out of our money.

Back at the ranch, with pizza, KFC and a salvaged bottle of wine, we all chatted happily for a couple of hours. It's been a long time since I'd talked with Sal for more than a couple of minutes, so it was a relief to find her beautiful sense of humour had survived years of study. All talked out, three happy cousins went to bed.