First the answer to the photograph in Chat 4.

John Earp posted 32/03/2020 >>>

Part 2  MZ continued: Yes Dana is spot on, it’s a pain removing the MZ carb. The only bigger pain as I remember is removing all 4 carbs in a block from a Honda 400/4 especially in wintertime.  All the rubber and plastic is hard and brittle, well to be more accurate the hardest part is putting it all back.

Anyway, with the carb out of MZ I decided to remove the rubber air intake which was perished. I’ve owned quite a few MZ's and found that although the East Germans had plenty of aluminium hence aluminium wheel rims, some had aluminium rear mudguards and other bits as standard the quality of the rubber left something to be desired, foot peg, gear lever, speedo and rev counter rubbers and the rubber air intake all seem to perish sooner than expected. 

My MZ’s already had most of the rubber bits replaced by the previous owner as they are easily obtained and fairly cheap but as changing the air intake necessitates removing the carb - it was on my ‘to do’ list. The air intake on my bike had gone quite hard and cracked but came out with the aid of a couple of screwdrivers and brute force without marking the beige paintwork a new one if I remember was £8.70 so no big deal.

The standard MZ BVF carb is a fairly simple affair, I’ve done similar jobs on these carbs before and hopefully with the new bits I’ve ordered it will perform in the future. If not perhaps I’ll need to go down a different route.  To be continued ……

 

John Renwick posted 31/03/2020 >>>

 

John has had a recent hip replacement. Ed.

 

I have done a little bit but have to restrict myself a bit so not to overwork my leg.  Before the weekend we were managing to walk to Scropton Village as it is pavement all the way and we rarely see anyone.  It is at least a mile each way and I walk OK without any aids but with the bit of gardening it has been pulling on my operated thigh a bit.

 

The Chubb    A short story by Pat Robotham.

Part 1.

Martley sat in the cab of the old crane and looked at what he had dangling on the end of the gib. The smelly old diesel engine continued to putter away with the exhaust belching sooty smoke, and Martley leaned forward and peered through the filthy windscreen to work out exactly what he had got dangling from the wire in the jaws of the grab. He looked like some mechanical gnome, fishing, by a pond of scrap.

No one else was at the yard; it was seven o’clock on a warm July evening and his mate Ick had already gone to the pub. It was hot thirsty work in the scrapyard in the summer and the clearing was going apace. Although Martley fancied a pint of Pedi himself, on at least two evenings a week he stayed behind to do a bit for himself, try to dig out a few nuggets of gold as it were, he’d never found any gold of course, but he had found a good cache of old motorcycles and a few other bits which had made him a few extra quid, which he’d been able to keep to for himself because he kept it to himself and away from Ick, and that was the only way he was going to keep it

The thing on the end of the gib looked like a block of iron about two-foot square, he could tell as he dragged it out from the bottom of the heap that it was pretty heavy as the old engine had had to work a bit harder to get it free.

“I know what it is. It’s a bloody safe.”

With that he pushed a lever forward and the object was lowered very gently so that it rested on the ground on one edge.

Martley left the engine idling and got down from the cab. As he peered at the safe, he spotted a brass plate in the middle of what was the door. Giving it a good hard rub with an old rag he always kept in his pocket, he gave it another peer. “The Chubb” it read.

“Made in the midlands” Martley muttered. “But where’s the bloody key? They’ll be nowt in it, but I can always weigh it in, maybe there’s vintage safe collectors, there seem to be collectors for everything else”

He climbed back up in the cab and released the grab from the safe. “Damn, it’s stuck” the safe had not gone flat on the ground as it was propped up on something underneath, and now he could not get the grab to close underneath it to lift it up again. He switched off the engine and climbed down. On his way over he picked up a long iron bar and jammed it under one corner of the safe. Using all his weight he leaned on the bar, the safe rocked forward and landed flat on its back.

That was when he thought he heard it. Even though the yard was in the town, at this time of day it was really quiet with everyone having tea or in the pub or watching Cory, and in the quiet he was sure he d heard it.  Just as the safe fell on its back there was an extra thunk.

“There’s something in it “.  So as not to be on a fool’s errand he got the pry bar and levered the safe over again, this was hard work but rewarded him with that extra “thunk”. Just to make sure and so he could get at the door he levered it back onto its back again and there was the “thunk” again.

By this time he was really sweating and decided to call it a night.  He restarted the engine and grabbed a load of old exhausts and dropped them onto the safe to keep it away from Ick’s prying eyes. “Time to get down to the Dog for a pint; I’ll look for the key tomorrow”.

………………

“What the hell do you think you are looking for”? Martley looked up shocked by Ick’s voice.

“I was just looking for a key, but it doesn’t matter” and he moved to leave the office squeezing passed Ick in the doorway.

“Come on mate what you up to?” Martley was never any match for Ick once he got the feeling that Martley was hiding something.

“I was just looking for a key to an old safe I’ve found, it’s got to be worth a bit more if I can open it, otherwise it’s so much scrap iron.  It came out of the back west corner the other day I reckon it’s been there since about 1980. It’s all tangled up with a load of old garage and motoring stuff and I don’t remember if we ever cleared anywhere like that.  I might find it in the old ledger; and give me a clue where Ted put the key.”

“Even if you find the key you can bet your life that the old bugger never left owt of value in it.”

They both knew what a tight bugger their late boss had been, far worse that the current one who pretty much let them take what they like so long as the site got cleared.

 Still there was always a chance.

Ick joined in the search for the ledger and the key, and they did no more work that day. About six o’clock just as Martley could feel a thirst coming on and was starting to think of his first pint of Pedi, Ick jabbed at a page in the ledger with a filthy index finger.

 “Here’s something.”

 Unfortunately, it was not the key but it was an entry in Ted’s writing in a ledger marked 1982. It read

“Clear Draven’s garage yard and office.” It then gave a list of cars, parts, tools and office fittings including one Chubb safe. No mention of a key.

This rang a bell. They both thoughts so but thought that memories might be better jogged down the Dog.

By about five pints in they’d found someone who said they remembered, although what you can remember accurately, and what you think you can remember after so much strong beer is a bit of a question. Anyway, Barney the minicab driver came up with the story.  A garage was robbed, and the owner had been shot and somehow Ted had cleared the site. He’d done it as a favour to the dead man’s wife about a year after it happened as she wanted the site cleared for selling on.

By the end of the evening and another couple of pints they all reckoned they remembered it that way and were busy agreeing with each other over the details which got increasingly unlikely as the night wore on.

“I’ll sort it out in the morning and try to find that key” Martley toddled unstably to the door and Barney drove him home.

………………

“It’s no good looking for something so bloody small in here the whole place is a tip,”

 Martley muttered.  He had spent the morning going through every nook and cranny in the office. Even the little office safe which occasionally held any valuables that turned up in the yard was searched although Martley knew exactly what was in it, having been in it a couple of months ago. After four hours of going over everything again and again he sat down for a think and a mug of tea.

As he was just supping the last of the brew Ick stuck his head round the door. “Got summat for you “

 “Have you? Where do you think you’ve been - the day’s half over?”

“Yes, and you’ve not done much yerself, just turned this office over looking for the key to that safe.”

Ick chucked a grubby envelope on the table in front of him.  “Been down the library looking at old local rags, got a load of stuff about that robbery, and there’s no point in looking in that safe as it was emptied by the robbers, got away with five grand cash, safe was open when the coppers got there.”

With that he left the office saying Martley should get off his arse, stop moping around that safe and do some real work. Bloody cheek, Martley thought. He stuffed the cuttings in his pocket and went outside to get on with sorting.

Martley stayed back that evening. He had removed the rubbish from on top of the safe and was contemplating it. He was also waiting for Jed Logan; someone he’d met years ago in the Dog who had worked for a lock company in Willenhall.

While he waited, he pulled out the packet of copied cuttings that Ick had given him. He had about half an hour before Jed got there so he thought he’d give them a good read. There were descriptions of the robbery from eyewitnesses, descriptions of the site after the robbery and a couple of accounts by the dead garage owner’s wife of what she thought had happened.  Her picture and address, 21 Macklin Avenue, were all printed, as was her heartfelt plea to help find the animals that killed her husband. There was even a picture of the son Johnny who was eight at the time. Before Jed arrived Martley nipped up to the office and looked in the phone book. “They are still in Macklin Avenue then.” 21. J S Draven.

Down in the yard Jed had arrived and was already looking at the safe. “That’s going to be a tough one, without a key. You could try to drill the lock out, but the steel is pretty hard. It’s not very high Tec, just an ordinary office safe but it was well made, and the keys are rare as rocking horse shit”.

“So, you can’t open it or get me a key then”?

“Me? You must be bloody joking, I’m in the building trade now, and as I said the keys are impossible to get.  You could try the company. You’ve got the safe serial number, but they won’t have a key in stock, may be able to make you one though. I can lend you a drill.”

“No, I’ve got drills, I don’t want to ruin it, may be worth summat.”

“Suit yerself. I’m off down the Dog, coming?”

“In a bit.”

………………

Martley walked across the yard to a small corrugated iron shed that was up against the outside wall. The front opening was covered with a piece of dirty carpet, he rolled it up and bent down peering in and reaching forward from his shoulders. As he moved backwards an old motorbike followed him balanced precariously between his two outstretched arms as it rolled forwards towards him. At just the right moment he stepped to one side and was now holding the bike steadily from the side. He put his right foot under the bike and heaved it backwards onto its stand. He grinned as he stepped back and admired the beast, “that’s what I’ll do I’ll go round there and ask them, it can’t do any harm and they may have a spare one all the same”.

With those thoughts still in his head he ducked down inside the lean-to, coming out with a two-gallon can of fuel and one of oil. He topped up the oil in the oil tank on the right side of the rear of the bike and unscrewed the petrol cap. Making a makeshift funnel from a bit of old tin, he tipped fuel into the tank. Once he’d done that he stepped over the bike and put his foot on the kick-start and pushed down firmly lifting his weight off the ground and bringing it down on the lever. The engine sprang onto life with a clatter and oily smoke came out of the exhaust. He got an oily rag from his pocket and rubbed it over the faded black paintwork. You could just read the name on the black petrol tank - ARIEL. He stood and looked at it with an air of satisfaction as he watched the valves go up and down. Then he switched off the fuel and suddenly it was quiet again.

He’d found the bike with a few others eighteen months ago. It was when things were bad and he had not told anyone but had sold the rest and kept this one for himself. With some of the money he had made he had done a few repairs and a bit of amateur bodging to put the bike on the road, with a friendly MOT and a bit of help with paperwork he was now legal, so long as you did not look too closely, and all under Ick’s nose without him knowing anything about it. No wonder Martley looked smug. As he was messing with the bike the light was going, it was about eight o’clock now and he fancied a pint and as the bike had no lights he decided to leave the trip to Macklin Avenue until the next day. He shoved the bike back in the lean-to and dropped the carpet over the front to keep out prying eyes. He went to the Dog.

………………

Part 2 in the next Virtual Chat. Ed

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Today’s quiz question from John Grew: 

What is this?

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