I'd always thought this might be a hoary motorcyclist myth, until, you've guessed, it happened to me. Many people are unaware that Scottish section camping weekends have to be earned, usually by cresting Slocht Summit (1300 feet) 10 miles south of Inverness, in pissing rain. If the rider proves to have the right stuff, he is rewarded with a splendid, dry, weekend, in stunning scenery. And his kit is dry by Dingwall. No, really.
Battering up Slocht on Friday, in pissing rain, see above, the twin abruptly stopped battering, and went into "pathetic plonk" mode. Rice puddings retained their skin. Opening the throttles had no effect, nor did switching to the 150 yard reserve capacity. About a mile on, it stopped. So I took the tank bag off, and checked the fuel. Plenty fuel. Replaced cap, and tank bag (and the sticky mat underneath it) and pressed starter. Engine restored to health, no further problem. Sun came out, sky cleared, and on I went to Achmelvich Bay. If you have Google Earth, look it up. It was like that all weekend.
I reckon I had created enough vacuum in the tank to overcome suction from the carbs, which would explain why opening the throttles made zero difference to revs.
Discuss.
Tom
Battering up Slocht on Friday, in pissing rain, see above, the twin abruptly stopped battering, and went into "pathetic plonk" mode. Rice puddings retained their skin. Opening the throttles had no effect, nor did switching to the 150 yard reserve capacity. About a mile on, it stopped. So I took the tank bag off, and checked the fuel. Plenty fuel. Replaced cap, and tank bag (and the sticky mat underneath it) and pressed starter. Engine restored to health, no further problem. Sun came out, sky cleared, and on I went to Achmelvich Bay. If you have Google Earth, look it up. It was like that all weekend.
I reckon I had created enough vacuum in the tank to overcome suction from the carbs, which would explain why opening the throttles made zero difference to revs.
Discuss.
Tom