If asked for an opinion on the most versatile fastening method for all purpose, emergency, or untimely fixes, most among the general populace would likely point to that ubiquitous silver/grey roll of tape that is so rarely used for what its namesake would imply. I’ve seldom found much use for it on even the rattiest of motorcycle repairs, though I do vaguely recall using a strip of it to stop a rattling helmet visor… 1987, I think it was.
There is however, another brilliant little device that has always been available in times of dire necessity within the realm of motorcycle maintenance. This simple modest gadget was invented in 1921 by former Royal Navy Commander Lumley Robinson, and was originally called the Jubilee Clip. More commonly known as the hose clamp—specifically the screw/band clamp—these things have for years been, for this writer, as ‘handy as a pocket on a shirt’. It’s been my experience that the practice of working on or maintaining one’s motorcycle does not always take place under ideal circumstances, the variables ranging from simply the hour of the day, the location, or parts availability. Reflecting on this simple fact prompted me to consider this homage to the humble hose clamp.
While doing a partial top-end overhaul on my old R75 boxer sometime back in the mid-1990s, I remember preparing to reinstall the cylinders, having replaced pushrod tube seals, base gasket o-rings and rather pricey piston rings (shipped direct from Der Fatherland). Glancing at the clock I simultaneously realized that I was lacking a ring compressor. So there I sat at 1:00 am on a warm July night, cold Steamwhistle in hand and an old Three Dog Night album spinning on the turntable, idly gazing around the garage for a solution. I’m sure there will be a few winces from those type-A retentive techs reading this, but it was nothing short of an epiphany when I spied those two gleaming clamps, heretofore unused for some mundane household task. It was as if they had been patiently waiting to be joined, then carefully wrapped around each piston, snugged carefully to compress the rings and allow the jug sleeves to slide gracefully over them. To coin a phrase Robinson himself may have used, it “worked a treat.”
Several years later a friend and I were on the road early one Saturday morning en route to a rally three hours distant (though planning to take five) when a recalled/updated/improved clamp failed on my Triumph Speed Triple’s fuel pump. With a dubious pair of pliers, a Swiss army knife, and some carefully selected expletives, I dismantled bodywork, seat/tank, and the fuel pump (inside the tank) in a parking lot, then waited for my friend to return from the nearest Canadian Tire with a 1/2” diameter version of my favourite fastener. Though it added an extra 2-3 hours to the adventure, the little gem prevented the weekend from being a complete bust; being a little late and smelling of gasoline was a small price to pay. I never did replace that clamp with another of the “improved” factory parts, and put at least another 20,000 km on the bike before selling it, without it ever failing.
More recently, on a warm April day this spring I was planning on sneaking off for a Saturday afternoon ride when I unexpectedly discovered loose motor mounts. And no, I didn’t snug up a big shuddering 45˚ V-twin with a hose clamp. However, while lifting the tank to check the stabilizer bolt I discovered a fuel leak at the decidedly under-engineered plastic quick disconnect fitting between the fuel line and throttle body. Calls to two dealerships yielded somewhat expected results; “Sorry, we don’t have that in stock” (though had I been in desperate need of a T-shirt or hair accessories I would have been in luck), followed by “it’s a complete unit sir, not sold separately”, $65.00 plus tax. Neither unexpected, though at the same time more than a little off-putting. I resigned myself to forgetting about a ride and waiting four days for part(s)–for about 10 minutes. After which I drove to Canadian tire and picked up a hose clamp for $1.07. Following some cautious testing to ascertain that my Super Glide wouldn’t go supernova on the road, I was ready to ride…just in time for the heaviest thunderstorm of the year. Not that I really minded. There was a certain satisfaction in applying a simple efficient solution to a simple problem, especially when it replaces something that seems needlessly complicated.
Besides, while watching that storm roll in I was struck with a brilliant idea. I’m currently considering engaging in talks with the estate of the aforementioned naval commander/ inventor, envisioning a line of officially licensed Lumley-Robinson jewellery. Industrial styling, adjustable, and if you find your bike suddenly in need of some inexpensive or unexpected fix…
