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Like many of you, I watched my share of “Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood” when I was growing up, and looking back, that show had to be one of public television’s greatest triumphs. It even went out of its way to paint a positive picture of motorcycling in one episode (Ep. 1253, May 10, 1972).
The ever-sunny Fred Rogers gave us so many good lines over the show’s run, though one in particular comes to mind these days: "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'"
This week, I had my chance to be the helper. Neighbor kid Chunk is home from school until the fall at least, and his classes don’t take up much of his day. That leaves a lot of time for one of his favorite things in the world: riding minibikes. Chunk had an awesome electric one for a while, but he outgrew it, and his eyes are on bigger and better rides, like his cousin’s old gas minibike.
It sat unused for about five years and wouldn’t start. Chunk stopped by the garage, observing good social distancing, and asked if I could get it running again. We arranged for him to drop it off, and the next day, a red, orange, black, and blue two-wheeler was waiting for me. My brother Johnny agreed to help out, because the clock was ticking. Boredom is very dangerous, and we didn’t want to put Chunk at risk for any longer than necessary.
The first thing that caught our attention was the “SCHWINN” badge on the head tube. Had someone hacked together a bicycle and some pipe to build this thing? After a little research, we found that this bike probably started life as a Baja, not that it matters. These minibikes are all the same deal. You get a clone of a Honda generator motor, fat tires, a single speed, and a low price. Somebody just stuck the Schwinn badge on this one for fun. I don’t think this bike was built in Chicago! (Rupp and Schwinn did have a brief partnership producing powered bikes long before this was made.)
With the bike safely in the garage, we made a list of problems and questionables, then split up to work on the repairs.
Problem #1: Fixing the footpegs
Before working on a bike, I always clean it up first. This step just makes the job easier, and it forces me to go over every part of the machine. In this case, I discovered a cracked footpeg mount while wiping dirt off the frame. Can’t have that! I cleaned the rust and paint away from the cracked area, bent the mount back with a few whacks from the friendly hammer, and welded it back together. I am a pretty bad welder, so my repair matched the factory’s work perfectly.
While I had the welder out, I fixed the droopy footpegs, which encouraged the rider’s feet to slide off the ends. I used beads of weld to build up the footpeg stops on both sides, effectively leveling them out.
Finally, I shot some primer and black enamel paint over my ground and welded surfaces. The rest of the chassis passed inspection, which meant we could move on to getting the bike running.
Problem #2: Missing throttle
Before this minibike went anywhere, it needed a throttle and throttle cable to replace the missing parts. I don’t keep spare throttle assemblies ready to go, but I do have a pretty good selection of parts lying around, so we did some digging around the stash and came up with some possibilities.
A throttle housing/clamp wasn’t hard to find. We had one left over from Johnny's childhood minibike that used the same size handlebar, complete with throttle tube. Sweet! Now we just had to find a cable to connect it to the carb, and that would solve the bike’s biggest problem.
This is where things got complicated. The only cable we had that was long enough came from a mid-1970s Honda CB750. The CB cable’s ball end was way too big to use with the minibike throttle tube, even if we drilled out the retaining hole. If you’ve ever opened the butterflies on a CB750 by hand, you’ll understand why the Honda’s throttle parts are so much beefier! Now the bike needed a suitable throttle tube to join the minibike housing to the CB750 cable. Back to the parts stash.
I had a couple spare Motion Pro throttle tubes for the $1,000 Adventure Bike on hand. (It’s still running great. Thanks for asking.) A DR-Z tube could accept the CB cable, but the minibike throttle housing couldn’t close around it. Once again, we were fighting the difference in scale between these parts. So I chucked the throttle tube in my (appropriately) mini lathe and turned it down to size.
A little finishing work with the Dremel resulted in a surprisingly nice throttle pull with a snappy return, and a few squirts of cable lube made the action even better. An added bonus to this fix was that the brake lever could be moved over to the right side, where brakes belong.
Problem #3: General maintenance
The last thing to do was a basic inspection and tuneup. Minibikes tend to live hard lives, and this one was no exception! The carb was totally gummed up, the old gas was foul, the engine oil was low, the tires were nearly flat, the headlight wiring had come apart, and a bunch of hardware was loose or missing. While I was working on the footpegs, Johnny had torn through the to-do list for a full tuneup. At least the air filter was in great condition.
The chains took a little more work. Let’s just say they would not have met my colleague Ari’s standards. Removing a simple plastic side cover gives full access to the clutch, chains, tensioner, and jackshaft.
We got the links moving again with some original flavor PB Blaster, then gave it a final lube once the chain worked smoothly. It was easy to identify troublesome links by watching how they made the chain tensioner jump. Eventually, the chains and clutch should be replaced, but I think these parts have at least a summer left in them.
Problem #4: The minibike is too much fun
With its crisp new throttle, fresh tuneup, and a few pulls, the 196 cc beast coughed to life, its tinny exhaust and rattling clutch sounding... agricultural. The “Schwinn” more than made up for that with its fun factor. Its giant rear sprocket and low-performance tires make it a riot in dirt and wet grass, as we discovered during test riding.
It was sketchy, squirrely, and eager to pop wheelies. We sanitized the minibike and returned it, making sure Chunk’s dad knew about the governor screw. Hopefully Chunk gets many happy miles out of his Schwini-bike.
We’re all doing the best we can with what we’ve got right now, and it’s not easy to be the neighbors Mr. Rogers wanted us to be while isolated. With a little creativity and some spare parts, we did manage the smallest of neighborly deeds. And, really, who could deny a kid his minibike in times like these?
