How tired you must all be of the pedestrian progress and devilish detail? How much must you, like me, long for motorised adventure and the perils of his sister Miss? Nearly there, trapped by compulsion I’m held hostage by ParcelFarce dangling some final components just out of reach. More on that later, back to the build, the T3 exhaust headers were aftermarket, unfortunately not intended for a T3 I have to assume by the unaesthetic fit. I took a punt and obtained replacements with no dimensions provided. I got lucky.

Their profile, easier on the eye, cleared the side-stand spring and eliminated the snare drum effect of interference. The side-stand itself is from the American variant, the California, and leans towards the jaunty, laid back west coast vibe. I like it.

Having spent time and shipping on restoring the headlight to near originality I embarked on a quest to do the same to the air box. Back in the day, Monday 5th May 1980 possibly, it was fashionable to junk the standard air box on motorcycles and fit gauze filters instead. The rationale being that the factory were over cautious and that this route was lighter, more performant and sexier. The T3 is none of these three, incidentally its nominal 3 carries the proud boast that it is fitted with three disc brakes, a novelty at the time (the T is for Tonti, the frame designer). The box is big and tricky to fit in the tight space available but comes with a built in engine breather and authentic credibility.

The square slide Dellorto VHB30 carbs are getting hard to obtain and ethanol fuel is not kind to them, I picked up some bargain VHBT30 (not sure what this T stands for) variants and showed them the ultrasonic cleaner. They were impressed and I swapped them in with satisfactory effect, although they may be running a little rich. As standard the carbs come with individual choke levers which are infuriating to operate with gloves, I replaced them with a single lever and cables mounted to the rocker cover just under the tank.

Still here? I’ll cut to the chase, she went back together and I started to ride her to work for a ‘shakedown’, first to shake was the handlebars. Eventually diagnosed as the head races bedding into the frame and adjusted out easily shortly after precautionary purchase of replacement fork canisters and a steering damper. Neither got fitted. The funniest and most disturbing snagging was to discover after a month that I’d wired the indicators wrong and whilst the front was telling the truth the back was alarmingly saying the opposite. What doesn’t kill us makes us stranger.

Too long since disassembly, so long to any recollection of how it came apart. I pored over the scant photos I’d taken, poured another beer and made some poor guesses. The rear seal, still unattended on the Le Mans, was replaced, twice, once by eye and once with the correct tool (not I).

The flywheel and new clutch were a cinch as they come pre-assembled. I restored the regulator to its intended location after some considerable head scratching and built a bracket to hold two Dyna coils that I had previously intended for the Le Mans. They came into play because a previous spanner-man had overtightened the clamps and crushed the originals, and also they are considered by some (never ask the internet) an upgrade.

Some bad choices were made (#3 on my epitaph list) with regard to routing the wiring loom. I initially elected to take the low road and avoid the area where the petrol tank fits, bad move, early test runs were cut short following any full left locks which, without the benefit of adequate slack, immediately pulled the plug out cutting all circuits. Relocation involved de-pinning the 15 wires and threading through the frame hole, presumably there for this very purpose.

I discovered that the lower frame rail and cam chain casing had been butchered, probably when the previous cowboy had found it necessary to free a seized front engine bolt (they are notorious for corroding in). Short of time and patience, I fabricated a semi-circular spacer the width of a hacksaw blade to spread the load. Needs must.

Continuing a long established tradition of bad puns… Life can be exhausting and time itself takes a tithe in passing, little by little, bit by bit the march of entropy returns everything to dust. Sic transit gloria mundi.

Thus passed the promise of pneumatic bliss offered by the T3’s Bridgestone Battlax BT45’s, perished beyond prudence. I secured replacements and, wary of the trouble that I’d had with the Le Mans wheels, fitted and balanced them myself.

The rear drive box and universal joint were in good shape except for the UJ being a little loose in the bearing that it mounts in. I treated the outside to a peppering of ‘centre pops’ with a punch to restore the interference fit and anointed it with some loctite prior to assembly. The bearing now appears to be playing its supporting role as the designer intended.

The swinging arm bearings themselves were a bit gritty but cleaning and re greasing appeared to restore them to active service. The replacements that I’d secured just in case will come in handy, eventually, much like the clutch thrust bearing that was perfect for restoring the rotation of my office chair.

Other projects and distractions deluded me, change is not always progress but gives that impression. I cluttered and collected, components stashed away for the day when my chakra could catch my capabilities.

Nearly a year passed waiting for the spanner fairies to step in and magically make it all better. They must have been on a break. Eventually I stepped in and stripped the frame then dropped it off to Kevin at P&R Finishing Ltd who made a grand job of shot blasting and powder coating it.

Upon this rock I could build, or flounder. I did, mostly the former. Replacing worn or suboptimal components with choice customisations chosen from my cluttered cache (Ed: that’s enough alliteration).

The handlebars are lower and narrower than the Mandello factory intended but are better suited to London lane splitting (aggressive filtering). The headlight got a sympathetic restoration with components only available in Australia secured at great shipping expense. I grafted on the lens from a left-dipping replacement and trust that the heat will not melt the butyl sealant that was employed.

Original chromed headlight mounts seemed appropriate although the intention is not to ensnare her in a concourse corset constraining creativity (Ed: That’s it, you’re done)