So it came to pass that one day my brother came up to visit me and hauled from the back of his van the 'contraption' as it was known. Being the adult sensible people that we are, the business of the day was soon forgotten as we scratched around for various knick-knacks that just might "get this baby in the air. It's a long shot but we have to try"
There was nothing for it , we would have to venture into the pit of insanity (and sundry junk) that is;
The Cellar (Dum-Dum-De-Durr)
Well what we turned up was, - 12v car battery of compromised abilities. Ballasted car ignition coil from Jaguar c1973. Condenser from c1966 Ford Corsair. Jump leads. Bits of filleted three core mains wire. Sundry alligator clips. All wired up in short order we broke into a vintage tin of Castrol 'R' from the 'Kart Racing Days' and mixed up a mean potion of 20:1 petroil.
We placed the contraption with its front wheel against the garage wall and on it's (noted dodgy) centre stand. Brother pointed out that one pedal was not a pedal at all but a length of studding bolted into the crank that had a stripped thread.
We took it in turns to 'mount the beast' and soon established a technique for spinning the engine over - stand hard on the left pedal, not too hard on the studding on the right lest it should bend, and don't think about sitting on the seat 'cos it's loose, can't be tightened, and *will* hurt when it swivels. Then, once you've got some momentum drop the decompressor and away she goes.
So much for theory. We pedalled and no start. We pedalled more, no go. We sweated. No Joy.