The stock seat that comes on the Rebel is as comfortable as I could expect for a seat
made to fit everybutty. However it isn’t perfectly designed for me, and I have read
about a simple modification that allows the rider to sit further back on the seat
without sliding forward. It consists of removing a steel plate in the padding. To do this,
the cover is removed and stapled back in place. I decided that as long as I was at it, I
would add some foam to the existing stuff to add some give. Of course I would have
to make a new cover, as the old one would no longer fit over the new volume of
padding. Easy enough. Yeah. I bought an old seat on
Ebay. It was well worn and had no cover when I got it. The
first thing I had to do was remove the bracket with the
pillion strap. The bolts that secure it are molded into the
plastic seat pan itself, and spun before I could get the nuts
loose. I ended up drilling them out from the top, and
replacing them. I used stainless steel for the new
hardware. If I ever have to do this again, it should be
much easier. The next step was to add the supplemental
padding. I traced the basic shape onto cardboard, and
then the foam. Since the original pad was badly worn
around the buttons, I decided to reinforce the worn areas
with some leather I had laying around. I cut and trimmed
the foam with an electric knife, and then stuck it all
together with aerosol adhesive, and tied it in cardboard to
dry. Note- Gluing the foam on at this point came back to
bite me when I tried to mount the buttons later. They
attach via nylon strings through the cover and pad to
plastic discs under the pad. I had to fashion a chisel point
on a carbon steel rod, and spin it through the leather after
the fact. This is one of several details I’ll rethink if I do this
again. The next step was the scary part. I had to lay out
the cover material, and sew the pieces together. I had a
basic concept in mind of how the cover was to be
constructed: A single panel for the top, and a long section
to go around the perimeter. I went to a local fabric store
and got the materials. A kind sales lady advised me what
sort of cover material to buy, and also sold me a hand held
battery operated sewing gadget that is great for taking up
space in a drawer. It was obvious that I would need a real sewing machine, and at
least a few of the requisite skills required to use one. I found a seventies vintage
Kenmore sewing machine for forty bucks on Craig’s list. What followed was a truly
humbling experience. I work on machines for a living, so being unable to get this
thing to do a simple task was beyond frustrating. My grandmother would have played
with it for relaxation; I was just trying to get it to sew an inch without creating a giant
knot of thread. After applying the basic diagnostic approach, I figured out that there
are several things that have to be dealt with individually before they can work
together. Since I was using heavy thread, I needed a needle with a bigger eye than
any that came with the machine. The tensioner thingie on top, and the tensioner
thingie on the bobbin both had to be adjusted to match the material, the thread, and
each other. It took me more time than I care to admit to get it tweaked. That part
done, I had to figure out how to join compound curves on two planes while only being
able to see markings on one. An experienced seamstress turned me on to the
obvious solution: Mark where you want the stitches on both pieces, and trim the
excess off at a uniform distance from the line so you can align the edges of the
material with the nifty lines on the plate the needle goes through to put the stitches
where you want them. It’s almost like someone else has run into this puzzle before.
But I digress. Back to the process. This is the instrument in question.
We have achieved détente; I don’t know that we’ll ever be friends. With the machine
set to go, I cut the vinyl according to the patterns I had traced from my original seat.
Then the simple matter of the actual sewing. This left me with two things to tend to:
the buttons, and stretching it all on to the seat pan. I almost decided to forego the
buttons, but I thought they might help keep the seat from losing shape due to lateral
shifting under my weight. I measured the
distance between the buttons, stretched
the cover out on the pad, and marked the
locations. I used bamboo skewers to
puncture the cover and make a path
through the foam for the nylon cords that
hold the buttons in place. This is when I
realized I had not made holes in the leather
reinforcement pieces. (see note above). I
wanted to make sure that water wasn’t
going to get into the new padding through
the button holes, so I gooed the back side
with epoxy, and also put a disc of gasket
material under each one to help prevent
tearing or pulling through. I didn’t attach the
button lines to the backing discs like they
do at the factory. The attaching lines are
crimped to a uniform length. If I do this
again, I’ll try doing it that way. I pulled the
lines by hand, and tied them together in
pairs, front and back.After some delay, I got
back to it. I experimented with a couple
different ways of compressing the pad
while I stapled the cover in place. I settled
on clamping the seat between two boards
lengthwise, using a rolled up pair of pants
to press the center in a bit more. Once I got it clamped down, it was easy enough to
stretch the vinyl with one hand, and staple with the other. I borrowed the neoprene
bushings from my original seat, and reused the pillion bracket from the bike. Click on
any photo for a larger image.
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