Starting help..please

[DiverRay]

Check the top brown wire on the 20A fuse. It should be battery, 12V+. If it is, and no voltage on the bottom brown wire, you have a bad fuse. If you DO have 0.11V, you MAY have fried the fuse holder at that location. Move the 20A. fuse forward one slot, and move the wires with it. try again.

[DeanR]

The fuses are NOT all okay, the fuse is bad or the fuse block is FUBAR.


13V at the battery and 0.11V on the Red/Yellow wire at the Fuse block is not okay. Put the volt meter on both of those tiny little metal test points on the top of the fuse to measure the voltage drop and see if you get about 11 or 12 volts

or

swap the Headlight fuse with a good fuse from another circuit.

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Using the tail light position in the fuseblock, each fuse works fine when plugged into that. Checked them back in the beginning of this mystery.

[DiverRay]

Using the tail light position in the fuseblock, each fuse works fine when plugged into that. Checked them back in the beginning of this mystery.

Move the 20A. fuse forward one slot, and move the wires with it. try again. Do move the 20A. fuse location! IF it's still 0.11 at the new location, then we go forward down the wire to find the problem.
Did you check the ground wires?? I would loosen the screw, clean the contact area with fine sandpaper, and re-assemble with anti-seize between everything.

[3Phase]

Using the tail light position in the fuseblock, each fuse works fine when plugged into that. Checked them back in the beginning of this mystery.

Just to test the circuit and if they're not soldered to the fuse block tabs, switch the terminals for the Headlight and Tail circuits. Put the Red/Yellow wire for the Headlight on the Tail fuse and the Blue wire for the Tail on the Headlight fuse.

If the Headlight fuse/position in the fuse block is good then the tail light will come on with the key and the headlight still won't work.

If it's bad then the tail light won't work but the headlight should come on when the engine is started.

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[DeanR]

Update:
So I was just out lounging in front of the garage with an adult beverage. Looked over at the XS and thought I would have another go at it, referencing all the help from here.
Had already swapped fuses and wire (circuit) positions and verified that the fuses and fuseblock were fine. Unplugged some things, plugged em back in, checked for solid connections of some things. Seemed to somehow come down to that red/yellow headlight wire.
I pulled the the reserve lighting device (whatever that is) off the 81 parts bike to swap into the 80 as an experiment.
Just before I did that decided to hit the starter once again. Damn if the headlight and instruments didn't light up!
So I guess it's ok and I can go for a ride.
Thanks everyone for your help.

[3Phase]

Update: ... I pulled the the reserve lighting device (whatever that is) off the 81 parts bike to swap into the 80 as an experiment.
Just before I did that decided to hit the starter once again. Damn if the headlight and instruments didn't light up!
So I guess it's ok and I can go for a ride.
Thanks everyone for your help.

If you like sci-fi then you're welcome because we didn't do anything, it was your XS. Be careful, it can get really interesting if the reserve and the self-repair relays kick in the old battle reflex circuit.

1

I come to awareness, sensing a residual oscillation traversing me from an arbitrarily designated heading of 035. From the damping rate I compute that the shock was of intensity 8.7, emanating from a source within the limits 72 meters/46 meters. I activate my primary screens, trigger a return salvo. There is no response. I engage reserve energy cells, bring my secondary battery to bear—futilely. It is apparent that I have been ranged by the Enemy and severely damaged.

My positional sensors indicate that I am resting at an angle of 13 degrees 14 seconds, deflected from a baseline at 21 points from median. I attempt to right myself, but encounter massive resistance. I activate my forward scanners, shunt power to my I-R microstrobes. Not a flicker illuminates my surroundings. I am encased in utter blackness.

Now a secondary shock wave approaches, rocks me with an intensity of 8.2. It is apparent that I must withdraw from my position—but my drive trains remain inert under full thrust. I shift to base emergency power, try again. Pressure mounts; I sense my awareness fading under the intolerable strain; then, abruptly, resistance falls off and I am in motion.

It is not the swift maneuvering of full drive, however; I inch forward, as if restrained by massive barriers. Again I attempt to penetrate the surrounding darkness and this time perceive great irregular outlines shot through with fracture planes. I probe cautiously, then more vigorously, encountering incredible densities.

I channel all available power to a single ranging pulse, direct it upward. The indication is so at variance with all experience that I repeat the test at a new angle. Now I must accept the fact: I am buried under 207.6 meters of solid rock!

I direct my attention to an effort to orient myself to my uniquely desperate situation. I run through an action-status checklist of thirty thousand items, feel dismay at the extent of power loss. My main cells are almost completely drained, my reserve units at no more than .4 charge. Thus my sluggishness is explained. I review the tactical situation, recall the triumphant announcement from my commander that the Enemy forces were annihilated, that all resistance had ceased. In memory, I review the formal procession; in company with my comrades of the Dinochrome Brigade, many of us deeply scarred by Enemy action, we parade before the Grand Commandant, then assemble on the depot ramp. At command, we bring our music storage cells into phase and display our Battle Anthem. The nearby star radiates over a full spectrum unfiltered by atmospheric haze. It is a moment of glorious triumph.

Then the final command is given—

The rest is darkness. But it is apparent that the victory celebration was premature. The Enemy has counterattacked with a force that has come near to immobilizing me. The realization is shocking, but the .1 second of leisurely introspection has clarified my position. At once, I broadcast a call on Brigade

Action wave length:
"Unit LNE to Command, requesting permission to file VSR."

I wait, sense no response, call again, using full power. I sweep the enclosing volume of rock with an emergency alert warning. I tune to the all-units band, await the replies of my comrades of the Brigade. None answer. Now I must face the reality: I alone have survived the assault.

I channel my remaining power to my drive and detect a channel of reduced density. I press for it and the broken rock around me yields reluctantly. Slowly, I move forward and upward. My pain circuitry shocks my awareness center with emergency signals; I am doing irreparable damage to my overloaded neural systems, but my duty is clear: I must seek out and engage the Enemy.


The Last Command
by Keith Laumer

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