What Are You Doing New Years Eve?

Meow meow purr meow purr hiss hiss meow purr purr meow?

Translation: Romeo Oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Should Of Posted This Yesterday But I Got Lazy

Ya’ know, sometimes it’s just the little things that make you think. Take sitting here in the garage with a non-filter and a cup of Rollick’s finest. It’s making me think of last night – Christmas Eve. When I was sitting on my ass in this same chair last night, I had one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. And I didn’t really do shit.

Bro. Dave had to be brewing at 0: dark thirty. So I figured I’d brave the cold and ride down to his shop. A coffeehouse is damn nice destation when your going on a dark, damp, cold ride. Hung out and bull shited with Viking most of the morning. When he got off work we took a ride over to see Wolf and wish him the merriest of seasons. He threatened to get a restraining order if we ever came back. Love ya’ Wolf, you’re a good Brother. Everybody said their best Merry F’ing Christmas and goes their separate way to take care of last minute details.

So I get home X-Mas Eve and there’s not really anything to do. The daughter is gone to a party, just the wife and I left to fend for ourselves. What to do what to do. A quick trip outside to abide is some local agriculture. Then we just sat in the semi-dark garage, the kitchen light glowing through the door. I put on Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant” and we sat there staring at the bikes and listening to 40 year old tunes. And it was a damn fine time. It also made me think. The economy is in the toilet; I’ve got no idea how secure my job is and all that other negative crap. But then all that faded and the positive took over. I realized I’ve got some great people in my life.

Even with all the break-ups going on it’s still possible to be in love after 20 years. I wouldn’t trade my wife for anything. Becky and Dave help keep me sane, although I might trade Dave for a nice Panhead, but that’s a whole different story. All the folks out there in Blogersville, the ones I’ve met, Ann, mq01, Big D, Arizona Harley Dude, Biker Chickz, you guys hold a special place in my life. All of you I haven’t met, yet, you help me keep things in perspective. There’s a lot of wisdom floating around out there. Just wanted to let all of you know that I appreciate you being part of my life. You help restore my faith in humankind.

Now jump on your bike and terrorize the neighborhood! We wouldn’t want the “public” to get the idea that we’re nice people.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Originally I was just going to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and leave it at that. I guess I can still do that; Merry Christmas everyone!

But then the voices in my head started talking and no matter how much kool-aid I drank they wouldn’t shut up. And since Political Correctness isn’t in my vocabulary, I couldn’t resist taking a jab at some of my favorite people. Love them or hate them, you have to admire them for being consistent. Consistently not listing to what the people that pay their salaries say.


T’was the night before Health Care and all through the House,
Nancy was whoring like a queer little mouse.

The Senate was snug in their warm office beds,
While visions of botox danced in their heads.

Her stockings were hung from her shoulder with care,
In hopes that a new vote would be in her rear.

She wandered the Halls looking for votes,
She found one outside taking a toke.

She gagged and she swallowed she spit and she swished,
She now had the vote right there in her fist.

The deal is now done she proclaimed with a grin,
As the last vote she needed ran down her chin.


***Any similarities to any persons living or dead are purely accidental***
Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Fight. Ho Ho Ho!

Back on the government “watch list” I go.

Just A Observation

For the last week I’ve been paying close attention to the ass-end of cars. No, it’s not a fetish. But hey, some of those little imports do have cute rear-ends. I’ve been looking for something. A few months ago they were all over the place. Now I can’t find a single one. It actually gives me a warm fuzzy feeling that I can’t find any. What I’m been looking for is a f’ing obama bumper sticker.

Those things were on every other car a while back. Now I don’t see any. I’ve concluded that there are only two reasons for this. Reason 1: Everyone that voted for (choke) obama participated in the cash for clunkers and now has a new car. But I don’t think auto sales are up that much, so that’s probably not the real reason. Reason 2: (The more likely one) Everyone that voted for (just threw up in my mouth) obama is so damn embarrassed to have anyone know it that they tore the stupid thing off. How’s that hope and change working for you now?

Interview With Pbo

Someone sent me this interview. They had no idea where it came from. But after a long and exhaustive search I think I found the story behind it. Seems that the interviewee was just walking down the street one day and some dude in his garage asked if he could interview him. So out comes the microphone and it’s on. Because of all the black helicopters buzzing around and the guys in dark suits with sunglasses, the disguise came out also.

The audio portion was broadcast about a month ago on radio station WSHIT “the brown spot on your dial”. It was only aired once, and then the station was mysteriously flushed away. Gone, right down the drain. Never to be seen again. But I managed to get not only the audio but also the video. So this is a world premier of the interview they didn’t want you to see.

***Disclaimer*** This is a parody, political satire, you know, part of my 1st Amendment Rights. But just incase someone doesn’t agree with the U.S. Constitution I have a solution. Go to the nearest U.S. border crossing, cross the border and burn your passport. Bye Bye.

Williams, AZ - A Little Late

These were hanging from the ceiling of the bar in Williams, AZ

Yes, I know this is late. I started it on July 11th. But hey, I just found a math test from the 8th grade I never finished. I smell a GED in my future!

OK. So you all know we took a trip to AZ. Why, I don’t know. Crap, after two hundred miles, my wife decides her hinny hurts and we have to call her mommy to pick her up. Maybe I should have put the rear seat on? The fender didn’t look that hard. Then, after nineteen hours on the road I get to sleep on a plywood bed with things crawling on me. I think there are critters that live in that mountain air, I saw it in a movie once it must be true. The next morning I’m sitting outside enjoying a cup of rancid coffee and a non-filter, just sitting there, minding my own damn business, when these people in leather start shouting my name and start trying to hug me. Boy, I’ll tell ya’, those people in AZ are pretty darn friendly. Don’t they know that if you do that in Alabama you’re considered married! They said their names were Ann, Big D and Arizona Harley Dude. I asked for ID but nobody had one. Likely story. I still think they were spies from the California Air Resource Board sent to Arizona to try and screw up that State also.

The next thing I know I’m being dragged into some two hundred year old building they said was a restaurant. I think the waitress built the place, but she had a mind like a steel trap. She took everyone’s order without a notepad and got everything perfect. Now I’m being forced to eat some strange redneck food while listening to a discussion about the proper use of the word penis. Hell, maybe I did get married that morning. I know I heard Dueling Banjos playing on the eight-track.

Shortly after that I found myself with a whole bunch of those leather-clad types on bikes, riding from one end of town and back again. It was like some sort of circus freak-show. I could see the towns-folks pointing and warning their children. You could hear them: “See that one with the beard and tattoos? Stay away from him! He’s trouble”. The sign on the hardware store said there was a “this weekend only” sale on “pitchforks”. I wonder why. I kept a close eye on them.

After all the dirty looks from the locals I spent the afternoon following around a 2-speed Sporty. The two speeds were 0 and friggen 90. Nothing in between. Anybody who doubts that a Sporty packing two-up can’t leave a Big Twin in the dust; well shit happens. After a day of riding in the cold, rain, heat and everything in-between, we wound up at a local shop for some pretty darn good road-kill to put in our bellies. Possum, maybe beaver or squirrel. Don’t matter, it was good.

Later on we went to one of those places folks go to and play grab-ass. They have beer, liquor and other mind altering stuff. You best keep an eye on you ass if you go to one of these establishments, someone might grab it and not give it back. But hey, if you think your ass is too big and you want to lose some, sign up for the frequent ass-grabber plan. After a few hours of grab-ass watching and more local animal abuse, it was back to my plywood Sorta Perfect Sleeper.

The next morning was some leftover possum and a trip from Williams to Phoenix for a overnight before heading back to CA. It was pretty uneventful except that you ride through some of the most spectacular scenery on earth. When we got close to Phoenix and traffic was starting to back-up Ann warned us that we “could not” split lanes in AZ. So being good law-abiding citizens we respected the law and “did not” split lanes. We rode down the shoulder to our exit.

Eventually we found our way to Big D’s garage. Full of bike, parts and tools. I felt right at home. The fact that Ann, Big D, AHD, the kids and the folks from B.A.C.A. that stopped by were all down-home genuine folks didn’t hurt either. Some of the best people you would ever want to meet if you ever get over that way. The rest of the nights activities are a little fuzzy, so rather than make stuff up I’ll leave it out. I will say this: “Big D, if you ever run for public office I’ll vote for you”. Even though you probably wouldn’t win because most people won’t accept the truth.

The next days ride back to CA sucked (damn helmet law!). Don’t get me wrong. It was a good ride with great friends, B.B. and Dave, but you’re ridding away from something you don’t want to end. While the saying “ There’s always next year” is true, it took me so long to get of my ass and finish writing this that “next year” is only a few months away.

Thankful It's Not 2029!

This is Kay’s latest commentary I heard today. Although it may not be the most uplifting message of the season, it may not be far from the truth. After hearing this, and since it is Thanksgiving, I figured I should be darn thankful it’s not 2029… yet!

"The following is a KSCO commentary. Here is Kay Zwerling: OK. This has been floating around for awhile. Sounds like life will not be much fun in the future. Headlines from the year 2029: Ozone created by electric cars are now killing millions in the seventh largest country in the world, Mexifornia, formerly known as California. White minority are still trying to have English recognized as Mexifornia’s third language. Spotted owl plague threatens northwestern United States crops and livestock. Baby conceived naturally, scientists are stumped. Couple petitions court to reinstate heterosexual marriage. Last remaining fundamentalist Muslim dies in the American territory of the Middle East (formerly known as Iran, Afghanistan, Syria, and Lebanon). Iraq still closed off. Scientist estimate it will take at least ten more years before radioactivity decreases to safe levels. France pleads for global help after being taken over by Jamaica. Castro finally dies at age 112; Cuban cigars can now be imported legally, but President Chelsea Clinton has banned all smoking. George Z. Bush says he will run for President in 2036. Postal Service raises price of first class stamp to $17.89 and reduces mail delivery to Wednesdays only. 85-year, $75.8 billion study: The result is that diet and exercise is the key to weight loss. Average weight of Americans drops to 250 pounds. Massachusetts executes last remaining conservative. Supreme Court rules punishment of criminals violates their civil rights. Average height of NBA players is now 9’7”. New federal law requires that all nail clippers, screwdrivers, fly swatters, and rolled up newspapers must be registered by January 2036. And, Congress authorizes direct deposit of formerly illegal political contributions to campaign accounts. Capitol Hill intern indicted for refusing to have sex with a Congressman. IRS sets lowest tax rate at 75%. Florida voters still having trouble with voting machines. And, there you are. These are the headlines in the year 2029".

Now that you know what the future holds have a Happy Thanksgiving.

--This part was added a little later in the day--
I went on a short ride before going out to dinner with the In-laws, who are great people, but still remember guys, do what your wife tells you. It seems that Belle was feeling a little left out at not being invited to dinner so she acquired her own Thanksgiving feast.

What Is It?

This is stupid and probably darn near impossible, but I gotta do it anyway. It’s those voices in my head. Can you guess what the arrow is pointing to? The one on the left is a piece of human hair.

More Voices?

06:30 Saturday the thermometer reads 40F outside and it rained last night. Being of a not to bright nature I figure it’s perfect weather for a ride over to Carmel Valley. So now I’ve got to pick a bike. Find my three-sided coin, flip it, and ok the old 84’ Sporty it is. Bundle up in my best Saturday go-a-riding attire and piss off the neighbors. Let me tell you about Laureles Grade, the road that goes over the mountain between the Salinas Valley and Carmel Valley. Every time bike races are held at Laguna Seca several bikers are injured, or worse on the Grade. It’s one of those knee dragging, up and down twisty roads that crotch-rockets love.

I start heading up the hill and for some reason the “ICY” sign at the bottom catches my eye. Could it be more of those voices in your head that Arizona Harley Dude hears? After all, 40 degrees in the valley, rain last night, several thousand feet up the hill might be different. Never noticed that icy sign before.

I had two reasons for taking that ride: 1) Because I’m stupid and like to freeze my ass off. 2) If you get up there before the Sun is up you can get above the clouds that blanket the valley this time of year. Just about at the top of the Grade I run into an old friend I remember from the East Coast: “Black Ice”. I didn’t like the SOB then, and I like him even less now. Going into a left curve the ass-end started to fishtail like a baby seal that just saw Jaws. Crap, this thing’s going down! Or option number two: Screw trying to make the turn and go straight into the dirt pullout. The drop-off on the other side can’t be more than a few hundred feet. Throttle up, pull the front-end up straight, hit the dirt and stopped the wayward bike, upright. Hey, this is a good place to get a picture with the clouds over the valley!

Judging by the fresh skid marks in the dirt, I’d say that a small car hit that ice just a few minutes before I did. If they had hung around for awhile bet I could’ve got them to take a picture of me next to the bike with crap running down my leg.

I guess it’s a good thing that we all occasionally hear voices in our heads, we just don’t always listen. Another 15-20 mph like I usually take that road? Somebody else might be writing this…for a newspaper.

Follow The Pussy

This might sound strange but it’s true! I swear on a stack of Shovelheads that it’s true! One of my cats came up to me and said that she’s seen all the useless junk I put on my blog and all I do is waste my time in the garage screwing with the bikes. At first I thought it was weird that she knew what a blog was. I didn’t think a cat was awake long enough to do any reading. But then the other two cats walked over and said they do lots of stuff when no one’s home. Who’d a thunk it. Cats actually don’t sleep all day!

So I asked what they wanted. They went over to the corner and got in a little cat football huddle. They came back and said: Look bozo, if you want some really good footage get your camera and follow us around for awhile. We’ll show ya how to have fun. I said ok I’ll bite, lets go. By the time I got my camera they were all sleeping and I had to wake them up. Maybe I’ll wake up soon. I think I’m dreaming.

Veterans Day Disgust!

That is totally absurd! Just got home, sitting in the garage with a cup of coffee listing to the radio. The station is in Santa Cruz, CA. Anyone familiar with Santa Cruz knows that it is so far left politically that all official city documents spell "left" with two L’s. The radio host, Charley Freedman, is a Navy veteran and schoolteacher. He really has no use for Santa Cruz other than he works at the radio station.

He said this story, which the local papers did not carry, might offend some people. It seems that yesterday, 11-11-2009; there was an event at the Santa Cruz Veterans Hall. Someone in the neighborhood thought it was too loud and called the local noise patrol. This was about 6:00 PM. Far from the 10:00 PM kick in for the noise ordinance. What crime were they committing? They were playing “God Bless America” and some son of a b*tch was offended. The worst part is that the local Police actually went on the call and told them to turn it down. Big ass damn crime. Damn America loving bastards. Not in Santa Cruz, we’ll show you!

To the Santa Cruz Police Officer that went on that call: You’re a a-hole! You should resign immediately and get the hell out of The United States Of America. You don’t deserve the freedom those Veterans gave you!

Description Of A Veteran

Veterans are described many ways by many people. This is the description I prefer.

“A Veteran is someone who at one point in their life wrote a blank check made payable to the United States of America for the amount of up to and including their life”.

Fugly Ugly Forks

Finally got tired of looking at those pitted ass forks on my bike. I wish the factory would stop putting clear coat on them, but it looks good in the showroom. Looks like crap after a few miles but that’s life. So here’s my secret for getting that junk off. The stuff was called Goose’s Magic Mix metal prep cleaner. Now it’s called Magic Mix. Google it or find it at most truck stops. Make sure it has the bunny wabbit on the bottle. By itself it won’t do a damn thing to clear coat, as most chemicals you can buy won’t. Clear coat is some tough stuff.

So the trick? Green scotch brite pads. It has some sort of chemical reaction with a scotch brite pad. Put a few drops on the pad – you can smell the acid. I tried other brands of pads, doesn’t work. What kind of acid is it? Hell, I don’t know. But it gets rid of clear coat, that’s all I care about. You can wear rubber gloves if you want to, but hey if you can kill two birds with one stone and get rid of those pesky fingerprints that keep getting you in trouble and have purdy forks at the same time, why not.

I spent about five hours to do both forks. You still have to use a little elbow grease. The more screwed up the clear coat is, the easier it comes off. Then wipe it down with a wet rag and polish with your favorite metal polish.

Corny

Took a ride yesterday out to Swank Farms in Hollister to get lost in a corn maze. Some of you in Iowa are saying; “Pay good money to walk through a corn field? Are you crazy? We just go out in the back yard”. Nope, scored some free tickets from some radio guys. BB, Dave, Riley, Carolyn and I went out there to look at corn, and yep, it was tall green stuff. The ironic part was that it was right across the road from Corbin’s but we were the only bikes there. My favorite part was watching those giant slingshots shooting pumpkins and watermelons. Some of those people really busted their butts. But it was all fun.

Bitch Loud & Often!

This ain’t got crap to do with bikes, just me running my mouth. I haven’t been posting or commenting on anything lately because I’ve been doing my civic duty. I’ve been waging my own war with the local powers-that-be. The local issue I oppose was to be heard this Tuesday by the City Council. It “did not” make it on the agenda. That surprises me because the other side has all the money and tried to keep most of it from the public. Weather or not writing a butt load of emails, letters-to-the-editor and going out knocking on doors and talking to folks helped or not, I don’t know. But it’s not on the agenda, at least for this month. Maybe bitching loud enough works sometimes. And I can certainly bitch pretty darn loud when I think someone is trying to stick it in me without any lube.

And that brings up the “good news” that this country is not headed toward Socialism. We’re way the hell past that. Can you say Totalitarianism? When you have nuts like Ahmadinejad and Kadafi falling in love with a U.S. President that should scare the hell out of you. They should be scared shitless and hate his guts. Something’s wrong. And those little kids singing the “obama song”. What’s next? Little red obama books? Chairman Mao would be proud. And WTF is up with them saying they aren’t going to post that health care scam on the Internet until after the vote? Who the f#ck do they think they are? Oh that’s right, they’re the Lords and Masters. We are but the humble servants. The point is that we all need to start bitching very very loud and very very often. If we don’t, then we deserve what we get. Control of every aspect of our lives. Right down to how many pisses you can take each day.

The "Wolf" Is Back!

I’m sure some of you remember a few months ago FLHX Dave posted about Brother Wolf taking a hard spill in that f’in LA traffic. Well that was three months ago. Since then poor Wolf and his ride have both been recuperating. We go over and see him all the time, but something tells me it’s not the same for him, watching us ride off while he’s standing on his porch with no ride. Today Wolf’s iron horse was ready to leave the stable. I knew I should be there but I’m also an a-hole. I showed up, just never told anyone I was there. I sat across the street so I could get a quick video of his first time back in the saddle. Wolf still has a few weeks before the doc gives him a full thumbs up. But his ride is rebuilt and back home where it belongs.

Deep Do-Do

Yesterday, a comment was made that made me think. The comment: “I’m thinking so many things, I don’t know what I’m thinking”. That made me think about what I was thinking about. So I thought about what I was thinking about for the next five minutes, these are those thoughts:

We sat in the campfire and watched as the monkey pulled the feathers from the octopus. The flames licked at the blinding night sky as if the sun were reaching up to burn the depths of the ocean. The sound was eerie; much like the laugh of a centipede sliding slowly to the top of a martini glass. The wheels rolled through the hot frozen tundra like a fart through a sandstorm. Time-travel would soon be lost. Past and present were now one. How long would it take to take no action? How far down the road less traveled must one go to arrive? Would you arrive? Do fish-sticks come from frozen lakes? The sudden deafen sound of silence was an indication that the world had imploded; the sun would not rise tonight. The smell of moldy gasoline filled the coffin. The cook would be happy.

Corvair Trike

The other day Dave called. Said he was at Wolf’s house and I had to get over there and see what just pulled up. OK, any reason for a ride. Potato Potato over to Wolf’s. It was worth the ride. The story I got on the Corvair Trike: The owner’s uncle started the build in 1970. Took about ten years to finish. It’s been sitting in the barn under a tarp ever since. It has about two hundred miles on it. He just inherited it and it’s for sale – cheap.

The thing I like is the engine in the middle instead of the rear like most builds. All of the British parts from the 60’s and 70’s are pretty cool also.

The Final Battle VI

As Luke stood and watched the fireworks over DC he thought about what tomorrow would bring. The ACF was pretty organized as a Military unit went, being made up of HOG chapters, ex-military and civilians who were willing to die to restore their Country. But to be a real Government of the People and avoid the mistakes of the past, those plans were still waiting to be scratched on a restaurant napkin.

Luke thought back to what many considered the last straw. What many said was the final act of a corporate government destine to self-destruct. After the 2016 election, the foreign interest saw what was happening. They wanted assurances their investments were safe. They called in their markers. China and Japan wanted their loans to the U.S.S.A. paid, in full. Of course the money only existed in the backroom of some Wall Street bank on a fake ledger. The loans could not be repaid. After several threats, on both sides, and many rounds of “peace” talks, the decision was made to repay the loans with land grants. DC, and a one hundred mile radius around it were exempt. The rest of the U.S.S.A. was “Tax Granted” to pay the foreign debt. The plan was for all properties outside the “exempt zone” to be assessed a “foreign debt tax”. Soon, mansions and military style compounds were being built inside the “zone”. The government was seizing private land and moving all politicians and their wealthiest supporters into the exempt zone. This was more than people could take. Luke remembered what his brother had once said; “The seeds of revolution are sown in the fertile soils of discontent”.

He looked at Ben and Tom as they watched the flares; their faces void of expressions, hardened by years of staying one-step ahead of the corrupt, bloodthirsty U.S.S.A. government hit squads. This was not the America his ancestors had died for. Or would it be, at the cost of his own life, the America he would leave his heirs. The War on Tyranny had taken many lives, including that of his nephew’s father. Luke’s commitment to honor his brother was second only to protecting his nephew’s, or insuring that they died with the honor of a warrior as their father had.

The crackle of the antique walkie-talkie snapped Luke back to reality. It was Taz. “Go Taz, what’s up?” Luke asked. “Look at your watch numb-nut” Taz shot back. “We’re going to fire this thing in fifteen minutes. Think you might want to get you and those boys the hell outta there?”

Ben and Tom heard the radio. All three scrambled up the riverbank and fired up the old Harleys. The short half-mile ride back to the power station was the best ride any of them could remember – it had a purpose. Taz and Eddie were waiting at the Western Whitehouse with the “button”. They were far enough behind the EMP to be safe. They wanted to be outside for the best view. Besides, if the EMP had the wrong affect on the nuclear reactor under the Supreme Court… Well at this distance they would never know.

"Spare Parts"

I think I’m going to name this bike “Spare Parts”. That’s where a lot of the parts came from. Spare parts lying around, free parts from friends, found parts thrown away or just crap I couldn’t find so I just made. I’ve never named a bike before. I usually just call them bitch or piece of shit, and that normally has something to do with it refusing to start. So if this on refuses to start once in a while I can just shake my head and say; “You made it from ‘Spare Part’ what did you expect”?

There’s still a lot of small stuff to finish and I’m sure I’ll change some things, but it’s back in one piece and runs pretty darn good.

Starting Point
Two Weeks Ago
Today

Kicker Party

Sunday I got enough of the Shovel done to run it. Still got more to do. Fenders, brakes, foot peg, lights, etc… All that stuff that’s nice to have, but not necessary to make it go. B.B. and Dave came over to see if the thing would start. The first part of the video is the first try after assembly. The next part is Dave and B.B. taking a turn. The bike is facing the other way because I took it for a spin around the block. That was a mistake. No rear fender, no place to mount the seat. The zip tie didn’t work. I hit 2nd gear, and the seat shot out from under me. The rear tire almost launched me like a conveyor belt. Won’t try that again!

S. O. B. !

Screw that bastard Murphy and his stupid Laws! Boy did I make a boo-boo. Put the tranny back in, mounted the inner primary, got the clutch and belt drive in, then it hit me. Crap! Did I really just do that? Yep, I did. Well shit happens. Nothing that can’t be fixed pretty easily. Just a pain in the butt.

There’s a rookie mistake in the picture. The first one who spots it gets to call me a dumb ass. The second one that sees it can come fix it for me.
Answer: 8-3-09
I forgot to put the shifter shaft in. Goes in from the inside of the inner primary, “before” you mount the damn thing!

Something's Missing

This may sound strange, but I don’t think my 07’ Heritage is a Harley. For the last few weeks I’ve been riding the old Ironhead. Tonight I took the Softail out for a spin. I don’t think I got one block before something just didn’t feel right. The sound wasn’t right; the engine was just too smooth. There’s something about the sound of those old cast-iron engines that the aluminum ones will never have. The feel of the road under your ass wasn’t there either. The ride was just way too soft; almost as if, dare I say; riding a Goldwing! The Heritage had no vibration. I missed it. The new bikes are fine, but I miss the feel of riding a frame with a engine bolted to it. Your whole body going numb from the vibration. The term “Milwaukee Vibrator” use to mean something. Now it’s just something they sell at Victoria’s Secret. Or maybe I’m just getting old and slowly going nuts.

Been Wrenching

OK, I ain’t been around much, but I have a excuse; I’ve been wrenching. After I did the valves and ignition on my old Sporty one thing led to another. You know, like potato chips or sex. Once you start you can’t stop. It was running pretty good but not great. That led to a clean out of the old S&S carb. Now it was running really good, but I wasn’t happy. Did a little clutch work and the clutch lever felt about ten pounds lighter. This thing had always been set up as a solo ride, so I decided to see how it handled two up. That meant a rear seat and pegs. I put the P-Pad on, but the passenger didn’t like it, (they can be quite bitchy at times). We settled on the stock seat with a sissy bar. I also stole back the windshield B.B. was using on her bike. Don’t worry; I gave her another one I had that she likes even better. Took it out on a few two up rides between 50 and 100 miles and I was surprised. It ran and handled great, but… it leaves oil spot everywhere. After taking parts back off I spot a worn oil feed hose. On the trailer and off to a good steam cleaning. Every oil line on the bike gets replaced and the oil spots go away. Or so I thought. Now I can see a leak at the tranny main shaft. Tear it apart again. Fix the main shaft. Now the oil spots are gone. Now the old Ironhead runs like a raped ape, it’ll do over 100 MPH with two up and handles great. Guess I’ll start using it. But now that this one is good to go I still need someplace to direct all my caffeine. So I dug the Shovel out of the corner.

Before

Trailer Queen

After

After

Next Project

Old Bikes Need Care

Got 185 psi of compression on both cylinders after the valve adjustment. That’s pretty darn good for a engine that I rebuilt in 1997. Now anything above 2000 RPM it has a miss. No backfiring out the exhaust or popping through the carb, just a miss. Real bothersome. Most of these old bikes can be pretty damn temperamental and have all kinds of little quirks. I was certain this was an ignition problem. Battery, check. Sparkplugs, check. Plug wires, check. Coil, check. Points, yes points. Check. For those that don’t remember points, they are little sticks of metal that spark and make the engine go suck bang boom.

A nice little electronic ignition unit could replace this mess and possibly be a little smoother idling, but I like messing with stuff. Besides, if some nut-case ever hits us with a electro magnetic pulse bomb, I’ll still be running. Any engine with a computer? Tits up.

All the basic stuff looks good so more checking. I take the point plate out and look at the timing advance assembly. Clean all the crud off it and look closer. If you look at where the spring loops on the pin you’ll see the mount holes on the flyweights are wallowed out, bad. The holes on the back for the stop pins are just as bad. The flyweights were coming out so far they were rubbing on the cam cover. The engine timing was jumping all over the place. A few more miles, I’m sure it would have quit running. I need to have a talk with my mechanic, that dude is slacking.

Why I don’t use Harley dealers? I called the local dealer. Asked the parts specialist if they had any flyweights and springs for an old XLH. He came back on the phone a few minutes later and said he looked in the book and couldn’t find any weights on the flywheel. WTF is this guy doing at a parts counter? Good-bye dumbshit. I went to the local independent bike shop and asked for flyweights. He said he didn’t have them, but he had a Accel Advance Unit, (weights, springs, mount plate, point cam, bolts, etc…). Great, I’ll take it! Point is, the guy knew what the hell I was looking for, and about $30 less than the dealer. Here’s the old one on the left and the new one on the right. Dave stopped by to see what’s up, so there was only one thing left to do. Go for a ride! Went out for a quick 10-mile or so ride and no problems. The old Sporty has new life.

Pop Quiz

I started up my ’84 Ironhead the other day and it ran like crap. Rather than try and guess what the problem was, I decided to practice what I preach. I did a compression test and these are the results:
Front cylinder dry 125 psi
Front cylinder wet 125 psi
Rear cylinder dry 170 psi
Rear cylinder wet 170 psi
So, what is the logical place to look for the problem?

Marshmallow 101

How to tell the sex of a marshmallow. More crap you never knew you wanted to know but were to afraid to ask.

Arizona Pre-Trip

This was supposed to post the morning we left for Williams. Apparently unknown computer issues, or someone just screwing up, stopped that from happening. So I’ll post it now. That will give me time to work on a day-by-day accounting of the road-trip, at least the way I remember it. Besides, others may remember it differently, and I need the time to get my “facts” stright.




This is a dumb, stupid video thingy. But I do'ed it anyway. The singer is my cat on lots of catnip. By the time this hits the airwaves we’ll be headed to Arizona for a hook-up with Ann, Big D and AZ Harley Dude. Might even get some pictures, don’t know. Bye.

Flag Day

Today, June 14th is Flag Day. Few people know or care anymore. My next-door neighbor and me rode out to the Capitola Mall (next to Santa Cruz, Ca), for their Flag Day celebration. Two things still surprise me about this.

1): Santa Cruz County is so lleft; it’s spelled with two l’s. I’m surprised they allow American Flags in public.

2): Me, being 50 years young, was the youngest Vet there. Where the hell are all the Vet’s from Lebanon, Grenada, Panama, The Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan? I know you guys are out there. Start going to these small events. Get out in the public, don’t fade away, again.

There were about fifty people there. About fifteen of them were Veterans. Two bikes in the whole parking lot, my neighbors and mine. That’s a damn shame. Somehow I keep winding up on mailing list for these types of events. I know it probably labels me as an “American Sympathizer” and I don’t care.