Breakdown, Saddle Up, Rinse & Repeat
Motorcycle maintenance
5 years ago, I found myself stranded in a grocery store parking lot.
I strolled out of Safeway with a grocery filled backpack. Helmet on, mount my bike, turn the key and press the ignition — nothing happens. Try that last step again… and again… and again. Still nothing.
The sun was going down, it was getting cold, and I had some perishables in my bag. All minor issues when I realized I had no idea what was wrong with my bike, I had no tools, and I didn’t know what I should do. I started multi-tasking… Pushing the bike towards the street, calculating the distance/time to get home, and cursing myself for being unprepared.
I was stopped by an older gentleman in coveralls. He stepped out of a yellow ambulance and asked, “you need some help?”. I hesitated but reluctantly said yes. We spent the next 30 minutes diagnosing the no-start issue… and by “we”, I mean him. He pulled out tool after tool from the back of his ambulance. I didn’t even hold the flashlight. He explained everything he was doing out loud, but I wasn’t really following and I certainly didn’t understand. It turned out to be a simple issue, a loose electrical connector. I offered to pay him. He declined. He gave me his phone number. He explained he was heading to Texas for a few months, but he would be back in the summer. I should call him if I needed any serious work done.
I never ended up calling him, but I still have his number. “Eric — Ambulance Mechanic”.
Everyone starts somewhere.
That “somewhere” is the bottom. The Safeway parking lot fiasco was my first motorcycle breakdown. That bike was also the first one I’ve ever owned. I had no knowledge and no friends to learn from when I bought it. I didn’t know a thing…Legitimately bought one of the least friendly “first timer” bikes because of my naivety: a 1981 Honda Goldwing Aspencade, for $800. It was a sofa on wheels and a major pain in the ass. It was also the start of a passion, and the first step in my adult motorcycle journey. I loved it, sold it, and still look at pictures sometimes.
Fast forward 5 years
I’m at the Shell down the street, pumping gas. I saw two teens standing over a blue mini bike. At first I was just curious, but after talking it was clear they couldn’t start it. I asked a few questions and offered to help. It turned out to be a simple carb issue — no more than a 2 minute fix and they were back to ripping up and down the street. I gave the kids my phone number and told them to call me if they needed anything else.
I didn’t think they’d take it so literally. I got a text two hours later saying the bike made a weird noise, died, and wasn’t starting at all. I drove back to the gas station and told them to meet me there.
We started diagnosing. A couple teaching moments here, a spark plug changing lesson there, and even a run to the auto parts store… but unfortunately there was no good news. The damn thing was hanging on by a thread. Everything was half-assed, sketchy, or downright dangerous. I opened up the valve cover and pulled out a loose push rod. “Dude, I’m sorry. You got screwed with this. It’s not gonna run at all without some work” I told him.
I felt really sorry for the kid. He spent hard earned money on his first bike that morning, rode it for a few hours, and was now the sorry owner of a two-wheeled paperweight. I’m not sure how he or the bike are doing — I haven’t heard from him since then. Hopefully he hasn’t given up.
This weekend, I did some wrenching on a bike of my own. I haven’t touched it since moving to Vegas, and essentially gave up on it before I set off on the Vintage 1000. In preparation for the trip, two bikes became too much. I didn’t have the space or time to give it the attention it deserved, and I was working against the clock to get at least one bike sorted.
I got it running after I bought it. It was inconsistent, underpowered, and plagued with gremlins. I decided to pull the engine and start rebuilding it this weekend. I think the motivation was half due to boredom and half due to the fact that I haven’t done anything meaningful with my hands recently. I’m not afraid of hard work, but I’ve been known to procrastinate it. Spending 4 hours on a Sunday cursing over a 47 year old bike isn’t that fun, but looking at a lingering failure in my backyard every day is significantly worse.
So, back to the saddle.
I dug through my (unpacked) boxes to find a good starting point. I met an older gent in California who just happened to have 2 engines and a cache of parts for this exact bike (everything for $400… You’re losing money if you don’t take that deal). “It may look like junk, but a lot of people would pay crazy money for some of this” I assured my girlfriend as I rifled through the boxes.
Engine came out. I went to O’reilly’s twice. Engine got taken apart. Everything looked good… so good that I questioned if I should’ve taken it apart at all. I’ve yet to inspect the piston and rings, which I suspect is what needs a little refresh, but that’s coming soon. For now, the engine’s sitting on my tool cart alongside the 2 spares. More work to be done. I don’t really care if it needs it or not — I’d rather have peace of mind and learn a little. It also felt good to wash dirt and oil off my hands at the end of the day feeling like I did something. Parts are on order. Motivation is back.
Thoughts I had while writing this:
Are kids still having fun? I hope so. My first instinct watching these kids ride a glorified lawnmower up and down the street was to say, “you guys really shouldn’t be doing that”. But in reality, it was so refreshing to see them doing something that didn’t involve a screen. I try to toe the line of being a responsible/cool adult, so I urged them to be safe while doing hooligan shit. They were breaking some rules, sure, but they weren’t hurting anyone. Kinda badass in my book.
I can absolutely tell you the seller knew there were a million things wrong with this “bike”, and they had no problem selling it to a young kid. Can’t even begin to describe how pathetic that is. That stuff is what’s gonna keep kids inside and afraid to try things. Older generations always complain that the younger ones don’t know anything or that they’re getting soft. But if a teen were to outright say “I don’t know how to change a tire”, most responses would be complaints about how times and people have changed. I don’t see a whole lot of volunteering/teaching/mentoring going on, though. It’s a two way street — maybe some young folks don’t wanna learn, but there’s an equal amount of older ones who don’t wanna teach. I bet that’ll have some repercussions in the next couple decades, which sucks.
Life comes full circle. Eric the mechanic probably had more influence in my life than just getting me out of the grocery store parking lot. I don’t live in an ambulance because of him, but I do stop for broken down motorists whenever I see them. I don’t want the concept of a helpful stranger to be foreign to anyone.
I’m also doing things now that I wouldn’t have tried 5 years ago. I would’ve been too scared to pull/rebuild an engine solo. Now I choose to do it on nice Sunday afternoons. Skills and knowledge make it faster. Curiosity and conviction make it possible. Get your reps in.
The best tool for the job is the right one. The second best tool is a beer and whatever you have on hand.
These are all things I’ve done before. I just do them with a little more know-how each time. Break down, saddle up, rinse & repeat.
Photos:
Keep on truckin’
Love the goldwing!
I have a GL1500 I’m planning to post about soon.
You’ve got great taste!
Love your ability to try anything. I like your assistant also. ❤️