experience with all those nifty names already taken, "qwerty" happens to be available. It'll do.new to tmw
new to tmw
How convenient, after a experience with all those nifty names already taken, "qwerty" happens to be available. It'll do.
experience with all those nifty names already taken, "qwerty" happens to be available. It'll do.If at first you don't succeed, skydiving isn't for you.
-
sv-wolf
- Site Supporter - Platinum
- Posts: 2278
- Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 2:06 am
- Real Name: Richard
- Sex: Male
- Years Riding: 12
- My Motorcycle: Honda Fireblade, 2004: Suzuki DR650, 201
- Location: Hertfordshire, UK
Hi Qwerty, welcome to the boards. Hope your typing fingers are active.
Hud
“Man has no right to kill his brother. It is no excuse that he does so in uniform: he only adds the infamy of servitude to the crime of murder.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley
SV-Wolf's Bike Blog
“Man has no right to kill his brother. It is no excuse that he does so in uniform: he only adds the infamy of servitude to the crime of murder.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley
SV-Wolf's Bike Blog
Thanks for the welcome. I don't have a bike at this time. However, I do have a good bit of ancient experience under my belt. I began riding a Honda SL100 when I was 14. That was legal in Tennessee with a special throttle slide that reduced horsepower to 5bhp or less. The throttle slide actually came out of a CL100S model, but the same engine, actually. About that time I also started working at the local Honda dealer, sweeping the floor, scrubbing toilets, emptying trash, and setting up the occasional new bike for the showroom.
Within 6 months the SL100 had a SL125 engine, stroker crank, Yoshimura magnesium cylinder, head, and Stage 3 cam, an electronic ignition, a Basani down pipe, and a custom intake manifold sporting a CB350 diaphram carb. A Barnett clutch with Rocky springs spun a Yoshimura close ratio 6-speed. The fish oil in the forks was replaced with real stuff, and the rear shocks were replaced with Konis. The swing arm was 2 inches longer, and the stock steel fender was remounted on a fork brace. Drag bars provided a comfortable highway ride. A custom lower solo seat was built. The trials tread tires were replaced with a universal tread and the gearing was changed. Other than that, the bike was stock.
I did the overhaul over a weekend, and the service manager was so impressed he let me start working on the SL 100s, 125s, and 175s. Great little bikes, by the way. Swap in an electronic ignition, and maintenance is 15 minutes every 1000 miles, 30 minutes every 3000 miles. Years later I used this same SL100 to commute 30 miles each way to work, between North Miami Beach and Cutler Ridge, around the Palmetto Expressway and down US1.
Anywho, when I turned 16 I bought a p. o. s. SL350 and rebuilt it into a dirt tracker with lights and a horn. I used to ride the 360 to a track 45 miles from home, pull out the tool kit and remove the lights and horn, race, then put the lights and horn back on and ride home with a trophy bunjied to the back of the seat. Life is good when your rebuilt junker SL350 can whoop the 45s in the open class. With a handlebar and tire change, the CB360 also served as a motocross, enduro, and scrambles bike.
I was a 16-year old high school junior when the XL250 came out, and bought the first one out of the crate. I set the bike up, less street stuff, after work on Saturday, mounted a set of Metzler tires, went to a scrambles race on Sunday, and won class, finishing 2nd overall. Those old XL250s simply handled broad powerslides with aplomb, and the track was more suited to the XLs capabilities than anything else. With two race bikes, I bought a ragged pop-up camper for $10 just for the frame and axle. A little work with a welder and angle, and some new tires, and I had a servicable, if somewhat dumpy looking, motorcycle trailer. I found a '63 Chevy II with the right side wiped out for $300 for a tow vehicle.
I rode that first XL 48,000 miles before someone sugared the gas tank right about the time I graduated, and a rebuild was required. In went a Powrol stroker crank, head, cam, CB500T carb, electronic ignition, Rocky down pipe with a reverse cone megaphone, and a Barnett clutch. All this went down when my older brother was away at Marine boot camp. When he came home, he decided to steal the bike for a little ride while I was inside visiting with Mom, like he always did before boot camp. He hotwired the switch, kicked her over, and took off down the curved gravel drive. When he hit 2nd the front tire went up and the back tire went sideways, and he was running along behind the bike, hanging on to the handlebars for dear life. He did accidently bump the kill switch, and he didn't actually drop the bike, so he was allowed to live. He pushed the bike back up the drive, and was still shaking like a leaf when he parked the bike and walked away. Bad--- Marine, right. I swung a leg over, kicked her to life, put her in 2nd, and dropped the hammer, showering him with road rock, and leaving a big rut down the middle of the drive. Mom made him rake over the rut and pick up all the rocks in the grass to boot. BWAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!!!!!
When the XL350s first came out, I had to have one, but they were really too heavy for my liking. I preferred the built 250. I used the XL350 for commuting. Eventually I found a RedLine motoX frame, and built a pretty good trail rider out of her. I sold the stock parts for more than I paid for the bike. Free engines are always good.
A year after I graduated high school the shop owner sold out. The new owner was a business man, not a motorcyclist. Five minutes after signing the contract to purchase the shop, he walked into the shop, and announced mechanics were getting a 1/3 pay cut (1/3 labor turned instead of 1/2). Also, there would be no discounts on parts and supplies, we would have to sign affidavits that we would no longer work on motorcycles outside the shop, there would be no more shop racing team, and we would have to pay our health and medical in full, in advance. I fitted Barum ISDT tires to the 250 and headed for Alaska. You don't know butt-pucker until you round a corner at speed and slide to a top 3 feet from a grizzly none to happy about having his road kill dinner interrupted.
When I returned to Tennesse that fall, I sold everything except my bikes, tools, and clothes. The SL100 was sold to my younger brother. I loaded everything in a U-Haul truck, and headed south. I stopped in Atlanta for the night, and someone stole the truck. Nothing was ever recovered. All I had to my name was a folding file with my important papers, a small bag of toiletries, the clothes I had on, and $450.
When I went in to the office to file a police report there was an old trucker there. Once the report was filed the trucker offered a ride to Orlando, but by the time we arrived, he'd already made arrangements with another trucker for a ride to Miami. This second trucker clued me in to free showers at the beach parks, so for a while, I lived under the seagrapes with everything in a backpack.
I was blessed to find employment at a Honda/Kawasaki dealer a few days I arrived. First shop I asked, actually. I visited a flea market on Saturday and walked out with basic tools and a box sitting atop a CT70H with clear title and a bad oil burning problem. Somehow, that little Trail 70 made it to the nearest Honda dealer for a top-end gasket set, rings, valve lapping compound, and oil. I made it back to Bayside Park and rebuilt that little engine as best I could under the seagrapes. That took care of most of the oil smoke, but there's only so much one can do when cross-hatching a cylinder with 600 grit emery paper.
On Monday, I rode that Trail 70 to work. Everybody laughed. I was grateful to have it. At lunch time, I swung by the courthouse and got it registered, then spent the last of my cash on insurance and inspection. On Tuesday the Snap-On truck came by, and once I told the driver my story, he was very gracious with credit. He also gave me his brother's number, and I was able to get into a ghetto efficiency that usually rented by the hour fronted.
I was blessed every day because every time I turned around there was someone with a flat tire or overheated car. I always help folks in distress because I hope what goes around comes around, and when my family is in distress someone will help them. I never asked for money, and always told them no charge when asked, but it seems everyone gave me a little. I was able to pay my first week's rent by rewiring some lighting circuits at the hotel, and pay the second week's rent before the first week was used up. I didn't miss any meals, but I did get tired of Crystal Burgers and fries.
That little CT70H cleaned up really well. I scavenged a cylinder off a wreck in the back and sent it off to be bored. With a proper rebuild and some elbow grease the little booger looked quite nice. I rode it to work and back for about 3 months, eventually paying off the Snap-On man and acquiring a small wardrobe. I found a night job waiting tables, and the tips were quite generous. Before long my parents moved to Florida, and I bought my beloved SL100 back from my brother, who was only 14 and couldn't legally ride it in Florida.
I traded the CT70H in on a wrecked CB750K4 with very few miles. I also found a used Rickman roadrace frame and bodywork in rolling condition for the SOHC 750 at a swap meet for $100. Hey, I was young and dumb. Eventually, an 836 stroker found it's way under a Yoshimura head and Stage 3 cam. Mikunis found their way to the intake, and a local guy welded up a set of 4-1 headers. A little cutting on the fairing and fabricating some brackets, and the first somewhat modern supersport bike was prowling Collins Avenue. I made a lot of money street racing that sucker, beating wannabes on Denco H2s in corners and Z1s in drags. I quickly moved from the hotel into an appartment, but that was a very expensive proposition, and the landlord didn't appreciate the motorcycles in the living room. Before long I was convinced the Rickman had to go. Too many close calls with the law and with death. I am very lucky to still be alive considering where and how fast (168mph on radar) I rode that thing, especially considering it was my first street bike.
I bought a 15-foot camper trailer for $300 and rented a small warehouse with a 1/2 bath to put it in. I gutted the camper to the paneling, bought a folding table, a desk chair, and a hotplate. I built a 3x3 shower in one corner, and put in a small house-type electric water heater. A chaise lounge and air mattress was comfortable enough for sleeping, and a custom cabinet under the camper's kitchen sink and a cheap faucet let me brush my teeth and shave over a sink not coated in Go-Jo and grease. Using a marine evicerator pump to drain the holding tanks, all that was necessary for sewage was a t-fitting in the sink drain in the bathroom, under the p-trap. A cheap 5000btuh AC kept my little private niche comfy.
Eventually I bought a full bed, and just in time, too. A couple days after it was delivered, this very pretty young lady brought her poorly running Vespa in the shop just before closing time on a Saturday. I was done for the day, and came out from washing up just in time to hear the service manager tell her we didn't work on Vespas. He walked away, and the look on her face broke my heart. I whispered to her to wait outside by the blue Honda, I'd help her out. Follow when I leave, but don't make it obvious. I grabbed my riding gear, suited up, and left. I easily out-distanced her and pulled onto a side road. I waited for her to make the turn, then took off again, hauled around the block to make sure nobody was following (some sick puppies worked in that shop, very sick), then pulled up beside her from behind. I led her to the warehouse.
Nothing major with the Vespa, just some water in the gas. We walked up to the corner station for some fresh gas, and she had oil with her. She was on her way in minutes, no charge.
I showered and dressed for a night of street racing, but just as I was about to raise the door I heard the Vespa outside. She had returned with a cheap bar-b-cue grill, a small bag of Royal Oak, and groceries. Those beef and vegie kabobs were heavenly.
We talked long into the night (honest, though she just started college, she was only 17), and she mentioned buying a car. She couldn't afford the new economy cars coming out because they were going for way over list because of high demand. She thought she couldn't afford a bigger car because of fuel costs (this was in the mid-70s, and prices were $0.499/gallon). We did some calculations, and she decided to find a mid-size car, like a Chevelle, which would be somewhat good on gas and shouldn't cost too much.
Well, to make a long story short, after some time researching the market in the evenings, and a few calculations, we figured buying a low-mile 2-year old Cadi for $2000 was cheaper in the long run than paying $4500 for a Toyota or Datsun. Back then, the Cadi would be barely broken in at 4 years old, Japanese cars would be not running, and replacement parts were simply not to be had. She eventually bought a '70 Chevy Impala with a 350 2-barrel and couldn't of been happier.
Now, this girl worked in a nursing home. She spoke of our financial discoveries about the real costs of ownership of big cars. Many of her patients still had friends who drove, and many of them had fixed incomes and were being eaten alive maintaining their 2- and 3-year old imports. She convinced many to go back to their beloved full-sizes, but the prices on new cars were skyrocketing. The best option seemed a clean late model. Before I knew what was happening, I was visiting dealerships and buying wholesale before the second row cars went to auction. Dealers got cash, and I got low prices. I was selling everything I could get my hands on, and at good markups. For $1000, an evaporator, and freon, I could put a Skylark out the door at $1700. Not bad for a day's work.
I quit the motorcycle shop and sold the Rickman. Carrie moved in on her 18th birthday. I bought a new CB500F, and outfitted it with a Vetter Windjamer fairing, saddlebags, running boards, and other touring goodies. It seemed a little down on power for hauling both of us, so I bought a CB750K4 and made a dresser of it. Carrie and I cruised those bikes all over South Florida for 3 1/2 years and 60,000 miles. The little SL100 carried on as my daily transportation, and I built a similar SL100 using a stroker in the stock engine for Carrie when the Vespa clutch took a dump.
In fall of 1978, Carrie went on to medical school in New York. I knew the demands of medical school precluded continuing our relationship, so I let her go. Maybe I let go, I'm not sure which. I rationalized letting her go with the idea I could never be happy in New York because I was born and raised south of the Mason/Dixon line. I'd visited the North and found the place quite inhospitable. I found my life in Florida quite empty without her, so I sold the business, piled all I wished to carry with me in an old Ford van, and took a warehouse management position in Charlotte. I lived in the van awhile (in campgrounds--I had money and a pervasive feeling of restlessness), with the SL100, which now was 9 years old and had well over 120,000 miles and a couple rebuilds.
I bought another XL250 and set it up for trail riding in the mountains, and set up another cheap RV in an equally cheap warehouse. One day I parked the SL100 outside the warehouse long enough to run in and shower, and someone backed over it with a truck. It was completely destroyed, even the crank was bent. My heart broke.
Shortly after that I met another girl, and shortly after THAT I made the biggest mistake of my life. *insert wedding march here* She went from a sweet angel to daughter of Satan overnight, like flipping a switch. Well, that miserable woman was tolerated for 10 years, and then she got the boot. Somewhere about this time I developed an allergic reaction to petroleum products--I could no longer do mechanical work on a daily basis. I ended up with the kids. The youngest just turned 21 and is now his off on his own. Somewhere between the divorce and freedom from children, I bought another CB750K4 with a Windjammer, this one in a basket, and thoroughly enjoyed wrenching and riding. However, the 1000-mile service intervals, the prices of classic Honda parts, and the time demands of single parenting didn't allow much time for riding.
I did some searching on the internet and found Carrie, but though she's still as beautiful as ever, it seems she is well along in her career, happily married with children, and I really don't think it would bode well to assume the role of Ghost of Christmas Past.
So, I here's why I registered at totalmotorcycle.com: I'm looking for a restarter motorcycle. Maybe some of you old timers can help me out. Something like the old CB750K4. Maybe lighter, maybe more comfortable, maybe handle better and ride smoother, maybe a windshield instead of a fairing, and definately a LOT less maintenance. The bike will be used for saving fuel while commuting (my cage is an '86 Bronco, 30 miles a day, half interstate, half in town), back-up transportation, and pleasure riding on winding country roads. I'm not into the sportbike riding position because of back and shoulder injuries, and I'm built for comfort, not for speed.
After reading the forums, the Buell Blast looks good, if something can be done to make the vibration more tolerable. Any ideas on that? Is the stock fairing sufficient to force the wind over the rider's head on the highway? How does the seating position compare: sport bike or standard?
No, I don't mind typing.
Within 6 months the SL100 had a SL125 engine, stroker crank, Yoshimura magnesium cylinder, head, and Stage 3 cam, an electronic ignition, a Basani down pipe, and a custom intake manifold sporting a CB350 diaphram carb. A Barnett clutch with Rocky springs spun a Yoshimura close ratio 6-speed. The fish oil in the forks was replaced with real stuff, and the rear shocks were replaced with Konis. The swing arm was 2 inches longer, and the stock steel fender was remounted on a fork brace. Drag bars provided a comfortable highway ride. A custom lower solo seat was built. The trials tread tires were replaced with a universal tread and the gearing was changed. Other than that, the bike was stock.
I did the overhaul over a weekend, and the service manager was so impressed he let me start working on the SL 100s, 125s, and 175s. Great little bikes, by the way. Swap in an electronic ignition, and maintenance is 15 minutes every 1000 miles, 30 minutes every 3000 miles. Years later I used this same SL100 to commute 30 miles each way to work, between North Miami Beach and Cutler Ridge, around the Palmetto Expressway and down US1.
Anywho, when I turned 16 I bought a p. o. s. SL350 and rebuilt it into a dirt tracker with lights and a horn. I used to ride the 360 to a track 45 miles from home, pull out the tool kit and remove the lights and horn, race, then put the lights and horn back on and ride home with a trophy bunjied to the back of the seat. Life is good when your rebuilt junker SL350 can whoop the 45s in the open class. With a handlebar and tire change, the CB360 also served as a motocross, enduro, and scrambles bike.
I was a 16-year old high school junior when the XL250 came out, and bought the first one out of the crate. I set the bike up, less street stuff, after work on Saturday, mounted a set of Metzler tires, went to a scrambles race on Sunday, and won class, finishing 2nd overall. Those old XL250s simply handled broad powerslides with aplomb, and the track was more suited to the XLs capabilities than anything else. With two race bikes, I bought a ragged pop-up camper for $10 just for the frame and axle. A little work with a welder and angle, and some new tires, and I had a servicable, if somewhat dumpy looking, motorcycle trailer. I found a '63 Chevy II with the right side wiped out for $300 for a tow vehicle.
I rode that first XL 48,000 miles before someone sugared the gas tank right about the time I graduated, and a rebuild was required. In went a Powrol stroker crank, head, cam, CB500T carb, electronic ignition, Rocky down pipe with a reverse cone megaphone, and a Barnett clutch. All this went down when my older brother was away at Marine boot camp. When he came home, he decided to steal the bike for a little ride while I was inside visiting with Mom, like he always did before boot camp. He hotwired the switch, kicked her over, and took off down the curved gravel drive. When he hit 2nd the front tire went up and the back tire went sideways, and he was running along behind the bike, hanging on to the handlebars for dear life. He did accidently bump the kill switch, and he didn't actually drop the bike, so he was allowed to live. He pushed the bike back up the drive, and was still shaking like a leaf when he parked the bike and walked away. Bad--- Marine, right. I swung a leg over, kicked her to life, put her in 2nd, and dropped the hammer, showering him with road rock, and leaving a big rut down the middle of the drive. Mom made him rake over the rut and pick up all the rocks in the grass to boot. BWAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!!!!!
When the XL350s first came out, I had to have one, but they were really too heavy for my liking. I preferred the built 250. I used the XL350 for commuting. Eventually I found a RedLine motoX frame, and built a pretty good trail rider out of her. I sold the stock parts for more than I paid for the bike. Free engines are always good.
A year after I graduated high school the shop owner sold out. The new owner was a business man, not a motorcyclist. Five minutes after signing the contract to purchase the shop, he walked into the shop, and announced mechanics were getting a 1/3 pay cut (1/3 labor turned instead of 1/2). Also, there would be no discounts on parts and supplies, we would have to sign affidavits that we would no longer work on motorcycles outside the shop, there would be no more shop racing team, and we would have to pay our health and medical in full, in advance. I fitted Barum ISDT tires to the 250 and headed for Alaska. You don't know butt-pucker until you round a corner at speed and slide to a top 3 feet from a grizzly none to happy about having his road kill dinner interrupted.
When I returned to Tennesse that fall, I sold everything except my bikes, tools, and clothes. The SL100 was sold to my younger brother. I loaded everything in a U-Haul truck, and headed south. I stopped in Atlanta for the night, and someone stole the truck. Nothing was ever recovered. All I had to my name was a folding file with my important papers, a small bag of toiletries, the clothes I had on, and $450.
When I went in to the office to file a police report there was an old trucker there. Once the report was filed the trucker offered a ride to Orlando, but by the time we arrived, he'd already made arrangements with another trucker for a ride to Miami. This second trucker clued me in to free showers at the beach parks, so for a while, I lived under the seagrapes with everything in a backpack.
I was blessed to find employment at a Honda/Kawasaki dealer a few days I arrived. First shop I asked, actually. I visited a flea market on Saturday and walked out with basic tools and a box sitting atop a CT70H with clear title and a bad oil burning problem. Somehow, that little Trail 70 made it to the nearest Honda dealer for a top-end gasket set, rings, valve lapping compound, and oil. I made it back to Bayside Park and rebuilt that little engine as best I could under the seagrapes. That took care of most of the oil smoke, but there's only so much one can do when cross-hatching a cylinder with 600 grit emery paper.
On Monday, I rode that Trail 70 to work. Everybody laughed. I was grateful to have it. At lunch time, I swung by the courthouse and got it registered, then spent the last of my cash on insurance and inspection. On Tuesday the Snap-On truck came by, and once I told the driver my story, he was very gracious with credit. He also gave me his brother's number, and I was able to get into a ghetto efficiency that usually rented by the hour fronted.
I was blessed every day because every time I turned around there was someone with a flat tire or overheated car. I always help folks in distress because I hope what goes around comes around, and when my family is in distress someone will help them. I never asked for money, and always told them no charge when asked, but it seems everyone gave me a little. I was able to pay my first week's rent by rewiring some lighting circuits at the hotel, and pay the second week's rent before the first week was used up. I didn't miss any meals, but I did get tired of Crystal Burgers and fries.
That little CT70H cleaned up really well. I scavenged a cylinder off a wreck in the back and sent it off to be bored. With a proper rebuild and some elbow grease the little booger looked quite nice. I rode it to work and back for about 3 months, eventually paying off the Snap-On man and acquiring a small wardrobe. I found a night job waiting tables, and the tips were quite generous. Before long my parents moved to Florida, and I bought my beloved SL100 back from my brother, who was only 14 and couldn't legally ride it in Florida.
I traded the CT70H in on a wrecked CB750K4 with very few miles. I also found a used Rickman roadrace frame and bodywork in rolling condition for the SOHC 750 at a swap meet for $100. Hey, I was young and dumb. Eventually, an 836 stroker found it's way under a Yoshimura head and Stage 3 cam. Mikunis found their way to the intake, and a local guy welded up a set of 4-1 headers. A little cutting on the fairing and fabricating some brackets, and the first somewhat modern supersport bike was prowling Collins Avenue. I made a lot of money street racing that sucker, beating wannabes on Denco H2s in corners and Z1s in drags. I quickly moved from the hotel into an appartment, but that was a very expensive proposition, and the landlord didn't appreciate the motorcycles in the living room. Before long I was convinced the Rickman had to go. Too many close calls with the law and with death. I am very lucky to still be alive considering where and how fast (168mph on radar) I rode that thing, especially considering it was my first street bike.
I bought a 15-foot camper trailer for $300 and rented a small warehouse with a 1/2 bath to put it in. I gutted the camper to the paneling, bought a folding table, a desk chair, and a hotplate. I built a 3x3 shower in one corner, and put in a small house-type electric water heater. A chaise lounge and air mattress was comfortable enough for sleeping, and a custom cabinet under the camper's kitchen sink and a cheap faucet let me brush my teeth and shave over a sink not coated in Go-Jo and grease. Using a marine evicerator pump to drain the holding tanks, all that was necessary for sewage was a t-fitting in the sink drain in the bathroom, under the p-trap. A cheap 5000btuh AC kept my little private niche comfy.
Eventually I bought a full bed, and just in time, too. A couple days after it was delivered, this very pretty young lady brought her poorly running Vespa in the shop just before closing time on a Saturday. I was done for the day, and came out from washing up just in time to hear the service manager tell her we didn't work on Vespas. He walked away, and the look on her face broke my heart. I whispered to her to wait outside by the blue Honda, I'd help her out. Follow when I leave, but don't make it obvious. I grabbed my riding gear, suited up, and left. I easily out-distanced her and pulled onto a side road. I waited for her to make the turn, then took off again, hauled around the block to make sure nobody was following (some sick puppies worked in that shop, very sick), then pulled up beside her from behind. I led her to the warehouse.
Nothing major with the Vespa, just some water in the gas. We walked up to the corner station for some fresh gas, and she had oil with her. She was on her way in minutes, no charge.
I showered and dressed for a night of street racing, but just as I was about to raise the door I heard the Vespa outside. She had returned with a cheap bar-b-cue grill, a small bag of Royal Oak, and groceries. Those beef and vegie kabobs were heavenly.
We talked long into the night (honest, though she just started college, she was only 17), and she mentioned buying a car. She couldn't afford the new economy cars coming out because they were going for way over list because of high demand. She thought she couldn't afford a bigger car because of fuel costs (this was in the mid-70s, and prices were $0.499/gallon). We did some calculations, and she decided to find a mid-size car, like a Chevelle, which would be somewhat good on gas and shouldn't cost too much.
Well, to make a long story short, after some time researching the market in the evenings, and a few calculations, we figured buying a low-mile 2-year old Cadi for $2000 was cheaper in the long run than paying $4500 for a Toyota or Datsun. Back then, the Cadi would be barely broken in at 4 years old, Japanese cars would be not running, and replacement parts were simply not to be had. She eventually bought a '70 Chevy Impala with a 350 2-barrel and couldn't of been happier.
Now, this girl worked in a nursing home. She spoke of our financial discoveries about the real costs of ownership of big cars. Many of her patients still had friends who drove, and many of them had fixed incomes and were being eaten alive maintaining their 2- and 3-year old imports. She convinced many to go back to their beloved full-sizes, but the prices on new cars were skyrocketing. The best option seemed a clean late model. Before I knew what was happening, I was visiting dealerships and buying wholesale before the second row cars went to auction. Dealers got cash, and I got low prices. I was selling everything I could get my hands on, and at good markups. For $1000, an evaporator, and freon, I could put a Skylark out the door at $1700. Not bad for a day's work.
I quit the motorcycle shop and sold the Rickman. Carrie moved in on her 18th birthday. I bought a new CB500F, and outfitted it with a Vetter Windjamer fairing, saddlebags, running boards, and other touring goodies. It seemed a little down on power for hauling both of us, so I bought a CB750K4 and made a dresser of it. Carrie and I cruised those bikes all over South Florida for 3 1/2 years and 60,000 miles. The little SL100 carried on as my daily transportation, and I built a similar SL100 using a stroker in the stock engine for Carrie when the Vespa clutch took a dump.
In fall of 1978, Carrie went on to medical school in New York. I knew the demands of medical school precluded continuing our relationship, so I let her go. Maybe I let go, I'm not sure which. I rationalized letting her go with the idea I could never be happy in New York because I was born and raised south of the Mason/Dixon line. I'd visited the North and found the place quite inhospitable. I found my life in Florida quite empty without her, so I sold the business, piled all I wished to carry with me in an old Ford van, and took a warehouse management position in Charlotte. I lived in the van awhile (in campgrounds--I had money and a pervasive feeling of restlessness), with the SL100, which now was 9 years old and had well over 120,000 miles and a couple rebuilds.
I bought another XL250 and set it up for trail riding in the mountains, and set up another cheap RV in an equally cheap warehouse. One day I parked the SL100 outside the warehouse long enough to run in and shower, and someone backed over it with a truck. It was completely destroyed, even the crank was bent. My heart broke.
Shortly after that I met another girl, and shortly after THAT I made the biggest mistake of my life. *insert wedding march here* She went from a sweet angel to daughter of Satan overnight, like flipping a switch. Well, that miserable woman was tolerated for 10 years, and then she got the boot. Somewhere about this time I developed an allergic reaction to petroleum products--I could no longer do mechanical work on a daily basis. I ended up with the kids. The youngest just turned 21 and is now his off on his own. Somewhere between the divorce and freedom from children, I bought another CB750K4 with a Windjammer, this one in a basket, and thoroughly enjoyed wrenching and riding. However, the 1000-mile service intervals, the prices of classic Honda parts, and the time demands of single parenting didn't allow much time for riding.
I did some searching on the internet and found Carrie, but though she's still as beautiful as ever, it seems she is well along in her career, happily married with children, and I really don't think it would bode well to assume the role of Ghost of Christmas Past.
So, I here's why I registered at totalmotorcycle.com: I'm looking for a restarter motorcycle. Maybe some of you old timers can help me out. Something like the old CB750K4. Maybe lighter, maybe more comfortable, maybe handle better and ride smoother, maybe a windshield instead of a fairing, and definately a LOT less maintenance. The bike will be used for saving fuel while commuting (my cage is an '86 Bronco, 30 miles a day, half interstate, half in town), back-up transportation, and pleasure riding on winding country roads. I'm not into the sportbike riding position because of back and shoulder injuries, and I'm built for comfort, not for speed.
After reading the forums, the Buell Blast looks good, if something can be done to make the vibration more tolerable. Any ideas on that? Is the stock fairing sufficient to force the wind over the rider's head on the highway? How does the seating position compare: sport bike or standard?
No, I don't mind typing.
If at first you don't succeed, skydiving isn't for you.
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Koss
- Site Supporter - Silver
- Posts: 762
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 5:59 pm
- Sex: Male
- Location: El Paso, TX (Help me!)
From a humble guy, fresh in the field of mechanics, and not even owning his first street bike for over two months... I tip my hat to you! At least when my going ons start to look tough, I can tell myself I dont have to wake up in the morning beneath Seagrapes. Ah but the sunrises at the beach must have been an eye opener.
http://www.livevideo.com/Koss
Yes, the sunrises were beautiful. The weather was warm, and a little OFF took care of the bugs. It wasn't bad at all, except for the sand getting into everything. I've always suffered severe trials, and always enjoyed bountiful blessings. Learning about the seagrapes and free showers was a blessing.
If at first you don't succeed, skydiving isn't for you.
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Koss
- Site Supporter - Silver
- Posts: 762
- Joined: Mon Jun 06, 2005 5:59 pm
- Sex: Male
- Location: El Paso, TX (Help me!)
Hehehe, since I could be considered a "land lover" (aka - filthy land lubbers... yarrrr) from the desert southwest... I had to actually look up seagrapes on the internet
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coccoloba_uvifera
They bear fruit, and can be used for Jam? I could eat jam all day, tear up the sand on a sl100, and woo the beach bunnies with my bungalo made of drift wood and a seagrape tatched roof. Good times, good times.
Seriously though, much respect... I know I have to get out of the area I live in if I ever want to make more than near minimum with my career... so I am in awe of how you started out on your own.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coccoloba_uvifera
They bear fruit, and can be used for Jam? I could eat jam all day, tear up the sand on a sl100, and woo the beach bunnies with my bungalo made of drift wood and a seagrape tatched roof. Good times, good times.
Seriously though, much respect... I know I have to get out of the area I live in if I ever want to make more than near minimum with my career... so I am in awe of how you started out on your own.
http://www.livevideo.com/Koss
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BAJACRUISER
- Legendary 300
- Posts: 447
- Joined: Tue Jul 18, 2006 5:01 pm
- Sex: Male
- Location: LA PAZ, BCS. MEXICO
