Towards the end of the school year, i was lamenting to one of my middle-school friends that i missed having a motorcycle. the weather was warming up, and it just seemed a crime not to have one. he mentioned, in passing, that his dad has one that he's trying to sell, as they're going to the states for like 8 months. one thing led to another, and pretty soon i was over at his house chatting it up with his dad. the bike is quite old, only 4 years younger than i, and it hadn't started since Christmas. something went wrong, and it was too cold anyways, so he just wrote it off. he originally wanted almost $200 for it, but since it wasn't running, and there was no real way to tell how much i would have to put into it to make it run, he gave it to me, and said "if you get it running, we'll work something out in january when i get back." and he had it delivered to my door.
As with my last bike, it sat there for a while, staring accusingly at me whenever i let one of my idiot cats out, until finally i could stand it no more. i got ahold of some tools, and did a little "exploratory surgery". initial results were positive- it was much easier to work on than my last bike. i had been informed that the carberator was more than likely the culprit, so i removed the offensive item, and tore it down to it's constituent elements, cleansed it vigorously, and replaced it. and all seemed to be in working order. the bike started up almost instantly, which is unheard of in my experience. i got it insured, and drove it back and forth between work and home. and all was right with the world. here's a shot of all being right with the world:
1984 Yamaha SRX 250
So, after riding without any mishap for about 2 weeks, i decide it's safe to go on a little trip with the thing. fireworks are in season over here, so i thought i'd head over to my old stomping grounds and have a look. it's about a 30 minute trip, and about 20 minutes into it i realize i'm hopelessly lost. then about 21 minutes into it, my bike dies. funny how history repeats itself- the bike dying felt strangely familiar. like it happened once with another bike i once owned. except replace "once" with "repeatedly". this time the problem seems to be with the electrical system, with which i have no experience. so, i managed to get home via japan's amazingly complex public transit system, but i was left with a problem- what to do with my bike? i left it in a semi-seedy area of town (at least, i was so informed by a friendly local senior citizen), and the next day was sunday, which means i had to do church. who did i know with a truck? or maybe a van? then i thought about it, and realized that since this bike is much differently shaped than my last one, it just might fit into my very own car. i decided to go with it, and after much driving, prodigious volumes of sweat, and perhaps a little cursing, here's what i had:
You gotta admit, that's pretty darn cool. now all i need is for someone to be driving my car when i bust out the back of it knight rider style. but for that, i might have to work on my muscles. also my german.
At any rate, fixed it up right proper, and took the trip anyways, fireworks or no. i think deathtrap will always be my first love, and if i am ever actually in the market to buy a bike with money, i would have to have some really good reasons to not buy a motorcross bike. this one's growing on me, but the kawasaki will always be my first bike, and as it has passed into legend, it is slowly getting better over time as my mind distorts the memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment