Tossing In The Towel
(UPDATE: After watching Willy and Dave's video I was inspired to go out at night and yank my bad starter off the bike. Damn you two.)
I was going on a nice long ride yesterday. Did some things around the house and replaced my sons heater hoses on his car. I should say; my wife and I replaced the heater hoses on our sons car. Yes, she likes getting dirty and working on our vehicles and she's pretty good at it to. Over the years she has watched; learned and jumped in to help - and she always asks questions though sometimes to many. I have to take one task at a time and while doing so she will be finding other non-related to the task at hand items to be looked at. This is when I say "Let's get this done before going to something else on the car that needs attention please."
But she is a great help and when I'm at wits end she pulls me back before I loose my temper.
So after WE were done with the car I was free to go for a ride. Go grab my jacket, put on my boots, grab my goggles and helmet, then out to the bike. I wheel her out and start her up. Settles to a nice idle - a little rich but she's cold still - as I walk around checking things over and wiping her down here and there. Put on my gear, clunk into first and take her around the block a few times. All seems well as I head out for the back country. Pulling great and running strong. I begin to settle myself just right in the seat, look at the speedometer and notice it's not working. Oh well, screw it I'm riding. Head on down the road enjoying the weather and light traffic then...and then...it happens. Rat bastard starts to stumble some, then starts to bucking like shes running out of gas. But I know she's almost full because I put in two gallons in the three gallon tank. I know she is running to rich as I try to adjust the carb while cruising.
I see a church ahead so I pull in the empty lot, make a u-turn and head back towards the house. Rat B is surging and jumping pretty bad now. Almost home making the turn a block away and she quit's. Kaput.
I fiddle with the low speed needle and she won't fire. I keep trying to start her but she ain't havin none of it. I smell gas and sitting on the curb I see drip, drip from the aircleaner. I tried to crank so much I flooded her out. Damn. I push her home and the last leg is an up hill incline. As I reach my driveway, huffing and puffing my wife comes out of the house at a fast pace. I think she was worried I was hurt. So seeing I'm not she asks "Why are you pushing the bike?" in a sweet concerned tone. I give her a look from under the helmet while trying to catch my breath and it's a good thing to because my answer probably would not have been a good one at that moment. I'm glad I was out of breath because I got to keep my teeth. She has Scotch/Irish in the blood need I say more.
I take off my jacket and sling it over the seat, take off the helmet and drop it on the ground then explain between breathing that is returning to normal. She calms me down and says to go inside and get a drink. I do then come back out. Now my neighbor comes over with his smart assed comments as I head to the shop to get some tools. As I walk away I flip him the one finger salute. Returning, he's making remarks again between pulls on his beer as I pull the plugs. My wife is talking to him now and I try to ignore him and wishing he would go back across the street. I don't need any smart ass comments at the moment. Offers of help perhaps if ya know what the hell your talking about,even a little. He keeps blathering on so I finally stand up, point to the bike and say "Here then, you fix it.!" as I hold out the wrench to him. He stands back with a look and says he don't no shit about working on a Harley.
After a few more minutes his wife comes over and hands him the leash with their pitbull on the other end. The dog is a sweet heart and is loving all over me as I pat her on the back. The neighbor goes to his yard to let the dog do her business and his wife takes his beer. She and my wife are talking and then another neighbor drives by slow saying it will never run. I don't even look around and he drives off.
Long story short, I adjust and readjust on the carb beginning at the beginning each time. She won't fire for nothing and the battery runs down. Finally disgusted I shove Rat Bastard in the garage, hook up the battery charger, gather the rest of my pride and head inside. So today I go out and all I get is a stinking click, click, click from the starter. Check the battery with my ohm meter and she has a full charge. I take a rubber hammer and smack the starter housing a few times and she tries to crank over but then nothing but click, click, click again.
I'm tired and throw in the towel. I ain't messing with her anymore. So next week I'll borrow a trailer and take her to the Indie and let him figure it out. I admit defeat. It's alright, it's only money.