Sometimes stupid just happens

So I spent a few hours yesterday working on the scoot. I'd dug my old top box out and put it on the PCX. It has a tail light that needs to be wired up with LEDs, so I popped over to Advance Auto and purchased the requisite items to wire it up, borrowed some snips and went to work....and wired the whole thing backwards. This is how a job that should have taken less than half an hour, took three.

I've attached a video for your entertainment, and you're welcome to laugh at me.

I'm also going to link a video I put together showing drum brake adjustment.

Tucked away in a barn

So the other day I'm poking around Craigslist looking for potential projects. Aside from the Piaggio mentioned yesterday, I'm not finding anything really interesting, but then I see this:

Rarely have I seen something so lovely and in such good condition for its age. No no no, not the Harley Bagger! Who on earth would want that? Look behind it.

That's more like it; an unobstructed view. It's a 1951 Indian Warrior flat track racer. According to the current owner, the rider was B.B. Smith, though I can't find any information about him on the Internet. Unfortunately, while the bike is for sale, the price is a bit more than I'd be able to pay.

It is a lovely bike though, and the engine design was apparently only used for a few years. If you'll observe, the pushrods for the exhaust are on the front of the engine, while the corresponding pushrods for the intake can be found on the back. "Joe", the owner, told me that the engine itself is a 500cc twin. From what I understand, the Warrior didn't last very long in production due to mechanical issues, and some say it contributed to the eventual downfall of Indian. The design is pretty cool, even if it wasn't the greatest success.

After ogling the Indian, Joe told me there were more bikes up in the loft. On our way, we passed the above example of a WWII Harley. I believe he told me it isn't running at the moment, but as one can see, it's living up to the Harley tradition of soaking the floor with oil.

Up the stairs, I could hear the sound of rain pelting the roof, and then I turned my head to the side as it came level with the floor.

I'll be honest, choppers aren't really my thing, but the forks on this were enough to raise my eyebrows. And then Joe showed me what I'd gone to Reinholds to see.

It's a 1970's  125cc Harley Rapido mini enduro. I can't really find that much information about the bike, but I know I want it. All in all, it seems to be in good condition and Joe had it running a few years ago. It would certainly be something to clean up and take to shows and I could honestly tell people I owned a Harley...a two stroke Harley at that.

This barn was full of wonderful things. A Cosmo Colt moped of all things, in mostly intact condition, graced the floor of the loft. I'm not really big on mopeds, but this thing was made in Pennsylvania and that's something special.

But that's not the end of it. Joe has a 1919 Harley Model J. Yeah. That's very special. Modern Harleys don't thrill me. To my mind, they are overpriced shiny hunks of metal with little more purpose than to decorate the backsides of bar pirates. On the other hand, a piece of history like the model J, that's something you don't get to see every day.

Certainly there were other bikes, including a Triumph Thunderbird and a venerable old Indian Chief (engine pictured above), and I could have spent hours just looking and savoring the history, but time was rushing past and there were places I needed to go. I will go back again, and I have Joe's invitation to come back with money.

That little Harley is too tempting to pass up.

A flipping new adventure.

It's been a few months since school started and I'm starting to feel at home working on bikes. My goal is to eventually have my own business. I want to restore vintage bikes and scooters and sell them. Thanks to a recent unexpected amount of cash, I was able to land a great deal on a 2006 Piaggio BV250. This will be my first venture.

It's a bit rough around the edges, but with a bit of hard work, I think I can turn a little profit, then do it again, and again, and so on. The suspension is in good shape, as are the wheel bearings. The carb needs a good cleaning, but the engine has spark. 

The rear tire is bald, and the front has weather cracks in the tread. There is some minor scratching on the front fender and the left lower fairing under the floorboard has obviously been in contact with the road...or a curb. All told though, it's a good place to start. 

Here's to new adventures.

The Inspector is in

There was recently an opportunity at school I could not pass up. As I've indicated previously, I'm enrolled at York Technical Institute's Motorcycle Technology Center since this past October. 

Last week, I had an opportunity to take an inspection mechanic class, and I just got word today that I passed all of the tests including the final. I am officially certifiable...as an inspection mechanic in Pennsylvania for motorcycles. 

I'm so excited I feel almost like I've got a bit of a buzz. Now I just need to pass my first term classes and I'll be able to take a breather...until term two. 

Aches and pains

It's been five weeks since the crash. Depending on the day it feels like a lot less. 

It was my fault of course. I was going less than the speed limit and misjudged a turn. Next thing I know I've grabbed a bit too much brake, the front wheel locked up on a few bits of gravel on the road,  sending the steering sideways with the scooter quickly doing likewise. 

Some say time slows in an accident. For me, it happened so quickly, I barely knew what happened. One moment a guardrail is looming in front of me, the next I'm sliding sideways on the ground with my helmet smacking loudly off the pavement. When I think back, I can remember the handlebars snapping to the side and the world changing its normal orientation, but it was so quick and then there I was, laying in the road. 

I tried to get up, certainly, but found that the attempt brought on pain like I'd never felt before, driving me back down to the blacktop. The scooter lay there still buzzing away as I tried yelling for help. I have no idea how long I tried that, but it can't have been more than half a minute before I gave up and was able to retrieve my cell phone from its place in my pocket. After trying to voice dial, I was eventually able to call 911, and proceeded to confuse the dispatcher. At this point my rescuers arrived. A few people had come running up and one of them took over the 911 call while the others watched to make sure the scene was safe until the emergency vehicles arrived.

It's all a bit of a blur after that. Suffice to say, I spent two days in the hospital and the next three weeks on pain killers. Sad to say, it still hurts. My collar bone was broken in at least two places but it's the bruised ribs that feel like hot coals in my side even now. At least my knee and ankle seem to have healed well enough.

So there are a few things I've learned through all this:

#1. Helmets do save lives. The one thing I remember most clearly from that night five weeks ago, is the cracking sound of helmet meeting the road. If not for my helmet, I'd have cracked my skull at the very least. 

#2. One can never be too cautious. Two wheels are dangerous enough without making silly mistakes. Sure, I wasn't speeding, but I should have anticipated my turn sooner.

#3. I'm glad I was wearing good sturdy clothes. The collarbone and ribs could have been accompanied by worse injury. Somewhere in the fog, I remember an EMT commenting that my attire saved me from such. 

All in all, I wish these wounds would heal. There has been such good riding weather this winter and I haven't been able to take advantage of it.

As for the scooter, it's not mich the worse for it. Sure, there are a few scuff marks and I had to replace the mirrors due to a crack in the one that hit the ground, but it runs fine and I ran it to work one day, only to get yelled at by the Doctor the next. 

Classes at school are going well enough, and I will know by Friday if I passed the final test for Pennsylvania inspection mechanic certification. 

And so I shall soldier on. My aches and pains will be a reminder of how close I came to a real disaster and of how blessed I am to have been spared the worst.