Our first ride was a few weeks ago, and was simply to the corner gas station and back, as she wasn't legal yet, and she was still acting a bit grumpy because her carbs were running lean, and her timing was not quite dialed in. She had a cold, I think, because she kept coughing the whole way, and she felt so very unsure of herself, surging at every stoplight, and fearful of leaning into corners or stopping with authority on 31 year old tires that like they were made of stone. That trip almost ended on the side of the road instead of back home, and lasted only a few minutes.. but being it was her first time moving under her own power, it was still a good ride.. and let me know that she wasn't quite ready yet.
But that was then.... This is more about today.
My goal was to make it to work and back with a side-stop, as Monday morning she has an appointment to visit with the Highway Patrol for inspection so she can get license plates and a title.
Mid last week I got my temporary tags, called the insurance company and got her all legal. Over the last few weeks, she got some new shoes, the timing weights disassembled, cleaned and greased, the timing reset from scratch, valves adjusted, carbs adjusted and her temporary permit proudly mounted on the future home of a license plate.
I topped off the battery, as I'm still working on the charging system - but that's another story - put on chaps, jacket, helmet, shades, gloves... backed her out of the driveway and down to the level street, pulled up the choke, and thumbed the starter. She made a sound like Chuff Chuff Vrooooooooommm..... and quickly warmed up, running well off the choke. I swung my leg over, brought her up, pulled the clutch and there was a satisfying kerklick as she dropped into first. I gave her a little gas, eased the clutch, and we were moving smoothly onto the street.
I decided to take the short route to work, avoiding the highway, as I'm not so sure she's quite ready for that, and I'm fairly sure I'm not ready for that with her either.
I brought her out gingerly at first, worried that at any moment she would stumble, as a child might, as it take it's first steps, fearfully leaving the safety of nearby parents, yet eager to run at the same time.
But she didn't stumble, nor even hesitate for a moment, and soon she let me know that she wanted a little more authority in my handling of her. She was responsive, easy on the eyes, ears and touch - she went through the gears effortlessly, and found neutral with relative ease at every light. I marveled at how well this was going, and how far she had come, from the pile of busted, rusted, greasy, bug infested, hard scaled parts until now. The light turned green, and I gave her a fist full of gas, released the front break and let the clutch pull away from the grip of it's own free will. I won't say I dropped it, but I definitely let it out with authority, and was rewarded in kind with a strong pull off line.
Suddenly she was transformed. No longer was she just an assembly of parts or a list of tasks completed, of tasks waiting to be done, of parts waiting for money, parts waiting to be delivered or discussions with the wife on how much more work it will take or long hushed talks in the garage about how great THIS moment would be. Suddenly she was a bike - a real bike. Having solidity and substance, having the song of her engine, and dancing down the road, flowing smoothly from gear to gear. She felt alive, and she was speaking to me, singing, telling me all the things she wanted to do, all the places she longed to see. If ever a bike could say thank you for the hours, late nights, and enduring the frustration and challenges - she did.
She was pulling strong and feeling good. We moved out onto a main road, and she quickly decided that it felt GOOOD to be riding again, and quickly pulled up to 60 MPH without me even realizing it, and she barked in frustration as I reigned her back, lest we raise the interest of the local CHP on their shiny black and white BMW's. Their world exists in a different realm than ours, one filled with new, shiny bikes designed to hunt and track others - and I instinctively know that they just wouldn't understand. But even then, the wind against my chest, the whooshing in my helmet let me know that THIS - this is indeed the glorious moment we spent so many nights working on.
We continued in this vein, cruising from light to light, catching looks as we went by, reveling in the moment.
We made it to work in good time, and kept right on going, our confidence in each other building. We weave down the winding street that passes my work, and I decide I really like the tires I chose for her. I lean a little more... yeah - they are nice. I think she likes them too, and the forks have just the right amount of compression to them without being overly stiff or soft - nice feedback - a little bumpy, but acceptable for the solid feel through the curves. Progressive springs would give the solid feedback without the bumpy ride - but.... this is doing just fine.
We stop at the light and now I ask her...are you ready for the freeway? Shall we run a bit?
Her answer, as the light turns green, was to take off smooth and sure, as to say - Whatever you want - I am ready.
We hit the freeway, and finally I can let her stretch her legs. We hit 1st through 5th like it was nothing, and are quickly doing 75MPH. At this moment, I feel the vibrations strong, as a vibrato counterpoint to her throaty song. I look in the mirrors - as is suspected, they are quaking with passion, and unable to give a steady image.
We take the freeway north, then east, taking the longer route home, enjoying the ride. After a time, I back her down to about 50, as this was not a moment to be squandered with speed, but to be savored. We entered into a state of being, of living in the moment, and continued our slow pace (well, slow for California).
I decide that I will have enough to do on Monday morning, so stop in for a bit of gas.
I look down at the engine and notice a bit of oil seepage at the engine somewhere mid barrel... Something else for the todo list, I guess, but doesn't look bad enough to stop the trip. I fill her up, thumb the starter, and she instantly springs back to life, as though saying - Yes, whatever you ask of me, I'm ready.
It was a short ride home from the gas station, and we took it slow, neither wanting it to end so soon. But being the first ride that we could enjoy, I didn't want it to end on the side of the road with a dead battery... so I felt it prudent to resist the urge to pass my turn.
I pull into the garage, and give her one last rev up... then shut her down. She clicks down, yet... somehow, I am yet revisited by the feeling that she is now changed. She no longer feels like a bike in need of repair.. her new tires have lost their shine on the treads, her tank is full. She feels tested, confident - ready - and I swear, she whispered as my leather slides across the seat as I dismount - "Yes, when you want me, I am here - I am ready."
She lives - she breathes, she moves - she has her likes (authority coming off the line) and her dislikes (being held back when it's time to GO)
This bike has more personality in her than all other bikes I have ridden put together. I don't think I'll ever understand what lack of inspiration her PO had in letting her sit outside for 14 years... I probably will never get the chance to ask him... Perhaps it was the oil gushing out of 3 broken seals or the charging system that went south.. or maybe it was the blown fork seals or..... well, no matter, that is the past.
This is now.
-Xumi
1979 XS650 Special II - Restored
But that was then.... This is more about today.
My goal was to make it to work and back with a side-stop, as Monday morning she has an appointment to visit with the Highway Patrol for inspection so she can get license plates and a title.
Mid last week I got my temporary tags, called the insurance company and got her all legal. Over the last few weeks, she got some new shoes, the timing weights disassembled, cleaned and greased, the timing reset from scratch, valves adjusted, carbs adjusted and her temporary permit proudly mounted on the future home of a license plate.
I topped off the battery, as I'm still working on the charging system - but that's another story - put on chaps, jacket, helmet, shades, gloves... backed her out of the driveway and down to the level street, pulled up the choke, and thumbed the starter. She made a sound like Chuff Chuff Vrooooooooommm..... and quickly warmed up, running well off the choke. I swung my leg over, brought her up, pulled the clutch and there was a satisfying kerklick as she dropped into first. I gave her a little gas, eased the clutch, and we were moving smoothly onto the street.
I decided to take the short route to work, avoiding the highway, as I'm not so sure she's quite ready for that, and I'm fairly sure I'm not ready for that with her either.
I brought her out gingerly at first, worried that at any moment she would stumble, as a child might, as it take it's first steps, fearfully leaving the safety of nearby parents, yet eager to run at the same time.
But she didn't stumble, nor even hesitate for a moment, and soon she let me know that she wanted a little more authority in my handling of her. She was responsive, easy on the eyes, ears and touch - she went through the gears effortlessly, and found neutral with relative ease at every light. I marveled at how well this was going, and how far she had come, from the pile of busted, rusted, greasy, bug infested, hard scaled parts until now. The light turned green, and I gave her a fist full of gas, released the front break and let the clutch pull away from the grip of it's own free will. I won't say I dropped it, but I definitely let it out with authority, and was rewarded in kind with a strong pull off line.
Suddenly she was transformed. No longer was she just an assembly of parts or a list of tasks completed, of tasks waiting to be done, of parts waiting for money, parts waiting to be delivered or discussions with the wife on how much more work it will take or long hushed talks in the garage about how great THIS moment would be. Suddenly she was a bike - a real bike. Having solidity and substance, having the song of her engine, and dancing down the road, flowing smoothly from gear to gear. She felt alive, and she was speaking to me, singing, telling me all the things she wanted to do, all the places she longed to see. If ever a bike could say thank you for the hours, late nights, and enduring the frustration and challenges - she did.
She was pulling strong and feeling good. We moved out onto a main road, and she quickly decided that it felt GOOOD to be riding again, and quickly pulled up to 60 MPH without me even realizing it, and she barked in frustration as I reigned her back, lest we raise the interest of the local CHP on their shiny black and white BMW's. Their world exists in a different realm than ours, one filled with new, shiny bikes designed to hunt and track others - and I instinctively know that they just wouldn't understand. But even then, the wind against my chest, the whooshing in my helmet let me know that THIS - this is indeed the glorious moment we spent so many nights working on.
We continued in this vein, cruising from light to light, catching looks as we went by, reveling in the moment.
We made it to work in good time, and kept right on going, our confidence in each other building. We weave down the winding street that passes my work, and I decide I really like the tires I chose for her. I lean a little more... yeah - they are nice. I think she likes them too, and the forks have just the right amount of compression to them without being overly stiff or soft - nice feedback - a little bumpy, but acceptable for the solid feel through the curves. Progressive springs would give the solid feedback without the bumpy ride - but.... this is doing just fine.
We stop at the light and now I ask her...are you ready for the freeway? Shall we run a bit?
Her answer, as the light turns green, was to take off smooth and sure, as to say - Whatever you want - I am ready.
We hit the freeway, and finally I can let her stretch her legs. We hit 1st through 5th like it was nothing, and are quickly doing 75MPH. At this moment, I feel the vibrations strong, as a vibrato counterpoint to her throaty song. I look in the mirrors - as is suspected, they are quaking with passion, and unable to give a steady image.
We take the freeway north, then east, taking the longer route home, enjoying the ride. After a time, I back her down to about 50, as this was not a moment to be squandered with speed, but to be savored. We entered into a state of being, of living in the moment, and continued our slow pace (well, slow for California).
I decide that I will have enough to do on Monday morning, so stop in for a bit of gas.
I look down at the engine and notice a bit of oil seepage at the engine somewhere mid barrel... Something else for the todo list, I guess, but doesn't look bad enough to stop the trip. I fill her up, thumb the starter, and she instantly springs back to life, as though saying - Yes, whatever you ask of me, I'm ready.
It was a short ride home from the gas station, and we took it slow, neither wanting it to end so soon. But being the first ride that we could enjoy, I didn't want it to end on the side of the road with a dead battery... so I felt it prudent to resist the urge to pass my turn.
I pull into the garage, and give her one last rev up... then shut her down. She clicks down, yet... somehow, I am yet revisited by the feeling that she is now changed. She no longer feels like a bike in need of repair.. her new tires have lost their shine on the treads, her tank is full. She feels tested, confident - ready - and I swear, she whispered as my leather slides across the seat as I dismount - "Yes, when you want me, I am here - I am ready."
She lives - she breathes, she moves - she has her likes (authority coming off the line) and her dislikes (being held back when it's time to GO)
This bike has more personality in her than all other bikes I have ridden put together. I don't think I'll ever understand what lack of inspiration her PO had in letting her sit outside for 14 years... I probably will never get the chance to ask him... Perhaps it was the oil gushing out of 3 broken seals or the charging system that went south.. or maybe it was the blown fork seals or..... well, no matter, that is the past.
This is now.
-Xumi
1979 XS650 Special II - Restored
