The battery had 11.8 volts. The water was low. Front tire had 11 lbs., rear had 14 lbs. Oil was black, primary oil a bit milky. Dead bugs on the windshield and the carb stained with old sticky dry gasoline. I wiped it off, did a bit of maintenance - it fired after about 10 kicks - and I rode it 12 miles on the superslab to Nashua, Iowa for a birthday party. I hadn't ridden it for over a year really. It felt small - rev'd high, wiggly - and a couple times I reached to my lower left, feeling for the jockey shift ball. Rusty at best.
On the return trip home, in the dark, with lightning strikes to the west, I headed west back home. Up to speed on the on-ramp to 65+mph....I hit the high beam and it went dark. Shit, high beam burnt out, back to low beam (which was pretty much shining on the ground). I'd wait for speeding traffic to catch up - then pick it up to 75+mph to run with them and use their headlight, then as they'd get away, back down to 60-65mph - completely overdriving my headlight distance. The headlight was too tight to move it as I reached up to mess with it at speed. Only 8 miles to go anyway.
I made it to my driveway, just as I could now hear thunder - no rain yet. I even got Cheryl to walk with me down to a high bridge on the river to watch Mother Nature's rapidly approaching light show. As I wheeled this thing into the garage, I really felt pumped up after riding this thing again. I miss it. This motorcycle has taken me so many places over the years, and always gets me there and back. It's been with me on so many adventures, and these early Sportsters are really awesome touring machines for the 2000 mile or less trips - which is about what I run anyway. I'm currently in preparation for a traditional Labor Day Run as always . . . and just decided - the '64 is goin' this year. Again.
This guy is the real American. The original. The hunter, the warrior, the rider, the traveler. Most of these politicians would have never made it livin' in their neighborhood. They were the Kiowa, Lakota, Sioux . . . about 200+ different factions. For thousands of years they lived off the land from Oklahoma, Texas, the Dakotas, Wyoming and all the way westward . . and looks like we'll have it fucked up in a mere 300 years?? I'm pretty sure they'll have the last laugh as the world will all be fighting with sticks and stones again . . . then we'll know what it's like to live the good life. Everything else is just "stuff."
It's just the way I see it.
Sitting Bull saw the future - and it happened as he said.
and I've had somewhat the same visions.
Here's to saving something worth saving for future generations.
650 miles home - riding your chopper with your dad following on his FLHTCU (a lot of letters, if I got all of 'em?) Pretty classic times over the last 20 some years. One last kick before pulling in my driveway.... I look pretty dapper, but I was glad to be home !
I kept gettin' drips of oil on my trans ratchet, and running down the fins in the back. What the hell? I'd dry it all off, go for a ride, and discovered it was seeping out between the fins. Hope it stops the seeping.