New bike owner

So, Nat had her first taste of motorcycle ownership - turning a wrench.

She's still riding parking lots, but that will change next weekend when we go for a nice, slow ride through town. She's already agreed to wake up early so we can enjoy the streets before traffic builds up.

She's getting bored with riding around in a circle and I don't blame her! I rode the bike to the practice lot and didn't like how the rear brake felt - as weak as an old spindly leg. It wouldn't even hold the bike still at a stop. So when we got home, we pulled out the manual and together adjusted the break pedal so it was nice and strong.

Nat didn't hesistate and was ready to work the wrench. I'm only a fair mechanic, a parts changer and not much more, but I can at least teach her how to change the oil, replace the plugs, and do the other general maintenance the bike will need.

That's one of the things about motorcycle ownership that's just different than owning a car - you sort of have to get your hands dirty. There are chains to lube and oil to check and tire pressure to maintain. Your safety is so much more dependent on the reliable operation of your bike, that you simply must take better care of it.

I'd never dream of going on a ride, even down the block, without checking my tires, making sure lights and switches are working, and just giving my bike the once over to make sure there isn't suddenly fluid or oils where there wasn't any before.

And yet, I hop into my car and drive off without so much as a glance.

It's just different.

I think Nat gets that.

Dropped bike! What to do!

The panic in her voice was pretty severe, but with her new motorcycle on its side and gasoline pouring from the tank, I suppose I can understand why.
"I dropped my bike and I can't pick it up?!"
I tried talking my daughter through the process of picking up her bike, a Yamaha Maxim 550, but it was no use. So I drove the 10 minutes to her house and we hoisted it upright together.
The ordeal got me to thinking if there were a good tutorial on how to pick up a bike and, of course, there are tons. I liked this one the best.

New Bike in the family

I guess my daughter will tell me someday why she wanted to buy a motorcycle.

She hasn't yet.

As with just about everything else she's wanted to do, I've done what I could to help her.

Some dads might have tried to talk their daughters out of getting a motorcycle. The thought occurred to me. But what would I say? Tell her it's dangerous to ride a motorcycle? Yeah, I guess it is. I've had three accidents on my bike, one ended with a trip to the hospital, but I was only there long enough to get an X-ray and some crutches.

But I was also a rider who had no proper training and let my emotions control my riding, and both got me into trouble.

So my kid took a riding course, and then we went shopping for a bike.

Here's what she got, a 1982 Yamaha Maxim 550. It's a great little bike, terrific around town. I rode it on the freeway and it flew at 70 mph and 75 mph with little trouble.

But the lack of a windshield was a little tough for me to take.

The girl is still working on getting the hang of riding, but I think she'll get it.

I'm already planning some rides for us. Maybe she'll tell me then why she wanted the bike in the first place.

I don't have a photo for this one, but I'm gonna get one. In the meantime, here's a link to what has become my favorite group of motorcycle mechanix in the world, Puget Sound Motorcycles in beautiful Tacoma, Wash.

Why? 'Cause they fixed my damn bike!

This is the case. My beloved 1980 Suzuki had, as I may have mentioned in my previous posting, become quite ill. He would start up and ride me around town. First to one errand. And then, to a second. And then...that was it. Then he'd die on me. The battery just wasn't holding a charge.

I checked out my favorite motorcycle website, the GS Resources and asked the pertinent questions and it seemed that everyone was on the same page that the problem was likely my stator. Now, last year when I was unemployed, footloose, etcetera etcetera, I might have considered trying to fix this myself. I might have. But now that I am fully employed in a job I absolutely love, I just don't have the time and I wanted to ride my bike dammit!

So I charged it up and rode it down to Puget Sound Motorcycles, not far from my home. I had been there lots of times before, sometimes looking for parts, usually just gear. I bought a pair of helmets there and a few other odds and ends. I knew they had a shop and even the woman behind the counter had given me mechanical advice before, and I knew they worked on old bikes.

My bike is old, 30 years old, actually. And I had never received a friendly reception at the Suzuki dealer here in Tacoma. They were kind of snotty to me, like I wasn't worth much to them since I didn't have a new bike. You know, isn't that just short-sighted of them? I mean, I will be buying a new bike soon but I can tell you that I won't be going to the dealership in Tacoma. Why should I give them my business when I want to buy a motorcycle, when they treated me so poorly any time I went in there? And I did go in more than once, at least a dozen times over the past few years. Sometimes it was just window shopping, but sometimes I was there to lay down some cash. It never failed. They were always rude to me.

Anyway, Puget Sound Motorcycles wasn't and never were. So I took my bike there. One of their mechanix, a mechanical genius name of Jackie, unscrambled the rats nest that was the wiring in my headlamp housing. Some of it was my fault, some of I will blame on the PO, who once upon a time began tinkering with what is now my bike in an ill-fated bid to turn it into a bobber, I think. He only got as far as yanking off the stock headlamp and tossing on a teeny tiny useless little headlamp about as big as your average flashlight.

Anyway, when I replaced it with a nice 7" bucket, I wasn't able to get the wiring straight. My turn signals wouldn't work, my horn wouldn't blow, and my starter wouldn't start. I had to turn the right turn signal on to activate the starter. I actually didn't mind that much and I've spent the last year using nothing but hand signals, in city driving, on the freeway and even on a highway road trip.

But Jackie fixed all that. She also replaced the stator. The whole deal wasn't cheap, but I knew that fixing all that wiring was gonna be labor intensive and hard on my wallet. It was, but I'm not complaining. I got what I paid for and what I paid for was some solid, meat and potatoes mechanical work.

So, my bike is in the garage now. Soon as I got it home I gave it a bath, polished the tank, and gave it the once over. I plan to ride it into work tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow will be a good day.

Sad day!

Just in time for winter, my bike has slipped into a bit of a coma. But I believe that some work replacing the alternator will bring it back to life.
I hope.

Another necessary item

I have discovered something else I believe will be stuffed in my pack on pretty much every future road trip - a clutch handle.
I made this discovery after a bad morning when I had to stop suddenly just as I was going to make a U-turn. My sudden stop was prompted by a car who had made a right turn onto the street where I was, and was on me so fast I had no choice but to stop quickly, with the wheel already turned to the left. I couldn't keep my bike upright (and felt like a complete moron), dropping it on the pavement.
The car who had caused me to drop the bike slowed down, I saw the brake lights, then kept on going. I was left with a sore knee and a broken clutch handle.
A good friend allowed me to borrow her car so I could drive home and grab he spare I had in my garage. It was a 2-minute repair job once I had the part, and it's a part I plan to always keep with me.

Next generation rider

I probably learned how to ride a motorcycle in the worst possible way. About 25 years ago, I hit up a co-worker who had a dirt bike and asked him to teach me. One afternoon before work, we met at the Rose Bowl parking lot, he showed me the gear sequence, I hopped on the bike, and promptly laid it down and slid into the side of a parked car, the accelerator screaming as I gripped it in a panic and my left hand squeezing the clutch in a death grip.
I was completely unprepared for the speed at which a motorcycle could accelerate. After all, my other vehicle was a 1970 VW bus!
Well, I still ride, but I've had three accidents, two of them bad enough to total the bikes I was riding, one of them bad enough to chip some bones in my ankle. Not the worst record, I know, but still, I know each of those accidents could easily have been avoided.
Well, I wanted my just-turned-18-years-old daughter, who has been wanting a motorcycle for a while, to have a better start than I did. So for her birthday, I didn't buy her a motorcycle, instead, I bought her a gift certificate for motorcycle riding lessons from an outfit here in Western Washington called Puget Sound Safety.
Can you believe, the state subsidizes the lessons?! Personally, I think that's awesome. What better service than to make it easier for motorcycle riders to learn to ride in as safe a manner as possible.
I'll still worry when my daughter rides. Motorcycles inherently carry a greater risk than a big metal cage on wheels. There's just no two ways about it.
But with the right attitude, and the proper training, I do believe it is possible to ride safely.
I plan to sign up for the intermediate rider safety course. I think even an experienced rider can always learn, and maybe unlearn some bad habits.