This morning on the way in to work, I made a little detour to our local UPS Centre. I picked up the errant spotlight for Baby's light bar. Sometime today, I expect to receive a phone call from my Honda dealership, informing me that my Kury Stiletto pegs are in and ready to be picked up as well. These constitute the very last parts that I require for Baby to be back on the road.
Last night after arriving home, I had a great supper of salad and chicken (buck-buck, as I like to call it...) prepared by my dear woman. I sat in the recliner, just happy to be able to rest. I had really been dragging my ass by the time she picked me up at work. Now I was finally home and able to relax. She has been negotiating the purchase of a Mazda MPV recently, through one of the dealers along Youville Drive in Orleans. She wanted to R/V with the sales rep to take it out for a test drive and sort out a trade-in deal for our Buick. Not being in any shape or frame of mind to deal with such matters, I opted to stay where I was and let her sally forth on her own.
As the evening progressed, I thought about the work I had done so far on the bike. The mirrors, grips and forward control extensions had been installed, the shifter plate and shifter lever had both been straightened... she had come some distance so far. Then it occurred to me that the bolts holding the extension plates had been reversed. The job was not yet complete. I would have to remove the two longer chrome bolts from the left-hand side and replace them with the two shorter ones from the right-hand side bracket. Once that had been done and the fittings properly torqued to 29 ft./lbs., then I could consider the project done.
"That's okay", I told myself. "I'll just change out one at a time. That'll make it easier...". And so I did. Before too long, I had finished. I stood looking at my handywork, but could not muster the feeling of accomplishment I wanted to. Why was that? Then it dawned on me. During the disassembly phase, I had disconnected the old rubber brake line and replaced it with a nice, new braided stainless one. During the swap, I had lost a considerable amount of brake fluid from the system. I still had to re-fill the rear master cylinder and bleed the rear brake system. I wasn't done yet. My mind then wandered to the other master cylinder, the one which supplies my hydraulic clutch. I had promised myself to bleed and replace it's fluid as well, once I had finished adjusting the length of the new shifter rod assembly.
Each one of these jobs takes approximately 20 minutes to complete. Hardly a day of slave labour, with tunes, cold drinks, a large fan providing a nice breeze and recirculating the air in the garage. Notably with the door open. Even as a conservative estimate, it would be safe to say that Baby will be road-ready in every respect, before this Friday. All I am required to do is to avoid giving in to this fatigue that washes over me at the end of the day. My wife thinks me silly to carry on working on the bike, when all my body wants to do is rest. It is precisely this brand of stubborn, pig-headedness which will stand me in good stead when I begin my physiotherapy. There are occasions in life when a person must perform actions or chores, regardless of whether or not they feel like it. Redardless of whether they engender pain or discomfort. Military training and conditioning go against taking the easy way out. We are made of stronger stuff...
With any luck, I will be able to enlist the aid of my riding buddies or my daughter. One hand will only get you so far, but with family of either type involved, the sky's the limit...
Last night after arriving home, I had a great supper of salad and chicken (buck-buck, as I like to call it...) prepared by my dear woman. I sat in the recliner, just happy to be able to rest. I had really been dragging my ass by the time she picked me up at work. Now I was finally home and able to relax. She has been negotiating the purchase of a Mazda MPV recently, through one of the dealers along Youville Drive in Orleans. She wanted to R/V with the sales rep to take it out for a test drive and sort out a trade-in deal for our Buick. Not being in any shape or frame of mind to deal with such matters, I opted to stay where I was and let her sally forth on her own.
As the evening progressed, I thought about the work I had done so far on the bike. The mirrors, grips and forward control extensions had been installed, the shifter plate and shifter lever had both been straightened... she had come some distance so far. Then it occurred to me that the bolts holding the extension plates had been reversed. The job was not yet complete. I would have to remove the two longer chrome bolts from the left-hand side and replace them with the two shorter ones from the right-hand side bracket. Once that had been done and the fittings properly torqued to 29 ft./lbs., then I could consider the project done.
"That's okay", I told myself. "I'll just change out one at a time. That'll make it easier...". And so I did. Before too long, I had finished. I stood looking at my handywork, but could not muster the feeling of accomplishment I wanted to. Why was that? Then it dawned on me. During the disassembly phase, I had disconnected the old rubber brake line and replaced it with a nice, new braided stainless one. During the swap, I had lost a considerable amount of brake fluid from the system. I still had to re-fill the rear master cylinder and bleed the rear brake system. I wasn't done yet. My mind then wandered to the other master cylinder, the one which supplies my hydraulic clutch. I had promised myself to bleed and replace it's fluid as well, once I had finished adjusting the length of the new shifter rod assembly.
Each one of these jobs takes approximately 20 minutes to complete. Hardly a day of slave labour, with tunes, cold drinks, a large fan providing a nice breeze and recirculating the air in the garage. Notably with the door open. Even as a conservative estimate, it would be safe to say that Baby will be road-ready in every respect, before this Friday. All I am required to do is to avoid giving in to this fatigue that washes over me at the end of the day. My wife thinks me silly to carry on working on the bike, when all my body wants to do is rest. It is precisely this brand of stubborn, pig-headedness which will stand me in good stead when I begin my physiotherapy. There are occasions in life when a person must perform actions or chores, regardless of whether or not they feel like it. Redardless of whether they engender pain or discomfort. Military training and conditioning go against taking the easy way out. We are made of stronger stuff...
With any luck, I will be able to enlist the aid of my riding buddies or my daughter. One hand will only get you so far, but with family of either type involved, the sky's the limit...
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