Sense of accomplishment is a funny thing. We can get it from summiting a mountain or fitting into our pre-Christmas skinny clothes. Really, who cares where it comes from? The main thing is, things must be getting checked off whatever list is in our head, or we wouldn’t likely feel it. The last two weeks though I’ve had one main task that was actually several tasks smooshed together: do all the deferred maintenance on the Indian Chieftain after this year’s trip.
That was the central point in my last update post, and it’s the main one for this one. On the plus side, I’m done, after a lot of work that made me feel I was 15-years older than I am. So many days worn out, with sore arms and shoulders, back aching from having to get up off the floor for another tool 100 times a day, and a few good cuts on the knuckles while I was at it.
But damnit, the bike is ready for another long trip. Both tires were replaced, so that damned leak in the rear tire is finally not an issue. All of the brake pads are new and make a big difference in feel and over all braking force. I got that damaged drive belt changed, which required I pull half the back of the motorcycle apart and remove the whole exhaust system, and I rebuilt the front suspension.
Not This Again
the real problem was with one of the front fork legs. I rebuilt the first one easily; it was probably the easiest one I’ve ever done. For some reason though the 2nd fork leg was binding up, so I looked at the manual. My mistake was, going back to my military experience, they tell you to just follow the manual — if it’s wrong and you follow it, you won’t be in trouble no matter what happens.
This is bushing. Its inside is coated with Teflon so it is low friction and perfectly smooth, causing little wear as the fork leg moves up and down. After you beat it with a punch and hammer, there is no fixing it.
This wasn’t the military, and the manual was wrong. I put it together according to the manual knowing it couldn’t be right, but hey, it’s the factory manual…from the people who designed the bike. Of course, as someone who has worked with technical writing, I know the engineers aren’t the ones writing the manual; they make engineering drawings.
Anyway, the technicals aren’t important. I got a part stuck, with no way to remove it but to mercilessly beat the piss out of it. And so I did, damaging some machined surfaces that need to be perfectly smooth. I ordered some replacement part, but one part is the actual fork leg. Like, it’s the part you actually see: it holds the wheel and brakes…it is basically half of the fork.
Inside the fork leg. Every scratch you see has to be leveled out so the bushings and inner fork leg can slide without being damaged. A needle file and 20-min of effort got things good enough to work, saving at least $350 in parts.
It’s also $650 to buy a new one. Used ones are about $350. I set of small files is $7.99, so guess what I did? Yep, and it appears to have worked. When the new parts arrived they went together easily and I marathoned for about five hours to get the entire bike put together on the day after Christmas.
Sense of Accomplishment
On the 27th I was ready to take ‘er out for a spin. After setting tire pressures and watching all my oily fingerprints on the exhaust turn to smoke, I set out to make sure I hadn’t screwed anything up. Amazingly, despite about two weeks apart and multiple things getting replaced, I ended up with zero “bonus parts.” No spare washers, no missing bolts, not even any mismatched bolts with different lengths or head sizes.
The brakes were beyond “like-new.” I had replaced the front pads with “HH” pads, which are usually what you choose for racing or extremely aggressive street riding. The front brake had nice “bite” on initial application, and you could dial in more braking force in a nice, progressive way. I didn’t get to really mess around, since you need to “bed in” new brakes gradually.
Besides, the new tires felt very different, so I had to get used to the steering feel. Literally the only thing touching the road are your tires, so they are really important for road feel: even more so if the vehicle leans to turn. The front forks felt great too. Even if the seals don’t leak oil like mine were, putting 40,000 miles on motorcycle suspension is going to destroy the oil’s ability to work.
So, firm ride, firm stopping, and what feels like firm grip from the tires; that’s a victory worthy of some chicken and waffles. And it just so happens that Dot’s Diner had such a delicacy available. I caught them about 15-min before close but they still had some left, and it was well done. I’ve never found anything better than Roscoe’s in Los Angeles, but this was still good enough that I cleaned the plate.
It sounds like an odd combination but if you just think of it as “sweet and savory” you can mix all sorts of seemingly unrelated food items. Ingredients like vinegar and sugar can actually work together for the same reason that breakfast sausage can be used to scoop up the maple syrup from your pancakes.
A Few More Miles
Since I was out on the bike and the weather was good I decided not to miss the golden hour as the sun sets over the desert. I zipped down to the border town of Naco, and was thinking about crossing over for tacos, but I just ate; probably the only time I don’t want tacos.
So I swung in to The Gay 90’s, a dive bar and one of the only businesses in the small blip of a town that is Naco. $3.00 for a drink, some time spent petting the bar-dog and chatting up the bartender and I was back outside, looking at the gold and amber hues bouncing off the old buildings.
The bar is literally the last thing before the customs house and the border fence, so I looked out in both directions. The border is such a political hot button issue that makes no sense to me. At the actual border it’s just people going about their daily lived. No one cares what people in Washington DC think. Hell, I doubt most Arizonans care what California or Texas think about it either.
The recent headlines of Joe Biden trying to auction off the unused sections of border fence from Trump’s attempt to “build the wall” made me feel pretty hopeless for humanity. There have been hundreds of miles of border fencing installed for decades, by both Democrats and Republicans, but now it’s somehow a political issue?
The old Customs House, looking through to the Mexican Port of Entry, with plenty of surveillance towers and the old border fence.
That dog doesn’t hunt for me. A fence is a way to stop those poor huddled masses from dying in the desert trying to cross the border illegally. For everyone else there is a thing called a Port of Entry. It’s a pretty old concept, and they are used all over the world, and have been for millennia. Not contentious, not political, not a human rights issue.
It’s where people and goods get inspected before entering the country, because we charge tariffs on certain things, we don’t allow certain things in at all, and we don’t let any jack ass into the country for no reason and an indefinite amount of time. The country has enough jack asses if you ask me, so I don’t mind a little border control on that one.
Enough of That
But hey, this isn’t really a place where I get political. The main reason is, if I talk about political stuff, other folks have every right to share their opinion with me in the comments, and I probably don’t want to actually hear it (I’d rather swap motorcycle maintenance horror stories). Really, most political issues are nuanced and require a lot of back and forth just to establish a person’s understanding of the topic, let alone actually trading ideas.
Sounds exhausting.
I just see the fence literally from my bedroom window. That particular stretch was put up in the 1960’s I believe. Not really a political thing. It’s generally a practical way of stopping something Americans no longer understand: cross-border raids. That kinda of thing stopped when the Army sent Buffalo Soldiers to the border and started building trails so they could patrol.
Inside view of The Gay 90’s as I contemplate reality and the boons and burdens of existing as a human being on Earth.
The forts got to be expensive, so an easy fit was to put up a fence and close most of the forts. Now Americans somehow think they have an opinion on the border, but they don’t live a mile from it, and they would laugh if you mentioned cross-border raids, because they don’t happen. But of course, they don’t happen because there’s a big-ass fence.
Didn’t I say I was going to switch off the topic? Okay…motorcycles. Ah yes, sense of accomplishment. You betcha. After I got back to the house I spent about 30-min putting tools away because I didn’t clean as I went the last two weeks, and things were strewn everywhere.
But in the end — looking at that blank piece of concrete all swept clean — that’s when I really felt accomplished. All those parts, spills, all the road grime, the busted knuckles… it was over. Well, until next time. The Suzuki does have a list of needs too. But hey, the list is much shorter, the items on the list are much less in-depth, and the bike is easier to work on generally.
And it can wait. I need the Suzuki so I can go exploring the old mining roads, mountain roads, abandoned ranches, and the desert in general. The Chieftain needed the work done so it can be my primary get-around this winter (plenty more wind protection and locking luggage make it the more car-like of the two).
I also have to start working on my book again. I’ve finally broken out my notebooks and am looking at where I left off, but I’ve not done anything with the book since March or April. Fortunately the notes bring back plenty of memories, so that isn’t the problem. The over all arc of the story though: how it gets told, where high points and low points are… that’s the tricky bit.
The 2023 trip is the basis for the book, and it feels recent and forever ago at the same time. The overall mood of a day is as easy to forget as the minutiae, but my notes should help hold onto both.
But don’t expect me to write about writing too much. 90% of the people reading this are either motorcycling buddies or family members, not would-be authors seeking advice.
The new year is right here. I had thought about writing about the malaise we all experience in the week between Christmas and New Years, but I didn’t see it holding my attention long enough, so why make my kind readers endure it? This isn’t a school project I have to do, nor is there a word count I have to achieve to get full credit.
With the new year I’ll have time to reflect on 2024 by reading my beginning-of-the-year post from 2024 and writing a new one for 2025. It’s all in how you look at it when thinking about a timeframe as long as one year. Some things got done, and some things didn’t… as is true with every year I can remember.
So, I’ll see you on the other side. We’re a quarter-of-a-century into the “future.” Being born in 1978 the 21st Century was treated like it was several hundred years away. Being this far into it without flying cars or a Moon outpost…what the hell? Instead we turned gender into a spectrum and made the Thought Police from Orwell’s book into a real thing.
But hey, there’s still motorcycles, and gasoline is affordable for the time being. That’s enough to keep me happy for now, because I can ride in any direction in search of tacos, without having to share any of them with my horse.
See you in the next quarter-century.
Johnny Killmore 