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  • 2 months later...
3 hours ago, railfancwb said:

How does the power actually get from the engine to the rear wheel?

Basically a high-friction roller that presses against the rear tire, I think.

Remember - it's a show bike.  Not meant for high mileage.

Edited by SC Tiger
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3 hours ago, railfancwb said:

How does the power actually get from the engine to the rear wheel?

the starter is really a Hamster that you put on the inside of the rear wheel with a bowl of food attached that he can't get to but will run like crazy trying !!!   LOL

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Years and ages approximate. [emoji4]

 

1973 / 10 Tecumseh 5hp mini bike around the neighborhood.

 

1974 / 11 Honda Trail 50 to ride at the camp on the bayou.

 

1976 / 13 Kawasaki Enduro to ride around the neighborhood, in the woods and at the levy of Lake Pontchartrain.

 

1980 / 17 Kawasaki KZ 400 to ride everywhere.

 

1985 / 22 Kawasaki Ninja 600. Wife bought it for me as a wedding gift.

 

1986 / 23 traded wrecked 600 Ninja for Yamaha RZ350 (red, white & blue, not yellow & black) two stroke. That bike was exciting (ie, scared the crap out of me). In case you're curious, I was drunk and stoned, wheelie-ing through a stop sign and T-boned a Datsun Z car, on the Ninja.

 

1987 / 24 joined the Navy and the RZ350 was sold while I was in boot camp.

 

1988 / 25 shared a Honda Shadow (500?) with a buddy, for commuting to the base. We had overnight duty on opposing days.

 

1989 no motorcycles...

 

2020 / 57 wife passed away in January. In April a coworker asked how I was doing and he meant really. I told him how bad life stinks, nowadays. He put his hand on my shoulder and said solemnly, "you need a motorcycle". I thought "that oughta be a nice distraction". Two weeks later I bought a 2008 Yamaha FZ6.

 

2020 / 57 got 2013 Honda Shadow Spirit 750, less than 2 months after buying the FZ6. I'm too old for that riding position.

 

I don't ever recall doing anything to get a motorcycle license. Maybe it was no big deal. Maybe I never did.

Now, as a mature and responsible adult, I had to pay for and complete two different courses of instruction, in order to obtain a motorcycle endorsement, but I feel like I know much, much more about riding, than I every did.

 

The Shadow, which I put over a twelve hundred miles, on mostly back roads, didn't have the legs for the freeway. It could do it, but with only 5 gears, it wasn't happy.

 

Enter the 2015 Kawasaki Versys 1000. Same weight and torque as the Shadow, with another gear and about 2.5 times the HP. I'm really digging it! It's very easy to ride!

It got brand new tires, the day I bought it.

I put over 500 miles on it in the first week. Over 2000 miles ridden and still digging it. a28f46d19a738a0e20ec4bc98082820e.jpgfc62483cced38b1b04796ef49756e3d3.jpg8c5ddb68910b905020af0f566fbafc65.jpg

 

 

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I had it over a year before before I put the carb jet-kit in in (I did that intentionally,  just so I'd know if it made a difference).  And cut the big-hole in the airbox.

It went from 70+ mpg, to ~35 mpg.

But.  Holy Smokes!  It was twice the bike.

The rev-limiter kicks in at (an indicated) 99mph.

Which is just fine.

It is waaay so smooth, and handling, and leaning,  on backroad twisties.

But 99mph is all you really need.  Really.

My family can hear me,  two minutes before I get home.

Coming up the valley.

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  • 8 months later...
On 9/18/2020 at 9:51 AM, GT4494 said:

the starter is really a Hamster that you put on the inside of the rear wheel with a bowl of food attached that he can't get to but will run like crazy trying !!!   LOL

I replace the hamster with a honey badger,  from the Jammer catalog.

But then,  you couldn't ever even really ride it.  As soon as you started it,  it would go all wheelie-all-over into buildings and parked cars.

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red.jpg.7b72737fbfe93a2a9b7a82a37dcb3ac7.jpg

It took me ALL around America (I found America all over) for many years.

I once rode it from Houston to Pittsburgh.  In <24 hrs.  130 mph, for a lot of it.  WFO.

Once in the middle of Tumbleweed, USA, at 2am,  at 130,  the cops lit me up.

They followed me for 10 seconds,  and then whipped passed at 190mph.

 

 

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By the time I got to Pittsburgh,  it had been off-crazy half the way,  the front wheel had three inches of play in the bearings.

Blowing at 130,  no problem-o.

30 or 20, or slower,  was a wiggly-goose all-over-the-road ride.  Almost unridable.

It was 2am,  so the only sensible choice was to keep going.

When I got to the driveway,  where I was headed,  3" or 4" inches of play.

The next morning,  I had already found a parts shop in the yellow pages,  there was zero play in the front wheel.  Tight and smooth.

I never did replace the bearings.

Edited by Huaco Kid
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On that same trip, at 2am (EVERYTHING happens at 2am),  some drunk high school kids pulled up next to me,  all a hootin' and a hollerin'!

They leaned out the window and handed me beers.  I filled my pockets,  and managed to open one and start drinking it.  We was all hootin' now!

Then, for some reason,

(I had bought M-80's (the real ones) at some roadside place,  because we couldn't buy them where I came from,  and EVERYONE needs M-80's.  Right?)

I dug in my pocket and pulled out an M80 and handed it to them.  They Hooted!  Wooooo!

Then they lit it.

And threw it at me.

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At 19, I was working at BillCo Volkswagen.  On the flats.  I was the newb,  gear-boy.  I got all the warranty work,  that was impossible to make any money from.

Quitting time! Friday!  Beer! 'Tang!  I jumped on Red,  and blew out!

A busy 4-lane, at rush hour.  I was following a car, in the fast lane, much too fast,  and the guy in front of me instantly whipped into the slow lane.....

There was a stopped car,  waiting to turn left.

At waay too fast, I tried to go around on the left.  I clipped his back bumper.

I mostly remember,  seeing my bike slide sideways,  and immediately getting run over by an oncoming car,  while I was upside down,  flying passed the guy I crashed into,  and he had a huge WTF!!  look on his face.

So I rolled around rush hour traffic for 0.7 seconds,  and decided I didn't like it.

By now,  the whole highway had locked up,  sideways,  and I had to just stand there,  pretending that it wasn't my fault.

 

(Two days later,  after my girlfriend yapped at me too much,  I went to the hospital.  Broke several bones in my right foot.  But didn't get any cast,  or wraps, or drugs, so the hospital was a waste.)

(I can still tell when  a major storm is coming,  from the bones in my foot.)

 

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At college, in Waco,  when,  at 2am,  on Red,  I was happening passed the girl's dorm.  The whole quad was chock-full of sweeties,  so, I decided to go 100mph!  3rd! 4tht! 6th!  WAAAAAAAHHH!

And did! 

I was the darkest heart-throb of all of them!

A bit passed there,  the road turned into a Y.

With zero seconds left,  at 100,  I hit the curb, right in the middle.

I remember the whole crash.  In slow motion.  Like Evel Knievel.

It was a completely empty flat field. Rolling. Me. Bike. Rolling. Me. Bike. Rolling. Me. Bike.

We both ended up in a ditch,  slammed into where the cement drainage pipe was.

No girls came to save me.  It was probably their highlight.

I rode that bike home,  with the forks so bent back,  that the wheel was scrubbing the gas tank.

Scrub.Scrub.Scrub.  Scrub.Scrub.Scrub. At 2mph.

I'm guessing I had to walk to class from then on.

 

Edited by Huaco Kid
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I've always worn a full-faced Bell helmet.  Even amongst the bikers.  I don't care.  It's my thing.

Not the bike-shop ones,  special order factory ones.

When I grew up,  all the racers had Bell.

Edited by Huaco Kid
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The last time I didn't crash,  on Blue,  I got hit from behind.

Later,  the skidmarks said he was going 50mph.

I blew their windshield into the back seat.  My helmet didn't come off,  but it cracked open, 90%, down the middle.  My boots came off.

My best friend said, "You stupid dumb ******* Gumby!  Only you could pull that off.   I remember you sending that first helmet back because you felt it didn't fit right.  You moron."

 

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(I was on this when Tim got his finger cut off.)

(his was a kawasaki.  they do that.)

I was once blowing through a field at 1000mph,  smokin!.

It was an old field,  with no horses, so someone had cut all the barbed wire and rolled it up next to the posts.

But,  at this spot,  it came out. 

At 1000,  my back wheel got in the wire.  It was hiding in the hay.  Snagged.

So, from 1000 to zero, right now.

I think I crashed and rolled.  And crashed and rolled.  And did that a lot.

Didn't hurt.

 

AT2.thumb.jpg.4fb69e6efb3a9698f48cb1eaad0d4e7c.jpg

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But then you got 25yds of barb wire wrapped all wickedly and amazingly all wrapped into your back wheel.

So you just have to leave it there.  Walk home.  Take Dad's cutters.  Throw all the wire  all across the field.

So you can hit it again later.

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