Lauren_TK
Well-known member
I was not planning on buying a bike until the February/March time-frame, so I could have my winter bonus and tax return for the down payment.
Now to start the story.
A couple weeks back, we decided to ride down to Centralia for cheeseburgers. We often do, but I won't bore you with the details of why we go to Centralia for cheeseburgers.
Coming home up I-5 around the Tacoma dome, I heard an odd noise coming from the front wheel of the Vulcan. Since I can usually hear the music from the stereo from my wife's Spyder (over our Scala Rider headsets), I asked her to turn it down. By the time she did, the sound disappeared.
It was a chilly day, and I wished to have a restorative. We stopped at a famous "local" coffee chain, and enjoyed our drinks. Shortly after returning to the interstate, I noticed that the speedo needle was resting on the left-hand peg. Using my super-keen senses, I noticed that the ground was moving beneath my feet, felt air pushing against my body, and I heard wind and engine noise. Thusly, I determined that I was not moving at zero miles per hour, but rather a speed in excess of "standing-still." Now employing my mind-boggling logic skills, I determined that "something was wrong."
We pulled over at the first rest-stop and I fiddled with the speedo cable connections. No dice. However, I did learn that the speedo cable was whole and hearty.
After a couple of days of research and poking at the bike, I was reasonably sure the issue rested with the speedo gear. I ordered the parts and waited. When the parts arrived, I was on the edge of a cold, so I didn't want to spend time in the less-than-heated garage.
We wanted to avoid any kind of shopping on Black Friday. To come up with something else to do, I decided to replace the gear. Since my dad is a retired journeyman of seven trades, he has all the tools in the universe. Given that, and his brain stuffed with mechanical lore, I decided to do the work at his place.
The front wheel came off even before he shuffled (he's 75) into the garage. We peeled apart the speedo gear housing and found only misery. There was more wrong than just the gear. We decided to put it back together, order the parts, have a relaxing chat, and be home by noon.
Several hours later, the front axle simply did not want to go on. By noon, dad and I started to get a bit shout-ey at each other, and my wife wanted to have lunch. We drove the long way home, and for giggles, swung by Ride just to see if they were open. They were.
We decided to see what kind of prices they had on the FJR. The '12 and '13 prices were good.
Then we decided that we should, for fun, do the credit application. It came back A-OK.
After some hemming, hawing, and a cheeseburger, I signed the papers for the '13.
Recharged and refreshed, we went back to the parents' place, and with only a minimum of fussing, installed the front wheel.
On the Vulcan's final ride, the speedo felt like working. Sort of. If I kept the speed to under 20 MPH.
In the fading light, I parked the Vulcan behind the dealer, and handed over the keys.
They had to prep the bike, and it would not be ready until noon, on Saturday.
END OF PART 1
Now to start the story.
A couple weeks back, we decided to ride down to Centralia for cheeseburgers. We often do, but I won't bore you with the details of why we go to Centralia for cheeseburgers.
Coming home up I-5 around the Tacoma dome, I heard an odd noise coming from the front wheel of the Vulcan. Since I can usually hear the music from the stereo from my wife's Spyder (over our Scala Rider headsets), I asked her to turn it down. By the time she did, the sound disappeared.
It was a chilly day, and I wished to have a restorative. We stopped at a famous "local" coffee chain, and enjoyed our drinks. Shortly after returning to the interstate, I noticed that the speedo needle was resting on the left-hand peg. Using my super-keen senses, I noticed that the ground was moving beneath my feet, felt air pushing against my body, and I heard wind and engine noise. Thusly, I determined that I was not moving at zero miles per hour, but rather a speed in excess of "standing-still." Now employing my mind-boggling logic skills, I determined that "something was wrong."
We pulled over at the first rest-stop and I fiddled with the speedo cable connections. No dice. However, I did learn that the speedo cable was whole and hearty.
After a couple of days of research and poking at the bike, I was reasonably sure the issue rested with the speedo gear. I ordered the parts and waited. When the parts arrived, I was on the edge of a cold, so I didn't want to spend time in the less-than-heated garage.
We wanted to avoid any kind of shopping on Black Friday. To come up with something else to do, I decided to replace the gear. Since my dad is a retired journeyman of seven trades, he has all the tools in the universe. Given that, and his brain stuffed with mechanical lore, I decided to do the work at his place.
The front wheel came off even before he shuffled (he's 75) into the garage. We peeled apart the speedo gear housing and found only misery. There was more wrong than just the gear. We decided to put it back together, order the parts, have a relaxing chat, and be home by noon.
Several hours later, the front axle simply did not want to go on. By noon, dad and I started to get a bit shout-ey at each other, and my wife wanted to have lunch. We drove the long way home, and for giggles, swung by Ride just to see if they were open. They were.
We decided to see what kind of prices they had on the FJR. The '12 and '13 prices were good.
Then we decided that we should, for fun, do the credit application. It came back A-OK.
After some hemming, hawing, and a cheeseburger, I signed the papers for the '13.
Recharged and refreshed, we went back to the parents' place, and with only a minimum of fussing, installed the front wheel.
On the Vulcan's final ride, the speedo felt like working. Sort of. If I kept the speed to under 20 MPH.
In the fading light, I parked the Vulcan behind the dealer, and handed over the keys.
They had to prep the bike, and it would not be ready until noon, on Saturday.
END OF PART 1
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