Two weeks ago, my little Husky got some much needed lovin’ thanks to my one man pit crew. It’s really a nice service, you should try it. All you have to do is marry some dude that loves motorcycles too and stuff just shows up in the garage. He’s like the Tooth Fairy but for motorcycles. (And will also probably smother me with a pillow for calling him a fairy.)
New beefy hoops replaced the old shagged out knobblies.
And… TA DA! I have a new seat. Now to the untrained eye this seat probably looks just like the old seat. But, this seat is a magic seat. It is full of kittens and rainbows and doesn’t cut into your bum the way the stocker did. The result? Your ass is not on fire after 50 miles.
Aside from making a world of difference comfort-wise this little number has bought me about 3/4 of an inch in height. When you’re barely able to touch the ground with both feet at the same time, that’s huge.
Though my wee Husky is already lowered an inch with a Koubalink, generally speaking I kind of have to shift one foot to the other for solid footing. But I’ve found that I don’t have to shift quite as much now. I can get my toes on the ground with one foot and kinda tippy toe with the other for stability. Size matters!
When it comes to being a family of motorcyclists, the upsides far outweigh the downsides. But to keep things running smoothly, there is a bit of creative juggling that happens with time management. Neither my husband Kenny nor I can just go out and ride every time we feel like it. We have a kid, a house, a dog – you know how it is.
Over the years we’ve settled into a routine of taking turns when it comes to riding. But it has to be said that the turns are most often in my favor. One more reason why I think I am the luckiest girl in the world.
On Saturday, it was Kenny’s turn to get out and get on the gas. His heart seems to have been consumed by riding dirt so when some of the guys were kicking around getting out for a ride – he was all in.
When he pulled his KTM out getting ready to load it into the truck, I took my Husky out at the same time. With life being life – my Husky has been in tucked away in an unintentional hibernation for what seems like 100 years.
I knew I didn’t have much of a window to do any riding, but so help me – if it was just to do an errand or two I was going to get on that bike and run some gas through it!
Fast forward, 4 loads of laundry, dishes, house tidied up and vacuumed, kid shuttled to a party… my opportunity finally came. And so did the snowflakes. Oh, c’mon!
I paced around, looking out the kitchen window at the snow gently falling. Though it was dusting the lawn and the trees with powdered sugar, the roads were black and wet. Screw it. I threw on my gear and rode to the bank. Glamorous, I know.
I always seem to get the same bank teller when I stop in. She always has the biggest smile for me. She can see me ride up through the big glass window at the front of the branch and always has questions about riding or about whatever motorcycle I’m on. She’s very sweet.
‘Now, you be careful out there on your motorbike,’ she called to me after we finished up and I was walking away. Of course I replied ‘careful is my middle name,’ with a smile and a wave. You thought it was danger, didn’t you?
As I cruised back home all felt right in my world. The quick run to the bank put the sexy thump of the Husky back into my ears. I didn’t realize just how much I missed it.
Don’t you just hate it when you lose a front brake caliper bolt when you’re riding your motorcycle? Yea. Me too.
When I pulled into the parking lot in town on Sunday night, I gave the Husky brake lever a squeeze as I approached the entrance booth. Instead of gliding to a gentle stop I was met with metallic crunching sound, an odd feel on the lever and well, no brakes.
Without actually knowing what was wrong, it was obvious what was wrong. I leaned towards Kenny who was riding next to me and said, “I think my front brake caliper just fell off.”
This of course was met with a look that said, “Whaaaat?” without saying a word. He may or may not have slowly opened his helmets sunshade for dramatic “are you crazy?” effect.
I rolled myself past the booth and pulled directly in front of it to get out of the way of the incoming traffic. I hopped off the bike and saw indeed that my front brake caliper was cocked back and balancing along the edge of the brake rotor. The lower bolt had sacrificed itself to the road gods somewhere on my short journey.
Like my own personal pit crew – in about 2 seconds flat Kenny had parked his bike, jettisoned his gear, walked back to me and began looking at my front wheel. If you don’t already have your own pit crew, you might consider getting one. It is a very nice service.
While he was laying on the hot summer asphalt next to my front wheel, he struck the pose of a man with a purpose who was actually doing something other than, you know – hanging out on the blacktop near the 2 lanes of traffic by a parking entrance booth.
From out of the parking booth right behind us, a squeaky teenaged voice said, “you can park your bike in any spot anywhere in the lot.”
I turned and looked at her, smiled and politely and said, “If I could, I would.”
Actually… my look probably wasn’t entirely polite. It may have appeared more along the lines of “Really? You’re kidding. I can PARK in the spaces in this PARKING LOT? You mean everyone who comes into this lot on a motorcycle doesn’t strip off all of their gear and lay down on the hot blacktop RIGHT HERE and poke at the moving parts on their bike ALL the time?”
But I did smile.
I took a quick walk around the entrance driveway to see if my bolt had by some chance wiggled itself out there. Of course, it was nowhere to be found. We had to figure out some other quick fix.
With the caliper shoved back into its normal position on the disc, I pushed the bike over into the motorcycle parking spaces. You know, because I can park in any of them. We just needed something to steady the caliper in it’s rightful place since I didn’t have another bolt. Some safety wire or … Oh! A zip tie would do.
“We could just zip tie it in place for now,” I said.
“You mean wire tie?” Kenny replied.
::blink:blink:: “What? Yes. Wire tie.”
It was at this moment that I finally realized that men are indeed from Mars and women from Venus. We were saying the same damned thing. Zip tie, wire tie, cable tie, potahto – whatever you want to call it, let’s just go ahead and fix my bike.
I swear. It’s hard to find good help that won’t talk back these days.
I’m happy to report that the temporary fix worked like a charm and that my caliper bolt has been replaced.
I have also docked Kenny’s pay for being insubordinate. Beatings will continue until morale improves.
Yesterday I took the Husky out for a cruise to help clear the cobwebs away from my mind. With each thump of her little heart my mood brightened.
Sure, I know it doesn’t exactly excel at riding around on the street. But, that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to use it for that anyway. There is just something about the bikes personality, its sound that I love so much. She’s a sexy beast.
I was already on my way back home when the sky just seemed to have a special look to it. Though home was to the left, I made a right and headed for the water. I had a feeling that the sunset was going to be a doozy.