Hey,
It’s all nuts. Just this morning I connected with James at Twin Power, Wilwood Brakes, JIMS machine, S&S, and PBI for sprockets.
I pushed myself too hard this weekend. On Saturday I work out and started to mess with the Salt Torpedo. We messed with one steering deal after another and I had to return parts to Summit Racing twice. They offer a helluva return policy. If the part doesn’t fit, they offer free shipping and a label in the box. It’s too cool, especially for us bastards who don’t know what the hell we’re doing.
Gary Maurer sent us a unit and we appreciated it, but were concerned about it. I finally admitted it to him, and he allayed my concerns, so I went to work machining and welding the needed pieces to make it work.
Then my grandson showed up to pick up his FXR. It fired right up, and he rode it around the block, golden. Ah, but not so fast. I’m trying to teach him the code of the west regarding anything mechanical, but especially motorcycles.
When he pulled the bike back into the headquarters, we discovered loose motor-mount bolts. We also discovered his brake anchor bracket fucking with his new painted fender. I went to work machining a new anchor spacer and he went to work on the motor-mount. We replaced all the fasteners and his heim joint alignment part was out of whack. We replaced it.
That ate up the entire afternoon, but finally he rode to Long Beach for a Mexican dinner with Darrin, another rider and a muscle harvester and tug boat captain.
LET’S TAKE A BREAK FOR A TRULY DIRE ANOUNCEMENT— The owner of the patriots, a 99-year-old fuck, is apologizing for getting a handjob in a handjob salon.
Now if he was actually intelligent, he would instead be saying:
“Yeah! I was shocked! I haven’t been able to get a boner in 30 years. But this little slope cutie, I think her name is Yank Me Nau, holy cannoli, she handcrafted what musta been 20 squirts across the room. Even she was impressed. ‘Yu big time stud, Joe! Yu gutta deck-gun berow yu tumtum! Yu rike a A-10 pipty-carribur! Hory clap! Me rike yu, Joe: pipty-percent discount faw yu!’
That’s all she kept sayin’. They was linin’ up to give me another one! I said ‘Whoa, wait a minute, ladies, i mean radies – haha – we gotta give these two exhausted balls time to whip up another batch!’ They said ‘WE WAIT, JOE!’ I tell ya, when you’re a hundred years old you think your squirt pumps are something only an Islamic goatherd man would be interested in, but then you wander into Madam Chang’s Pussyworks, and I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t know what she’s feedin’ those girls but it changes their hands and fingers from branch-grabbin’ tree-travelers into semen-siphoning syrup slingshots.
Half them broads were on their asses from slippin’ in the floor-splash just tryin’ to cross the room. Most of ’em fell with their legs spread. No underwear on them broads. Little short skirts. I’m getting hard again just talkin’ about it: any you press boys wanna take a whack at my lizard? Wouldn’t be the first time most o’ you dudes crossed over into snake-slappin’ territory, ey? Ha ha, just kidding, lads, I wouldn’t dream of pissing off your boyfriends.”
That’s what he SHOULDA said. Instead, no, he tells the press, “I am sorry for my depraved behavior. This is not who I am. Sex outside of marriage violates the sacred trust between a husband and wife. Even if she now looks like a horse carcass that was dragged down fifty miles of Montana gravel road.” fuckin’ loser. you can be a fuckin’ billionaire and still be a fucking pathetic loser.
–J.J. Solari
Senior Barbarian
Bikernet™ Editorial Board
So, the next morning I dove into working on the Salt Torpedo. I worked the entire day with only one short visitor break. I pushed hard doing anything I could to make progress. We are now putting the transmission together, ordering sprockets, installing the Bassini muffler system and more. The list keeps growing.
I also packed stuff to be shipped, including the most recent Summit u-joint steering coupler. It’s like buying some Harley parts now. I remember the old early days. Most of the parts were the same for 40 years, then it all went to hell.
Every time we try to order something, someone will ask, “Is that Evo, Twin Cam or M8? Is it early or late Twin Cam. Is it?” Fuck, how the hell do I know. It’s a five-speed transmission.
Sunday, I finished rebuilding our beautiful MetalSport wheel with new bearings and a ¾-inch axle, because Paughco doesn’t make 1-inch axles or swingarms. I spoke to Steve Massicote about the Tank yesterday. Hopefully, it will arrive next week.
We converted the bearings back to ¾-inch. That’s another topic. My local bearing supply has gone metric. They can’t seem to help with anything, but I know they can…
On top of that my wheel sprocket must have a larger sized hole in the center for wheels with larger axles. So, my day disappeared like a flash.
Fortunately, the mussel farmer showed up on Monday with a 5-pound bag of freshly harvested black European mussels and we had a feast last night.
See ya next week. I need to meditate!
–Bandit
