Veni, vidi, vici

So boys have there uses - I'll admit it. And my guy came home this week with a little present for his wife (always a good call). Roses? Candy? I think not. Impact driver and a compression tester - hell yeah. Gabriel really is an angel. Saturday we wheeled Lizzy out and went after those offending bolts that caused me so much angst (see the F*&$ers above). Bolts... meet my new BFF - the impact driver, and our other little friend, the leather hammer.



Freaking awesome. They came out after a good couple of whacks - which is also good for venting anger (better the bolts than the garage door, yes lesson learned).

Let's recap:
What doesn't work on stuck/ bunged bolts - power words, spit, blood, or any other bodily fluid... I am not saying how many I used.

What sometimes works - a rubber band over the tip of the screwdriver (if the slots are not totally bunged)

What really works - WD40 and an impact driver ( I heart you!!)

Temple of Doom

The whole bolt issue might have stopped my progress in one arena but not in others. I decided it was time to take off the carburetor and clean the little guy. For some reason, I decided to take the tank and seat off (as well as other things). Lizzy is looking a little sickly without her clothes on. Poor girl.

I think of the carb as something like a the heart of the bike. It controls the amount of fuel and air mixture that goes into the cylinder on each intake. Thing is, I couldn't shake the vision of Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom - you know - that scene where the guy gets his heart ripped out by the evil shaman? Except I am the evil shaman. Check out the vital organ in my murderous hands.

Honestly Lizzy, everything is going to be OK... I think.

You inhaled what?!!

I found out something horrid this week about Lizzy. I pulled her air filter, so I could wash out the foam element. Turns out there was no foam filter. WTF!!! This is no good gang. Really bad indeed. How long has she been sucking in unfiltered air, dragging in chunks of dirt and accelerating them into her piston and cylinder wall at a velocity hellishly enhanced by internal combustion? I woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares about cylinder walls that look like Freddy Krueger was playing in there.

I got depressed, I'll be honest. A little bit of fixing up I am fine with - re-boring my cylinder wall, not so much. I did what any girl would do. I ate a lot of chocolate and read 512 pages of pure vampire smut - thank you J.R. Ward! Then I pulled myself up by the boot straps.

So I needed to order the filter. The Honda dealership in Rye doesn't stock it (surprise!) but they were friendly and will have it within the week. What to do in the meantime? I found a great site online that suggested making your own out of filter foam. Pep Boys didn't have it. Auto Zone didn't. KTM didn't. But the Honda guys had a huge filter for another bike that I could cut up. So I did.

That's right I got all Martha Stewart on the thing. I used a glue gun (two girl points to me!) and sealed the ends (sorry I can't remember the helpful site that suggested this). The foam was a little thick - but I can tell you this with absolute certainty -

Something is better than nothing.

Her first oil change

Saturday was a big day for both the bike and me. I have never changed the oil in anything myself. Add it - yes. Change it - no. But I just knew in my bones that "Lizzy" (the bike's temporary name) hadn't been given too much attention in recent years. Armed with my Clymer service manual (Honda 100-350 OHC Singles 1969-1982) I felt confident. Sort of.

First things first. Lizzy had to get warm and up to operating temperature. I wanted all that crap that is in the oil to be in suspension when drained out - not just chillin' in the bottom of the crankcase ready to foul up the next quart. So I had to get her started. My right leg is a *bit* sore now.

Rolf was came down to visit for the weekend and between him, my chubby hubby, and myself we finally got her going. Rolf and Gabe (hubby) quickly rode down the street on bicycles scouting for cops and called me when the coast was clear (no plate yet!!). I went down the street a bit and played around in a parking lot and then went back home. I got to 4th gear! And... this is the most exciting part....

On the way back home, I passed two Harley's going in the opposite direction and I freaking did the biker wave! My first one! The dude wasn't as excited as I was but he returned the gesture! I am in like Flynn.

Anyway I came back and quickly changed the oil and cleaned the oil pump filter screen. It wasn't as bad as the Exxon Valdez disaster but let's just say I kind of kicked over the oil pan (a little). Yeah so there was some lessons learned. Next time I doing this over a tarp. Lizzy's rockin' the good synthetic stuff now.

I must say I was a little distressed looking at the drain pan. It shouldn't bring back memories of panning for gold... there were a few small metal chunks in the extremely black and hot goo at the bottom. Poor girl. As for where the chunks came from - I dunno. But she is in more loving hands now.

We meet at last

Yeah, I ditched work on Friday. I just couldn't wait any longer to see my beautiful baby. My friend Meryl was kind/crazy enough to loan me her truck and her time to make the two hour trip north and back to pick up the bike. On the way up, we stopped by Krissy's house - and this is where I dropped the greatest idea of all time. Really. Since Krissy, Meryl and I took the NH bike class together last year and got our motorcycle licenses - I thought it would be awesome for our chick biker gang to show up at motorcycle week this year in Laconia. Can you believe I got resistance!!! Unbelievable. I think this is an epic idea. There is still time, and I am great at wearing people down. Just ask my husband.

Opening those garage doors and seeing my little green bike for the first time was wonderous. Meryl videoed my resulting squeals and squeaks. My other friend Rolf (who was gracious enough to put the bike in his garage) ditched work for a bit to come by and help me start her up for the first time. Now, I have never seen a kick-starter before. So I couldn't help myself from giggling like a tween who just got Rob Pattinson's autograph when I kicked down and the bike sputtered for the first time.

Something like 50 kicks later and a lot of sweat, I got it going. I went down the road and back, getting into second gear! I stalled out because the little girl doesn't idle all that well. We will work on that. In fact, the list for new projects is a bit daunting. But all I have to do is say four little words and I feel all better...

I own a motorcycle!

Hot damn.