Sunday, April 19, 2015

You get what you pay for...

So, as I posted a while back, I got myself a Harley.  She was beautiful when I bought her...

...but I wanted to make a few changes.  The turn signals are gone, replaced by integrated mirror LED lights...

...the barn-door windshield has been replaced by something sportier, the bars are now black T-bars with Avon grips...

...the wimpy Fox shocks were ditched in favor of stouter (and lower) Progressive Suspension units...

...the taillight is now a smoked LED box and the rear signals are smoked red LEDs at the ends of the fender struts...

...and I have forward controls.  Or, I should say, I had forward controls.

I figured they were a great deal.  About $280, and they'd bolt right up to my Dyna.  Yeah, well, they did bolt right up, but that was the best thing about them.

A couple of weeks after I put them on, I was riding to work, went to downshift and...nothing.  The lever went right down and stayed there.  Oh, crap.  I nursed it into the Maverick station with much swearing and clutch abuse, parked it and tried to figure out what happened.

OK, the pinch bolt on the lever worked loose.  No big, I'll just get that sucker tightened up.  I had a set of 4" grip pliers, so I clamped them on the bolt and gave it some muscle.  They did nothing but chew the bolt up.  I couldn't get enough grip to close up the gap properly.  I'd find out why later.

First things first, I had to get to work.  So I grabbed the linkage, put it in second and headed for the hardware store, powershifting by hand all the way and getting there seven minutes before they closed.  My tool bag now has a complete set of allen keys, which I should have had in the first place.  I cranked the bolt down, finally getting enough purchase, and headed to work.

So now the pinch bolt looks like the north end of a southbound dog.  I figured I'd get a new one and replace it.  This was the point where I should have left well enough alone.  Here's what these cheap Chinese pieces of junk ended up looking like.  Not only did the threads inside the lever strip out, but the splines rounded right off the inner lever!!

See all those dents?  That happened when I was desperately trying to close the gap by smacking the lever with the only tool I had:  a cheapo 4" monkey wrench.  I could see scratching the chrome, but flat-out denting the thickest part of the lever??  And now, looking at those splines, it's small wonder I couldn't get the freakin' thing to grip.

This is not metal.  This is chrome-plated cheese.  Until the Chinese get a handle on how to make actual steel, I'm buying American, thanks.  New forwards are on the way, and I'll post an update when they're on.

Monday, February 9, 2015

How penguins fly

Yes, in a sense, they actually do fly.  By supercavitiation--creating a tunnel of air around themselves underwater.  Amazing little critters!

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Wednesday, October 29, 2014

'Tis the season

I'm not arachnophobic.  I generally leave most spiders alone, outside of Black Widows, Brown Recluses and Wolf Spiders.  I don't really have an issue with tarantulas--in fact, I kind of like the creepy little hairballs.

However, when one crawls up out of the defroster and starts running around on my dashboard at 70mph, I don't like 'em that much.  Yes, a bit of a freakout occurred, I pulled over and commenced swatting at him, and he lost a leg before disappearing down the vents again.  Hopefully he left the premises, or at least died quickly.  It was only an adolescent, and I kind of feel bad, but you scare the humans at your own peril, dude.

Funny how this has never happened to me before, and now, right around Halloween?  Try and tell me I didn't just get punked by God.  :)

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A dose of truth

Guys, are you desperately trying to get laid, without success?  Or, maybe you're successful in your endeavors, but it just doesn't seem to be satisfying?  Heed the words of this gentleman:

If you want to get laid, reverse this concept and instead, choose to be a gentleman. It pays dividends in the long haul. Everyone is trying to get laid. In fact, most girls are completely aware of this stereotype. Do you know what will throw her for a loop? Well, I believe a guy who genuinely desires building a connection, as opposed to getting laid will be different. 

I know, I know. I completely get it. To have sex with 1,000 women sounds like winning the sexual lottery, ten times over. In case you have never heard the saying, pardon my French, but I cannot count the number of times I have heard that new p**** is better than old p****. However, I will tell you from personal experience something many will have difficulty understanding, unless they have discovered a love such as mine: the mere sight of my wife’s hand gliding through her hair is an act, which eclipses all of the body exploration experiences from my past. Her hair stroke drives me that crazy. 

How is that possible? Every gesture she makes and her very presence triggers a positive memory. With this memory, I enter a sense of euphoria and while in this state, I am always in a mental realm of arousal. In this state, there is no other sexier, more beautiful and able to trigger a similar reaction. In summary, I will agree that having sex with 1,000 women sounds epic, but it pales in comparison to being in love with my wife.

I am no gentleman.  I've been around the block...let's just say, a lot.  So I can tell you from experience that this guy is spot on.  Being with one woman whom you truly love more than anything, beats banging a thousand women that you really didn't care much about when all was said and done.

Monday, May 12, 2014

Time flies...!

Mea culpa, I haven't been keeping up on this blog as much as I wanted.  But I had to share my 3rd Anniversary gift:

For those who don't know, Cardhu is the base of every Johnnie Walker blend.  It's a truly awesome whiskey, and my lovely wife sought it out for me just to be that wonderful.

(As an aside, part of why I haven't been updating is that I couldn't post pics for the longest time.  I figured out that I have to use Chrome, whether I want to or not.  Grr.)