Motorcycles, The Professor, And Life: Part 2

After two weeks of intermittent rain (and plumbing issues enough to make me daydream about finally building that outhouse I’ve been meaning to build) there was a break in the clouds. A short glorious reprieve. I took a shower, fearfully watching the drain lest my recently resolved plumbing situation return to it’s former status as “I thought I fixed it but I didn’t”, and then I faced one of the rolls of the dice that northern people know all too well.

I walked out to the garage, key in hard, to find out if my least trusted motorcycle would start after a long winter’s freeze. I’d “put her to bed” ever so gently. I’d left StaBil infused gas in the tank. The battery was hooked to the umbilical of a maintainer. My garage is not heated, but it’s better than the brutal outdoors. I practically read it a bedtime story!

Folks without skin in the game might be forgiven for missing the import of the “first start of spring”. Of course it’ll start, it’s a mechanical thing bound by mechanical rules. Ha! Crom laughs at your naive faith!

Trust is earned, not demanded. It comes from long association and demonstrated performance. When a thing has done as expected, functioned as needed, done as instructed, been reliable when reliability is needed, then and only then can you trust it. Beyond that, it’s all bullshit.

But enough about politics.

I was too chickenshit to tinker with the plastic clad cream puff that’s my newest addition to the garage. I bought a 35 year old Honda Pacific Coast 800 just shy of a year ago. I believe it has the chops, but I don’t know that in my bones. I waited until it was a little warmer, lest the unobtanium cladding suffer damage in my Neanderthal hands.

The motorcycle I trust most is my ‘99 Honda Shadow. We (it and I) have crossed deserts and mountains. We’ve done city commutes and lonesome prairie expanses. It has never let me down. I trust it. So, as spring oozed into existence (with far too many fits and starts) I began by firing up the trusty Shadow. It started well and ran flawlessly; as it has since I bought it.

The Shadow is tough as nails but Honey Badger (my Yamaha TW200) has impressed me too. In the short time I’ve owned it I’ve decided the beast is unkillable. We (it and I) have bounced off trees, sunk in ponds, and crashed into ruts. I’ve overloaded it, overworked it, and over estimated my riding ability on dirt. I’ve flogged it mercilessly and it just doesn’t give a shit. It seems to thrive on abuse. It runs less like a machine and more like an immortal plodding mule that fears nothing and can occasionally charge like a rhino. I’ve happily zoomed around places through which I can barely walk. Honey Badger never falters. If I can keep it upright, the single cylinder brick shithouse will fling me through, over, around, and/or directly into anything at which it’s pointed. If anything on that man / machine pair breaks it will be me… the stupidly tough little motorcycle will probably outlast me. It’ll just sit there slammed into a tree or lying at the bottom of a cliff with a moldering skeleton on the seat. Eventually someone will brush it off, hit the starter, and it’ll leave my remains in the ditch as it has it’s next adventure. Alas, it’s not yet the season for off road mayhem. The trails remain closed (I think) and even if they’re legal, they’re soft and I don’t like making unnecessary ruts.

The PC800 is the new kid on the block. There is a ladder of trust in my garage, and the PC800 starts on the bottom.

Then again it’s a Honda and a model that’s well known for reliability. With minimal drama it started. Well done, cream puff!

Part 3 will ensue with my “Professor theory”.