Gumption Trap #4 – This isn't ending.

Gumption Trap #4 – This isn't ending.

I work in manufacturing. I am mechanical. At least I am mechanical mentally. My education was technical drafting and over the years I have either sketched, drawn, modeled and in some form thought about how things fit together.

As a young draftsman I was asked to ruin an exploded view of a lawnmower that was drawn by a brilliant artist named Pal Fulop. As I write this and after searching for him, I see that he has passed. Pal was a wonderful man with an absolute gift with a mechanical pencil. I wish I would have stolen some of his work from my employer. It was beautiful. As a Drafter, it was my job to update existing drawings and make new drawings. It was something that I enjoyed until the day I was asked to update one of Pal's drawings.

My work was hideous in relation to Pal's. I was a zit on the Mona Lisa. It was a Slash guitar solo within Beethoven's 5^th. It was my job, engineering drawings are not supposed to be artful but this was pretty much the most offensive thing I could do to this piece of artwork.

Pal's is on the Left. What I did on the right...and I was even paid to do this? That's engineering drafting for you.

What does this have to do with the intent of this blog? Well, my mechanical skills have been develop through drawings, email and by voice. If I am not drawing I am coaching, consulting, discussing mechanical things. My mechanics are theory. They are concepts yet to be rendered, cast, stamped or molded. My skills are nothing more than fleeting thoughts leading to the next. But hands on experience, I have very little. I can draw the assembly but put a wrench in my hand and I Baby Huey the head off of any and every bolt. Torque spec to me is tighten until you hear and feel the snap and back off a quarter turn.

So what are my mechanical credentials to be disassembling and reassembling motors. None, zilch, zero, zip. I have no business what so ever doing what I had done. So why am I mad at myself with all of my traps? Why am I so frustrated when I fail? Pride. Ego. Not sure, but I was.

It is funny how we allow ourselves to become so negative when we do a job that we have no business doing in the first place. I forget that these are learning experiences and that is the very reason I chose to try. Instead I allowed myself to be frustrated at not understanding all of the things that a trained mechanic has been taught or experienced over their career. This is the first motor I had fully torn apart and I was expecting that I would know everything and understand some of the subtle issues that can occur once assembled.

The head gasket was leaking, ever so slightly. The sickly sweet smell of antifreeze was bubbling out and slowly cooking dry on my newly assembled motor. “Must be that the gasket hasn't seated yet” I told myself thinking I needed to ride the bike a bit to heat up the motor, expand and set the gasket thus sealing up the subtle wound. Another funny thing, we'll talk ourselves into anything if given enough beer and time. If I were an Eskimo and I was also a refrigerator salesmen, I'd be selling myself a fridge/freezer combo in no time.

After heat and ignorance didn't work, I resorted to miracle in a bottle. I walked through the miracle bottle isle at the local auto parts store and read the bottles of all things stop leak to find the wording that would sucker me the best. I walked out with my miracle fix and raced home to do what should never be done, rely on a bottle of fix a “_________” to resolve yet another mechanical failure.

Let's get into the “Way Back Machine” and analyze this one more time.

Class, what have we learned so far? Mechanical issues are the result of mechanisms not functioning correctly. So we either have a problem in the fit of components or in the function of the components. But what did I do to find this problem? I chose to ignore what my previous traps had taught me and rationalized easy fixes rather than going through the steps to find the problem and fix the mechanism correctly. After my failed attempts at finding a solution, I finally came to the conclusion that someone who knew what they were doing should be rewarded with financial gain to fix my idiocy.

Yet again, www.crosstowncycle.com was asked for help and they came through for me. Simply, my head was warped...as was the head of the engine, and it needed to be machined flat to seat against the gasket correctly. This was a fix suggested by education and experience. Not assumption, false pride and ignorance.

2008 was the year I assumed responsibility of this motorcycle. 2013 was the year it would be completed and ultimately sold. Within that 5 year span I learned many things. “Never again” was the most important lesson. The KLR650 was now fixed. The motor was no longer leaking once professional intervention was sought. There was an interested buyer and they not only bought Barbie with new bearings but they received a few boxes full of spares, extras and all things KLR650 that I had accumulated over the years. I was getting out of the KLR business. I was getting rid of the motorcycle repair business. I even did something that I said I would never do. I sold the repair manual of the KLR650 to ensure I never do this to myself again. I learned that I did not need to become Minnesota's KLR expert.

Suddenly a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. 410 pounds wet of weight in fact.

I was not a mechanic. I had no business becoming a mechanic and I needed to understand that going forward, I needed to earn enough money in my day job to pay someone else to be my mechanic. A resolute and final understanding of skills had been defined and I was accepting of this new found personal identification. My mechanical skills were defined by 4 specific motions:

1. Remove wallet from pocket.
2. Open wallet.
3. Pull out credit card of choice based on points or airline miles needing to be earned.
4. Swipe card and support mechanics upcoming boat payment.

For the spiritual reading this, you understand the feeling that comes over you when you have given your spirit to the holy being before you. I would now understand the feeling of warmth and peace as the internet instantly pulls my money from my digital wallet and places it in the wallet of my mechanic and I will find peace in this digital flushing sound.

Over the summer I rode a brand new motorcycle. My first. A 2013 KTM 990 Adventure. I was proud of my decision and happy to ride something reliable and modern. I had found peace in the idea that mechanical assemblies produced by trained people were things I should own. They work every day and they work every time I use them. I changed oil, I lubed a chain. I rode it. No real shop time. I was happy.

Earlier this summer I was visiting a friend and we were discussing problems of mechanical assemblies and he walked me past a poor chaps problem. It was my brand new bike but in 2008 skin rather than 2013. It was disassembled and coldly sitting there, sadly in the corner of the shop with no one committing to make it run again. It was sitting in the corner collecting dust as parties discussed cost, who was responsible for its' current state, its' future. It as naked, broken and vulnerable. Family members were discussing organ donation as it lay in a comatose state, no one knowing it could hear every word but could not act on its' fears.

It was also a pile of spare parts for the motorcycle I had just purchased this past summer. All of the parts fit. All of the parts were stock. All of the parts except for the clutch that happened to break and fill the inside of the motor with little bits of metal. Body work, wheels, electrics and frame were all good and if I ever crashed my bike, this could be an inexpensive insurance plan. Hmmm....

“How much to fix it?” I asked.

“Parts plus labor...$XXXX”

“Really? Who much for a crate motor, new from factory, plug and play?”

“$XXXX”

“Really?! Wow.”

Over the next few months I kept seeing it in the corner as we walked through the shop. I kept thinking of a dollar amount and what it meant to have a full bike of spares. I kept searching the internet sites like www.advrider.com for cost of used parts, parting out, a set of wheels, body work, fuel tanks...I kept thinking of a price.

Come the start of our current winter and the dust has become thicker. The bike had not moved. As we walked through the shop to see a new bike that had appeared I found myself saying “I'll give the guy $XXXX for the bike as is. Serious offer. I don't need it but it is worth that to me as spares”.

My friend smirked and gave me a look of “Idiot” or “...and his money are soon parted..” or “huh...didn't he just tell me never again?”. I left the shop and put it out of my mind. My offer was assholian. It was as rude as I allow myself to be and in all honesty, I would not have offered had it been direct. Because it was third party, I had the nerve. I wouldn't have to worry about winning so I put it out of my brain.

As I drove home the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving holiday I see my friend is calling on my cell phone.

“Howdy, how are you?”

“I'm good. You had to open your big mouth, didn't you Breiland?”

“What do you mean? You'll have to be more specific, I open my mouth so often I am not sure which lie or false promise is in question. What are you busting me on?”

“You're the proud owner of a 2008 KTM 990 Adventure.”

“Really? He took the offer? -------- Shit.”

“Yup, he accepted the offer. I realize you didn't really mean it, you don't have to if you don't want to. But he is willing to accept your price.”

“Nope, I offered, I'm surprised. I'll have to scrape the dough together. It is Thanksgiving...let's say Tuesday of next week as the soonest I can get everything together. Guess I have a project this winter?”

“Yup. Alright...see you Tuesday. I'll let the owner know”

I drove a few miles as I thought about what I had just done. I thought about “never again”. I thought about a promise I had made to my DA to discuss large purchases with her a few years ago. I thought about why I needed another bike just like what I had purchased this summer. Did I mentions, I thought about “Never Again.”

“Hi Lisa.”

“Hi, heading home?”

“Yup, do I need to pick anything up?

“Nope, see you soon”

“Ok, by the way, I just bought a 2008 KTM 990 Adventure.”

“What? Why?”

“You know, that one in the back of the shop? I offered $XXXX and the owner accepted it.”

“Why? Why did you do this? What happened to Never Again?”

“Yup, I know. I'll give you a game plan when I get home.”

I had 20-30 minutes of my evening commute to rationalize and to figure out a game plan. Parts...Rebuild...Ebay...Craigslist...ADV...”

Shit.

I was handing $XXXX over in cash on Friday. A few days sooner than Tuesday. I was excited. I had faith in what I have learned in the Dark Days. I was going to win this next round because I had learned it was a mechanical assembly that needs to be reassembled and if done properly, it would run. If done improperly, it would not and I would need to figure it out.

This is what $XXXX can get you. A rolling chassis, 4x red boxes, some miscellaneous bits and a dream. A petroleum jellied lens creating a hazy mental image of frolicking motorcycles in a field of daises.

Idiot with a wrench starts anew. The game plan was to find a donor motor. Individual parts were too expensive. The fragged clutch had grooved and worn the crank and basically totaled the entire interior of the motor. Cases were good, but everything else was bad.

Let me paint this statement with some pictures.

Glittery oil filters - this could be a sign.

Magnetized Oil Drain Plugs - Proof that they are only there to show you you're fooked.

“At $XXXX plus a donor motor I am sure I can make money on this honey.” Her eyes gave me that worn down look. An exasperated glaze of “I could have gotten out of this relationship years ago” was presented but we have beaten each other down to the point of tolerance, complacency and just plain indifference.

Next – Maple Syrup and Tractor Dealerships...these are the things my KTM is made of.