Pat Riot

What’s an MRSB? Military Rifle, Short Barrel? Meals Ready to Share with Bears?

I miss my Kawasaki Vulcan. Definitely a favorite bike of mine. I could see owning another one someday.

My last 3 bikes

@Cowtown Scout, SASS #53540 L Those are some great photos. Love the tires on the bikes in pictures 4 & 6. You don’t see big bikes with tires like that anymore.

@bgavin I will stand by what I said.

Many years ago I met a motorcycle stunt rider. I think his name was Bobby Chitwood. He claimed to be a relative of the famous Joie Chitwood. I met him after he crashed in a stunt show in my hometown. My buddies and I went to wish him well. I was 14 or 15. I recall him telling me some motorcycle safety tips when I said “I love motorcycles”. He said “Son, you don’t want to be like me. Always keep both wheels on the ground and you’ll have a lot less trouble. Doing stunts is very dangerous and the street is no place for stunts.” He also said something about “cage drivers” and how they are safe in their metal cocoons and they don’t really care about motorcycles. I have only purposely pulled a couple of wheelies on a street bike. I used to “canyon bomb” in SoCal. Find a curvy two or one lane road in a hilly or mountainous area and go like a bat out of hell hitting the curves. Fun. Exhilarating. Dangerous.That is just as dangerous as pulling wheelies or riding crazy on a freeway. I have had a few accidents while canyon bombing. I have had my worst accidents where cars were involved. My body has lots of scars, aches and pains derived from my 10 crashes. If I could go back in time would I change anything regarding motorcycles? Heck No!

I deleted my comment. Not worth listening to more whining.

I knew my comment would spin you up. I guess you still didn’t get my point. It was an analogy. ——————————-

I wanted a Buell so bad but just couldn’t afford one. Once I could afford one they went under thus driving the prices up of all the ones in existence. Murphy’s Law.

I think you took that out of context.

Your logic sounds like what leftists say about guns and gun owners. “AR15s must be banned! All gun owners are psychos in waiting! They’ll eventually kill people!” Riding a crotch rocket is fun. And take it from me, you don’t become a stupid lunatic by riding one. That’s like me saying “Everyone that rides a Harley is a dirtbag biker.”

I wouldn’t buy one.

A friend of mine had a 1200 Sportster that was a kick start. It was one of those bikes made under AMF. It was also one of those Harleys that was always in need of something mechanical or electrical Every Single Time I went riding with him. I had a new ‘86 883 Sportster. His bike made me appreciate my bike very much. Anyway, his bike would get temperamental after being ridden for a while and just would not start. We had stopped at a gas station in Malibu and up to that point it had been a glorious day. That’s when his bowling pin bike decided it wouldn’t start. He kicked and he kicked. He cussed and he kicked. Finally, dripping with sweat, he asked if I wouldn’t mind giving it a go. I agreed. Anything to get back on the road. Now, I was wearing Reebok high top sneakers. I didn’t even think about it. On the third kick that son-of-a-b**** coughed and that kick pedal seemed to speed up on the downward stroke then came back up fast and hard. Pain went from my foot all the way up my right leg to my hip. My foot went numb. I did a bit of cussing of my own and decided the I was going to win. I kicked it again and the engine roared to life as if to say “See, I’m in charge of when I start.” After our ride I went to the Urgent Care clinic to have them look at my foot. My foot was badly bruised and the X-rays showed I had fractures in a couple of my metatarsals and the tarsal bones were bruised. I hobbled for a week. I told my friend that this would be the last time I kicked his bike and the last time I would wait for him to fix that piece of crap taking time out of my riding day. A month later he took his skin flint arse to a Harley dealer and traded the bowling pin bike in for an 883 Sportster.

I am sure you’re right. What was bizarre was how they immediately reacted as if I were Satan there to take their souls and their children. But there actions weren’t as if they were protecting the nice lady’s honor. It was as if it was all about greed. I have seen some of that in my family as well. When my grandmother died one of my aunts became a poor person version of Joan Collins (Alexis Carrington) on Dynasty. Man, what a classless act she was and maybe still is. I haven’t seen her in 40 years. She’s probably dead…making Hell hell for others. Back to cool bikes.

In 1983 I lived in Westchester, CA in an apartment near a retirement community. I had a 73 Suzuki 350 that I loved to clean and polish up. That bike had a lot of chrome. Anyway, this lady who I am guessing was in her late 80’s used to come by and talk to me about how she and her husband would get on his 1936 Harley Davidson and take trips all over Southern California. As she talked you could see a twinkle in her eyes and a look of joy on her face. Her husband had passed several years earlier. One day she asked me to come to her townhouse and see her husband’s old bike and to see if I could reassemble it for her. She literally lived 100 yards down the small street (alley) from my garage. I went the next day. In her garage was a red and black (my favorite color scheme) frame, fenders, black spoked wheels, and an oil drum that contained the engine / trans covered in oil. There were 2 small boxes that contained hardware and small parts. She had some guys from the Harley dealer preserve it for her. All the parts in clouding the frame were wrapped in cheesecloth and plastic. She had gotten someone to remove it all before I showed. As I was marveling over this treasure in pieces she asked me if I could reassemble it for her. I told her I could and that I had a friend that specialized in rebuilding old Harleys that could help me if I got stuck. Then she told me that she was so impressed with how well I took care of my “little motorcycle” that since I seemed confident that I could assemble her husband’s old motorcycle she was giving it to me. My heart about leaped out of my chest. She told me I could do the initial work in her garage but I would have to remove the engine in the drum of oil and and finish the bike in my apartment garage. She said “How about you start this coming weekend and that will give me a chance to find the title and paperwork for it?” I asked her if any of her family members might be upset as they might want it. She said that none of them rode a bike and none would appreciate it. She said something about them being spoiled selfish brats, then laughed. I told her I would be back Saturday morning and left. I was on cloud 9. She went into the hospital the next day and passed away that weekend. I never did find out what happened. Her neighbors weren’t sure. The next week I was riding my motorcycle down the alley where her garage was and her garage door was open. “Family” was in there assessing things. I stopped and shared my condolences. I decided to tell them about the motorcycle and that she was giving it to me. Well, that set off all 6 of the people in that garage. They looked like jackals snapping and snarling at a big cat. My first instinct was to lash out but my upbringing kicked in and I wished them all good luck and I left. I could see why she did not want them to have the bike. A few days later I saw a truck from Harbor City Harley Davidson loading up all the bike parts and the engine drum into it. I rode my bike down to find out the particulars. They bought the bike from the family for “a few hundred bucks”. I related the story that the lady offered it to me and was met with typical knuckle dragged derision. I gave them all a single finger salute and left. That was my brush with owning a truly classic motorcycle.

You just reminded me of something. In the Spring of 2019 I was leaving Home Depot and I saw a guy, probably mid-60’s kick starting his old Harley. In the time it took me to walk to my truck and load everything from the cart into the bed that guy must have kicked that bike 40-50 times. I walked over and asked him if he needed any help. He snarled at me and I kid you not he said “Why don’t you mind your owned (blanking) business!” My first thought was to clock the guy but then I remembered the parking lot cameras. I said “I will ***hole. By the way, it’s 85 degrees now. It’ll be 90 soon. Good luck.” And I walked away. I got home and realized I forgot the screws I needed and headed back to Home Depot. That guy was sitting sideways on his bike seat. Kickstand down. I walked over. He was sweating profusely. I asked again “Would you like some help?” To my surprise he apologized for being a jerk and said he was letting it rest as it was flooded. He had pulled the plugs and was letting things dry. I went back into the store and got my screws and a couple of other things. When I walked out the guy was just getting ready to try again. It started on the second kick but when it did it coughed and that kick lever slammed that guys foot so hard I am sure it broke something. He let out a yell and kind of hopped about a bit after jumping off the bike. He leaned on the seat and started to pull his boot off and I yelled “Don’t do that. Your foot will swell up and you won’t get your boot back on.” He acknowledged with a thumbs up, jumped on his bike and took off. Made me appreciate electric start. I have had my foot slammed with a Harley kick lever. Man, does that hurt.

You probably know this but before you buy make sure you can get parts for it.

I used to go to Ascot in the 80’s for the dirt track races. At that same time period I was an avid “Canyon Bomber”. Fun times.

Me and my Kawasaki Versys

Good point. Imagine having your front end going airborne at speed or worse, the wings fighting you in a curve.

One always tempts fate when climbing on to a motorcycle, but there is such a thing as going too far. I once knew a guy that rode a chopper with a knucklehead engine the left side engine case removed to expose the big belt. He was missing his pinky finger on his left hand. The belt got it one day when he reached down to straighten his pant leg. Did he put the cover back on his engine after loosing a finger? Heck no. About 4 months later, yep, you guessed it….POP! Off came his ring finger! He reached down to keep his pant leg from rubbing on the belt… I wouldn’t ride a bike that had the potential to take my cajones or any other parts off. That’s all there is to it.

The first bike has a precarious looking seat arrangement. One bump and your crotch is YEOWIEEEEEEE The second bike is truly odd. Fun, but odd.