This was custom work. As we began to correct obvious faults, we found that Sarasota had slapped so many things together, which was expected. The faring worked loose because the bracket fell off because the mounting frame was improperly bolted on. But things were slowly taken care of.And at a bargain, because the other appointment never showed up so the shop gave me half-price. I closely watched in admiration how the work progressed without error or repetition, to the point where I will next month propose this shop as honorary membership with our robotics association. (It will probably fly since I have the deciding vote. Neener, neener.)
This unexpected project the proprietor described as one of the top and most interesting jobs he’s done. A fine job it was, as I put it through the paces later, I think it is ready for another few explorations in this area. Nevertheless, finances are eroded by any repair or delay, and that means an earlier return to Florida than otherwise.
So you don’t underestimate today’s hard work, here is a spectacular shot of the machine shed. Essentially two things were accomplished, the tow bar and the new faring brace. I could say more than two things, because in the process we began to uncover not only the problems, but the cause of the problems.For example, let me further describe the faring brace just mention. There was a metal bracket on the motorcycle frame that Sarasota had not tightened, and it was in the wrong slot of the two that were present. This left-side failure is what caused the right-side faring brace to collapse. These annoying quirks are slowly being ironed out and the Honda is becoming a great little machine once more. I have sunk $710 into it since leaving for Denver in August. And the journey has been more than its own reward. I’m looking forward to a fantastic ride back via Nebraska.
[Author’s note: That delay getting started y’day is revealing. I wanted to mail a letter, and no, I did not bring along envelopes. Beginning y’day around noon, whenever I stopped I asked if they had a spare envelope. Anything would do, as I just had to mail a single letter. Nope, not one place had any, but they had packages of 100 for sale. I even checked if I could buy a birthday card and use that envelope, but they’re on to that, the sly bastards. In the end, I had to buy a five-year supply to send one letter.
This situation, besides reminding me of my family, says so much about a population. I mean, if you don’t have envelopes, you are not writing letters. I’ll bet most of the people in that category also don’t have stamps, pens, paper, or a desk and the other pre-requisite: privacy. Going further, they must also have no friends to write to, erroneously think an email is a good substitute, and likely their grammar and penmanship are in equally bad shape.
Is it any wonder why people laugh at the misfortunes of the untaught? Hey, in America, stupidity is a self-inflicted wound. When, for the value of their entire lives, those stoopy-doops who can’t between them muster up the wherewithal to successfully write and mail a letter, they deserve any hardships that befall them. Am I exaggerating? I don’t think so. Letter-writing is taught in grade seven school. Literate people (such as myself) would, except in unusual circumstances (like a cross-country sidecar expedition), have a spare envelope.]
