few other items. But, as can often be a hallmark of many of my little project adventures, I got to a point where I had exceeded my own abilities and patience. After a failed attempt to rebuild the carburetor, I had to call in the big guns.
I loaded the bike up in my big ol’ red F250, which, by the way, is total overkill for a parts runner, and went to see the nice folks at the local Honda dealer. I pulled out my handy little folding ramp and wheeled the dead bike across the parking lot and into the service area. The tech took one look at it, shook his head and said “that’s a big no.” It seems that this guy has had more than his fair share of dealing with these old bikes and the weirdos who go with them.
After a brief conversation, I convinced him that I was not one of these nutbags that does frame up restorations on these things just to have them sit in the garage. He seemed to perk up at the idea of it actually being ridden around, and was encouraged that I had some (limited) idea of what I was talking about. He agreed to rebuild the carb, but I had to take it off and bring it in by itself. It seems aforementioned weirdos sniff these things out, and the next thing ya know, the whole damn shop is full of them.
After a couple days, they call and let me know the carb is done. Bolted it up, set the needle, and the little bugger fired right up. Success! But, it was a let down when I dropped it into gear only to find the thing couldn’t get out of its own way. Still wasn’t right. Lots of smoke, lack of power. Hmm.
Phone a friend once again, and another piggyback ride on the old Ford and I had the bike dropped off at a certified Honda junkie’s garage. He loves working on these types of things, does good work, and is honest and fair. He agreed to get the final pieces all together for me, and I was happy to have him do it.
Couple days later, and the bike was ready to go. New head gasket, timing chain fixed, headlight wired up, gassed up and she was good to go! We wasted no time in getting her broken in. Into the truck with the big bikes and off to Silver Lake Sand Dunes.
A hill climber it is not, but we sure had a lot of fun with it. After a day of shenanigans at the dunes, we brought it back to the house for some additional endeavors of donuts, fly-bys, wheelies, and porch jumps. We did find that it seems to run much better after a couple shots of Fireball.
All in, this little thing was money well spent, and I’m looking forward to more craziness with this little piece of history.