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"Dave" is a 63 year old retiree (took early retirement). He trotted the globe as a photojournalist and worked in the family headwear business for a number of years (made Harley-Davidson headwear at one time) before retiring. Currently Dave is working on his fourth novel -- all waiting for publication. Bought his first Harley in 1991 (a sportster! ugh), graduated to a Dyna-Glide in 1992, and an '81 Shovelhead in 1996. From a know-nothing bike rider in 1991 to being able to make "significant" repairs on his Shovelhead, that, he said, is how he received a real education.
Sturgis Fever As I write this there's about 90 days until I leave; not to worry, I'm all set. I just checked my most important items -- would you believe -- it's not my Shovelhead! It's, number one, the condition of my two-motorcycle trailer, and, number two, my '94 3/4 ton Suburban Silverado diesel. I know -- with the trailer and bikes I barely get 10mpg and that and 2000 miles at maybe $ 1.60 per gallon equals $ 360.00 just for the gas. Dammit. Every time I think about it I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why you ask? Ha, my wife and I went on a great "vacation" (every day's a vacation for the retired) to LA for three weeks. Even went to West Coast Choppers in Long Beach -too bad, most of the crew, and the fabulous bikes, were in Daytona at the time. We missed three weeks of cold, possible snow, all the bad stuff that happens in March in the Midwest The problem wasn't anything in LA, it was my Suburban. It was in for "a little maintenance." All I intended was the oil change, check the brakes stuff. Check the brakes! They’d suddenly stick if it was raining -- I meant stick dead in my tracks -- anywhere. A little problem? 1 called from LA to see what was that sticking problem. "David," the first words I heard from Mike Mansfiied, possibly the best automobile service manager I've ever known. He works diligently at Weber Chevrolet in my city, Creve Coeur, Missouri, however, this time what he was to say wasn't very nice. "Uh,oh, David," he continued. "I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is; no problem changing the oil!" Well, isn't that special! What's the bad news, Mike? "The bad news is, everything else!" "What's that, Mike?" I said, in exctreme panic. "Seems that brake sticking problem is bad brakes. However, that's not all. Everything's bad. Front brakes – pads, rotors, everything. And the back brakes need new linings. We also found the fuel can't get up front -- way up front -- from the gas tank to the engine. Needs a new pump. And there's an oil leak at the filter. Oh, something else -- the bump to the headlight housing (I did it last year, sliding into a mailbox), instead of seventy dollars -- everything has to be replaced -- sorry, that gonna run ya' 'bout two-hundred-fifty bucks." I started thinking to myself. Maybe I shouldn't have gone on such an expensive trip - "What the hell's all this going to cost, Mike?" "You ready, David? Are you sitting down?" "No, I'm standing, and I'm looking at the most beautiful sunset across the Pacific Ocean and I'm thinking I just might jump in and not come back. Mike, what do you mean, "Am I sitting down?" "Well, Dave." -- Uh, oh, he's never used "Dave" before -- everything's going to run a tad under $ 2,000. There was dead silence, No doubt he heard the surf tumbling in across the sand beach not ten feet from my hotel room. "Dave -- "You there? Should we go ahead and fix everything, or do you want to do something else?" "Like what else is there to do, Mike?" "1 don't know, Dave. Why don't you think about it and let me know in a few days. So, my "hotel room" for Sturgis had just cost a tidy tad under two-grand! Oh, yes, there was another little item. New tires -- those big ones -- cost me $600.00. I'm tossing things around in my head. I've finally got my Shovelhead the way I've wanted it; taken five years. Why should I take my other bike? It's too new anyway -- a '92 Dynaglide. My Shovel has a spectacular paint job -- Native Americans on a buffalo hunt, "the father" in heaven and his earth-chief praying to him from top of Devil's Tower. Native American designs, including the end of "Golden Boy" on the ass-end, everything accurately air-brushed across every bit of sheet-metal. There's enough chrome to satisfy my need to shine in the dark. Eighty-spoke wheels, chrome 2-in-1 collector pipes, those new, thick handlebars, new controls, etc. For the first time, I feel good about my "old" bike. And not a word on it saying "Harley-Davidson. With just 90 days to go, wouldn't you know it, I found something wrong. Not really wrong -- it's the front brakes -- and Mack can't figure it out either. They squeal like a pig (not a HOG). These aren't some third-rate, Tiawan-crap-brakes. They're Performance Machine Brakes. Funny, how can PMC rear brake pads go bad within a year -- only a few thousand miles on them. And, to make matters worse, my beautiful high-polish rear rotor has a gouge in them from the pads. Well, squealing brakes won't stop me from going. I'LL probably stand out in the crowd at Sturgis - you'll know me, just follow that "pig" noise and you'll see. Trailer-Trash Dave
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*Trademark of Harley-Davidson, Inc.
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