(no subject)
Last night was such an enormous clusterfuck I just thought I'd share. Deciding I wanted to show off share my sweet new ride ('88 Honda Shadow VLX 600cc) with a fellow motorcycle enthusiast who happened to have invited me to her birthday party, I rode my completely untested bike on a night when people were depending on me. The ride there went fine with the exception of traffic... but I did notice that the bike was backfiring a bit at during idle. The party was lovely, of course, except that flexagon & HLM left 20 mins after I got there due to illness. :( It was surreal being in a social environment without alcohol... not that there was none to be had, but no drinking and riding is allowed... which might actually be a good thing (as far as liver health is concerned) since I plan on doing a lot more riding this year.
Anyway, back to the subject at hand. Upon leaving apfelsingail's party... I was on my way to my 11pm soccer game down in canton via rt 95. The backfiring increases... and eventually the engine starts cutting out. I'm able to get across the highway and limp into a gas station. I thought initially it might be low on gas... unlikely, considering I'd drove only 75 miles on it since the last fill up... and no, that was not the case.
Luckily, an obvious biker guy (the handle bar mustach that extends 3 inches below the chin kind of biker guy) gets out of an SUV next to me. He puts his hand in my exhaust stream... and says, "you're spark plug isn't firing". Sure enough... one of my exhaust pipes is fairly cool. He explained that it was probably old gas in the tank fouled a spark plug. He was also appalled that I didn't have tools and extra spark plugs w/ me (never mind the fact that I couldn't figure out how to lift up the seat to check if they came w/ the bike). Note to self: buy tools so as to not piss big bikers off in future."
After trying to start it too many times, the engine was so flooded I couldn't get it to turn over. So, I had to leave my new bike (this is the first time I've ridden it since I brought it home) at a gas station in Weston. The guy running the station was such a prick about it too... he wanted me to get a flat bed there and tow it away rather than leave it in the (empty) parking lot next to the building. RRRRRRRrrrrr. Finially, after I SWORE that I would be there the next morning to fix it and ride it home or tow it away (upon penalty of him personally trashing the bike) he let me leave it.
I now had 30 mins to get to my game. I figured I'd just let my team know I wasn't going to make it and give bluechromis a call. However, my teammates called around and got ahold of O, who was on 93 in the tunnel heading south. He turned around came all the way out 90 to come and get me, with another teammate in the car. So, now I've made 3 of us late instead of just me missing the game. Still, it's nice of him to do that... except for the fact that I would have rather gone home at that point and buried my head in a pillow.
How did the game go? We got destroyed by a team that we usually walk all over. My head certainly wasn't there... and neither was anyone else's. I suppose it's because they were worried about me... how sweet. ;) Needless to say I got ripped on (and deservedly so) after the game.
Heading home, O (the guy I got the ride w/) can't find his keys. 5 of us go looking all around the court we played on... the player box... the spectator area... nothing. We call teammates who have left and ask them to look through their bags. Finally.. after 1/2 hour of that.. he finds them balled up inside a sock in his bag. sheesh.
I was a bundle of nerves going to bed... fearing for my bike's safety, and trying to plan out how I'd go about getting it. Long story short, I got the plugs, B took off the morning w/ me and drove out w/ me (thanks, babe), the bike rode home fine (still backfired, though). After such a stressful night, I am the absolute antithesis at the moment. Very peaceful. Nothing's getting to me. I'm enjoying a quiet night at home, w/ a book (finally getting around to reading "skipping towards gomorrah"), the kitties, and a cup of tea.