Let me get the crotch rocket section of this piece out of the way. Dudes on rice rockets, I know they hate me for being old and gray and fat. Their looks of disgust amuse me as they watch me cut off my motor and ride up onto the sidewalk, pedaling, hit the crossing signal,and ride the crosswalk only to fire up and blast off at 35 mph.
I see the way they hate me while they're stuck in traffic and I fly by in the bike lane doing the speed limit in town.
Its the pipe, right? meep sounds like I'm riding a weed whip. I apologize that the meep in China , who, assembled my muffler, and forgot a lock washer, and solved my rich burn problem, by leaving me hiking for an hour in 93 degree heat looking , with no luck, for my muffler tip. I took a tin of Drum and hammered the end over onto itself, drilled a hole in the center of the wedge, installed it on the end of the muffler , drilled a half a dozen quarter inch holes in it, and hammered the metal tips over onto the side of the muffler.
My problem with too little air in the fuel/ air mixture seemed to magically fix itself. The thing also roars in its high pitched way, like a dirt bike pipe sounds.It runs so much better now, with the addition of the old style gasbike carburetor, and Shell Premium. It wobbles a little at 24 to 26 and smooths out at 30 or so. I clocked myself doing 33 in a somewhat downhill speed trap the other day, and finally started running the bike wide open throttle for periods. As it rides, it is beginning to act like a system that was fitted properly and works together well. I am finally convinced I built a solid little machine, and will Locktite its fasteners now, then touch up the paint job. The Miami Vice green is showing through in places where I fit the motor and bars a few times.
Harley Dudes, I understand that there are a couple of types of them. The first type are the old schooler outlaw types, and then theres Harley Identity Biker.
The old schoolers laugh their meep off and either mock, ignore, or ask me where they can get a kit, and if I built it myself.
Harley Identity Biker hears me fire up my scoot in front of Krogers, with my backpack full of cheese and brats, and, somehow I have offended it's sensibility as I blat through the lot, sound bouncing off the walls a high, staccato whine answering the HD's manly roar. This bunch of silver haired outlaws hates me.
I watch new ones of every day, they watch me roll into traffic, then roll by slowly, goosing the throttle once they have cleared me. I look like I should be riding their bike, those dorks , with their gold watch and 3 gold rings, haircut, crisp clean T -shirt, and sparkling meep Glide. Nice boots, Dr Whatsyername. I can see the reflection of your bike in em.
They look like they should be off coaching baseball, but thats okay.
They'll go ahead and nail that throttle to remind me who is boss, man. Reassure themselves. How dare I fire up my ride in their ride's presence. Blasphemy!
I'll smile at em in their rear view, because they almost always look at me for a long time, like the presence of some little machine like mine makes them five times manlier,snorting to themselves, and I'll wave like I'm in on your little joke, too, leaving them seemingly confused.
My little scooter meeping rocks, and I have no hassles.I like running it loud, and because Harley Davidsons are loud as meep , I can.
Actually, this thing basically mocks that early HD motor bike design. I wasn't shooting for that at all, Harley Dude. Didn't mean to freak you out at the grocery store.
I sound like an old prop plane coming in for a landing. Its like a loud wasp flying around.
They see me rollin, they hatin.
Those meepers need more time on the bike. They seemed to have forgotten why it is that a dog sticks its head out a car window.