What? I always smile like that. Wrapping up a full day of working at the shop and racing at the 2008 Annual Cruiser Criterium in downtown Salida. Which raises money for the music at the Fibark Festival later this summer. So with the Big Dummy bike rack in place, I hauled the sweet race machine with me to work. (1961 Columbia Firebolt, with some modifications). Didn't win, but gave the crowds some high-pitched squealing skidding tire action.
I've had this book for a while now. Note the line written at the top. Did this lead towards buying a '41 Chevy? Well, I've had a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and I did eventually obtain a free 1980 Suzuki GS450. But I never put in a battery, or cleaned the carburetors, and it stayed East when I moved West. Just a matter of how things work out. Here's a quote from the book:
"Service manuals are hymnals of conservative thought. They are based on metal touching metal, what will go and what, absolutely, will not. They are not even pragmatic: there is never a hint of the "try this, then try this, and if that fails, try this" that is the operative method of the real-world attempts to make machines survive. They are composed out of fear of failure and grudging acceptance of the inevitability of wear. Compensation for flaws, reaction to the destructive effect of actual use. Despair over the necessity, in an imperfect world, of having to recommend - ghastly concept - tolerances. Admissions of imperfection. The service manual posits the perfect machine, and tells how, when some dolt like myself has profaned that perfection through actual use, to restore it to perfection. Start with perfection, and then follow instructions. Precisely."
