The Parts Department
THE PARTS DEPARTMENT
UPFRONT
Allan Girdler
Then days is long enough, says my note to myself. On reflection that's less
than accurate. What really began this account of frustration and triumph occurred, oh. call it a month before the happy ending.
What happened was, I had this lovely new. fat, knobby front tire and I could hardly wait to put it on the bike. So when it turned out that the speedometer drive was slightly askew in its mounting position on the front axle. I didn’t take the time to loosen the axle and rotate the housing. Not when I could save a few' minutes by grabbing the impact driver and a hammer and giving the drive cable retaining screw a hearty blow' at a slight angle.
What that did was rip the slots from the retaining screw, a defect around which I worked by removing the entire axle from the hub, letting the drive hub hang by the cable and putting on the new tire, assembling the hub around the stuck drive cable, etc. Worked well enough and the tire was (and is) simply terrific.
The permanent drive cable wasn't a problem until my two older sons rode the bike. One day it was parked in the garage wfith the outer cable hanging from its guide and the inner cable missing. On the workbench was a nice new cable and housing.
There was also a communication/generation gap. These are bright kids, though it’s their dad who says it. They can dazzle me with their knowledge of complicated things like reading a tune in the key of C and re-scoring it into the key of E. but when the old man asks a simple question: “What happened to the speedometer cable?”, their tongues turn to peanut butter. 1 haven’t even been able to learn how they
got the old drive cable out with the parts permanently joined the way they were.
Never mind. 1 reckoned that when 1 drained the # 10 oil and topped up with #5, an experiment to soften the ride (it worked, by the way) I figured I’d drill out the stuck screw and replace the drive cable and housing all at once.
So when 1 had a spare moment at the office I parked the bike on a milk crate, removed the front w heel, the fork caps and the drain plugs and was figuring how to mount the drive hub in our drill press when Ron took a break from preparing his desert racer.
“Here.” he volunteered. “Let me show' you how’ you can loosen a stuck screw with a hammer and cold chisel.
“You put the housing in the vise” (puts housing in vise).
“get a cold chisel and hammer” (gets cold chisel and hammer),
“set the edge of the chisel right at one corner of the screw head” (sets edge of chisel at corner of screw' head),
“give it a sharp rap” (gives sharp rap) “and what you’ve got . . .” (looks sheepish)
“Is.” 1 interrupt, “a cracked speedometer drive housing.”
Why is it there’s never enough time to do it right and always enough time to do it over?
This was serious. First, I plain hate to not have evervthing working right. Next. while the speedo drive hub plays no vital, load-bearing function, it does fit between critical bits like the front axle and the axle clamps. I have enough trouble with downhills w ithout also having visions of floppy wheels.
Finally. 1 was getting ready for the social event of my season, the Phantom Duck of the Desert's Annual Barstow-to-Vegas Unorganized Trail Ride. Memorial Service, Political Protest and World Championship Falling-Down Contest.
All the gentry would be there. I would no more appear with a jury-rigged machine than my w ife would go to the theater with her hair in curlers. Just not done, y’know.
Besides that, I had spent the previous few weeks making fun of the other guys going on the Phantom Duck’s ride as they rounded up the very latest in hard core enduro bikes and worried about carrying spare parts. Not me. I said, the of rocking chair w ill never let me down.
Comes now the 10 days noted earlier.
There’s a lot of planning involved in the proper maintenance of a motorcycle which was the first version of a model which, in its fourth version, was dropped from production two years ago.
I have a good working relationship with four dealers in my immediate area and am on a first name basis with the parts people at the shop down the street. You say back order? Shucks, 1 have an open-end account with the back-order department. On any given day they have something for me to pick up or they are waiting for my order to arrive or I am on my way there to order something else. This has become so routine for me and them that if I am short of cash, they order now' and I can pay later. Why not? There is no surer bet than that 1
will be back.
So it came to pass that when I noticed a rattly cush drive 1 ordered the parts and rode the bike until they arrived, at w hich time 1 replaced the biscuits. During that
operation I detected some play in the swing arm bushings, so 1 ordered them and rode the bike until the keeper screw and drive hub got broken.
The bushings still were on back order when the broken drive hub occurred. No point in putting broken parts back together. so 1 left the bike on its crate and rushed down to the dealership. I added the new hub to mv existing order.
Then 1 went back to the office and fretted. Not having the bike in working order bothers me a lot. Even if I don't need the machine, even if 1 don't have time to ride it. having it ready to ride is my security blanket.
The parts men do their best but the best they can do is to place the order and see what happens. Maybe a week, they said, maybe 10 days. We'll call you.
The 10 days went past. No call. I couldn't stand it. On lunch hour of the 10th day 1 went to the dealership and asked. Yeah, they rummaged around, we have a sack of parts for you but we don't know what's in the sack or whether the order is complete.
I didn't care. I snatched the sack, stopped at the beanery for a chili burger and malt to go and rushed back to the office. While the burger and malt equalized each other’s temperatures, I ripped open the little bags and boxes, completely out of control, until I found the speedo drive. Great feeling of relief, tempered by the realization that I would rather fix motorcycles than eat.
P.S.
The above was written before the Phantom Duck's ride. This is written Monday, after the ride. Perfect. About midway along the trail a bunch of us stopped to help a downed rider and somebody mentioned that CYCLE WORLD had run a story on a cherished old nail. With a grand sweep of my arm, I proudly proclaimed, “There it is.” Made everything worthwhile.
Take care of the bike and the bike will take care of you.
