BarelyAWake
New Member
I use my bike as a daily commuter now, buzzing to and from work grinning like an idiot 
Wherever I stop for a moment, people come up and check out my bike and ask all of the inevitable questions: "Where did you buy it?" "Where can I get one?" "Did you build this?" "How fast does it go?" to name a few.
The best reactions are of course from the kids. I'll come out of a store with coffee in hand to find a gaggle of young'uns all crowded around it babbling feverishly about how awesome it would be to have one, how they would have a chopper, what color it would be, how they would conquer the world (or at least the neighborhood) with a ride like that. I've even had one or two park their bike next to mine, hunker and squint - trying to see in their mind's eye just how theirs would look.
The first time I rode to work, my boss's son didn't say a whole lot about it. I did notice however that almost every time I trooped on down to the shop to have a smoke, he'd be there peering at some bit or another and ready with some small question. There must have been some persistent pressure going on behind the scenes though because one day he came up to my office and asked simply "My dad says I can order a kit - who should I call?"
I gave him the information on a couple of the very best dealerships, ones with excellent reputations and warranties as the last thing I wanted was any possibility for disappointment. Then I went outside and checked out his bike to make sure it was suitable. Once I gave him the thumbs-up, he took the piece pf paper with my scrawled notations and disappeared. A few days later he tentatively asked me "My kit came in, could you check it out for me?"
The next few days he spent in an absolute obsession, tinkering away building his new toy. Despite his father's comments about how "That kid never finishes anything" and "You're gonna end up doing that for him" I was mightily impressed by not only his dedication, but by just how little he asked of me. He asked only that I park my bike next to his so he could use it as an example and would occasionally wait patiently until I had a second to ask me about some detail or another that puzzled him.
After only about three days, he said "I think my bike will be finished soon, I know you don't work tomorrow - but could you maybe stop by for a second to check it for me before I try to ride it?" I said "Of course man, no problem at all, I'll be there first thing." and he ran off to work on it some more.
The next morning I jumped on my bike and buzzed on over to see if he was ready. I had left my house far earlier than I normally would on a work day, assuming correctly that he'd be there already waiting for me, regardless of the fact we had agreed on a later time. I might be old - but I remember very well how time slows to a painful crawl in a situation like this... Actually, it's not so much "remembering" as I still suffer the "kid on Christmas Eve" syndrome myself from time to time.
After checking his work, correcting only a very few small problems and heckling him for not fixing his front brakes (again lol) I told him that I thought it was ready for a test run. Warning him that it probably wouldn't run very well for a while as it's a brand new motor and needs be broken in, and reassuring that this would get better with time - I opened the garage door and watched as he pushed it outside.
Once outdoors, he just stood there for a minute staring at the bike. I asked him what's up and he looked at me and asked "Could you try and start it for me? You know what you're doing." I asked him if he was sure, as it was the bike's first run and being the tinker that I am I consider that special. Beginning to look a little desperate he asked me "Please?" so with a smile I said I'd be honored.
After a little messing about with fuel and whatnot, we got it running and I rode it only far enough across the lot and back to make sure nothing was going to be a problem for him. Handing him his bike I said "Good job man, Its ALIVE muhahaha! Take her out for a spin." He spent the rest of the day vrooming around the lot with the biggest grin humanly possible, stopping only long enough to thank me earnestly for all my "help" - despite the fact that I had little to do with it, that it was all his doing, and that I had told him so repeatedly.
Honestly, I really must thank him for reminding me what it's like to be a kid.
Wherever I stop for a moment, people come up and check out my bike and ask all of the inevitable questions: "Where did you buy it?" "Where can I get one?" "Did you build this?" "How fast does it go?" to name a few.The best reactions are of course from the kids. I'll come out of a store with coffee in hand to find a gaggle of young'uns all crowded around it babbling feverishly about how awesome it would be to have one, how they would have a chopper, what color it would be, how they would conquer the world (or at least the neighborhood) with a ride like that. I've even had one or two park their bike next to mine, hunker and squint - trying to see in their mind's eye just how theirs would look.
The first time I rode to work, my boss's son didn't say a whole lot about it. I did notice however that almost every time I trooped on down to the shop to have a smoke, he'd be there peering at some bit or another and ready with some small question. There must have been some persistent pressure going on behind the scenes though because one day he came up to my office and asked simply "My dad says I can order a kit - who should I call?"
I gave him the information on a couple of the very best dealerships, ones with excellent reputations and warranties as the last thing I wanted was any possibility for disappointment. Then I went outside and checked out his bike to make sure it was suitable. Once I gave him the thumbs-up, he took the piece pf paper with my scrawled notations and disappeared. A few days later he tentatively asked me "My kit came in, could you check it out for me?"
The next few days he spent in an absolute obsession, tinkering away building his new toy. Despite his father's comments about how "That kid never finishes anything" and "You're gonna end up doing that for him" I was mightily impressed by not only his dedication, but by just how little he asked of me. He asked only that I park my bike next to his so he could use it as an example and would occasionally wait patiently until I had a second to ask me about some detail or another that puzzled him.
After only about three days, he said "I think my bike will be finished soon, I know you don't work tomorrow - but could you maybe stop by for a second to check it for me before I try to ride it?" I said "Of course man, no problem at all, I'll be there first thing." and he ran off to work on it some more.
The next morning I jumped on my bike and buzzed on over to see if he was ready. I had left my house far earlier than I normally would on a work day, assuming correctly that he'd be there already waiting for me, regardless of the fact we had agreed on a later time. I might be old - but I remember very well how time slows to a painful crawl in a situation like this... Actually, it's not so much "remembering" as I still suffer the "kid on Christmas Eve" syndrome myself from time to time.
After checking his work, correcting only a very few small problems and heckling him for not fixing his front brakes (again lol) I told him that I thought it was ready for a test run. Warning him that it probably wouldn't run very well for a while as it's a brand new motor and needs be broken in, and reassuring that this would get better with time - I opened the garage door and watched as he pushed it outside.
Once outdoors, he just stood there for a minute staring at the bike. I asked him what's up and he looked at me and asked "Could you try and start it for me? You know what you're doing." I asked him if he was sure, as it was the bike's first run and being the tinker that I am I consider that special. Beginning to look a little desperate he asked me "Please?" so with a smile I said I'd be honored.
After a little messing about with fuel and whatnot, we got it running and I rode it only far enough across the lot and back to make sure nothing was going to be a problem for him. Handing him his bike I said "Good job man, Its ALIVE muhahaha! Take her out for a spin." He spent the rest of the day vrooming around the lot with the biggest grin humanly possible, stopping only long enough to thank me earnestly for all my "help" - despite the fact that I had little to do with it, that it was all his doing, and that I had told him so repeatedly.
Honestly, I really must thank him for reminding me what it's like to be a kid.
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Fortunately no amount of stern self delusion can manage to overcome the giggly delight, the inescapable regression, the basic fun of just riding around on this sputtering, popping, noisy little toy. 
I really wish they would redesign the chain guide for example. That's one of the few things I insisted on - that a small tack-weld be made to insure it wouldn't dive into the spokes, wreck his bike and hurt the kid. If it wasn't for this forum - I wouldn't have thought of the danger myself, let alone some excited kid and his first MB. At the very least some mention in the instructions needs be made.
