Antique & Classic Cars Blog

A few weeks ago, a slowly decomposing fuse box on my Honda CB750 stranded me briefly due to an exposed wire. That’s fixed. A more recent symptom of the bike’s age and my inattentiveness arose in morning rush hour traffic on Kellogg in St. Paul last Wednesday. Pulled the clutch lever back for the umpteenth in a ceaseless string of shifts that morning and “POP”–there went that control.

So it’s 85 degrees, you’re in a black helmet and black leather jacket on a motorcycle that’s running like a top, it just won’t go into gear. Or if you force it, you’ll have to stall it to stop each time–and the bike now has to be kick-started because the battery’s old and I haven’t replaced it. Time to work up (more of) a sweat pushing 500 pounds of motorcycle around.

Fortunately the intersection where St. Paul Technical College sits wasn’t too far away and there’s plenty of sidewalk in front of it. I rolled the bike out of traffic, took off too-hot protective gear and sat on some wet grass wondering how I’d ticked off the cycling gods this week. Cycle neglect, you say?

Yeah, that’s probably right, but mere acknowledgement doesn’t fix your clutch. I needed a cable and Honda Town on Lake Street–usually can come up with a classic part–was a ten mile walk. I called them and they gave me the name of a motorcycle tow service. Called him and he referred me to another. Called tow-er two, left a message and got my backside wet for a while longer on the grass before realizing that he wasn’t going to call.

Luckily, the little lady (a term she likes less than I do) goes to work later in the morning. I rang her up and she was en route to the law office. “How about a detour to St. Paul?” She had a 10 a.m. meeting, which left just enough time for her to get on 94 East and rescue a husband who can’t keep up with maintenance, including frayed-cable checks.

The ‘94 Golf had a working clutch and it and I dropped off the little lady and picked up a clutch cable at Honda Town. Now I just needed to brush up on my old circus trick of driving a motorcycle and VW hatchback at the same time.

Luckily I realized that I never knew how to do that–though I do remember riding two bicycles at once as a kid. I’m not saying I did ride two bikes at once. I just remember doing it, which, as you age, you realize is not the same thing, especially when you gather with others to discuss the same event from your youth and find that all have a different account of the story.

Instead, I headed home to round up a couple more tools (beyond what’s in the bike toolkit) and ring my retired friend Wayne to see if he had any pressing errands in the St. Paul Technical College area. He didn’t, but still volunteered to give me a lift if I bought him a Fat Tire beer next time Adrian’s, the local burger joint, had it on hand.

No drama in the rebuild, except that John Law stopped by to have a kind word. He informed me that repairing a motorcycle on the sidewalk is not allowed, and that neither is parking one there. Yet when he heard my problem and learned that the repair was dry–no oil or brake or other fluids leaking on his turf–he wished me good luck and drove off. Treating a police officer like the King of the Realm, which they are, generally works in your favor.

Ten minutes later I was back on the road, the CB shifting better than ever, I guess because the way I set the adjustment screw when I put it back on was just, through pure luck, perfect. So all is again right with the two-wheeled world and my only remaining debt from the incident is a good one, having a beer with a fellow car enthusiast.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 23rd, 2007 at 9:37 am and is filed under Motorcycle tales. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.