One Damn Day (Part 1)

Every damn day I would go into the workshop to do anything I would try not to look at the ’69 sportster on the stand with its guts all hanging out on the concrete. An old fry pan holding motor oil with a layer of sawdust sat underneath. The sportster didn’t blink. But I couldn’t help but feel ashamed for tearing up that transmission three years earlier. And even more ashamed for not putting her back together.

I knew that one day, it would all wait and the priority would be to put it back on the road. But when would that be? The lawn, the leaky faucet, the fence, garden and all the projects…every damn one of them needing me to go into that workshop and see it sitting there standing straight up. Unblinking and proud - but full of dust.

It was a hot and humid Sunday morning. I went into the workshop and had to move some lawn tools out of the way to get to the workbench. I did my best not to trip on anything and stepped in the frying pan…my best wasn’t good enough. After finding a rag and cleaning the oil off my shoe, I stared the ironhead in the face and answered, “today”.

“What did you say?” my wife asked. I didn’t realize that she was just outside the garage door coming to get the push mower.

“Just answering a question the bike asked me.”

“oh. Right. How long has it been?”

“Almost 3 years.”

She pulled the mower out and went off.

I spend the next 30 minutes to an hour orienting myself to the situation. The workbench was cluttered. Gears were in a few different places and the manual was still open to the page about checking the clearances between the gears. A scrap of paper reference a thread on the XL Forum from 2010. The manual page had a hole where some insect started chewing on it. Luckily it was for the instructions on the post ’72 transmission when they went to the wet clutch.

I grabbed the feeler gauge and jumped back in. This time more gracefully and getting less oil on my shoe.