AgentX
Over 1,000 Posts
Some people build really beautiful bikes.
Just not me, apparently. But by hook or by crook, I'll have something to ride in a few months. Or I'll have a flaming pile of metal, I suppose.
So, lesson 1 for me was...don't get ahead of yourself. The finish work is mismatched and neither color matches the original grayish olive green, but that's the consequence of doing things piecemeal and half-assed as I was home on leave. It wouldn't bother me if it hadn't taken so much time and effort and money during my leave times to get the work done.
That said, fuck it. The metal is protected, it's roughly two shades of military-ish green, and I'll tear it up in African sand until the paint is a relatively uniform shade of dust and wear. And it's an authentic testament to my ability to fuck things up and waste money, if nothing else.
Lesson two is that time remains a bitch. My buddy with the engine couldn't bring it to New England so we could get the engine into the frame before I flew back overseas. He'll get it done next week, the day before my family packs up all our shit. So I hope he can build a roller out of the assembled frame and fork I left for him on my patio.
Anyhow, he's a madman and an artist, and to vent the Newby dry clutch, he couldn't do something simple. Spent all night and half a day drilling my outer primary cover all fancy-like and brazing brass mesh over the holes.
Just not me, apparently. But by hook or by crook, I'll have something to ride in a few months. Or I'll have a flaming pile of metal, I suppose.
So, lesson 1 for me was...don't get ahead of yourself. The finish work is mismatched and neither color matches the original grayish olive green, but that's the consequence of doing things piecemeal and half-assed as I was home on leave. It wouldn't bother me if it hadn't taken so much time and effort and money during my leave times to get the work done.
That said, fuck it. The metal is protected, it's roughly two shades of military-ish green, and I'll tear it up in African sand until the paint is a relatively uniform shade of dust and wear. And it's an authentic testament to my ability to fuck things up and waste money, if nothing else.
Lesson two is that time remains a bitch. My buddy with the engine couldn't bring it to New England so we could get the engine into the frame before I flew back overseas. He'll get it done next week, the day before my family packs up all our shit. So I hope he can build a roller out of the assembled frame and fork I left for him on my patio.
Anyhow, he's a madman and an artist, and to vent the Newby dry clutch, he couldn't do something simple. Spent all night and half a day drilling my outer primary cover all fancy-like and brazing brass mesh over the holes.