If You Could See What I've Seen With Your Eyes

I put the new forks on the bike. It as not too hard a job, but the problem was confounded by the fact that some of the bolts are pretty old and hard to unscrew.

Now I see how much work this bike needs and well... Yeah. I still haven't put on the new throttle cable for a couple of reasons. First, the screws holding the throttle control on the handlebar are totally threaded to the point of needing to be extracted and since my screw extractor kit mysteriously vanished today I can't get those out.

Second, by the time I was done with the forks it was getting dark and since this is a British bike they make everything retardedly hard to get to. In order to get the throttle cable out, I need to take apart the fuel tank, air intake assembly and carburetors. It was getting dark and so I closed the bike up for the night and will probably continue tomorrow or friday.

The worst part was to see some of the patchwork that the previous owner did to the bike.

He put that windshield goop on some of the parts because he didn't want to spend the $4 on proper grommets. It seems that most things that come into my life lately have been horribly abused. Rabbit still runs away every time I pick up a broom, and when I first got her whenever I would hold her collar she would freeze and start shaking. Luckily she's over that bit, but I doubt she'll ever be not afraid of the broom.

And yeah... Let's not even get started on the last couple of girls I've dated.

At least the dog knows to appreciate a person that doesn't beat her with a broom, and I'm sure the motorcycle would be happy that someone's taking care of it too if it had any feelings.

Time to shower, get this grease out of my everywhere and see if I can get some writing done tonight before i pass out.

EDIT:

One weird thing... While i was on the ground hooking the brakes and speedometer cables back to the front wheel and making sure the alignment is correct (kind of important stuff). Some woman comes up to me telling me how she needs help moving her furniture around.

Now, even if you don't understand a thing I am doing, you come up to me while my bike is in an obvious state of repair and I'm not trying to will it back together. The seat is off, the fuel tank is about 10 feet away from the bike, my hands and arms are black from the elbows down...

What were you thinking? Do I look like I have time to help you? And even if I did, why would you want my greasy, dirty, oily hands all over your furniture?