Finding Common Ground in the Garage

Hello Friend,

I hope all is well in your world.

My first ride on the Sportster was a little unsettling. Things had the potential to go sideways in any number of ways. I stopped at a friend’s house and saw that I forgot to split the ends on the cotter key holding the rear brake pedal, an easy driveway fix with a pair of needle-nose pliers. The side-mounted speedometer was also loose. It didn’t hold against the Sportster’s vibration at highway speed. I tightened it down for the ride home, then added a star washer and locking nut to keep it in place.

Replacing the stock exhaust with straight pipes and using what is essentially a piece of wire mesh for an air cleaner caused the engine to run lean. The changes increased the airflow without increasing fuel, throwing off the air-fuel mixture. It’s not an acute problem but over time it can create a variety of engine problems. The fix was to swap out the main and pilot jets so more fuel could reach the cylinders. That meant more time waiting on parts and watching YouTube videos about Harley CV carburetors.

When the parts came in, I realized that the kit only included replacements for the main jet, not the pilot jet. To be fair, I should have read the part list for the kit more carefully. But it’s hard to get everything perfect on the first attempt when you don’t really understand what you’re doing. And I certainly didn’t get it right on the first try, which at least kept me on brand. Once again I’m reminded how much motorcycles reflect life.

After a trip to the Harley dealer for a #45 pilot jet, I spent an afternoon taking apart the carburetor. In the process, I stripped two Phillips head screws. Before I started, I knew that the screws were going to be a problem, but there was no way around it. They had to come out.

In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig perfectly describes how the fate of an entire repair project can come down to a single screw. And he’s right. The gravity of my situation was real. I removed the stripped screws by cutting a groove in the screw heads with a Dremel and using a large flathead screwdriver. Risky, but it worked. For me, that task required complete focus on the present moment. The past and the future did not exist. The feeling is similar to what I feel in a yoga class. A strange comparison, I know, but yoga and motorcycle repair have more in common than you might imagine.

I’ve been thinking about common ground a lot lately, and removing those screws put it back at the front of my mind. I am certainly guilty of focusing on differences between myself and other people. What if I flipped that concept around and thought more about what we have in common? What would a conversation sound like between a yogi and a motorcycle mechanic if they started with their common ground? I’m all in for that.

Back to the Sportster. Rejetting the carburetor solved the lean mixture problem. The next issue on the list was the hydraulic fluid leaking from the front brake master cylinder. I replaced the stock hand controls with aftermarket “vintage” style controls. In this case “vintage” means that they look cool but are finicky and demand finesse. The solution, once I figured it out, was simple. There was too much hydraulic fluid in the master cylinder. I drained some out and ignored the “minimum fluid level” line.

The Sportster problems are flattening out and so are the emotional peaks and valleys that come with finding and solving them. Each ride on the Sportster is a little more enjoyable. Paint is the next major step. And to answer your question before you ask it: no, I don’t know how to paint a motorcycle. But like everything else so far, I’ll figure it out. Intention, momentum, and unyielding confidence are a powerful combination.

Best,

Jerad