No Denver this, but it's been cold. A little wet here and there, but that's a treat - provided I don't have to ride the bike in it. (Been there, done that, and being soaked to the skin in a January t-storm with miles to get home is NOT high on my fun list.) It's not cold enough often enough to make me cage much, but between a little before Yule and now, I've been spending more time in the Ranger. Before anybody screams "pussy!!" I offer a pleasant little disclaimer: a reasonably fresh 96" S&S big twin is a leetle tighter than a well-run stroker - my last engine before the S&S. Thus, even with multi-viscosity oil, a cold garage makes for a hard-startin' girl. So bite me.
Her Darkness has given me the mechanical version of The Finger a couple of times lately... aarrgh. Last night - New Years Eve - she took it to a new level. I went to fire her off so's I could hook up with the crew for a run to a local MC party. I've adjusted some to the grrrowr-growr tune of thick oil and cheap battery, but I was totally unprepared for tonights show:
grrrowr-growr-POOF-oshitoshit! Off! OFF! as a spurt of magic smoke erupted from forward of my dashboard. A quick dash removal and inspection presented a pair of shorted wires where the magic smoke leaked out, resplendent with melted insulation - no fast fix here. I cage to the meet-up, resigned to the idea that rather than ride all over hell-and-gone with my bros tonight or tomorrow, I'll be playing electrician.
Later on New Year's Day...
And so it was. The opening in the dash, where Her wiring harness emerges to mate with the handlebars, sports a sharp corner, and over the last year it wore thru the wrap and insulation. The headlight hot wires shorted together. Not as bad as I suspected; I used the opportunity to weld the upper tank bracket back together. The Dark Mistress has one less rattle. Consequences: I missed the Tortilla Flats run for the second year in row.
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