Documenting life during the first attempt at restoring a vintage motorcycle.

Similar to the zen -like feeling that is realized through surfing,
motorcycle repair can elevate the mind to a meditative state that eludes time and space...
Meaning I obsess over it, get frustrated, yell, laugh at myself and overall waste a lot of time.



I've been on a short break. Haven't had much time to think of or find anything cheeky to post on here for a while... Might be seasonal depression do to all the rain, the freezing cold water and missing the last few swells, only to get skunked when I finally make it out for a surf. When I start feeling creative, I'll get back to you.

As for now, I'll be sitting and staring out the window... waiting for the mailman to deliver what I hope to be the final part of the motorcycle that I'm rebuilding. Over the past 2 weeks I've been within spitting distance of completing this year long project. The last and final parts that remain to be fixed in place are the piston rings. The set I had ordered previously were 1/1,000 of inch too thick. Frustration is not a profane enough F-word to describe how I feel. I can't find the original box they came in to confirm what the part number is, so I don't order another pair of the same. It was so long ago, I can't even remember where I got them from. I did previous post about how the original rings broke off in the cylinder and the old piston was scoured and scratched beyond repair. But I hadn't bothered checking the size and fit of the new parts until now... the very end. Now I have to play the waiting game. Lesson learned.

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