mx775

A recent thread on Mototalk got me thinking of all the mistakes I've made working on motorcycles. It seems inevitable that if you wrench on bikes often enough, you will make heartbreakingly costly and/or stupid errors from time to time. And I'm not ashamed to say that I've made quite a few.

In fact, after thinking about the subject for awhile, I started to write about some of my mistakes here. But then something weird happened: I started to feel self-conscious. This doesn't usually happen since self-deprecating humor is a favorite of mine, but some of the things I have done were just too embarassing. I realized that publishing all those mistakes would make me feel way too retarted. So I deleted the whole thing.

But since I still think it's a fun subject, I realize I have to share at least one story to get the ball rolling. So I will share this one that, I have to admit, was pretty dumb. But if that's the cost I have to pay to get you all to share some of your misfortunes, then here goes:

In 2000 my dad bought me a 1998 KX250. While this bike was a couple of years old when we got it, it was still very beautiful: nice plastic, fresh graphics, very little wear. I loved it so.

Soon after I got it, I prepared to wash it after an especially muddy practice session. On the shelf in the garage was a bottle of something called Red Hot, which was an industrial strength automotive degreaser that my dad had brought home from the dealership where he worked. I remembered him mentioning that it was pretty strong stuff. "Perfect," I said as I grabbed the bottle. "This bike is filthy, but this stuff will have it spotless in no time."

I evidently did not heard the rest of my dad's words on the use of Red Hot, but I was soon to learn the meaning of them. The words were these: "If you use it on the bike, be sure to dilute it at least in half, and don't let it sit for long. This stuff is caustic."

I must have been in a lazy mood that day, because after I sprayed the full-strength degreaser all over the bike, I walked away, deciding I would let it sit to work on the dirt and grease. I didn't want to have to scrub, after all.

A few minutes passed and I came and rinsed the bike. Sure enough, all the dirt was gone and I felt very smart. I started to dry the bike, and that's when I got my first clue that something was terribly wrong. As I dried the forks, I noticed a weird, spotty residue. I rubbed hard to remove it, but it remained.

I moved frantically to dry my rims and found that they too were covered in ugly, water-stain-like spots. And so I moved onto the engine...the swingarm...the handlebars...all were covered with these terrible, terrible spots. The Red Hot had pitted every metal part of the bike it had touched.

But it didn't end there: when my plastic dried, I found that it had washed all the gloss off of every piece of plastic. Everything looked dull and weathered, like the bike had been sitting outside for years on end.

I can't remember for sure, but I think I came very close to crying that day, if I did not sob outright.

My dad came home and proclaimed that I had ruined the bike. Looking at the now-shine-free bike that had previously been my pride and joy, I could not disagree with him.

Though I eventually saved up enough money to replace all the plastic and scrubbed for months to reduce the appearance of the spots on the metal, they could still be seen in some places until the time I sold the bike a year and a half later. And to this day, I have not since let any cleanser touch my bike that has the words "Industrial Strength" on the label.

So there it is: a very small taste of the problems I've had as a motorcycle caretaker. If you would, please share some of your own stories of misfortune, because, as they say, misery loves company. And misery was just what I felt over those damned spots on my otherwise wonderful KX.