Viragoking returns! And, gas is right out...

I stopped over to Viragoking's house today to check in with him about the purchase of the Maxim650. He wanted my opinion about what I thought.

The 650 was in pretty rough shape. It's a 1980 "daily runner" and looks the part. Exhaust will eventually have to be removed and replaced (rust, pitted corrosion and the posts look as if they have no thread, so getting them off is going to be a lot of work), the left rear shock is leaking oil. Carb boots loose (easy fix, but he runs it like that, sucking in dirt and debris, so who knows how the inner carbs look) manifold boots in poor shape, Suzuki headlight, aftermarket plastic mirrors, aftermarket exhaust... the list goes on.

I'm not one to say no to a good deal, but this guy wanted to trade VK for his 1985 xv700 which just had a lot of work done to it (new starter, jets, carbs rebuilt, new boots, plugs, speedo and more) plus he wanted VK to replace a poor coil. Come on! No way, dude.

He decided instead to keep the virago, and get it running. Good idea. I'll help! There is a set of coils on ebay that I've bid on... I hope I win and that they aren't too expensive...

In other news...

I was riding FauX yesterday, marveling at it's superb handling, it's agile maneuvering and snappy throttle response when suddenly, it started sounding really, really bad. NO matter how much throttle I applied, the bike refused to respond. I checked the odometer and noted 118 miles on the ticker (wow! nearly 47.2mpg!). I'd always wondered how far a full tank of gas would get me. Now I know. I rolled slowly off one side of the road, onto the shoulder.

Brothers, I'd run out of gas. And before you ask, no, for some reason my fuel indicator light did not come on, at least not that I noticed. I tried flipping to reserve, it fired once, then refused to run.

I was about 7 miles from home, no gas stations in sight. Sighing in resignation, I started pushing the bike in the direction I figured a gas station must be hiding. The temperature was in the high 80's, I had full riding gear on (what the heck was I supposed to do with my helmet? I ended up wearing it..) and I was trying to decide if I should park the bike and hoof it, or just keep rolling.

4 different individuals stopped to ask if I needed any help. 2 guys with a truck, and 2 cars. One of the guys with a truck were willing to help me lift it into the back of his pickup and give me a ride to a station (only 2 miles up the road). The other guy was willing to drive up to a station and get some gas for me. (he didn't have a gas can, and would have had to rent one/buy one... I couldn't do that to a kind stranger due to my inattentiveness.) I ended up using his cell phone to call for assistance. I didn't relish the idea of trying to lift the bike into the bed of the first guy's truck, but I was awfully impressed of his generosity.

I counted no less than 5 HD motorcycles that drove by me, 3 sports bikes and one Yammie of some sort. Sadly, none of them even gave me more than a passing glance. I ALWAYS stop and ask a biker if they need help. I think it's the law of the road. "Do unto others cause, brother, eventually it's gonna happen to you."

My assistance finally arrived. It took a fair bit of riding to get the crappy handling/throttle response issues ironed out. Before I got home, however, I was zipping along nicely.