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Well, I've been traveling for business, taking care of my mother after my fathers death last November, etc.. and haven't been home to ride for weeks.
Last week, I'm home and ON THE BIKE riding in to work. It was a nice, crisp, cool morning. Low humidity and the heat from the engine felt good. An XSively good day to be out riding by any standard.
My path into the office takes me down Palatine Rd out here in the Chicago suburbs. The western most section of it is nice because it is a Wildlife Sanctuary on one side and a Forest Preserve on the other. Some days there is someone ahead of you and some days there isn't.
This day, there was no one there but me
No one ahead and no one behind.
Several weeks worth of exuberance poured forth in an XSively satisfying exhibition of man & machine unified in a singular goal of extracting maximum delta-V. The 1100 4 screaming its delight in an easily recognized periodic cadance, the forces of friction attempting to hold me onto the seat, the cool morning air blowing into the visor on my helmet which was held slightly ajar.
All of which is a long winded way of saying that I flogged the old girl within an inch of her life....
Then, as I released the clutch into 3rd gear and whacked the throttle to WOT (with perhaps more exhuberance than normal), I felt it.
A slight "pop" through the throttle cable.
Uh Oh....
"I wonder what that is." She keeps on gaining speed as if nothing has happened. The morning is still calm, full of promise for the day. Everything feels just as it should. Then, I release the throttle and pull the clutch so I can shift to 4th.
Instantly, the 1100 4 SCREAMS an almost death scream. The RPMs head to the moon. I am momentarily paralyzed. What has happened? I reach out and flick the kill switch. My stead's screams are silenced. I'm coasting at a good clip, the "whir" of the tire tread on the pavement and the meshing of the gears in the drive train now easily heard, steadily decreasing in frequency as I slow down. I know that not far ahead is an old driveway from whoever sold out (or got sold out) for the Animal Sanctuary. I pull in and get right to work figuring out what happened.
As it turned out, there is >something< that the throttle linkage hits at near WOT. In my early morning joy, I pulled harder on the throttle than I normally do and pulled the throttle linkage past the blockage. Which, then, held the throttle against the return spring at WOT when I went for the clutch. To fix, I only had to push the throttle back past what ever it is that it is hitting and all was right again. One more thing to add to my repair list...
At least no HAWG drivers drove past while I was making my repair!!!
Eric
Last week, I'm home and ON THE BIKE riding in to work. It was a nice, crisp, cool morning. Low humidity and the heat from the engine felt good. An XSively good day to be out riding by any standard.
My path into the office takes me down Palatine Rd out here in the Chicago suburbs. The western most section of it is nice because it is a Wildlife Sanctuary on one side and a Forest Preserve on the other. Some days there is someone ahead of you and some days there isn't.
This day, there was no one there but me
No one ahead and no one behind.
Several weeks worth of exuberance poured forth in an XSively satisfying exhibition of man & machine unified in a singular goal of extracting maximum delta-V. The 1100 4 screaming its delight in an easily recognized periodic cadance, the forces of friction attempting to hold me onto the seat, the cool morning air blowing into the visor on my helmet which was held slightly ajar.
All of which is a long winded way of saying that I flogged the old girl within an inch of her life....
Then, as I released the clutch into 3rd gear and whacked the throttle to WOT (with perhaps more exhuberance than normal), I felt it.
A slight "pop" through the throttle cable.
Uh Oh....
"I wonder what that is." She keeps on gaining speed as if nothing has happened. The morning is still calm, full of promise for the day. Everything feels just as it should. Then, I release the throttle and pull the clutch so I can shift to 4th.
Instantly, the 1100 4 SCREAMS an almost death scream. The RPMs head to the moon. I am momentarily paralyzed. What has happened? I reach out and flick the kill switch. My stead's screams are silenced. I'm coasting at a good clip, the "whir" of the tire tread on the pavement and the meshing of the gears in the drive train now easily heard, steadily decreasing in frequency as I slow down. I know that not far ahead is an old driveway from whoever sold out (or got sold out) for the Animal Sanctuary. I pull in and get right to work figuring out what happened.
As it turned out, there is >something< that the throttle linkage hits at near WOT. In my early morning joy, I pulled harder on the throttle than I normally do and pulled the throttle linkage past the blockage. Which, then, held the throttle against the return spring at WOT when I went for the clutch. To fix, I only had to push the throttle back past what ever it is that it is hitting and all was right again. One more thing to add to my repair list...
At least no HAWG drivers drove past while I was making my repair!!!
Eric
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