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Worser than you can imagine , well , unless you own a Meriden Triumph twin or an airhead , I know enough about those to get us all in trouble Dusty
Being a Brit, I was largely self taught using the trust Haynes manual for my Suzuki TS50ER (and for most of the subsequent bikes - Guzzi workshop manuals used though for my V50 Mk2 and the current Cali 3). My dad was a trained mechanic at the time, but the only time I asked for his help (refitting the cylinder over the piston rings), he managed to break the piston ring....which was a defunct size, so I had to get the cylinder rebored to the next size up. Did it largely myself from then on and still do.
I think what he's saying is that much like owning a Borgward or Sunbeam, his relationship with Dusty has forced him to become a better mechanic. :grinI've had other motivations and other mentors, but those were the first.
By breaking everything first...
I haven't learned, and I'm not really interested or inclined, and I'm convinced I'm completely untalented. Admittedly, having grown up in the fifties and sixties there might be a few things I could do if pressed - but I don't have a place to wrench and no tools, and it wouldn't be done realiably.So, I've found I need two Guzzi's - hopefully there's one running if the other is waiting to be fixed by some mechanic. Mostly, both bikes get all maintenance and fixes by good wrenches during the winter and are operational all season....
think what he's saying is that much like owning a Borgward or Sunbeam, his relationship with Dusty has forced him to become a better mechanic. I think I got started mechanicking out of necessity, and got good it -- like everything I got good at -- to piss off my dad. My dad discouraged me from doing things and didn't like me touching his stuff. He was a good woodworker, but not much for the wrenchy arts. I learned early and on the fly because he had no aptitude or patience for broken machinery, and we had a lot of it. I was expected to hand him the correct part or tool even if he didn't know what it was. At 5 or 6 I sure as hell didn't. He never did get it that journeymen are made, not born.If it was something of mine broken I got to figure it out for myself and sneak the tools to do it. There was a gas station a mile from the house and I often went there to borrow something to fix my bike or whatever. Warren Swerengen (might be misspelled. He was a giant Scandinavian) let me hang out and watch him work, and actually explained what he was doing and why, like he was talking to himself. Sort of a running commentary. Things like side valves and magnetos made sense when you put it that way.Warren knew dad so I think he felt sorry for me. Or maybe he thought I had potential. I'll never know. But he gave me a little steel box stuffed with enough of his stray and clapped out tools to rebuild the engine on a 8hp riding lawnmower and convert it into an offroad go kart when I was in 3rd grade. He answered my questions along the way and taught me old school stuff like annealing an old copper head gasket, and what is a copper head gasket. It went like stink. I still have the Ford wrench from that tool set. It may be my longest held possession.I've had other motivations and other mentors, but those were the first.
That right there is the saddest sto9ry I have heard in a long long time.
Let's say I've learned to live with it (looking up from his book, sipping his champagne)
My dad owned a Flying �A� gas station when I was growing up in the late 60�s. I learned to push a broom, change oil; and, eventually fix cars at that station. Dad use to put me in the trunk and drive around and over bumps so that I could locate the �strange� noises for him. Today they probably would have arrested him for child abuse....