My first motorcycle, a 1977 Suzuki GS750. I loved and hated this bike. It had a lot of issues that I hated, but soon learned the issues were due to improper maintenance and that nearly everything was fixable in my garage. I loved the bike because even tho there were so many things wrong with it I could still trust it. I think I could have taken the handlebars off and not worry about a thing!
Ok, a little extreme.
But that’s the idea, isn’t it? To own a bike you can rely on, trust, know will never let you down? Always be there when you need something? Well that’s what my GS750 was for me. It was my escape. My freedom. Come hell or highwater, it was ready for me. Always ready for a good ride, and I’d ride it. Sometimes hard, sometimes gently. But that bike was my first bike that I loved and I’ll never forget the way it felt to be up on two wheels.
Then disaster struck. I decided, one BEAUTIFUL May morning, that I needed to do a compression test. I had just gotten back from a quick ride to get the juices flowing and calm my nerves a little from, I don’t know, whatever it was that was under my skin at the time. Well, more about compression tests later, but let’s just say it wasn’t good. No, let’s say it was a tragedy! Complete failure, as far as compression tests go.
Well, now what? Guess I’ll rip this off, find out what’s under here, I could just disassemble the whole thing and be done with it I suppose. Oh boy. I’m gonna need a lot of parts. And more money. Nuts. Well, if I’m ripping the engine apart, why don’t I just rip the whole bike apart, start from frame up? Cut a few pieces here, reweld this piece here, push the rear springs a bit, make a different seat….
Well, at least you can have a good laugh while I put it back together. Time to improvise! There will be much improvisation going on here.