Few things bring more cringes that dentist and mechanics; both insist on telling me that I do not take proper care of things. Perhaps the angst that is born from such appointments finds its irony in that if I took better care of my teeth and my motorcycle, then they would no have a job. Don’t get me wrong – I just bought a $200 toothbrush that will sandblast my teeth like and old church facade in July – but teeth, by their very nature, decay, so why berate me for not flossing properly when I have been trying to do just that for the past 28 years? The motorcycle…that is another story, isn’t it.
After work this week, I took the Monster 696 in to replace the brake pads and fluids. The dealer has moved next door to the other side of the city, but they do excellent work and I appreciate their detail to service. Walking through the pantheon of Harley machines, I had to brave the gauntlet of questions to figure out if I am a non-afficionado or a real fanatic. Let’s be honest – I love motorcycles and I hope to always have a great one to drive for the rest of my life’s days, but I don’t know a cylinder from a gasket. I fail. I fail the test, but please fix my bike cause it’s broken, mister. I almost made my escape from the shop unscathed, but the mechanic found me still oogling a Harley CrossBones and declared with indignation: “your rear disk is obliterated…too much rear brake.” Right. Umm. Right. How much do those run?
Moral of the story: I push hard and use my brakes a lot more than most people. Yeah, I know I should have noticed the brakes were hitting metal on metal, but then that is why I went to the dealer. We ended up by seeing if I could replace my front and rear fenders with carbon fiber, but he had no surplus parts because “everybody’s been getting into accidents this Spring!” I laughed and retorted “Maybe they should use more rear brake.”
Yeah. Funny Guy.
Please just fix my Monster.