Scrubbing, fitting, grinding, twisting, measuring, chopping, oiling. For a few months now, Katelyn has been working on her 1980 CB650, nursing a basket case back to life. Until last week, the engine received all those loving ministrations on a hunk of plywood bridging the gap between an old washer and dryer near her kitchen. The rolling junk heap got torn apart in her carport. New camshaft, new carbs, headers, pistons. She blasted and painted the frame, wrapped the pipes, and coated the tank mostly in the comfort of her own living room. Now that we've moved it to my shop, I get to watch her compose those pieces into what is shaping up to be a damned good-looking motorcycle. Sometimes she even lets me help.
Yesterday we lapped the valves and inspected the oil pump. Pretty good way to spend a rainy weekend. As my friend James says "Congratulations on making life imitate dream.'' I think she'll have a roller by Wednesday.
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