I dropped the bike off to get serviced yesterday and to my great surprise it was ready today at 1 PM. They said it was the spark plug that had been causing the rough idle and stalling. I rode around for hours, pretty much from when I picked it up around 1:30 until a little while ago when I came back to the house to grab supper, and it purred like a kitten the whole time - until about a block before I got here at which point it once again died in mid stride. After that it stalled about four more times before I parked it in the yard. Now I'll probably have to wait till after the holiday weekend to take it back. So much for it just being the spark plug, but at least the inspection and oil change are done.
I changed into the right shirt after work. I'll be needing the Psych Ward if I have to keep taking the BV back and forth to the shop!
Riding behind this Voyager today, I was puzzled.
I intend no disrespect to the guy's dead mom and dad, but what exactly is in memory of his parents? The vehicle itself? Somehow it's supposed to be a testimony to their former corporeal existence while he drives around? His motoring about is supposed to honor them in some way? I don't get it! I could understand if he donated a car to charity in their memory and posted a little plaque on it, but to slap "IN MEMORY OF MY PARENTS" on his own back window doesn't seem to memorialize them at all. Does it? Am I missing something obvious here?
I'll bet that if I had caught up with him and asked, "What's in memory of your parents?" he'd have looked at me and uttered a single, very confused, "Huh?" At that point, we'd have been even.
I saw this Ferris wheel this afternoon and was instantly transported back in time a month. There I was in the last week of July at the tippy top of a Ferris wheel miles and miles away from here, feeling like I was on top of the world.
I'm happy being back at school, but distinct, crystal clear memories like this one of summer make my heart ache to have just a little more of that free time that I'd taken for granted. I fear that in spite of being a good one, it's going to be a very long year. I'll do better if I don't see too many more Ferris wheels or other summery things for a while. Well, except for a scooter that works reliably!
3 comments:
Bummer that the scooter died again. I'd still suggest draining the tank, running the engine dry, and refilling. 45 minutes worth of work and you might be good to go again with no trip back to the shop.
About the "In memory of" window thing. That's very popular here in the Southwest amongst the Hispanic population. The Hispanic people and the Native Americans (at least in AZ) are also big on placing small white crosses at the roadside scene of fatal accidents of friends and relatives and then keeping the white crosses stocked with plastic flowers, sometimes for years. I've come across corners out in the country that look like a plastic flower and cross farm. Alcohol and an unexpected 90 degree bend in the road are a bad combo.
Typically here the window memorial will say "In loving memory of _____" and sometimes the birth and death years or a nickname. Like you I find it very odd, I mean, at what point do you say "Ok, I've told the world for long enough that I'm grieving, I can peel the sticker off now."
Fuel system conditioner in the tank, or find the drain hose from the carb and see if just crud in there. Open it, let the gas drain out into a pan, and then close it. Happens all the time on Scootdawg, that's why many run some Seafoam in their tank.
Also, you should know I'm tormenting Paul at Scootin Fool over your problem. Recently he wrote a blog roundly criticizing Chinese scooters because his friend's Wildfire scooter starting braking belts, even after repeated trips to the dealer. I told him don't blame the scooter for a dealer who can't solve a mechanical problem. Now your high end scoot is acting up and the dealer is misdiagnosing the problem too. It only shows that if you rely on your dealer, it doesn't matter if the scoot costs $5000 or $1000 bad decisions can ground them both.
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