DR. CHOPPER OR: HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE WRENCH

A couple weeks ago my dudes Wes and Fraggle gave me some awesome parts for my bike. Aluminum cam and primary covers. I was stoked to say the least. I've been wanting to change up the bike for a while and this provided the perfect opportunity.

I made my way over to my Uncles garage. The man is a marksman with an angle grinder. Forty years of racing and building stock cars will do that to you. After trimming the fat off the cam cover I got to work hand polishing the two pieces. I know it would be much easier with a polishing wheel but I'm stubborn. You gotta eat dirt to appreciate a steak. So two hours and a couple Coors later, I was done. We finished up the night listening to Outlaw Country, debating firearms, and talkin bout the glory days of circle track racing.

The final stop in my new covers journey was Wes's house. He's been riding and building motorcycles for longer than I've had breath in my lungs. It was a no brainer to have him do the cover. Could I have done myself? Possibly, but I am glad I did not. The cam cover went on effortlessly. Some minor things were different, but all in all it worked out. We then made our way to the primary. Pulled off the old one, checked it against the new one, numbers match, let's go. It doesn't go. Harley decided to change the bushing on the shifter. Way to go champs. Take my money and my dreams. Hours of polishing, tear down, and general excitement just shot down in front of me.

It was 11pm and no possible way to fix the new cover. So we had to bolt the old one back on. It didn't feel good. Like that talk with your parents after you wrecked their car. Or that feeling you have when your boss calls you in the middle of the day. But for some reason I liked the bi-polar engine covers. Something about it being wrong was enjoyable. A phyisical reminder that I do not know what I'm doing. To appreciate those dudes around me that do know, and are willing to help. I know what I am. I'm a sales goon. I'm a musician. I'm an artist. I am not a mechanic. I don't know the firing order a Triumph parallel twin or the torque specs of the inner primary on a shovelhead. Even if I did, it would only make me dangerous. My grandfather told me that the best thing you can do is watch, listen, and learn. Im certainly glad I did. Leave your pride at the door. Listen to the people that have done it before you. You might walk away with something more than a tricked out bike.