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Apr. 2nd, 2004 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafoc
To put the battery back in the Warhorse, I had to place four screws and four bolts. Two of those, the ones in the battery terminals, can't be avoided. But four screws and two bolts, just to hold the battery box closed? I'm sorry, but that's just a bit excessive. Over dinner this evening I thought of two different ways they could have done it using only one bolt.
On the other hand... there's a saying that goes "You can never make anything idiot-proof, because idiots are so ingenious." And I'm a very ingenious idiot. I very carefully marked everything last fall so I wouldn't put the battery in backwards, but I managed to put the markings themselves on backward. Fortunately for me, the engineers at Suzuki were clever enough to design things so that the battery won't connect unless it's the right way around. Thus was disaster averted.
The Friendly Warhorse, though, was not so friendly when I woke him up.
"Huh? Wha.. YOU TOOK MY BATTERY OUT!"
"I'm sorry. I had to do it. Winter, you know."
"Winter? What's that? No, I don't know! I've been here helpless for.. you took my heart out, I've been DEAD, so I don't KNOW how long you left me here!" And he twitched the bolt I was working on so the wrench slipped and I barked a knuckle. No project is complete until you bleed on it, you know.
"Now, motorcycle, please try to be reasonable. We had snow, we had ice."
"What's that?"
"Water. Like rain, you know? But it comes down and forms solid sheets on the road, so your wheels would slip. Or it comes down as a white crystalline solid. You wouldn't like it."
"A likely story. Solid water! Do you think I'm stupid as a Harley? I'm a world traveler, I know.. wait a minute. What's that heap of white stuff out by the mailbox?"
"Snow. It covered everything, even the roads."
The Warhorse shuddered into a rough idle. He shook like a real horse who has just seen a pack of wolves, and the air was filled with the unmistakable odor of unburned gasoline. "That.. that..."
"Is snow. Right."
"All right, I forgive you, but you're not going to ride me in THAT, are you?"
"Wouldn't think of it. It's off the roads. We should be OK until after sunset-- then the liquid water on the roads is likely to freeze again, you know."
"I don't believe we'll be safe. I'm not going."
I adjusted the choke and hit start again. Once again, he shuddered to reluctant life. "Oh, come on. Summer isn't that far off, and we have to warm you up to be ready."
"You won't ride me into any of that snow stuff?"
"Wouldn't think of it."
"Oh.. well. OK, then."
It wasn't much of a ride, and it was pretty cold, but we got back in good condition. And there was no snow on the roads.
The Warhorse and I are friends again now. He's safe in the garage, dreaming of warm summer nights. He has his own opinions about things, like any good steed would, but we're going into our second summer together now, and I think he knows he can keep me out of trouble most of the time. It looks like it might be a good summer.
On the other hand... there's a saying that goes "You can never make anything idiot-proof, because idiots are so ingenious." And I'm a very ingenious idiot. I very carefully marked everything last fall so I wouldn't put the battery in backwards, but I managed to put the markings themselves on backward. Fortunately for me, the engineers at Suzuki were clever enough to design things so that the battery won't connect unless it's the right way around. Thus was disaster averted.
The Friendly Warhorse, though, was not so friendly when I woke him up.
"Huh? Wha.. YOU TOOK MY BATTERY OUT!"
"I'm sorry. I had to do it. Winter, you know."
"Winter? What's that? No, I don't know! I've been here helpless for.. you took my heart out, I've been DEAD, so I don't KNOW how long you left me here!" And he twitched the bolt I was working on so the wrench slipped and I barked a knuckle. No project is complete until you bleed on it, you know.
"Now, motorcycle, please try to be reasonable. We had snow, we had ice."
"What's that?"
"Water. Like rain, you know? But it comes down and forms solid sheets on the road, so your wheels would slip. Or it comes down as a white crystalline solid. You wouldn't like it."
"A likely story. Solid water! Do you think I'm stupid as a Harley? I'm a world traveler, I know.. wait a minute. What's that heap of white stuff out by the mailbox?"
"Snow. It covered everything, even the roads."
The Warhorse shuddered into a rough idle. He shook like a real horse who has just seen a pack of wolves, and the air was filled with the unmistakable odor of unburned gasoline. "That.. that..."
"Is snow. Right."
"All right, I forgive you, but you're not going to ride me in THAT, are you?"
"Wouldn't think of it. It's off the roads. We should be OK until after sunset-- then the liquid water on the roads is likely to freeze again, you know."
"I don't believe we'll be safe. I'm not going."
I adjusted the choke and hit start again. Once again, he shuddered to reluctant life. "Oh, come on. Summer isn't that far off, and we have to warm you up to be ready."
"You won't ride me into any of that snow stuff?"
"Wouldn't think of it."
"Oh.. well. OK, then."
It wasn't much of a ride, and it was pretty cold, but we got back in good condition. And there was no snow on the roads.
The Warhorse and I are friends again now. He's safe in the garage, dreaming of warm summer nights. He has his own opinions about things, like any good steed would, but we're going into our second summer together now, and I think he knows he can keep me out of trouble most of the time. It looks like it might be a good summer.
