Welcome to Tardville
Quite an event-filled weekend around the Sands ranch. By event filled, of course, I mean: I am a tarded.
First: I’m down in the basement bathroom and hear someone ringing the doorbell. I had taken off my shirt because I had intended on taking a shower, so I proceeded to put said shirt back on….and quickly punched through the light fixture on the ceiling. Oops. Good thing we’re getting a new one of those. Eventually.
The other tard event involves my beloved broken motorcycles. My first is a 1974 Honda CB750 (of dubious origins) that I purchased over two years ago. I spent a month getting it running only to promptly hit a car with it. Trust me, it’s even lamer than you can imagine. Thus, I was suddenly in the market for a parts bike. I waited until about 6 months ago when I found yet another ‘74 Honda; this time a CB550. I was giddy as a schoolgirl; I’d take the frontend off the donor 550, slap it onto the 750, and head down the road. Flash forward to today when I spent 2 hours cleaning 30+ years worth of grime off the 750 (minus front end) and attempted to mate the 550 forks: only to realize they’re an inch too short in every respect.
WHAT AN IDIOT!!!
I never really measured the two bikes that much, as everything looked so similar. Yeah. So I’m now stuck with two old bikes, both in pieces. And that is why I’m a tard.
Hopefully I can still get the 550 back into running condition before the end of the summer. Maybe I’ll follow Veronica’s advice from now on and quit buying broken motorcycles that are older than me.