I have said a hundred different ways how Adam has taken care of me, planned ahead for me, and yanked me out of the fire, time after time. But I want to write a post, so I can read this and remember years from now.
When the bike blew in Indiana, it was Adam that figured out how to get it fixed, and who went oujt and found a “spare” bike on Craigslist, and ran over to Tampa to pick it up and haul it home. He removed its engine before I got home. And when that jerk decided to deliver the dead red machine on a Sunday afternoon, it was Adam that gave up his weekend, opened the shop and met the bike. I was tootling around Ohio in a rental car, once again oblivious to everything.
Yes he swapped the motors, but first he read all the repair blogs to research the details of Bergman engines, and is now versed in the nuances of their weaknesses and how to repair them. This even though there are only three of us with Bergies in the shop. From the blogs he knew to order a third party replacement anchor bolt, not a factory made OEM. He watched the YouTubes from the so-called expert on how to disassemble a Bergie engine, and decided to do the swap instead. He’s shown me the open pieces of the exploded motor (pictures attached).
Adam lets me try to work on my bike, like the way you let your 8 year old help around the house. He has to sit quietly, biting his tongue, knowing I’m doing it wrong. Then it takes him longer to fix things than if he had just done it himself correctly in the first place. On the morning I left, for instance, I swung by the shop so he could attach that last piece of windshield trim, and he let me check my own oil on the new engine. It looked empty to me, so I added a quart. It was because the engine WAS SO NEW. My blown motor had almost 30,000 miles, hard miles. The oil gauge window was always black and easy to read. The new motor, just swapped in, has only 5,000 miles. The oil in the window gauge is still honey colored. When I looked, I didn’t see any black oil, just like so many times before due to the notorious internal oil leak. I thought it was empty.
Of course, the crankcase was full. I added a half quart of oil, and more, and more, then realized the golden color was full. Adam, as I was hurrying to catch the train in Orlando that morning, had to drop the drain plug and empty the oil, then top it back off. That was ME “helping”.
Now that I’ve been on the road a couple weeks, I found so many other things he fixed that week, without asking, and without a lot of fanfare. Of course, he tore apart the handle bars to find the electrical problem that killed my low beams. He found a loose wire and reattached it.. Once again I have both low and high beams. He claims he did nothing, but my USB charger is repaired. I think its from fooling with the dashboard. He ordered and replaced the glove box door that jerk in Detroit broke. So I have a fully functional dashboard again.
He bought and installed a new phone holder for me. I’d been using my cup holder for my phone, but the new device holds it rigidly, so I can now type into google maps (or read texts) while at a red light. He then seated the screw on the coffee cup holder that had been rattling loose and falling off randomly while I drove (charming!).
He reattached all my drooping LED’s, which I had meant to do. Then replaced the clip on my motor cowling so the main screw now actually holds it in place. And he readjusted my seat riser.
Finally, I lost my wonderful red jacket … somewhere, who know where. I was no longer wearing it once I was riding home in the rental car, and I ended up leaving it in a motel somewhere. Adam researched having a new one dropped shipped to me, then when I decided to stay for my extra church meeting he ordered one rushed so I could leave town wearing my replacement. Oh, and he disassembled my helmet and repaired the cable that pulls down the sunshade visor, that I managed somehow to detach the first week of summer. It works again.
When I left town for NJ. Everything was working. So well it was actually kinda freaky strange.