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..its 50 others! Let me explain...

My '66 Triumph 650 Tiger has been giving me fits lately. It all started when I decided to change handle bars. I wanted to get the one-piece billet laden crap off the bike since they didn't fit the style of the bike. So, I found a great pair of "Z" bars that I knew would look great. Well, first off, I was going from 1/2" bars to 7/8th bars. Everything had to be changed. Clutch handle. Throttle assembly. Cables, ETC... Plus, the new bars needed risers. First thing I do is call a local guy that sells Triumph parts. No problem. He has what I need and I buy from him. Found risers at another shop that needed to be ordered. I found out that you just can't go to your local Harley shop anymore and retro-fit anything. Those days are over! Its all shrink-wrapped, year specific, HD logo all over the friggin' place. Damn yuppies. So I support my local indies and get my stuff from them. Risers finally come, but they need reducers. That takes another two weeks. I get all my parts in one place and put em all on the bike. looks good, but now the damn tranny is being weird. It grinds into first. Never did that before the change... so I adjust the cable six ways to Sunday. Still no luck. So, I ride it anyway. Get chased by cops ETC... Finally, I'm tired of grinding first, not being able to find neutral ETC.. and take the bike to someone who knows Triumphs.

Paul is the kind of guy that pulled brand new Triumphs out of thier crates and sold them new. All he knows are Brit bikes. I've been going to him for 8 years now. He built every motor of every Triumph I've ever owned, and there's been a few. He's one of those guys that keeps you up at night worrying about his health because he's the only one who will ever touch your bike besides you. Its OK when he yells at me for buying from someone else and getting the wrong part, only so he can fix it. He knows that he's the only one that knows my bike. He's like part of the family. Uncle Paul. He knows my wife, my kid, and my bike. I don't know why I try and do it myself or buy from someone else. I always end up taking the two hour ride into Jersey. Far off the beaten path, up the stone driveway to a little garage full of Nortons, BSA's and Trumps. Usually when I get there its late, but the garage light is always on, and in the Winter the kerosene heater is glowing orange. There's Paul in a greasy T-shirt and suspenders hunched over someones baby, adjusting something. Cigarette dangling from his mouth, caught up in his work. I could spend all night BS-ing about bikes or life in general. Each time I go I hear a lecture about how that "other guy" should have his parts and tools taken from him. how he sold me cheap junk or the wrong part. How "this" or "that" should have been genuine Triumph. How I got taken. Sometimes he lays his part and the cheap part next to each other to show the difference. Most times he waits until I get there and throws them right in the trash can and just gives me a scowl.

Was the time saved worth the expense? No. Never. Because in reality, I really enjoy the two hour ride in my crappy pick-up with no radio. I've made the trip a zillion times already in every kind of weather. rain, blinding snow, warm summer nights with all the windows open and my bike in the back.

Paul is one of those guys that you take care of. I never argue price with Paul. No need to. He's worth every penny.

And that clutch problem? It was a combination of cheap parts. Cheap handle. Cheap cable. cheap clutch fibers and metal plates. warped at that.

Just got a call from Uncle Paul. She's ready. Time to take that two hour, lonely ride to Jersey. Hope he doesn't bitch too bad..

Spike
 

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Good tale! I got a Buddy Stett thats like that. but hell just the stuff I learn from standing next to him......wow
Spike! said:
..its 50 others! Let me explain...

My '66 Triumph 650 Tiger has been giving me fits lately. It all started when I decided to change handle bars. I wanted to get the one-piece billet laden crap off the bike since they didn't fit the style of the bike. So, I found a great pair of "Z" bars that I knew would look great. Well, first off, I was going from 1/2" bars to 7/8th bars. Everything had to be changed. Clutch handle. Throttle assembly. Cables, ETC... Plus, the new bars needed risers. First thing I do is call a local guy that sells Triumph parts. No problem. He has what I need and I buy from him. Found risers at another shop that needed to be ordered. I found out that you just can't go to your local Harley shop anymore and retro-fit anything. Those days are over! Its all shrink-wrapped, year specific, HD logo all over the friggin' place. Damn yuppies. So I support my local indies and get my stuff from them. Risers finally come, but they need reducers. That takes another two weeks. I get all my parts in one place and put em all on the bike. looks good, but now the damn tranny is being weird. It grinds into first. Never did that before the change... so I adjust the cable six ways to Sunday. Still no luck. So, I ride it anyway. Get chased by cops ETC... Finally, I'm tired of grinding first, not being able to find neutral ETC.. and take the bike to someone who knows Triumphs.

Paul is the kind of guy that pulled brand new Triumphs out of thier crates and sold them new. All he knows are Brit bikes. I've been going to him for 8 years now. He built every motor of every Triumph I've ever owned, and there's been a few. He's one of those guys that keeps you up at night worrying about his health because he's the only one who will ever touch your bike besides you. Its OK when he yells at me for buying from someone else and getting the wrong part, only so he can fix it. He knows that he's the only one that knows my bike. He's like part of the family. Uncle Paul. He knows my wife, my kid, and my bike. I don't know why I try and do it myself or buy from someone else. I always end up taking the two hour ride into Jersey. Far off the beaten path, up the stone driveway to a little garage full of Nortons, BSA's and Trumps. Usually when I get there its late, but the garage light is always on, and in the Winter the kerosene heater is glowing orange. There's Paul in a greasy T-shirt and suspenders hunched over someones baby, adjusting something. Cigarette dangling from his mouth, caught up in his work. I could spend all night BS-ing about bikes or life in general. Each time I go I hear a lecture about how that "other guy" should have his parts and tools taken from him. how he sold me cheap junk or the wrong part. How "this" or "that" should have been genuine Triumph. How I got taken. Sometimes he lays his part and the cheap part next to each other to show the difference. Most times he waits until I get there and throws them right in the trash can and just gives me a scowl.

Was the time saved worth the expense? No. Never. Because in reality, I really enjoy the two hour ride in my crappy pick-up with no radio. I've made the trip a zillion times already in every kind of weather. rain, blinding snow, warm summer nights with all the windows open and my bike in the back.

Paul is one of those guys that you take care of. I never argue price with Paul. No need to. He's worth every penny.

And that clutch problem? It was a combination of cheap parts. Cheap handle. Cheap cable. cheap clutch fibers and metal plates. warped at that.

Just got a call from Uncle Paul. She's ready. Time to take that two hour, lonely ride to Jersey. Hope he doesn't bitch too bad..

Spike
 

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Spike-
Why don't ya take a camera along on your 2 hour ride and show us some photos of the bikes in Paul's secret cave? Sounds like an interesting place.

That'd be much more entertaining than just listening to you bitch. haha.
XXXs OOOs-
Rob
 

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Spike, now come on, we all know the Amish are masters of limey repair.....why you have to go to Jersey?

I'm with Nappy, get some pics.
 
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