It was several years ago on a Saturday morning that I awoke to the promise of a beautiful day with temperatures hovering in the mid-seventies and little to no threat of rain. For the first time in a couple of weeks I got to sleep in and it was
about 7:30’ish when I got out of bed and looked out the window. Judy had
made plans with our daughter to take our grandson and our neighbor to a cooking show and expo for the day which left me to my own devices.
Peering out the window, I quickly laid my days plans and plotted a
road trip. I had but a few small chores to do so I decided also to change
the oil in the bike from all three compartments. I checked my maintenance
log on the bike, that I keep stored in the computer, and confirmed that it
was time to change the crankcase along with the primary and transmission.
“No problem!” I told myself. An hour tops for the change and quick
wash (I always slop and drip when changing oil in the bike no matter how
careful.) and the few minor chores might add another half hour to forty-five
minutes. I’ll be on the road with the wind in my face and the motor singing
its beautiful baritone song by eleven at the latest!!!
The first thing I had to do was go to Advance Auto
(about ten miles south) and pick up the six quarts of Castrol Synthetic
20w-50. (I have been using Castrol Synthetic since using it for the 2010 Jackson
Hole trip. I’ve come to trust it and it is a “Full” synthetic as opposed to
a “blend” like H-D and others. Plus, it’s usually a buck or two cheaper and
almost four dollars cheaper per quart than H-D synthetic oil.) I found the
oil I was in search of and hastily scarfed up the last six quarts remaining
on the shelf like they were the antidote to a disease. Then a quick stop at
the Harley shop for an oil filter and O-ring seals for the crankcase,
primary, and transmission drain plugs and the large O-ring for the primary
cover and I was home by around 9:30 and the bike was good and warm for the
oil change.
I shut the bike off in the driveway and let it cool enough to keep
from deep frying my hands while draining the oil. (Keep in mind I have no
real good garage or any kind of lift to do any work on my bike so I must
lay on my back on the blacktop driveway for any and all work I do on the
bike.) While the bike was cooling I started to round up the few needed tools
for my simple maintenance job.
The drain pan, the 5/8″ wrench, oil filter wrench and the 1/4″
Allen head for the transmission cap, were all gathered quickly, if not in
record time. But where the hell is my torx head drivers that I need for my
primary cover?! “Lewieee” I hollered to my son. I got a faint and tired
“What?” reply. “Do you have my Torx head drivers and my 1/4″ drive ratchet
set?” I really didn’t have to ask. “I think so.” came a reply from deep
within the depths of his bedroom. “Are they in your truck bed tool box?” I
asked. “Yeaaaaa” came an annoyed reply. “I need them NOW. Will you go get
them?” I didn’t care how annoyed he was. I could have easily got them myself
but Lewie took ’em and didn’t put them back. Lewie will get ’em.
I got the AWOL tooling from Lewie and began the draining process.
All was going well and all the oils were pooled nicely into the drain pan
with only a few small drippings on the driveway. Pretty good compared to my
usual sloppy procedure. I cleaned the drain plugs and installed new O-ring
seals on each and installed each in its own place. Next, I made a funnel to
fill the primary out of a plastic food container lid and began filling the
primary first. I got the primary almost full when I noticed the bottle of
oil was 10w-40 and not for the V-twin but for crotch rockets or
“performance bikes”. “SON.. OF.. A .. B****!!” I yelled to myself. I checked
the remaining five quarts and had three 20w-50 quarts and two 10w-40 plus
the one empty in my hand. I must have grabbed three of the wrong ones in my
haste or the stocker placed three in the wrong place. Didn’t matter, now I
had to drain the 10w-40 out of the primary, run back to DuBois and exchange
the remaining two for the proper 20w-50.
I, once again, removed the primary drain plug and let it drain
while I took my truck back to Advance Auto and exchange the oil.
I get back to Advance Auto and make the switch and just as I’m pulling out
onto the four-lane boulevard I noticed the city workers digging up the road
ahead with police stopping traffic. “I’m NOT waiting in this!” I yelled to
no one and attempted to turn around to get on an alternate route. No such
luck. I was on the right-hand lane of my side of the four lane and there was
traffic to my left so that I couldn’t even pull an illegal U-turn!! I was
stuck and I was mad. All I could do was fume and watch the army of happy
motorcyclists drive by on the crossroad ahead. They all seemed to be smiling
and aware of my predicament as each looked my way as if to say
“Na-na-nana-naa”.
By the time I got back home it was after twelve and I was in no
mood for any other hold-ups or delays. I carried my exchange back to the
bike and as I got to it I accidently kicked the small plastic food container
that held my five torx head screws for the primary cover and the primary
drain plug. All of which are now scattered in the lawn and buried in the
grass. “MOTHER******!” I yelled out loud and for split second I wondered if
it just wouldn’t be faster to drive back to the Harley shop and buy the
runaway screws and plug. But I got down on my knees and finally found the
fixtures after, what seemed like, an eternity.
I reinstalled the primary drain plug, double checked the label on
the oil bottle and started refilling the primary case. About half way to
full, a gust of wind came along and lifted the bag containing the primary
cover O-ring above the bike and into the hedgerow along my yard. “Screw
You!!” I shouted to it as it was blowing away and I finished filling the
primary before setting out on a quest to retrieve it.
I finally, finally finished filing the primary case and set out to
find the air borne gasket. I didn’t have to look too far for there it was,
hung up in the thickest thorniest part of the whole hedgerow. Trying to
walk into the thicket would be like walking into, well, a thorny hedgerow.
So, I found a long stick and tried to snag it. The moment the stick came in
contact with the bag containing the precious O-ring, the bag fell. Missing
every thorn every limb every anything that might have kept it from hitting
the ground.
If I wasn’t boiling before I’m ready to blow a gasket myself now.
I yelled at the bag, I called the bag names, I swore at the bag but the bag
refused to acknowledge my pleas and demands. I went to get the rake.
After suffering a few minor thorn sticks and scrapes I retrieved
the bag. I carefully opened the bag and took out the gasket, placed it on
the cover and installed the cover on the primary case. I then removed the
old oil filter but since adding the oil cooler to my bike I had to tip the
filter slightly to get it out from between the motor and oil cooler tubes.
When I did the filter emptied itself of the old oil. The drip pan was
nowhere near that area.
Next, I filled the crank and transmission case and reinstalled the
caps and screwed on the new filter. Now to get rid of the pan full of oil. I
usually sprinkle the old oil alongside of the road to help control the lawn
edge and this time was no different. I took the pan full of old motor oil
and laid down a good flow and semi-straight edge of oil along the edge of my
yard where it meets the road. Once that was done I happen to look down and
see oil had splashed up on my riding boots and covered the bottom leg of my
brand new Carhart jeans.
It was now after three in the afternoon and I still needed to wash
the bike and check for leaks. So, I got all the equipment out for such a job,
bucket, mit, soap, and scrub brush and started to wash the build-up of road
dust, dried bug juice and freshly slopped oil from the bike. I was in a real
hurry now as the day was getting older and time for ridding was slipping.
Just then I stepped back and tramped right on the hose nozzle spraying water
up my pants and shirt and onto my face. That did it. I lost it. I let loose
with a string of obscenities too long to type here, and kicked the water
bucket as hard as I possibly could, putting my foot right through the side
of the bucket and further soaking my wet clothes.
Nothing I could do could make this day worse. Nothing else could
go wrong. I finished washing the bike with another bucket. I dried it with
the leaf blower and then started it up to check for leaks.
No leaks were found but the day had rapidly deteriorated to
four-thirty in the afternoon. I did get to ride but only for a short fifty
mile loop. The rest of the day was spent figuring just how much that oil
change cost me.
Long Lonesome Highway 