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Old 06-03-2013, 05:51 AM   #31
tmlee
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Offcenter View Post
Being a pilot myself, what I want to know is, how in the HELL does a plane
from RI headed to Florida end up in ALBANY???
That's in the wrong direction!!!
....and....
If that flight was INTENDING to go to Florida, a distance of "about" 1000 miles, by FAA law it should have had enough fuel on board at takeoff to
reach Florida PLUS enough to fly another hour in case of emergency!!
WTF?????
The flights were PVD - EWR - FLL. The divert to Albany was on the PVD - EWR leg. The fuel required for the weather that day would have required fuel to reach Newark plus 45 minutes reserve. Looks like traffic delays into EWR forced the divert.
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Old 06-03-2013, 09:35 AM   #32
bobnoxious67
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In.

How about some shots of the new scoot...
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Old 06-03-2013, 02:04 PM   #33
lilolita OP
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Ok where to begin?

Well, I'm home. I have to publicly thank tmlee for working like a banshee behind the scenes to get me on flights out of Fort Lauderdale and Dulles so I could sleep in my own bed Saturday night. And to my long-suffering boyfriend, cheesebot, who schlepped up to Logan at midnight to bring me back home.

I'm bikeless and out the cost of the bike, and I really don't know what to do. This just sucks. I had a couple "worst case scenarios" but what actually happened was no where on my radar.

But just a couple of days ago, everything was great!

Someone left a copy of the Irish Mirror (a rag) lying on a seat in the Newark airport, so I got to catch up on what's going on with the Lions tour.


I followed the advice about where to sleep in the Ft Lauderdale airport (terminal 1 by baggage carousel 6) which worked out perfectly. I've even discovered the joys of the "family bathroom" which is a separate, very large bathroom that you can lock. There's a padded bench, a baby changing table, sink and toilet, all in a space as large as a studio apartment in New York. I was able to clean up without having to worry about other people.

The following morning, Saturday, June 1, I woke around 6:50 am. Not bad considering there were people milling about. All those years living around the corner from a fire station have given me a tremendous "sleep through anything" ability.

I got a cab around 8am to Competition Cycle Center, which is very, very close to the airport. My cabby was Haitian and has six daughters. He didn't seem particularly pleased about the lack of a son.


I was way early so I sat down on my duffel and waited for the 9am opening. Around 8:45 a red Mustang pulled up and a beautiful, tall blonde stepped out and opened the gate. He called over, "You the girl from Rhode Island?" Did I look that obvious?

After a quick phone call with FlaRider1 about places to look out for in the Keys, I walked into the shop. Holy smokes, it was ginormous. Is that a Norwegian flag I spot (for cheesebot)?


Buddy scooter models! (my daily commutin' bike)


After waiting a short time, one of the mechanics showed up and brought the Husky over from the shop shop to the storefront.


The bike was at Competition to have a couple of things done to it (new tires, oil change, air filter, new front sprocket) as well as the fact that the guy who sold me the bike was no longer going to be in southern Florida. He was driving out to California to retrieve his stable of KTMs from his former girlfriend's house.

Chris, the owner of Competition (and the Mustang driver), suggested I should take the bike for a quick run around the neighborhood to get used to it before loading it up with my camping gear.


I pulled on my helmet and swung a leg over. Sheesh, it's a tall bike! I couldn't flat foot even though I'm 5'11" with a 34" inseam. I started him up and proceeded out of the parking lot with care. I took a right onto Old Griffin Road.

Shifted into second and realized the mirror was out of whack. Adjusted the mirror and could see a pick-up coming up behind me.

Squeeze in the clutch, roll off the throttle, slip toe beneath the shifter, pull up. Hmmm, no click.

I eased out the clutch, and yes, indeed, I was still in second. Rinse & repeat. Still nothing.

I took a right onto a neighborhood side street to check out what was going on.

No matter how hard I pulled up, I just couldn't get into third gear. I rode back to the shop where Chris was waiting with a big smile. Unfortunately I no longer had one on my face.

Chris took the bike out to see if I was just doing something wrong (although really, I think I know how to shift). He came back a short while later, same verdict. It just wouldn't shift beyond second gear.
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Old 06-03-2013, 02:16 PM   #34
NoVa Rider
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Hopefully the seller will make this right. . ..

(that's assuming the wrenches didn't wrench it to its current unrideable state. . ..)

NoVa Rider screwed with this post 06-03-2013 at 02:21 PM
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Old 06-03-2013, 02:17 PM   #35
Twilight Error
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Is the guy who sold you a crapped transmission going to make this right, and by right, I mean a refund of the purchase price and the cost of your return tickets?
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Old 06-03-2013, 02:35 PM   #36
jxg
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hopefully he will, but...

my guess is the originally owner is going to say it was fine when it was left at the shop.
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Old 06-03-2013, 03:04 PM   #37
Drewha
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Dam, sorry to hear that Lilo. Any news yet?
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Old 06-03-2013, 03:12 PM   #38
jgormley
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That sucks!
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Old 06-03-2013, 03:28 PM   #39
JaxObsessed
RushMoran....... :D
 
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Location: From Alabama to Newfoundland it's all Appalachian
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Oh that is not good... UGH. Best wishes for it being something very simple to fix.
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Old 06-03-2013, 04:13 PM   #40
lilolita OP
fahr mit mir
 
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Standing in the unrelenting sun, enveloped by humidity so thick I could taste it, I looked at Chris and said, "I don't know what to do."

I pulled out my phone, pulled up the number of the person who sold it to me, and pressed the green telephone icon. It rang, rang again, and then I heard, "Hello [insert real name here]...you in Florida?"

"Uh well, um, Don, ya see, the bike doesn't want to get out of second. I don't know what to do? Are you still in Florida?"

"Yeah, I can be over there in about a half hour."

So I have to say, Don is a good guy. He didn't have to pick up. For all I knew, he was already back in California, retrieving his Orange Crush collection from the claws of a former girlfriend.

Don loading the Husky into the back of his truck with help from one of the Competition guys


I hung around the shop (thanks everyone for letting me hang around) which, thankfully, was air conditioned. I chatted with a few customers who were having tires mounted. One guy was local and told me about rides on Route 27 that sound like they get a little out of hand. I was gonna take 27 north out of Florida but hadn't planned on the 130 mph speed limit. Another guy was from New York, had just moved down a month ago. We commiserated on how completely crap the weather is.

Don showed up and confirmed that yes, indeed, first and second was all we were getting. Chris and his employees had been doing research on the innernetz but hadn't come across any solutions. They did, however, give a call out to a slew of shops to see if anyone could have a look.

A little while later, a guy called Roger showed up. Gabriel, one of the guys working at Competition who I had spent time talking to on the phone, said Roger knew his stuff and I could trust him. Gabriel was supposed to be lucky charm, my arch angel. I was hoping he was right.

Roger was a real character. He was out of touch initially as he was attending a daughter's high school graduation. He thought the problem was a clip in the clutch that had come undone. I'm doing my best here to explain all the mechanical stuff; it's not my forte...there is a reason I keep cheesebot around :)

Roger, with Don acting supervisor, working on the Husky.


Don and I were to follow Roger to his shop in Miramar, Florida. Don doesn't have a fixed addressed so his truck was filled with all kinds of interesting stuff. He had to move small cardboard boxes filled with bike parts, random duffel bags filled with who knows what, laundry detergent, hardcover books. He carved out a little nook, I squeezed myself in, and off we headed following Roger.

Miramar seems like the neighborhood where I live, except signs are in English. Shabby around the edges, the kind of place where I would find my stolen DRZ. I felt at home.

We pulled down a small alley and into a lot lined with garages on each side.


The most ridiculous thing about this location is that there looked to be shops that lowered cars (I counted 3 lowered Hondas) yet there were speed bumps every 25 feet. I don't know why speed bumps were necessary; what the hell used to go on in this alley?

Roger's shop was awesome. It was basically a one car garage stuffed with bike parts, posters of scantily clad women draped over motorcycles (ah, at least he didn't have the one of me ), a poster with the Jamaican national anthem, and a flat-screen TV blaring the Cosby show. I kid you not.


Roger had a guy working for him; unfortunately I didn't get his name. He's from Trenton so we bonded as south Jersey natives. The bike was like catnip to him; he couldn't stop touching it. He took a picture of it. He kept saying, "Girl, you must know how to ride." He couldn't get his head around what I was attempting to do. We're committed to riding back up to Jersey in the next year together :)

After Roger got back from a Dunkin' Donuts run (really, is this now Rhode Islander going to deny someone a DD run?), he got down to business. It was fun to watch him to pull the case off. I don't usually watch when cheesebot does work on the bikes because there's not a lot of room in our garage and it's usually stifling hot. Here, I didn't have a choice (although Roger did offer me to go to the air-conditioned office up a rickety staircase).



As Roger dug into the clutch, which was actually really cool as there are so many little bitty parts, like little ball things and springs and all kinds of little things, there was a piece that had little arms and one of the arms was broken off, missing. cheesebot says it was the clutch basket. I know that Roger said it was because someone used a screwdriver to hold it instead of this cool tool he had that looked like a vice grip with extra arms. Roger was so patient with me, explaining what he was doing and showing me stuff. I don't like when people hang over my shoulder when I'm working, and I didn't want to freak him out, but he was totally cool.

As all this is going on, people are coming and going. There's like five guys and two girls hanging about, plus me and Don, Roger and the guy from Jersey was was working on one of the quads. I asked Jersey guy if there were places to ride the quads or did they just race around the streets like hooligans. He tilted his head and looked at me. I think he was thinking, why does this scrawny white girl know this? I told him there was just a big crackdown in my neighborhood in Providence. Me and cheese came home one night after a ride and there were 4 ATVs in a lot with cop cars surrounding them place and some very glum looking boys. Jersey boy told me the cops don't chase.

So after all the digging into the clutch, the thing still wouldn't shift beyond second. Roger pronounces the case will need to be split, and he's not up for that. He buttoned everything up, and we loaded the bike back on Don's truck. I can't even tell you how long we were there; maybe 2 hours, maybe longer? Don hands over forty bucks.



I climb back into Don's truck, and after a quick swing by Competition to ask if they had a missing bolt from the skidplate, he takes me back to his motel.

Yeah, yeah, sordid details. We still had a little time before I had to be at the airport, so he let me take a shower. And how good did it feel to scrub away all the dirt and sweat that is southern Florida weather. Again people, HOW do you live down there?

In fresh clothing, and after a peek at some of Don's Moab adventures, I climbed into the truck for the last time as we headed toward the airport.

At the airport in Ft Lauderdale


Don left at the Fort Lauderdale airport, Ortlieb duffel in one hand, bag stuffed with my tankbag and tiedowns in another, helmet slung over my shoulder. Before I shuffled into the terminal, I got one last view of my Husky.


I got a flight to Dulles, hoping that there was a seat on the Dulles to Logan plane. Once in Dulles, the outstanding customer service folks got me the Logan flight (although my duffel was still going to be on the following day's Providence flight). As I'm sitting at the gate, realizing everyone else has boarded, I walked up to the desk and asked James if he had called all the standbys.

"What's your name? Oh yes, you're in first class."

As I'm sitting in the oversized reclining seat, slurping down the free alcohol and gnawing on a banana (really, this the snack at 11:30 at night?), I got a little bit sad. It was the first time I had a chance to catch up on what had been going on.

I thought to myself, "You're supposed to be in a tent, stifled by humidity, and worrying about alligators and fire ants. Instead, you're sitting next to a guy who obviously doesn't like flying (seriously how many pieces of gum can you shove into your mouth), being served wine by a mick flight attendant named Sean, having your first experience flying in first class."

As I was walking down the escalator in Logan, I called the cheese who zipped out of the "cellphone waiting lot" to pick me up curbside. After I settled into the seat, snapping the seatbelt into place, I just sorted choked out that I was sad because this was my chance to prove to myself that I could do this. I could travel a long way, all alone, by following a GPS track. This was going to be a big deal for me. I like my boyfriend, and I like to travel with him. We work so well together on our trips because we have our own jobs. It's a real synchronicity. But this time, I was gonna have to do everything. And the added GPS issue (I'm a rollchart, paper map girl) was going to prove to me that I could do it. And now, that's gone. Because when given the choice, I would much prefer to travel together because I like him.

Ok, enough mushy stuff.

What's next?

Well, I talked to Don today (Monday). The bike is at a shop he trusts. They're going to dig into it. We need a clutch basket. There are two in the country, but because of the KTM purchase (whatever you want to call it), the warehouse is closed for two weeks so no parts will be leaving. We don't know what other parts are needed.

I called a local Husky dealer to ask if they had a clutch basket. He said they don't keep them in stock, and he also checked to see if there was something aftermarket. No. He then asked what the deal was, and offered that I should call the California DMV and ask about how to sell it back to the original owner.

You see, the title is from California even though the bike is in Florida.

The good news is that the CA DMV told me I could just have Don sign the same CA title on the back. All he would need is that and a bill of sale. Deep down I want out, but I also don't want to screw him over. I just don't know what to do.

We'll see what happens tomorrow.
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Old 06-03-2013, 04:25 PM   #41
CallMeBoog
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"Deep down I want out, but I also don't want to screw him over."


Don't you feel a little screwed over? What did your flights home cost? That could have been all of your gas and food for the ride home. Just my honest opinion, and I know you didn't ask for it, but I'd be having my money back...pronto.
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Old 06-03-2013, 04:40 PM   #42
Goldburg
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Quote:
Originally Posted by LilGreenBooger View Post
"Deep down I want out, but I also don't want to screw him over."


Don't you feel a little screwed over? What did your flights home cost? That could have been all of your gas and food for the ride home. Just my honest opinion, and I know you didn't ask for it, but I'd be having my money back...pronto.
Yep, ask politely but firmly. Mention your gazillion ADV friends who are watching...
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Old 06-03-2013, 04:40 PM   #43
Twilight Error
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I would shift into wait-and-see mode. Whats wrong, what will it cost and who gets to pay that bill. I much prefer to think you're the victim of dumb bad luck rather than some attempt to unload a bike with a bad transmission. You paid, in good faith, for a ride that would get you home and beyond. It didn't get you around the block. Its on the PO to make this right or return your money. You shouldn't feel like you're screwing him (but I do know where that feeling comes from, and it does you credit), you paid for a fully functional motorcycle and didn't get one.
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Old 06-03-2013, 04:53 PM   #44
Stan Dalone
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Maybe I am missing something here, but, why didn't you go get a rental truck at You'll Haul and load it up and take it home and then get the botcheese to fix it?
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Old 06-03-2013, 05:11 PM   #45
lilolita OP
fahr mit mir
 
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Stan Dalone View Post
Maybe I am missing something here, but, why didn't you go get a rental truck at You'll Haul and load it up and take it home and then get the botcheese to fix it?
It'd be a lot of money to do a one way UHaul from that distance. Trust me, it was discussed with the guys at both shops.

Don will pay for the fix. I truly believe he didn't know there was a problem. He's a good guy. I just don't know if I want to deal with a bike that may be seriously messed up. I'm definitely in a wait & see. The sucky part is I have a week's vacation and I'm in Providence

I'll have to pay to get the bike up here. I can't find a cheap way to do it.

At least I have a ride planned for Thursday on my little DR350.
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