Friday 11/30/07 "Ruby Lives!"

Greetings and salutations, faithful readers. Here's this week's effort.

Ruby

The Rubycycle is alive and well!

Around here, this is big news. ''Ruby'' is our 1980 Harley-Davidson FLT, a touring motorcycle complete with hard bags and luggage trunk, big and black and totally sexy.

She is a "first year" Harley product. Ah, the Motor Company. Gotta love 'em. Ford or Chevy, they test their products on the track. Harley tests its new products on us, Harley riders. And make us pay dearly for the privilege.

Laura and I were naive in 1985. We bought Ruby for $5,000, with less than 20,000 miles on the odometer. Seemed like a good deal at the time. We already had "Lucille," a 1983 Sportster. Lucille was a good girl, but just a little under-powered and small to haul the two of us.

Full-size Ruby would be that dreamed-of second motorcycle. The plan was, we could both ride Ruby or each of us could ride solo.

In the 22 years since she came into our lives, we've spent approximately $30,000 developing Ruby. Much of that sum was poured into correcting factory flaws.

Ruby's Reprieve

I rode the Rubycycle Thursday, and I'd say we're almost there with the project. Cosmetics and cleaning aside, I think she needs only speedometer repair. That's the very closest we've ever been to a sense of ''completion'' with her.

Today, she has two new tires, a brand-new charging system, firm brakes, bright lights. And a big, big engine that makes a lot of noise with its radical cam and huge displacement. It's a hoot.

Ten years ago, I had given up on Ruby. Mostly, she sat in the back of our garage, glowering at me from under her dust cover. I had bought a new Harley (Pearl) in 1997, and it was just easier to ride the new one than to continuously repair-and-then-ride Ruby.

But cold storage isn't good for vehicles, including Harleys. So we decided last fall to go ahead and have our friend Kurt see what he could do with Ruby.

Harley faces Honda

Ruby was Harley's first attempt to compete with Honda's "Goldwing." Judging from some of the troubles she's had, it was a motorcycle that was rushed into production.

She has the first five-speed transmission Harley ever put in a big bike, the first rubber-mounted engine to squelch vibration, the first frame-mounted fairing, the first four-way hazard flashers. She came with dual headlights and gazillions of other lights all around.

Before the days of the belt drive, Ruby's chain was enclosed in a rubber and metal shroud. Mechanically complex, prone to failure. Not a good idea. Honda's shaft drive is heavy and clunky. Bummer. Today's Gates aramid fiber reinforced Poly Chain® belt final drive is far better. Hooray Harley. At last.

After repairing and adjusting and fixing and duct taping diligently for years, Ruby's chain shrouds are now gone. We installed a modern "O-ring" self-lubricating chain that's almost as good as a belt. The O-rings seal out grit and water, so the shroud system isn't as necessary.

Ruby stunts

Laura and I have many fond memories of our adventures with Ruby.

At Dayville, Oregon, an annoying squeak became a howling banshee and we came to a halt with a burnt wheel bearing. Laura's parents came from Boise with a U-Haul trailer and rescued us.

The four of us rode in the front of Ellwyn's Ranchero -- a tight fit -- while Ruby rode alone in the trailer. We met a most wonderful couple in Dayville who basically turned their home over to us for the 10 or 12 hours we were stranded there. And Dad and Mom got us all home in time for Grandpa and Grandma’s 65th Anniversary party.

Westbound through Fallon, Nevada, Ruby pulled another stunt. She shed her shifter lever, right in the middle of the downtown street. Interesting moments, driving a big fat Harley stuck in one gear.

We went back, found the lever, re-installed it with Loctite threadlocker, and went on to more adventures in California.

On the return trip through Fallon -- you'll never guess -- Ruby rejected her shift lever again. In the same block, the same town, the same state. I think she liked Fallon and wanted to stay there.

Ruby introduced us to Terry Bison Ranch south of Cheyenne. That's where we were on the interstate when she decided to reject a setscrew in the clutch mechanism. The engine was no longer connected to the drive chain.

''Vroom vroom'' all you want, Mr. Tom. Ruby's going nowhere. It amounted to another rescue and four people in the cab of a little pickup truck. Ah, Ruby.

Laura tipped Ruby over in the parking lot at a restaurant in Red Feather, and leaving a gas station in Carson City, Nevada. I tipped Ruby over in the parking lot at Jerry's Market in Greeley. I tipped Ruby over in the dust in front of about 20 Hells Angels in Santa Cruz, California. They applauded.

For 1981, Harley changed the steering head angle so newer bikes aren't so prone to slow-speed fall-over. Thanks, Motor Company.

Ruby came from the factory with an 18-amp alternator. That's far short of enough power to run all those lights and ignition system.

The battery would run down while we were riding down the road. So some years back we spent big bucks to upgrade. Our mechanic of the time installed a Harley-made charging system that would produce 22 amps.

Ooops. Still far short. Wasted money, wasted effort. Story of Ruby's life.

So this fall, Kurt "opened her up" again and installed a 32-amp system. Thursday, she ran all her lights and charged her battery at the same time. She breathed a sigh of relief, and so did I.

I rationalized my ambition to get Ruby running again by touting the idea I'd sell her off. (It's hard to sell a Harley that isn't running.)

Thursday, I think she was just happy to be back on the road -- where Harleys belong.

When I twisted the throttle and that front wheel came up off the road, I had to say, "All is forgiven, Ruby. All is forgiven." Gives me goose bumps.

Sell the Rubycycle? Hardly. I love that motorcycle.

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Word of the week: Ordinary. Uh oh. Another word with a Latin root. Ordo from ordinarius. (You think it's going to mean "commonplace,'' don't you?) 1. an official of church or court whose power or jurisdiction is original and not that of a deputy. 2. a book containing the form or order for divine service.

So that's why parts of the liturgical year are called "ordinary time." Not because they're common, but because they are ordinated, in order, assigned officially.

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Next week's word: Harangue.

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