“If you’re going to repair a motorcycle, an adequate supply of gumption is the first and most important tool. If you haven’t got that you might as well gather up all the other tools and put them away, because they won’t do you any good.”
Zen an the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
I have no gumption. No interest. No desire to any longer turn a wrench on my scooter or motorcycle. I haven’t had gumption for a long, long time. And that deficiency has haunted me because somewhere the idea what planted in my brain that a real rider can perform any and all repairs and maintenance roadside in a storm. With nothing more than a pocketknife, baling wire, and some pocket lint.
I’m here to report that I have begun the unburdening from the enslavement of tools, devices, mechanical expectations, and the guilt associated with the failure to live up to those expectations.
I will seldom turn a wrench again save for a dire emergency that my new toolkit composed of cash and a cellphone can’t fix.
It’s been a long and painful road to get to this place.
The Unburdening Begins
It began with the sale of my motorcycle lift table to fellow rider Andy Heckathorne. And I threw in my Vespa Service sign. He’s young and interested in the shop-craft of scooter maintenance.
The process of getting rid of tools is still underway as I narrow my needs to those essential to tasks I might actually do. Like the adjustment of a mirror or checking tire pressures. But oil and filter changes? No. Tire changes? No. Clutch spline lube? No again.
I’ll leave these tasks to professionals.
The time when I could not afford to have work done on our four-wheeled vehicles and had to do it myself is long past. But I would service the scooter because I came to believe that I “should” do the maintenance myself. Anything less was lazy, unmanly, or worse.
And while I admit a measure of admiration for those who can and do service and repair their scooters and motorcycles and find great satisfaction in the work, that was never my experience. And that’s ok.
I’ve finally come to accept that I’m from a different tribe.
Sentiment and Nostalgia
I gave away the big shop vice that belonged to my father. That vice sat on the floor of the garage since he died 15 years ago. Giving it away was a symbolic surrender of the crazy-making activities of holding onto stuff that I don’t need or use. A giant Craftsman tool chest on wheels full of tools that I have no idea what they do awaits further dispersal.
But the vice was the turning point. It allowed for the release of guilt and shame that my father might be disappointed that I was not following in his footsteps. Slowly, I realized he would absolutely not care whether I serviced my scooter or motorcycle or not.
He always wanted me to follow the path that made me happy. Somehow I lost track of that.
Professional Service
Recently I had my scooter serviced — all things I had planned to do myself. The list included:
- Belt and roller change
- Oil and filter change
- Coolant flush
- Brake fluid flush
- Transmission oil change
I would have saved about $350 doing it myself. Try as I might, I could not find a glimmer of desire to perform those services. And when I made the appointment to drop off the Vespa I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders. Much as I did when I turned in the paperwork for a retirement buyout at Penn State. My spirit was as light as a feather.
There are still a lot of tools and stuff to clear away. But I’m happy to be on the road to mechanical freedom. I’ve recently had both the scooter and motorcycle serviced and am grateful I have the resources to make that choice.
I’ve lived with an expectation since I was young that I should be able to manage myriad repair and construction tasks to maintain my home and vehicles. This belief is beginning to fade. And as it does, damn, there is a lot of space to ride and to live.
The experiences and expectations regarding scooter and motorcycle maintenance had enslaved me. Pride, ego, and false assumptions kept my nose to the wheel until finally, I had enough.
I won’t be turning any wrenches unless it is an absolute emergency.
Holy Kismet, Batman!
Ah, same deal here, my friend: with all due respect to Mr. Pirsig, I did my time wrenching–mostly struggling–with a few recalcitrant bikes in my distant past. I came unto the Vespa, decades later, as a sort of deliverance from All That: Mind you, I was, and remain, still interested in the mechanical side of the machine, particularly in the bits that improve both reliability and the overall riding experience (well, as soon as parts arrive to get my dear Melody back on the road, post-crash…it’s been a bit over three months now, with Piaggio apparently still stuck in staffing-hell at their distribution center). As far as the cost of letting someone else do the wrenching, here’s how I figure it: I do a lot of the indoor/outdoor house/lawn/yard work our neighbors hire others to do for their homes. The tools we’ve bought for me to do this stuff pay for themselves fairly quickly. The money saved way more than pays for the dealer turning wrenches on the bike instead of me. Le Wife seems to agree.
Congrats on finding your path to liberation.
I hope Piaggio comes through with the needed parts to get Melody back on the road before the snow flies! I’ve been lucky to have never run up against the need for hard-to-get parts. My solution to that potential problem is to have a second machine to ride!
Like you, I do the outdoor and lawn stuff myself. Except for cutting down the big trees. I hadn’t thought about cost savings there to offset the cost of the moto service. My thoughts are that the cost of two-wheeled ownership is far less than if I were a bass fisherman which would require boat, trailer, motor, pickup truck, and much more. I’m getting off easy!
I am looking around my garage trying to find where you are hiding. I liked working on my scooters. I thought.
So much so that I built a whole new air conditioned garage with a lift and fine looking tool cabinets. I have done it for years. Then something changed. My go mechanic for things I could not do, packed up and moved to the hills of Tennessee. So, with three of these things setting in the garage I decided I should interview a new mechanic. I had visited Vespa Clearwater a couple of times and was not overwhelmed. It has no big flashy show room or fancy garage area. But they have been a Vespa dealer for 13 years. Longer than anybody else by far around here. In fact it is more used car rental than scooter shop. My 300 was having a stuttering problem so I left it with them. Matt, the son was very friendly and I enjoyed working with him. His father is the owner and main Vespa mechanic. They immediately said it was probably they fuel injector. They were right but also found a hole in the rubber hose that it attached to it. Parts, as you know, are hard to come by from Italy so they took a hose off one of their scooters and put it on. Something I probably would have missed. I left very pleased. When I returned from the Vespa swim home from Mississippi I took it back to them and had them do a full service. Fluids, belts, etc. I think that is a first for me. Not only was the price reasonable but they fixed a few things that again I would have probably missed until they got worse, like the belt cover bearing.
So, I have come to that point in my life where I am just like you. They will do almost all of my future maintenance. There are times I may do it, but I doubt it.
So, now I set in my fancy garage, read, drink a little Grappa, and admire my perfectly running Vespas. And dream of my next adventure. Which, by the way, starts 1 Sept as Vicki and I jet off to Italy. No I am not worried I tell people. There is no place more scary than the state I live in with the idiot for a governor.
(Please feel free to edit out my political statement)
I promise I was not stalking you Ken and hiding in your air-conditioned garage. I was leagues to the north, above the Mason-Dixon Line, pondering when I might feel comfortable enough to sit down indoors again for lunch. Not anytime soon I bet.
Our paths are in parallel when it comes to wrenching. It’s really nice to have someone else do the work now. And it’s particularly nice when you find a competent technician at a dealer who’s willing to cannibalize something on the showroom floor to get a customer on their way. A big shout out to Vespa Clearwater!
When David Masse rode his Vespa here the fuel injector failed. The local Vespa dealer took one from a new machine and installed it so David could continue on. Otherwise there would be a wait for that part. Nice service when you can find it.
Regarding Grappa — how early in the day is it allowed to be consumed in polite company?
I need to spend some time thinking about my next adventure. And don’t worry about making political comments. I’m open to every perspective on this complicated and comical state we call life!
I was quite surprised years ago in France and Italy when I bellied up to the bar in the morning to order my coffee. Those countries a coffee is an espresso. All the old guys ordered coffee and got a grappa in Itay or a Eau de vie in France. We had a friend from Las Vegas that rented a room from 83-year-old lady and split Croatia. Every morning at his breakfast spot there was coffee, Rakija the equivalent of grappa, and a cigarette.
So, to answer your qquestion,whatever time you want to have grappa is the correct ttime. I often start the morning with a thimble size shot of grappa.
Thimble size shot? That’s like taking communion in a Lutheran Church!
My father was an auto mechanic by trade, and I was often by his side as “assistant” when a child. So I have the tools and know how to do the work. BTW his father was an auto dealer and his grandfather a blacksmith turned mechanic. So I wondered why, when he was in his 60’s he would pay someone else to do his maintenance and repairs. Ha! Now I find myself doing the same thing.
PS: I wouldn’t have given away a vice that actually has your name on it.
I assisted my father as well, and when I was a teenager he provided backup when I hit a problem I couldn’t solve. And now I have no interest anymore in fixing my own stuff. Perhaps this is just one of the many passages we face in life.
I thought about the uniqueness of a vice with my name on it. But it was not enough of a draw to keep it knowing I would never use it. I put it out at the end of the driveway for someone to pick up. About ten minutes later a young man stopped and asked if I was getting rid of it. I told him it was all his and he was excited. He was building a workshop. I asked him if he needed any router bits. He said yes and I gave him an extensive collection in a fine wooden case. It felt good knowing both were going to someone who was excited to have them.
Congratulations Steve!
You have probably done more to alleviate the guilt of the masses than a few dozen psychotherapists .
The only tool I’ve ever picked up, with which I have enjoyed a modicum of success, is a camera, and god help me and it should I ever try to repair it.
From here on my friend , you shall be known as… “the Liberator “.
Thank you !
It’s strange how this do-it-yourself mentality persists in our culture. It certainly made some sense when no professionals were available or funds were limited. But how did it become an aspect of being a complete and well-rounded person? Perhaps it’s just my imagination.
While I was mildly competent with a variety of tools, I was never enthralled by the work. Like you, a camera is the only tool I’ve ever fallen in love with its use. And that’s fine by me.
Thanks for helping me make the transition from “the Failure” to “the LIberator!”
Just a short note to say I particularly enjoyed this exchange between two of my favorite photographers!
It’s been a fun conversation.
I hope the lift table is meeting your expectations.
The lift table has been wonderful. It’s funny how much more inclined I am to sit and tinker with things when I’m in a comfortable chair as opposed to lying on cold concrete!
That thinking motivated my original purchase. But turns out I wasn’t motivated to tinker. I’m glad you are finding it useful.
Just a a short note to say I have Steve to thank for leading me in your direction.
Lucky me for the both of you !
The best part of not riding is not having to deal with repeated frequent maintenance whoever does it (certainly not me). My van gets an oil change every five thousand miles or so and all I have to do is find a tall door to accommodate a ten foot height on an instant oil change place, pay fifty bucks and sit in the driver’s seat 15 minutes then I’m on my way. With 20,000 miles from new I’ve not had to change a belt adjust a chain, replace a bulb or a tire or lubricate a spline. Fabulous!
Paring down the things in our lives that require attention is an important part of living a simple life. I just need to be fully aware of the things I am willing to invest a part of myself versus those that just suck the life out of me. I have way more stuff than I need. Tools are just the beginning of a sweeping housecleaning.
Glad things are going well for you on these new adventures!
sitting on the bench,
the wrench breathes a sigh of peace,
grateful for the rest
Wow. That is a powerful haiku. I am the wrench!
I love the haiku to, might have to print it and tape it to the tool box just to see how the tape can hold up the irony.
Hah!
sitting on the bench
the wrench breathes a sigh of peace
grateful for the rest
Congratulations Steve on finally becoming the master of your own time!
After 55 years, or literally a lifetime of owning, riding, restoring and selling motorcycles (as a franchised dealer), I too have finally given up wrenching on my own and other`s bikes, No question that age, arthritis and some other related physical limitations had a large part to play in this decision, but it was mostly the idea that, at 74 years young, I can afford to let someone else do the work.
I too have the workshop full of sundry tools and equipment, but its amazing how many of those bits and pieces can be utilized in a wide variety of other interesting pastimes. So far, building and restoring furniture, working in stained glass, and other `projects` have convinced me that holding onto one’s tools is probably a good idea.
Now, the shop is mainly a place of refuge, where my similarly inclined friends and I can “do a Peter Egan”… that is, pour ourselves an interesting beverage, light up a decent Cuban cigar, turn up the heater/AC and sit around and tell each other how fast we all used to be.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences on the topic.
Like you, I’ve reached that point where I can afford to let others do the work for me. When I bought the lift table I had grown tired of crawling around on the concrete floor and thought the lift would make all the difference. But I had gotten to the point where I was done but didn’t know it yet.
I’m keeping tools that can be used for minor repairs to plumbing and electrical systems in the house, repairs to doors, windows, plaster, etc. But even things like replacing a shower or water heater might be handed off to others. I’m just not interested anymore and can afford to go a different route.
While my garage has never been a gathering place, I do remember such places as a teenage motorhead. Coffee shops and cafes have replaced those for me but the pandemic has adversely affected that. For me at least.
Right now I can only reflect on how fast I used to be…
Just enjoy the ride.
I still thoroughly enjoy the ride Karl!
I will continue to do most routine maintenance but anything that requires serious unbuttoning is left to the pros though I will admit that the “routine maintenance” list grows ever shorter. One must be flexible after all. Thanks for making this easier Steve.
I find myself in the same boat on maintenance. All of my two wheeled creatures have visited the local “Fix anything with a motor” shop for things I don’t choose to touch. I still do oil changes but a new muffler for the Helix clone and a new belt are waiting for me. That task has to be done before the winter. I’m going to see if I have the courage to do a valve adjustment on the new Chinese scooter when the time comes, but an oil and rear end oil change awaits.
Reading your comment Jim and thinking about those tasks made me smile a bit as I went, nope, nope, nope, and nope.
We’ll still love you Steve if someone else changes your oil. *grin*
Understood 👍
As a surgical nurse I can assist in the removal of your appendix but have no knowledge or desire to fix my bike. Congratulations on your freedom!
I bet if you were trapped on a desert island with someone with a bad appendix you could remove it just fine. All you need is a sharp rock, a bottle of whiskey, and a little luck!!
Freedom!
When I was a kid, one fall and winter my father had me tear the lawn mower to pieces and rebuild it. That turned out to be the most complex mechanical adventure of my life. And yes, the Lawn Boy that my father got second-hand from his brother, went on to perform flawlessly for many, many, many, more years, ending its career back with my uncle at his cottage, doing the most brutal work of all.
Down from that pinnacle, just before riding down to visit you, I changed the black Vespa’s oil and transmission fluid. Later, due to the thermostat explosion on the return trip, I changed the coolant and installed a new thermostat. That’s it. Work I have done on my 2016 Vespa: Nothing, Nada, Zip. I assume that adjusting tire pressure doesn’t count. Eventually I will probably give all the torque wrenches (two), sockets, bits, etc. to my son so that he can mess with his ‘vintage’ Honda S2000.
Fortunately, the Toronto Vespa dealer does a great job performing all the needed maintenance so my beautiful red Vespa hums along.
As for decluttering, particularly when it comes to things like your dad’s vice, I have found that documenting the objects with copious photos from all angles, makes parting with the thing much, much more bearable.
Nice to see your family name cast in massive iron Steve. Certainly beats being cast in stone (a fate that likely awaits us all).
My father was a Lawn Boy man when I was growing up. Those two-stroke motors were great and like you say those mowers lasted a long time. Nothing like the junk I buy now.
Torque wrenches! I have a few of those. I need to sort through all of my tools related to engines and machines and make them go away. And there’s a big Rockwell table saw too. The floor-standing drill press is gone. And eventually, there will be a lot more room in the garage.
The utility bench vise was hard to let go of even though I didn’t need it. I think it was manufactured by the J.H. Williams Tool Company before Snap On bought them but I’ve never seen one with “Williams” forged into it. But I have some pictures. That will be enough.
Glad your red Vespa is doing well. It’s been a long time since you’ve written anything about your scooter adventures. The Brompton’s have taken over!
Lets see… Vespa adventures… well… that’s like adventures in mechanics: Nada. Zip. None. Zilch.
Your post-retirement legal career getting in the way??
Steve,
I’m with you … having stopped working on cars and motorcycles, motor scooters many years ago. With all due respect to Mr. Pirsig, motorcycles have become significantly more complex since the time his book was written in the mid-70’s (?).
Additionally, there are at least two other things working against the DIY maintenance of scooters (but it really applies to all modern vehicles).
Time – at some point in my life, I decided that I’d like to reduce the time I spent doing things I don’t like and am not very good at (see point #2 below for more on this … ). I”m lucky enough to be able to afford to have my Vespa maintained by the dealer and can therefore spend more time riding, less time fixing. It’s a decent tradeoff, at least for me.
Quality of work – even if bought the necessary tools, etc. to do all my own maintenance, there’s a good chance I’d screw something up, requiring more repair, etc. As I once said after an ugly home plumbing repair, “I’d fire the guy that did this work if it wasn’t me …”
So, let’s keep those skilled mechanics employed!
I agree with all you’ve shared regarding working on cars and motorcycles. You thoughts on time resonated with me — I don’t want to spend time doing something I don’t like to do. As I get older I realize how precious time is.
And so far, there still are mechanics around capable of taking care of the machines I have.
I always found Pirsig a bit obsessive, introspective, and depressing. The book was more good than bad though. I work on my own stuff because I’m too lazy to go through bother of finding someone who is trustworthy and knowledgeable enough to do the work for me. I do a fair amount of work on my house for the same reason. Plus I’m a cheapskate. That being said, I will replace my scooter way before it is time to do so and will move onto a new scooter with a warranty and lose money on the trade in. But I will be smiling on my new scooter! Vroom-vroom!
I’m fortunate that it hasn’t taken any effort to find someone to work on my stuff. So far at least. If that changes I’m more likely to buy something new that has capable technicians around. Plenty of Harley mechanics around here!
A new scooter… that’s a story for another day.
Thank you.Another interesting,thought provoking post.we are fortunate to able to pay to have such work done for us.finding a good mechanic makes for a good day.
Peace and safety from NH.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts John. Be safe in New Hampshire.
Thank you Steve. Your posting sort of validates the feelings that I’ve been having since retiring from the University of Nebraska on Friday the 13th. It amused me to choose that date at the time. On the 14th, I wondered just what the hell I’d done, since there wasn’t really any need to do so and they wanted me to stay and yet…I couldn’t.
On the 15th I departed for a week long stay at a lake in northern Iowa with friends and family. By the 17th felt a new sense of something close to freedom.
And now I find myself with 3 motorcycles sitting in the garage that each need something done to them. I never seemed to have time before and now I do and thankfully your post allowed me to say…I ain’t gonna. It is a job for pros…
Thank you again. Your posts….well they’re damn good.
Best,
FredG
Fred, I had a similar sense of freedom when I retired from Penn State. And also a weird realization that had me wondering how something I had made so important for so long could suddenly just be absolutely unimportant to me. Retirement was a transformation. But I did hold onto the idea of wrenching on my scooter and motorcycle and that was a sort of mental torture that I’m so glad to have let go. Being a mechanic now is not what I want to do.
And thanks for the kind words about my posts. I appreciate them.