Call Me Mr. Bonehead

An Unfortunate Incident

The 2001 Kawasaki W650 still looks pretty despite an unfortunate fall in the driveway. Clearly a result of a misstep on my part though I am still a little perplexed at the chain of events. The bike was idling on the side stand, choke out for the initial start, and I was putting earplugs in, zipping up my KLIM jacket, and was pulling on my helmet when I saw the bike fall over, still running, and in a surreal pose that was a little shocking.

I had parked the bike at a place in the driveway that had a slight slope. I remember checking the stability because it seemed a little more upright than its normal lean on the kick stand. Probably because I had been rolling it around so the valve stems were in a position where I could check the tire pressure. With the tire pressures ok, I pulled the choke, started the bike, adjusted the RPMs, and started putting on my gear. Another morning in paradise as I got ready to ride to breakfast to meet a friend.

And then it happened.

Evidence of Something

Remarkably the fall did little damage to the Kawasaki W650. The asphalt on the brake lever was the worst. A tiny scuff on the front turn signal, an even smaller scuff on the throttle grip, and that was it. Making lemonade from lemons, I was easily able to pick the bike up without destroying my back. Maybe I’m not as old as I thought.

The motorcycle wouldn’t start though. Maybe the carbs were flooded. Hitting the starter button, even with the clutch pulled in caused the bike to lurch forward. There was no time for diagnosis so I pushed the bike in the garage and rode to breakfast on the Himalayan. One of the advantages of having multiple machines in the garage.

Still Runs Great, Still a Bonehead

The next morning I rolled the bike out into the driveway, made sure it was firmly leaning on the kickstand, moved the shifter through all the gears, pulled the choke and thumbed the starter. The engine responded with an instant, familiar rumble. And no lurching forward with the clutch in. Everything seemed normal. So a 20-mile test ride was in order.

My senses of touch and sound were on edge, listening and feeling for anything unusual. There was nothing except the familiar feel of this lovely motorcycle. The smoke from Canadian wildfires was beginning to roll in so I headed for home. The Air Quality Index climbed to 395 by the end of the day. A short time outside left my throat sore and eyes itchy. Remembering my supply of N95 masks made a walk with the dogs tolerable.

I hate being responsible for the first ever drop of the W650. It had managed a clean life for 51 thousand miles and 26 years of faithful service until my boneheaded move. Hopefully we can go the rest of the way upright.

I used to have a T-shirt with the word “Bonehead” on it. Maybe I need to wear it again.