08-20-2014, 12:53 AM
I can relate. When I bought my Hawk GT, it looked good cosmetically, but was in need of some work. After I got the carbs cleaned up and working, I could finally get it on the road for some short test rides. I would notice that sometimes the brake lever would get very stiff and on one ride in particular it became practically rock hard (I later discovered that the tiny return orifice had become clogged with old brake fluid at some point, preventing the system from allowing for expansion due to heat.) Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, I was just around the block from my house and I could tell that things were not right. I cruised very slowly near the curb in an attempt to get the bike home without having to push it. However, as the master cylinder wasn't allowing for expansion of the brake fluid, that expansion was transferred to the front disc calipers. Finally the front brake completely locked up, only I didn't notice it right away as the tires were old enough to be quite hard — and as it turned out rather slick.
Fortunately I wasn't tossed over the handlebars. But at that point with the front tire sliding along the road the bike began what seemed like a super slo-mo descent for the pavement and there wasn't much that I could do. I did try my best to prevent the bike from being damaged, wrestling to keep it upright and from hitting the ground too hard. in the end this resulted in a rather awkward, yet somewhat bizarrely graceful sliding dismount starting with my shoulder and rolling completely over on my back and then sitting upright (picture a cowboy at the rodeo trying to wrestle a calf to the ground without the use of a rope an you might get the idea). I sat there briefly in disbelief at what had just happened. Then I realized that this had all played out in front of my neighbors but I looked around and didn't see so much as a single person outside. Getting the bike upright was easy enough as the Hawk is light as a feather (relatively speaking), but moving the bike was next to impossible with the front wheel locked up. Still I managed to drag the bike as close to the curb as possible as I was not going to be able to get it home. Another scan of the neighborhood indicated that still no one was outside. By now I was convinced that everyone on the block was watching from inside of their housed, peeping out from behind their curtains, fixated on my misadventure. Fortunately, the bike suffered minimal damage — a bent shift lever and a scraped bar end. I suffered nothing more than a damaged ego which worsened as I made the walk home carrying my helmet to get some tools. Even my leather jacket looked untouched.
To this day, I've yet to have any of my neighbors mention to this to me, but I remain convinced that they swap stories of my saga at their yearly block party or other gatherings. And if they don't, they should because I had to have been incredibly entertaining during my total lapse of grace and dignity. On the bright side, I did learn how to rebuild the Hawk's master cylinder, and I can now utter the phrase "I've taken the bike to the outer limits of it's handling capabilities (and beyond)".
Fortunately I wasn't tossed over the handlebars. But at that point with the front tire sliding along the road the bike began what seemed like a super slo-mo descent for the pavement and there wasn't much that I could do. I did try my best to prevent the bike from being damaged, wrestling to keep it upright and from hitting the ground too hard. in the end this resulted in a rather awkward, yet somewhat bizarrely graceful sliding dismount starting with my shoulder and rolling completely over on my back and then sitting upright (picture a cowboy at the rodeo trying to wrestle a calf to the ground without the use of a rope an you might get the idea). I sat there briefly in disbelief at what had just happened. Then I realized that this had all played out in front of my neighbors but I looked around and didn't see so much as a single person outside. Getting the bike upright was easy enough as the Hawk is light as a feather (relatively speaking), but moving the bike was next to impossible with the front wheel locked up. Still I managed to drag the bike as close to the curb as possible as I was not going to be able to get it home. Another scan of the neighborhood indicated that still no one was outside. By now I was convinced that everyone on the block was watching from inside of their housed, peeping out from behind their curtains, fixated on my misadventure. Fortunately, the bike suffered minimal damage — a bent shift lever and a scraped bar end. I suffered nothing more than a damaged ego which worsened as I made the walk home carrying my helmet to get some tools. Even my leather jacket looked untouched.
To this day, I've yet to have any of my neighbors mention to this to me, but I remain convinced that they swap stories of my saga at their yearly block party or other gatherings. And if they don't, they should because I had to have been incredibly entertaining during my total lapse of grace and dignity. On the bright side, I did learn how to rebuild the Hawk's master cylinder, and I can now utter the phrase "I've taken the bike to the outer limits of it's handling capabilities (and beyond)".