Starting This Madness
So last month I dug out my grandpa’s old XR600R from the barn. Thing looked like it fought a war and lost. Layers of mud, cracked plastics, smelled like dead rats. Figured hey, why not bring a dead bike back to life?
The Tear-Down Slog
First I dragged it to my garage. Strapped on gloves and just started ripping parts off like a gorilla. Seat came off easy. Tank looked okay under the grime. But oh man, those carburetor jets? Solid black gunk. Jabbed ’em with a screwdriver till crap flew everywhere.
Next headache was the air filter. Turned to concrete. Had to chisel it out piece by piece. Found three spider nests inside the airbox. Nasty.
Mechanical Nightmares
Knew the engine needed work. Drained the oil – came out like tar. Refilled with cheap stuff just to flush it. Kicked it like fifty times till the damn piston finally moved. Heard this scary grinding noise. Popped the head cover off and bam! Rusted cam chain hanging loose.
- Bought a $40 Chinese chain on eBay
- Hammered out old bearings using a socket wrench
- Slapped new gaskets on with sealant everywhere
Valves were tighter than my ex’s wallet. Adjusted clearances twice ’cause I suck at math.
Cosmetics & Carnage
Spray-painted the frame in my backyard – wind blew leaves into the wet paint. Looks like camouflage now. Mounted some junkyard tires that barely fit. Lost two bolts down the drain installing footpegs. Whatever.
The Moment of Truth
Poured fresh gas, choked it full. Kicked so hard I nearly blew my knee. Nothing. Kicked again. More nothing. Started cussing at it… then suddenly it coughed! Blue smoke everywhere. Revved it rough for five minutes till it settled into this beautiful, lumpy idle.
Rode it down my dirt road grinning like an idiot. Front brake squeals, back shocks are toast, but goddamn it runs! That Scott Summers paint job’s still legendary after 30 years buried.
Moral? Patience is overrated. Just whale on stuff with tools till it works. Boom.