m-65

So what does go on that big work surface?

Ah distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak September… Freshman year of high school, to be a little more descriptive. The high school of Paw Paw, Michigan, at the time, was a 1960s construction, which meant that it had a big "industrial science" wing. One of those classrooms – unheard of in normal public schools today – was an engine shop. Maybe three or four classes a year would cycle through and learn how to rebuild a lawnmower engine. With one piston and less than four horse power (remember when lawnmowers used to simply be functional?), most anyone could spend one hour a day tearing an engine down and putting it back together and get it done in twelve weeks. I was hooked.
The summer after that, I rebuilt another one on my own. I did another one the following summer. Around that time, I met a girl and – more important to this story – I met a girl's father. He went by Roadie. He had a dog named Sandy and a 1967 Chevy Truck with a Pontiac engine in it. That summer, the three of us (Roadie, the girl and me…the guy…) spent a lot of time together and I freely admit that he had a large impact on my life. Those things that I've screwed since wouldn't have happened if I remembered, "whenever you decide to do anything, imagine that everyone in the world knows why you made that decision and see how you feel about it." Sure, it's the golden rule reworded, but it makes a good point. But sometimes it's so hard to remember with some passion on the line! Nobody's perfect, and I digress…
One discussion I remember, on a dry summer day on the front stairs of the house…a mean and probably demonically possessed rooster stalking us, but that's another digression waiting to happen…was about was an old motorcycle he had way back when. That's the way he started learning about engine work. I said to him, "I took a small engines class once and really liked it." He said, "well hell, a Harley engine is just one step over a push lawnmower."
That was a little over twelve years ago. Sunday, I bought a 1967 Harley Davidson two-stroke m-65 motorbike (not a full size motorcycle, but something fun to work on). It came in two boxes of parts that broke the will of the previous owner. So it begins…