Yesterday, Charlie and I spent a few quality hours with my boxes, frame, and the factory service manual for the KZ650. That shit was so dirty that I kept the bandage on my semi-healed second-degree burn (it looks way better today when I took this picture than it did yesterday). I have been kayaking in a ship graveyard, which is a tetanus paradise, but I was having NONE of this dust and grime.
At the end of the day, we were left with a sea of parts, but it seems that mostly everything is there. I am going to need new sprockets, a new front disk, a new break cylinder and lever, and new exhaust pipes.
The guy said everything was there, but clearly that was a farce! God knows what you have done, sir, and I will be avenged!!!! Have fun in hell, jerk:
That’s alright. I know a guy in Baltimore who has some exhaust pipes he can sell me for $60. It’s nice to have no degrees of separation.
That all being said, here’s a completely underwhelming picture of the insanity I will be enduring for the next several months. I’m sure we could turn this into a cute I SPY book, but there are lights, a wiring harness, seat, break/clutch things, wheels, pegs, forks, shocks. Not pictured are my neat jars of ball bearings and my hell-tins of random bolts and washers.
The thing that gets us is the unopened air filter that is already wrecked simply from being too old. People are full of shit: age is defined by time and not state of mind…my air filter proves it!