I love my Honda CL450, but it’s a tough love. 
I first came into possession of this bike from someone local who was getting rid of it. At $250 and running, it was a steal. It was loosely modified into a chopper, and had 6″ over extended forks and butterfly handlebars. I spent a good amount of time stripping it down to it’s elemental parts. Stock forks were put in, drag bars, fairing were all added in an attempt to make it into some sort of rat-cafe racer. Ugly but still somehow charming, at least to me anyway. After riding it briefly for a season, I had to put it away for while as I re-appropriated the money for insurance and repairs towards other causes.
Flash forward a few years to this past weekend and I’ve finally gotten around to getting it back on the road. I spent the weekend doing all the tune up work - changed the oil, adjusted the timing, new spark plugs, new battery, and on and on. It was running better than it had ever run before.
I had some vacation time off work and used it put insurance on the bike and get a new license plate from the Secretary of State. I was really excited about getting the bike back out on the road so I packed a small bag of tools (just in case) and headed out. My plan was stop and fill up with gas and then do a small loop around Ford Lake.
I got as far as the gas station when the engine just cut out and died while I was turning in. Nothing could it restarted. I pulled one of the spark plugs and found that it was fouled up with black soot - a sure sign that it was running rich. Attempts to clean it up just enough to get me home were futile. I was stuck at the gas station.
As the gas station was only a mile and a half from home, I decided I’d just push it home. Probably not the best decision as it was one of the warmest days on record for May. I pushed it from one area of shade to the next, resting plenty at the stops. It didn’t seem like that far but trust me pushing a motorcycle on a hot day is no fun.
Finally I got it home and I crawled in the door and loudly proclaimed that I was not only through with the bike, through with motorcycles, and through with ever fixing anything again.
After laying on top of the air conditioner vent and a cold shower, I managed to calm down enough to think rationally. Come to think of it, when I cleaned out the carbs were those 145 main jets? Isn’t stock supposed to be 130? I can’t believe I overlooked something so glaring, but it certainly seems to explain a lot. For now, the hate is over and the love is back.
Later that night while whining about it to some friends one of them offered me to take a ride on his Suzuki SV650. My first time on a modern bike, or for that matter a bike that was actually YOUNGER than me. I was grinning from ear to ear - until I got off. I forgot I was wearing shorts and ended up burning my leg on the exhaust. Just wasn’t my day I suppose.