rescue76

Ah yes..thats just south of me...wonderful ride.

I have an 82 seca 750 and love it..So far easy maintenance.

Check this out..found it on ebay ebay

Not trying to hihack the thread or argue but one thing about driving here in the states is there are so many different driving styles depending on what region you live,,,and that in turn makes for dangerous driving conditions on the highways when traveling. Those up north are used to driving fast in the snow because they get more snow than the south. Those in the mid east region are used to driving fast in the rain Hence all the rain we get. Those from the midwest get plenty full amounts of rain and snow. Now...west coast, deep southern areas of the states rarely get snow. and any rain is in small amounts. Those that live in dry areas that travel to rainy/snowy areas tend to drive slower cause crashes from those who are used to driving fast in those conditions. and vise versa those in wet/snowy areas drive to an area who gets snow once a year are used to driving in it and end up rear ending someone who is driving slow not used to it. Ill admit that I drive 65 where ever I am going..rain, snow, sleet, freezing rain....Im used to them all...I drove over the road with dad since 16 and by myself untill 21...now I drive our fire trucks no matter what weather....I cant wait for our first deep snow this year.

+2

Yes thats what Im getting at..there are too many car safety adds on and I cant really recall seeing any MC safety adds this year.

www.Liveleak.com We need a few of these in the US.

RainX anti fog for the inside and RainX repelant on the outside. If you get up to a decent speed the moisture build up on the outside will bead and roll off fast...the anti fog doesnt fair so well...I think its more for moisture building up in a controlled environment like in a car rather that 2 inches from your face.

Usually I get the Hmph look from other riders and drivers..especially at red lights. SO...seeing as where I work I dont really worry about seeing blue lights behind me....SO I show them what my 82 seca has in it...and leave em.

I have not tried the oven trick but I hear thats the way to go...Usually I just pick and pry at the lens until I work the bond loose. But check around a bit more.

LOL!!!!! Ill agree I was born and raised in the hills of Ky "Yes Im a HillBilly" But....I have a very respectful job....make more on the hour than anyone in my family ever. And dont have a one tract mind on as stated above..No offense. BUt I do have one question....why am I in this hand basket. and why are we traveling down this dirt road?

Ill try and help...get some projector style driving or fog lights like these. They are pretty cheap at any parts store....take them apart and behind the lense you will find a metal plate mounted on the bottom. Take the plate out using the screws...they should be a close match to your projector lights...mount the metal plate on the bottom inside behind the lense in the headlight.....what your headlight is designed to do is kinda like looking thru a magnifying lense at a distance...everything is flipped upside down...by mounting the metal plate in there when the light beam is flipped the metal plate blocks the light output at the top...IE keeps from blinding on comming traffic... Not sure if this will work...but it should give you somewhere to start...

Vibration by any chance...?

Flasher should be under the fuel tank attached with a clip to a rubber tab.

DO both the front and rear indicators come on. I had the same problem with my 82 seca. the Flasher itself was shot. Should be able to pick up a replacement at any auto parts store....if yours is like mine it will be square...or you could luck out and find one in a junk yard like i did.

In my profession I have had to be the bearer of bad news many times. I wish I could be with you to lend a shoulder. The loss of a child is unimaginable to anyone who has never raised a family. I have found in the past that freindship is the best healing. Dont keep it all inside, I will be the first to admit that I have cried myself to the point of no sleep for days due to things I have seen and had to do. A child I believe is the ultimate innocence, there can be nothing but greatness awaiting them in heaven. May god touch your heart and give words of comfort in your time of despair my friend.

Okay..the cold front moved through this week and temps went from 80F to 58F in the day and down to 39F tonight....I plan on riding as long as I can...or at least till Im probably snowed in. I got a balaclava today. And have been wearing leather riding gloves, Plus my gortex thinsulated coat. The only problem Ive had the past few nights has been my neck and chin getting the chill between my helmet and jacket..so the balaclava should take care of that...my main wonder is. When it gets down to 30F or lower...what do you guys wear to keep warm...Im thinking of long johns next.

Still no luck on my end...thinking of settling for some el-cheepos from the guy at the bone yard...bets I can tell they just lay accross the back of the bike and strap to the shock mounts.....Oh well..was really gunning for some hard cased ones.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way backto the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience: 0.Occupied. 1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one. 2.Poo on seat. 3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat. 4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet. Clearly, it had to be Stall ..1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier. Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently. Once my @ss cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence. "Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??" Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching. Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet. There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth. As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

Well that explains some..LOL..Surgery can be a pain...so can the meds. Hope you get to feeling better rooster

Its about a simple question I asked because Im new to bikes and I thought that this Kawi. looked an awful lot like a yamaha. And was asking if these bikes are essentially the same..I got my answer....and then I got a good laugh...now Im getting a little mad.

Ive searched all the local MC boneyards and have found a few rusty luggage racks that might work but would love to find a new one...my wife wants one that has a sissy bar or back rest mounted for her to lean back on....I need a luggage compartment on the back to carry some of my gear in but all the nice ones I found are accross the pond and shipping would be a b1tch....any help for here in the states?

K gotcha.

Yah I know I figured it was just some kid that slapped a kawi police sticker on there...kinda like putting an interceptor emblem on a chevete.

Of all the comedians in the world without a job and you make a funny. at my expense....at least I have a sense of humor Im new to bikes give me a break.