I bought generic saddle bags for my Magna. I don’t even remember the brand. They were real leather from a local shop and were throw over the yoke design that would fit my bike. I mounted them with the cross over piece under the seat. For the first few weeks everything was OK, but then they started to sag down onto the pipes. I’d tighten up the yoke, eventually making new holes for the laces. But eventually they’d sag back down again. Then they started loosing their shape with the outer edge drooping down onto my pipes.

saddle bags resting on the exhaust pipes. They'd get a little warm on the bottom..

Of course I could just replace them with hard bags, but I’ve got a few reasons not to. Actually, I don’t have about 400 reasons to get new ones. So I did what so many other poor bikers have done. I fabricated braces. Some time last year, I had a local machine shop make a couple of T-shapes with holes drilled to fit the bolts on my rear fender assembly. I had them bend out the bottom of the T for the bags to sit on. When I got ready to install them I discovered that they were too long, coming down and touching the pipes. So they sat for a year while I pondered.
Last weekend I decided to finally put on the new rear tire I’d bought. I pulled off the back wheel, removed the old tire and cleaned up the rim. My relief at how easily the new tire went on was short lived as I discovered that it was a 16 inch tire. I needed a 15 inch.
So I’ve been waiting since then for the new tire to come in. I figured that while I had the back wheel off was a good time to get those brackets put on. I cut the arm piece off the T. The ¼ inch of metal the angle grinder ate out was just enough to correct the length. I welded them back on to the shorter shank. I then welded on a piece of plate steel on the bottom for a larger place for the bags to rest.

Left bracket in place.

Now,when I say I welded, what I mean is that there was electricity involved along with molten metal, and eventually two pieces of steel stuck together. An hour or two with the angle grinder and most of the blobs and splatters were gone. Of course the pits where I blasted metal out are still there. Oh well, a little filler and a little paint. These things will be hidden by the bags anyway.
With the back wheel off, getting to the bolts was a lot easier. I’d spent about $10 on four stainless steel bolts that were ¼ inch longer, lock washers, and nuts. I put the bolts back in backwards so that the acorn nut was now on the outside. This is so I can remove the brackets with out having to pull the bolts out. Putting everything back together I discovered that the new bolts were too long. The old bolts were just right.

Bags back on Maggie.

So, $10 on needless parts, $25 on the original fabrication by the machine shop, Another $10 for some plate steel, some skinned fingers and a few assorted burns later and I’ve got bag braces.

Bags are now up off the pipes.

I wonder what it’ll cost to get them chromed.

— Guy Wheatley

There’s a new ride in town. The Honda Fury has shown up at a local dealership. If you want to see it, you’d better get there fast. This thing has been all over the forums. I’ve even seen posts on the V-4 forums by guys who say they’ll trade in their bike for one. Trade in a V-4 for a V-twin? Surely this is blasphemy. There has been a lot of anticipation for this particular bike. I must confess to being a little bemused by it. The idea of a production chopper seems almost oxymoronic.
Choppers have classically been custom bikes, each one hand made and no two alike. They were as individual as each owner had the money or skill to make them. They were expressions of each owners tastes and personality. They didn’t compete with sport bikes for speed, or cruisers for comfort. Most don’t even have a pillion seat. They can carry a rider with what ever he has in his pockets. Their purpose was to be an individual statement.
So we now have choppers rolling off the assembly line in cookie cutter repetition. There will of course be a following, and clubs and forums will pop up dedicated to this particular machine. It’s riders will pass final judgement on the bike’s merits, and will eventually define the culture that surrounds it. It will be interesting to see what niche the Fury has carved out for itself in two years.

My son Brandon bought his first bike about a year ago. It was a used bike we got for a little of nothing from a friend who has helped us keep it running. The seller also offered to paint it for us. This turned into a custom job including adding fabricated saddle bags.
My father died three months before my son’s birth. Brandon has always been fascinated with his paternal grandfather, especially his military career. He decided to turn the bike into a tribute to Dad.

When our friend Charles saw the olive drab paint Brandon had picked out, he turned pea green himself.  He groused and complained about the color, but dutifully got to work. He helped us get decals and did the fabricating required to mount the ammo cans as saddle bags. He spent days sanding out imperfections I couldn’t see, feel, or imagine. I can still see him holding out the fender asking apologetically, “Do you think this is good enough?”
“I’d have had paint on that thing three days ago.” I told him.
The bike came together and Brandon finally got to take it on a ride. Everywhere we go people come up to us and ask about it. The pipe that was on it was just that. A straight pipe coming off the exhaust port on the cylinder head. Brandon replaced that with something like a glass pack. It’s still LOUD, and it is going to backfire every time you kill the engine. Wow, an army bike that sounds like a howitzer.
Bikes with one cylinder like this are often referred to as “Thumpers.” Brandon took that moniker and ran with it designing a logo he wants to put on as a decal.
Most bikers I’ve talked too have fond memories of their first bike. There’s little doubt that Brandon will never forget Thumper. He’s says he’ll never sell it. You know, I don’t think he ever will.

— Guy Wheatley

[caption id="attachment_78" align="alignright" width="400" caption="Brandon's Suzuki Savage"][/caption]

I’ve used this line before, but it’s a good one so I’ll use it again.
People ask me, “Are you a good mechanic, do you work on your own vehicles?”
The answers are, “No,” and “Yes.” I’m not such a good mechanic, but I do work on my on vehicles. Years ago it was pure financial necessity. Now, while the finances part helps, a lot of my motivation is pride and the confidence I gain from understanding my bike mechanically. In June of 2008 I was riding the Talimena scenic drive with a group when my regulator/rectifier blew the top off my battery. I’d been smelling rotten eggs for the last hour, but didn’t understand the warning sign. I coasted to the side of the road with the group and took stock.
I wound up getting a ride back to camp as a passenger on another bike, then went back with a trailer to get my motorcycle. Back home I faced a decision. Parts and labor were going to cost about $500 at a dealership. A riding friend assured me that this was an easy repair and he had a good lead on used parts.
With his encouragement and assurance that he’d bail me out if I couldn’t handle it myself, I grabbed some wrenches and started to work. $25 and a few skint knuckles later, I was back on the road enjoying the wind in my face, a feeling of accomplishment, and the knowledge that if something similar happened again I could handle it.
Now I don’t worry as much about breakdowns when I ride long distances. I carry enough tools, parts, and knowledge to get the bike going again under most circumstances. If the bike feels funny or makes a strange noise, I can usually identify it and make an informed decision about whether to stop immediately or keep rolling and fix it later.

— Guy Wheatley