Anybody want to buy a motorcycle?

Not just any motorcycle, but a real classic.

A chopped 1974 Honda CB 750.  It has a Springer front end and an Amen Savior softail frame.

It also has an owner to whom the internal combustion engine is a source of infernal confusion.

The theory when I purchased this bike a few years’ back is that I would learn all of its secrets and turn myself into a mechanic.

The reality three or four years later is that it has been parked in the garage much more than it has been on the road.

Don’t get me wrong, it is a very cool motorcycle. But I still don’t know a carburetor from a carbohydrate. I don’t know an oil filter from an unfiltered Camel cigarette. I wouldn’t know a cam chain from a chain smoking Kirk Cameron.

So there you go, I have a classic motorcycle that sometimes needs a gentle touch and I’ve got the touch of a lobster.  Oh, I still love the bike. I just don’t love having to work on the bike.

When it runs, it runs great. But it needs a new battery. It needs some new tires. Its carbs have to be adjusted. Right now, they leak more gas than Joey Chestnut after eating those 62 hotdogs at Nathan’s on Coney Island.

Speaking of carbs, I guess you are wondering how much bread I want for the bike. I guess about $2,000 sounds right. That price is negotiable. I’d consider a trade, too. Tell me what you have.

What I have is a cool-looking, classic motorcycle; a cool-looking, classic motorcycle that is parked in the garage.