Support your local Elder Statesman.....

 Elder Statesman:

noun-

an influential citizen, often a retired high official, whose advice is sought by government leaders.

any influential member of a company, group, etc., whose advice is respected.

About a month ago, I was having a somewhat miserable weekend.  Those of you who work on old bikes and cars will understand immediately.  It was the sort of of day where the best laid plans all unravel; Parts you thought would fit don't fit; that 'I only have one of these left' piece falls from the bench and shatters.  The sort of day that can cause one to lose faith and want to pack it all in. 

The frame had been freshly painted green for this mock up.

I was certainly the author of my own misfortune that day. Lacking a front wheel for the BSA project, I thought I could get away with fitting one from a Triumph Cub.  I found out (naturally) that the wheel spindle was too narrow for the forks.  Then I had a second 'brainwave'.  Take the narrower top and bottom C11 yokes from the big pile and mount the forks and wheel that way.

Perhaps I am being a bit hard on myself as the set up in the photos above looked acceptable.   I spent the day cleaning up the Cub wheel, grinding off rust with a wire wheel and filling pits with metal stick epoxy.  I then sanded everything smoothly, coated with rust paint and went to put on my 'golden boy' Shinko tire.  As a side note, I really like the look of these, I am told they are made from old Yokohama and Pirelli molds. 

Wouldn't you know it, the rim strips I ordered were 21" instead of 19!  Bugger, I thought however it was certainly not 'bugger'  which was said aloud!  I then proceeded to take some fabric tape off the shelf and wrapped it around the rim.  I mounted the tire and tube only to end up with not one, but two punctures.   After some further choice words, the tube was ripped from the tire and thrown in the bin.  I decided to soldier on and attempt to fit the wheel anyway.  I am not sure what prevented me from measuring this mess before I dug in.  Long story short, it was evident that this harebrained scheme would not come to fruition.   I left the garage to ponder my next move, which should have been obvious from the get go.  Call the local BSA man. 

I will admit that I am very hesitant to call up people and ask for parts or guidance.  I have a bad habit of assuming that I'm being a nuisance or that I am infringing on privacy.  The BSA man, who is in his eighties still rides and restores bikes.  When I first visited his garage my jaw nearly hit the floor looking at all of his spectacular builds.   He made a point to tell me that each bike was built from parts and few had matching numbers.  He was quietly proud of his work and rightfully so.  Rivet counters be damned!   He is also a member of my local branch of the vintage group and lives about 15 minutes away.  I called and left him a voicemail which he returned within an hour or so.  He had a correct wheel with decent tire for the paltry sum of $100.00.  

I looked forward to seeing him and much of my anxiety about being something of a bike building failure dissipated when I entered his shop.  I looked around a little and we chatted some.  He had no problem with me looking closely at his lovely '47 B31 and taking mental notes.  I let it slip that I had been having a frustrating time as of late.  Without missing a beat he said 'You've got too much stuff in that garage of yours.  You need to get the bikes on wheels and the rest will follow'.  Simple but sage words.  Not wanting to dither, I took my leave.  The BSA man's words ringing in my ears.  

I spent the next week and weekend purging the garage.  I gave away three tote bins worth of goods and gathered several bags of garbage, recyclables and hazardous waste to go to the local transfer station.  I moved things around and organized.  I swept and bought more little storage shelves for sundries.  I reorganized my solvent shelves and my tools.  I then looked at the 'new' workspace from the driveway in a state of disbelief.  

It was as if I had just moved to a new property, the difference was absolutely staggering.  Since then I have been able to find what I am looking for, I have been able to work and move freely as can the rest of the family.  

Those simple powerful words from the outside were exactly what I needed to hear. 

My advice to any reading this is to cast aside your ego and seek out those elder statesmen.  Listen and learn for you are not a nuisance; you are a torch bearer.  

My deepest thanks to the BSA man, I look forward to meeting with you again. 

Until next time.....