On a cold brisk May morning, in 1988, I landed in Syracuse NY. I was on my way to meet my uncle Don, whom I hadn't seen in 5 years. The purpose of this meeting was that Don was giving me, his favorite nephew, a 1977 XT500. I was going to get the bike in shape so I could ride it back to Mississippi. Just a mere 1200 miles away.

Don had bought this bike in 1977 and had spent many years using it as his commuter machine. It was ridden on many of the trails and fire roads in the northern NY area. On one such trip, a pissed off resident had sawed down a tree to block the trail. Upon seeing this, Don stopped, put it into first, popped the clutch, wheeled her up and dropped the big ole bash plate across the log. He then rocked it over and proceeded down the trail much to the chagrin of the now really pissed off resident. In 1982 he bought a seca 550 and the xt500 was sent out to the back yard. And that was where it was when I showed up that day in May.

When we pulled her out of the backyard she looked pretty sickly. Two flat tires, ripped seat cover and a god awful accumulation of pine needles and dirt. The first thing I had to do was wash it up. Down to the store for green scrubbies, sponges, stiff brushes, degreaser, polish, dish soap, oil, filter, silicone, wd40. chain lube, etc., etc.. It took the better part of a day and a half just to clean it up. I took the seat off and gave it to my aunt who was good enough to recover it for me.

Well, before I even was going to go after those two evil bead locking rims from hell, I decided I had better see if the damn thing would run. I was going to check the points when Don informed me he had put a Mototech electronic ignition on after he had decided to go swimming with bike on one excursion. Now you see why he is my favorite uncle. I pulled the plug, popped a new one in, and held it on the engine and gave the bike a kick. JOLT!! I guess I was as good a ground as any and yes she really had some good spark. I then was going to pull the carb and clean it when Don spoke up again and said that the system was full of gas and fuel stabilizer and shouldn't have to worry about it. Well I guessed it was time to see if the old dog would start.

Now I had never before tried to start the beast nor had I ever seen the sight window on the cam, much less new what it was for. I think Don knew that I didn't know, but he was of the live and learn philosophy sometimes. I went to kick that pig over and I just about broke my leg. That was when Don, after he picked himself up off the ground because he was laughing so hard, showed me the decompression lever and the sight window. So, I kicked it through a few times and then lined it all up for the test. One kick, nothing. Two, three, four kicks, nothing. Don quietly asks if I turned the fuel on. Man I hate that guy sometimes. Fires right up on the second kick

The sound was a deep, throaty sound that seemed to want to shake the whole neighborhood. A couple of raps on the throttle and the thing got even louder. I tried to yell at Don but he was just giving me the finger over the throat, kill it sign. I shut it off and went to see if I had blown the baffles all over the driveway. Nope, no baffles to blow. The stock exhaust had been replaced with White Bros. pipe and a Supertrapp exhaust. The ceramic wadding was all shot so down to the bike shop to get some more. Get home, and put the system back together and fire it up again. This time it sounds awesome. That's not to say it didn't sound wicked with just the straight pipe. But now it sounds, I don't know it just sounded better. A quick oil, filter and all around lube job and my third day was completely shot.

I guess I couldn't put off looking at those tires any longer. The front didn't look too bad, but the back had a wicked case of dry rot. I put air to the front and it looked like it was going to hold. Great I thought to myself. Well to the back, as much as I didn't want to. I started to remove the wheel and was amazed to find a chain that still had a lot of life left. I should have figured as much, because while I was cleaning I keep getting a lot of old chain lube stuck to my forearms. The wheel came off with out much incident and the beadlocks weren't near as bad as I thought they would be. I only had to put two patches on the tube that I pinched while trying to get the tire on. Reassembly was a snap, and after a good dose of PJ1 she was ready for a test run.

We cranked her up just after I put the seat back on. I rolled it down the driveway and gave the brakes and the clutch their first tentative squeezes. Surprisingly everything felt pretty good. A few warning words from Don and I went roaring off. Kind of silly to ripping through suburbia on a thumper with no plates, registration or insurance, but what the hell you only live once right. First impressions? I could not ask for a machine at the time that felt so strong. The power just seemed to roll on. I never seem to use the horn, I just pull in the clutch and give the throttle a rap. It seems to get the attention of whoever is around. But the sound of a big thumper is just incredible. My poor little old KE100 just didn't have it. I came back to the house and Don later would say he saw nothing but teeth inside that helmet. I was in heaven.

Down to the DMV for plates and the rest, which took a complete morning. I was ready for the trip home. After thanking my favorite uncle, which I still continue to do even today, I set off for home. It was a long trip which I did in two days. The only funny things that happened were: When I entered Ohio I decided to try out the no helmet law. I took off my helmet and rode about five miles before a took a fly to the forehead at seventy miles an hour. It felt like I had been shot. I quickly put my helmet back on. Also while in Ohio the exhaust blew off. I heard it, looked down and so the pipe sliding out. I jammed my sneaker against it so I could pull over. By the time I stopped it had just about burned through. I went through my bag and found no hammer, but I did find my flight boots and proceeded to use the heel of one of them to pound everything back together. Seemed to work fine. I continued on my journey. The last thing to occur was about 30 miles from my house in Mississippi. I got caught speeding on a dirt bike in rush hour traffic in Jackson MS. He pulled me over. So here I am on a bike, with NY plates, black acid washed jeans and a fringed denim jacket. YANKEE!! I heard the officer say something as I pulled off my helmet. I turned and said "What?". He replies " I said give me your god damn license, Boy.". Ahh, welcome home. I gave him my license and after seeing that it was a MS license life was good again. I got my ticket and went home. I woke up the next morning and knew how the old pony express riders felt.

I still have the bike, minus lights, and recently went on a ride with a bunch of four- wheelers. They all laughed until about midway through the ride we hit a road and I blasted them at about ninety. The old girl still has it sometimes, the same goes for me. I love the bike and when Don gave it to me I promised to keep it forever. I think I'll keep that promise. Keep on THUMPIN'..

PJ Merithew ( elvis@gisco.net )
DeKalb Jct. NY

10/03/98