wheezy_e

I've been having fun riding the mach III around. I was having a dilema deciding on a two-stroke oil to use. The smell of castor bean based oil is the most wonderfully intoxicating smell in the whole world. Whenever I catch a whiff from someone's weedwhacker or chainsaw it just flips on the awesome memory switch, you know? A lot has changed since I was a youngster riding dirt bikes though. Synthetic oils are now the standard for non-race motors (for good reasons too boring for me to elaborate on). I was all set to use mercury marine injector oil when I was told a rumor that sounded too good to be true. A little investigating on the net revealed a company called klotz. They make modern synthetic two stroke oils with..
are you ready for this? ...

God bless them and everyone within forty miles of them. My case of oil came in the mail yesterday. I went straight out to the garage, (ok, I was already in the garage) drained the oil tank, filled it with klotz (smells good right out of the bottle, too!) and went for a ride to get the old oil out of the injector lines and the new oil in. Sadly, once the bike is warm it hardly smokes at all. Kawasaki put some effort into being as emmisions friendly as possible with the later models, but that's nothing I can't fix. Two screws remove the injector cover and you can manually hold the throttle actuated lever wide open until it smokes like a boatload of hippies going to bong island. Pure heaven. Ladies, if you want to be absolutely irresistable (to whack-jobs like the guy in the upper left corner) find some burning castor bean oil perfume. I didn't think to take a picture of the smoke cloud and it's too windy this morning, maybe some other time.

Here's what my poor neighbors have to put up with:
1. Deisel truck warming up at 5:30 am every weekday.
2. Triumph with straight pipes coming and going at all hours.
3. Noxious and worrisome two-stroke smoke on Saturday morning.
4. Black Sabbath at high volume every Sunday morning.

But it kinda evens out since they do have the luxury of living next to the neighborhood's only authentic dirt yard. Plus there's plenty of spares (that's spare parts to the rest of you uncultered americans) strewn about said yard in case anyone needs something.