My lesson in K.I.S.S.* and motorcycle repair

*K.I.S.S. -- Keep it simple, stupid.

Owning and maintaining motorcycles has given me a reasonably good comfort level when it comes to making basic repairs and keeping a machine in proper running condition. And I am good at following the step-by-step instructions in a vehicle's service manual to tackle extensive maintenance and repair projects.

However, there's a large void in my capabilities profile when it comes to trouble-shooting an engine or electrical system and determining specific repairs. That does not stop me from trying every logical test I can think of to zero in on a cranky part or loose connection. And I am not one to stand by the side of the road and wait for help to fall from the sky. But, I must admit, my knowledge of a motorcycle's inner workings is not extensive.

Sure, I know the standard trouble-shooting techniques, like checking to see if the sparkplugs are sparking and that the gas is flowing. But, unless the cause of a problem is obvious, I can have a tough time finding it.

I keep it really simple.

That's why I start my trouble-shooting procedure with extremely basic diagnostics, like checking the road behind the motorcycle to see if any large parts have fallen off. Spotting my oil pan or carburetor next to the white line really gives me a heads-up as why to the engine gave out.

I have the greatest respect for people who can isolate and fix automotive system problems. My long-time motorcycle-touring friend, Don, is like that. He is a mechanical engineer, and he really knows his way around engines. Over the years, whenever his or my bike had a serious problem when we were touring, I would stand back and let him sort things out and come up with a solution. He never failed.

On one occasion, however, even my sandbox knowledge of motorcycle systems would have saved us some time, aggravation, and anxiety.

On a dark desert highway.

Don and I were traveling across the Wyoming prairie during an extended jaunt through the West. It was well after dark and we had bundled up with gloves and scarves to ward off the chill. Otherwise, the weather was nice and the sky was a mat of stars. Occasionally, off in the distance on either side of the two-lane road, we could see the crystal clear lights of a ranch or farmhouse.

The lyrics to the Eagle's song, Hotel California, kept circling through my head:

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