I haven't been following the rules...

I Haven't Been Following The Rules

For years and years I've advised hobbyists to think very carefully before obtaining a restoration project. Over and over, I've preached the gospel that says you must be very interested in the chosen vehicle, whether it's an emotional interest or a purely historic one. If you just go out and buy some vehicle based only on price, availability or any other reason, you won't enjoy - and probably will never finish - the project.

That has always been my philosophy and it has held up very well. Until now, that is. You see, I agreed to take on the Harley project you've been reading about lately for purely financial reasons. The owner is paying an hourly fee based upon friendship rather than business. Consequently, I've been working on the motorcycle since July and not enjoying one single minute.

Why, you might ask? Well, I've never been particularly fond of, or interested in, Harley motorcycles. There's nothing wrong with them, but they just don't push any of my "hot" buttons. By and large, Harleys are heavy, ponderous and ridiculously noisy. There's very little "art," by my reckoning, in the design or execution. This point can be argued, of course, but as far as I'm concerned I would never choose a Harley for a restoration project of my own.

This attitude has reflected itself in several ways during the process of putting the bike together. Combined with the owner's utter lack of records, photos, organization of parts and the plethora of boxes of hardware and oft-duplicated components (he provided parts from a total of 3 motorcycles) the project is nothing more than one gigantic jigsaw puzzle. To top that off, all previously assembled parts were done so wrong.

I love challenges, but not ones like this. A challenge has to be enjoyable (you gotta love the project or you won't finish it!) and this one isn't. It's just an endless sequence of frustrations, trial-and-error assembly (no worthwhile manuals), rummaging through boxes for fittings and, well, work.

I don't mind work either, but when it's being done strictly for money it has to be worth your time. Since this project is being done for a "token" fee it's become a grudging process that I find easily kills the motivation to keep up momentum day to day. It's almost finished and, hopefully, will run fine and go away, but it doesn't leave me with any sense of satisfaction.

I know the owner well enough to realize that he will never ride the machine on any regular basis. In fact, the greatest likelihood is that he will find it intimidating to do so and will sell it off in the near future. That's his business, of course, but the experience hasn't left me with a desire not to take on any more such projects for money, unless the money is very good. The lesson learned here is that you have to think carefully when you convert a hobby into a business.