Hello Family,
I put this together for a friend and thought that you would like to see it as well. I wish I had more pictures of the process but regretfully I was being myself and was way too caught up in getting the project done to remember to take some "in process" pictures. I am pretty proud of myself for getting some "before" pictures though. I hope that I didn't take too many liberties with dad's stories. If you have anything to add or subtract from what I wrote feel free. This is still an "in progress" story. Thanks, and I love you all very much.
Luke
Restoring “Old Blue”
I have to admit putting into words the story behind restoring my dad’s motorcycle is a bit intimidating to me. It is not a simple story but an ongoing quest for understanding. In order to portray the essence of this project I have to start from the beginning.
The story begins with a young man raised on a farm in Riverton, Utah. My dad, Craig Alan Petersen, was the youngest of 5 children. He loved working on the farm with his father and grew to be a very valuable asset to the farm. Although he was very committed to the farm, he also had a bit of a wild side, as most young men do. His greatest influence in this aspect of his life was an interesting young man named Steve Phelps who lived in one of the only other houses on the block. Steve was known for his loud voice and large belly. He was a very free spirit and a blast to hang out with. So it was not surprising that Steve had a good number of friends among the closest of which was my dad Craig. When this group of boys hit the high school scene Honda motorcycles were a huge craze, especially the new SL350 motorsport. This bike was highly advertised and wildly popular (I have heard from some that it still holds the record for the most bought and sold bike in the US). It was built to go anywhere the rider wanted to go asphalt, dirt, mud, water, rain, or shine. Dad and his friend Steve, along with a few of the other guys, bought into the craze and purchased 1971 SL350 K1s brand new off the lot.
This band of boys on power trips were living it up on their new machines. In fact, Steve, in all his free-spirited glory, even coined a snappy name for the group of bikers “Yogurt”. To this day no one can tell my how that name came about but no one really seemed too surprised to hear something so off-the-wall come from Steve. Their classmates have told me stories about how the yogurt clan would scream past the school bus on their bikes yelling “yogurt” and showing off for the girls. Then they would all get in front of the bus and slow way down delaying the school goers for considerable amounts of time. The boys would end this game by laying on the throttle and disappearing in the distance.
Dad and Steve rode the heck out of their bikes but eventually life caught up to them and circumstances led my dad into selling his machine. Steve, on the other hand kept his bike around. Although he did re-paint it once it eventually sat idle out in the back yard. One day in about 1991 when de-junking the yard Steve came across the old bike. He approached dad about getting rid of it who gladly took it off his hands. Dad took the bike to a local shop to have them get it running again. A slight tune up and new tires later he had the old yogurt machine running again. My mom recalls riding on the back of the old bike with dad when it came back from the shop.
Not long after the bike was running again dad was involved in a serious automobile accident that left him paralyzed. Old blue sat idle for another 3 or 4 years before us boys were old enough to “handle” it. One day we pulled it out and rode it around the block. Sadly, however, it had sat a little too long and was not running very well. We didn't ride it long before it would not run anymore. At that point in my life I knew nothing about motorcycles but my friends and I were determined to get it running again. All we really accomplished was tearing it apart and losing a bunch of parts. The bike then sat again gathering dust, but I never forgot about it.
The old SL350 took on greater meaning to me after dad passed away in 1998.
I kicked around the idea of restoring it for years when finally the opportunity came when I enrolled in a small engine repair class here at USU in 2006.
I dug the bike out from the old horse tack shed at home and hauled it up to
Logan.
I got a good feel for the magnitude of the project when on the way up I stopped at the Vescos Honda store in
Brigham City to find a replacement for the fuel valve my friends and I lost years before.
It took the parts guy 10 minutes to even find the bike model in the computer and then he informed me that most of the parts had been discontinued.
A bit downhearted, I left the store and walked out to my truck with the motorcycle in the back.
I stared at the bike for a little while wondering if I would ever be able to ride it again.
Just then a car pulled up and an energetic kid got out and immediately said, is that an SL350?
Are you going to restore it?
I told him that was the plan and he assured me that it was possible and to try ebay for parts.
I found his advice very useful in the days to come.
I started from ground zero restoring the motorcycle. Ever since I was little I have had this mysterious idea about motors and cars. I thought they were something that only a select few could understand. This mystery surrounding mechanics turned into almost a debilitating fear that in the past discouraged me from even trying. This time was going to be different though. I was determined to overcome this fear and I had the class to help me. In the class I learned that if a motor won’t run the problem must lie in one of three areas: spark, compression, or fuel delivery. A quick check of the bike showed that only compression was still good. I worked feverishly to get spark, chasing wires everywhere and investing in a good shop manual for the bike that included wiring diagrams. I had to buy a new battery and through a process of elimination and a bit of luck we found that the problem was in the grounding of the system. Now we had spark, but still no fuel. A deeper investigation of this problem resulted in the conclusion that the tank was so badly rusted that the fuel lines were full of rust and grime. I cleaned and lined the gas tank and purchased some carburetor rebuild kits from ebay. Soon enough I had fuel delivery and was ready to kick the engine over after nearly ten years of being idle. I can’t express how happy I was when the bike turned over. I let out a "yeehaw" in the shop that drew some pretty funny looks. Then came the hard part, deciding how far to go with the rest of the restoration.
I knew that this motorcycle meant more to me than just commuter bike or a weekend joyride so my wife and I decided that it was a project worth investing in and that I would be able to spend the money necessary to restore the bike, not to showroom condition but to a condition I could be proud of. Little did I know what I was getting into. First, I had to strip the bike down to the frame and sandblast and repaint the frame. This was scary as I didn’t know if I could put it all back together. I was surprised when it took me only a few hours to tear the bike down to the frame. I thought at that point that this was going to be a breeze. What followed was much less speedy. I worked on the bike every free moment from January 2007 until well into the summer. I set a goal of completion by the family reunion over the 4th of July. It was a nightmare getting the right parts in but I put the final touches on the bike the night before we left for the reunion in Wayne County. This maiden voyage was such a blast. Not only did I get to show off the bike to my family but I got to put some miles on it and “break it in”. I literally did break some things but this trip enabled me to find and work out all the glitches.
I can’t explain the satisfaction it gives me to not only know that I overcame my fear of mechanicing but to sit in the seat of that bike and in a way be where dad had been 35 years ago. I wasn’t even there but I still get nostalgic about riding that bike every time I get on it. This bike was my way of reaching out to dad and of remembering him, even like being with him again and understanding more about who he was when he was closer to my age. It’s such an incredible feeling I can’t hope to explain. I joke that my brothers got tattoos to remember dad by and I rebuilt this bike. I’m not sure which caused more pain but I do think my coping mechanism was more healthy (although my wife may not agree having spent many “date nights” alone while I was working on the bike and hearing me complain about horrible nights sleep worrying about how I would fix something on the bike).
I guess I can sum up this story by saying that the Old Blue restoration project was more than just a hobby, it has become a tale of deep emotional yearning and lofty hopes coupled with a lot of determination amidst a considerable amount of uncertainty. Truly, I can say that this is one of the greatest accomplishments of my life.
