This is the long and convoluted tale of my 1972 Sportster rebuild. Many of the trials, tips, problems, and procedures I went through will apply to any bike your working on, but it's also the story of wavering gumption. It's much like what is stated in the book Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Repair, "The real motorcycle your working on is yourself".

It's been some years since I read the book and at that time I was in the process of rebuilding my 1972 XLCH. Something in the book related so much to what I was going through that I thought I'd name the bike: "The Gumption Trap".

To refresh my memory, I recently looked the term Gumption Trap up on the web and found this on Wikipedia:

The term "gumption trap" was coined by Robert M. Pirsig in chapter 26 of his first book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values (1974). A Gumption trap is defined as:

"Throughout the process of fixing the machine things always come up, low quality things, from a busted knuckle to an accidentally ruined 'irreplaceable' assembly. These drain off gumption, destroy enthusiasm and leave you so discouraged you want to forget the whole business."

If you get a chance, try reading the book. It's a bit of a tough read, but at least check out chapter 26. It's full of stuff (gumption traps) one can relate to.

Below are some definitions for gumption I found. There are others but these apply best to this tale:

1. Boldness of enterprise; initiative or aggressiveness.
2. Guts; spunk.
3. An aggressive readiness along with energy to undertake taxing efforts: drive, enterprise, hustle, initiative, punch. Informal get-up-and-go, push.

To put this rebuild in perspective, here's some background: In September 1975 I purchased my first motorcycle, a 1971 XLCH. It was a pile of crap for a four-year-old bike. Harleys were in big demand, and it was all I could afford. I had plenty of gumption so I tore that sucker down the first week and had it running by month's end.

That, my friend, is gumption fueled by excitement and youth. The odd thing is, I don't recall any of the usual frustrations or "Gumption Traps," while rebuilding it. I actually remember having good mojo, with everything, most everything into place.

In 1984 I traded that bike and some cash for a special construction '74-72 Shovelhead. I loved finally having a big Harley, but at the same time I thought I'd miss the light agile feeling of the Sportster. So, within a few months I found a beat, non running 1972 XLCH for $700 from a beat non-functioning alcoholic.

I had that sucker running within a day. It was great fun tinkering and getting it on the road. After wrenching on your bike, there is something about being in greasy grubby clothes riding a grubby loud old rat. Maybe it was the reaction from the citizens at stoplights as I revved the motor and blasted off. I especially remember getting some stares from a couple in a '66 mustang convertible. The rear head gasket was leaking and the engine developed a bad knock, so after a few such joy rides I set the bike aside and concentrated on my Shovel.

Over the years I scoured the swap meets and replaced most everything on the ‘72-74 Shovel. Then in 1992, I bought a wrecked ‘70 Shovel to restore. When it was finished in 1994, I sold the ‘72-74 Shovel. The Sporty sat in the corner of the garage, patiently waiting.

Since I was always going to swap meets and knew one day I'd rebuild the Sporty, I'd pick up parts for the future project. If you’re in no hurry, you'd be surprised by the bargains you come across. Although many parts for this build were bought years ago, I still run across prices like these: Front wheel, tire and brake $15, Rear wheel with tire $30, Handlebars $2, Gas tank $15, fenders $5 each, horn with ignition, choke, and brackets $5, fender struts $1, etc. I have kept a log of every part purchased, and it has become a personal challenge to rebuild the Sportster as cheaply as possible.

Before the ‘70 Shovel I restored a car from 1988 to '92. After finishing the ‘70, I told myself that I'd never do another restoration where I strive for perfect paint, chrome, re-plating every nut and bolt. It's disheartening to see just how quick everything starts going to hell once the build is finished.

It just isn't worth it, you worry about keeping everything nice and when you need to fix something, you can't just pull an old nut and bolt or part from your stash.

On my first two bikes, I'd paint them myself, just polish stuff up or buy a better used part at the swap meet and go. It's cheap, fun and the bike can still look great. As a matter of fact, many think old Harleys look more authentic with some patina and grit. It's to the point that there is now a group of odd ball restorers who rebuild bikes to look like they've just been dragged from the barn. I can dig it! It's a lot better than the guys who do a bad or incorrect restoration and the bike ends up looking like a kit bike, all flashy, fake and re-poppy.

With all that in mind, in 1996 I decided I'd rebuild the Sportster much like my earlier bikes. No new chrome or cad plating, just some paint and cleaning up. Since I had collected just about everything needed, I figured it would be quick, cheap, and easy.

A wise man would say, "pick two, as you can never have all three." As it stands, quick and easy are history. With cheap in mind and quick and easy out the door, hang on for the next segment.