Tonight was the night.  I grabbed my Clymer motorcycle repair manual and tool kit and proceeded to peel the side off my bike.  First the right side fairing.  Then the starter cover.  I carefully scrutinized each of the parts as they were removed and placed them in an orderly fashion on the floor to the rear of the motorcycle.  All the while expecting to find shards of metal or perhaps some disfigured part that would send me into a tail spin of despair.

It never happened.

Instead, when I had fully disassembled the starter clutch I was amazed by how good everything looked.  A closer look of the case showed that it was not harmed in any way either.  Definitely not what I had expected.

Slowly I began to replace the parts while checking each one for fit.  No problems could be found.  The starter clutch itself seemed to be in great shape and a spin test showed it locking properly in the one direction.  My mind started racing.  Could it be that the bolt had somehow worked loose and caused the trouble?  I was beginning to think that was it, but how could I know for sure without testing?

After everything was fitted and tight I paced around my apartment.  Finally I decided that I would need to give the engine a spin.  If the starter spun freely then I would know that the starter clutch was indeed bad, but if it engaged and tried to start… well that would be a different story altogether.

I grabbed my jacket as I walked next door to my neighbors to let them know what I was planning.  You can probably imagine the looks on their faces when I told them about my working on a motorcycle in my kitchen and then planning to test the dang thing inside. 

Walking back into my apartment I made a beeline to the motorcycle.  I flipped the ignition on and heard the fuel pump prime.  I felt my pulse start to quicken.  Just before I committed to pressing the starter button I turned the key off.  I then walked into my closet, grabbed a towel from my clothes hamper, and used it shield the wall behind the bike in case something spit out of the exhaust.  Now that I was reasonably sure things were safeguarded I again turned the key switch on and watched the gauges dance under the lights.  The fuel pump primed and I felt excitement ripple through me as I bumped the started button.

The only thing faster than the bike starting was the grin that had slapped itself across my face.  I briefly reveled in the familiar sound of my bike waking from its’ sleep before quickly snapping the kill switch to silence the beast.

So now I am in the process of finding a replacement for the starter clutch cover and then getting my rear tire fixed.  Maybe if I can scratch a little luck up I can be back in the saddle before the roads ice up.