A Warning! R65LS rehab bump - The Man Canned My Machine!

[opus451]

Figured I would share this as a warning if nothing else.

I had my R65LS parked on a street in Brooklyn, NY a month ago.
It wasn't yet running so through the winter I moved it side to side for the street sweeper.
On March 1st the sanitation department apparently marked it as derelict (geez its not that ugly!), had it towed and it was supposedly destroyed within 6 hours. I came home from work, noticed it missing, called the police who told me it was towed. Called the tow company and they were closed. Called the very first thing the next morning and the bike was supposedly already destroyed.

It took anyone I talked to only about 30 seconds to know who I was from the vin. I'm retty easy to find when the city has some issue with me. I guess the sanitation couldn't care less to even try before giving the green light to crush.

Explanation was that it must have not had a plate on it.
Which wasn't the case the last time I worked on it on the Sunday two days before.

So, a few to grow on - a) plate theft is very real (the rub of this is if you velcro your plate and take it with you, better chain it to something because the city will steal it). And b) the city will impound and destroy your bike without lifting a finger to try and verify its ownership.

I'm filing a claim with the city.

One less 65LS in the world.

Opus

[Airbear]

This is terrible. It is bad enough that a poor old 65LS is homeless and living hard on the street in a NY winter, but compulsory euthenasia is unconscionable. You have my sympathy, and the US of A has sunk even lower in my estimation. I'm saving a little bit of this estimation until the impending election result is known of course.

ps: Here are a few paragraphs written by Douglas Adams on the subject of life, and New York:

"One of the extraordinary things about life is the sort of places
it's prepared to put up with living. Anywhere it can get some
kind of a grip, whether it's the intoxicating seas of Santraginus
V, where the fish never seem to care whatever the heck kind
of direction they swim in, the fire storms of Frastra where, they
say, life begins at 40,000 degrees, or just burrowing around in
the lower intestine of a rat for the sheer unadulterated hell of
it, life will always find a way of hanging on in somewhere.

It will even live in New York, though it's hard to know why.
In the winter time the temperature falls well below the legal
minimum, or rather it would do if anybody had the common
sense to set a legal minimum. The last time anybody made a
list of the top hundred character attributes of New Yorkers,
common sense snuck in at number 79.

In the summer it's too darn hot. It's one thing to be the sort
of life form that thrives on heat and finds, as the Frastrans do,
that the temperature range between 40,000 and 40,004 is very
equable, but it's quite another to be the sort of animal that has
to wrap itself up in lots of other animals at one point in your
planet's orbit, and then find, half an orbit later, that your skin's
bubbling.

Spring is over-rated. A lot of the inhabitants of New York
will honk on mightily about the pleasures of spring, but if they
actually knew the first thing about the pleasures of spring they
would know of at least five thousand nine hundred and eighty-
three better places to spend it than New York, and that's just
on the same latitude.

Fall, though, is the worst. Few things are worse than fall in
New York. Some of the things that live in the lower intestines of
rats would disagree, but most of the things that live in the lower
intestines of rats are highly disagreeable anyway, so their opinion
can and should be discounted. When it's fall in New York, the air
smells as if someone's been frying goats in it, and if you are keen
to breathe, the best plan is to open a window and stick your head
in a building."

[Bamboo812]

"Glad I'm not you..." (just kidding; ex New Jersey-ite here) I met a taxi driver outside Grand Central Station, who was afraid to give me a ride across the bridge to New Jersey, because something bad might happen. ROFLMFAO!

[opus451]

Mr. Adams forgot to mention how the smell of urine fumes up from the cement from about April till September.
And at the very least, crossing the border of Jersey can get you quite the nasty reputation.

[Rob]

Sucks big time, Opus.
You seem to be taking it well.

I cannot imagine what life in a really big city is like.
I would have been trying to find a sympathetic friend with a garage somewhere, but that is probably not easy.

I cannot imagine what kind of soulless beings run the crushing machines.
They surely must be alcoholics.

[Kurt in S.A.]

You've said "supposedly" it was crushed. Is there any chance that's a cover up and someone took possession of the bike?

Kurt in S.A.

[Duane Ausherman]

I am so sorry for the loss opus. I spent a lot of time in NYC and can't remember why.

Once I loaned a /2 to a friend for he and his girl friend to ride around the country. It was stolen from him in NYC, the thief hit a pedestrian, not the fault of the thief and I was hounded for years over that one by the state. They wanted me to pay the medical for the errant pedestrian. They let the thief out on his own cognizance and he split for Europe, where he stayed until the statute of limitations was up. He returned and got a job, guess where, at the BMW shop that I had just sold in 1975. I warned the new buyer of this guy's reputation, but he kept him until he cheated the buyer. Imagine that.

I stopped loaning motorcycles out. My friend who had it stolen went back to Kansas and lived there. His son ended up killing someone over something stupid. I recently talked to the guy who told me that his greatest joy in life was being a father. I can imagine his pride. His son wasn't so guilty, because the prosecutor over prosecuted the case. What???

Since I moved to CA in 1967, I have made far better choices in friends. Then I found this site.

[ME 109]

Since I moved to CA in 1967, I have made far better choices in friends. Then I found this site.

As they say, one step forward two steps backwards.

[opus451]

In some parts of Brooklyn, it is known that vans will pull up day or night, two guys will get out and slip baseball bats through the spokes, pick the bike up and load it on, disappear. Or the less cunning youngins will loiter around a shop waiting for someone to make the mistake of leaving a bike with keys in the ignition, and jump on and tearass away. But it is equally known that the shop guys will tearass right after them, and try and run them off the road if they have the chance. If any of you are ever passing through this purgatory, feel free to reach out to me.

Rob, these scrap metal yards are an assault on ones sense as much as their constitution every second you are in them, from the huge claws and magnets swinging over your head, to the tossed tons of debris being constantly moved around, to the scary grimey guys who decide how much your junk is worth and whom you never would dare negotiate with. Not to mention a high probability of being owned by the "family" still.

Duane, you illustrated my point well. The city will find you when it suits them, and invariably over money they feel entitled to. Wild story.

Kurt, it's the Brooklyn skeptic in me. I didn't see it happen, and it was a fine enough bike as a project. I guess the best anyone would be able to do is part it out, the title being in my name. I should have gone there and demanded to see my new BMW cube to feel sure, but I'm letting it go as best I can.

The bike was a bit cursed looking back. I picked it up cheap as a stand in while I worked on my 60. It was sold to me as having run a few years back and ready to go. I don't doubt it had, but I quickly found out that fact really doesn't matter when a) it has been sitting in East coast weather for that time, and b) the owner knows little being only a rider, not a gearhead. He knew only the most basic maintenance, if that, seemed to cut corners when it came to maintenance, and never set his bikes up properly for storage. So the deal quickly turned to a near lemon. On top of that, it was a cash/labor trade. He needed his fork seals done on his K75 and carbs rebuilt on a Suzuki. After I did the forks, it was clear his brake system hadn't been attended to so I cleaned everything best I could, bled it for days. Took it for a test ride and the brakes locked and threw me. Nothing broken, just bruised up good. Turned out he hadn't changed the fluid in nearly 3 years, and a return flow clot had developed that didn't present itself in the repair process. To make matters slightly worse, I had bought the bike with my brother 50/50 which was slowly turning into a 90/10 burden for me with all the liability, noncommittal dodge for him.

I have to say, I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled when I found out.

Anyway, back to the 60 where the attention should have been from the start.
And invaluable lessons learned.

Ride easy folks...

[SteveD]

Kudos for your attitude.