This Moped Will Be the Death of Me

I've been fortunate enough to have a four day weekend to commemorate the end of the semester and prepare for my intensive (journalism). After an absolute rollercoaster of events the last few weeks, I was looking forward to slowing down, enjoying coffee instead of just drinking it, and spending some quality time in the garage.
Yesterday was my day. Waking up fairly, early, I completed just enough of my homework to smother some of the guilt before I went outside. Today's task was rewiring the moped. Admittedly, I'm not great with electric so I watched a YouTube video to brush up. The journey started with the cliché run to the parts store, AutoZone. Except in this case it wasn't just AutoZone. It was two AutoZone's and a Home Depot stop later that I finally got to work, and the rhythym set in. I wanted to replace every single 40 year old wire. I worked systematically, starting with the ignition wiring and moving onto lights. The system is actually quite simple, just like everything else on that bike - easy to learn on. Every single connection went through a process. Strip the wire, flux, crimp, solder, dielectric grease, and heat shrink tubing. I enjoyed the process, the fine dielectric anti-corrosion and waterproofing electric grease permeating my hands, creating a fine film that I just could not wipe off on my jeans. I maintain that things are going well if your hands are dirty.

I stopped for lunch, driving a few minutes to our favorite neighborhood hamburger bar, Stevenson's. I hadn't been there for a while, and it was abolsutely fantastic. I replaced the dielectric grease on my hands with other grease, and all was well with the world - and yes, I sat at the bar.

With an end in sight, I carried on with the wiring. "I'm stopping at 4:00" I told myself. 4 came around, and I decided to wire the rear light too, reasoning that I should just get it all done. 9:00 rolled around, as it always does, and the bike was done. I wheeled it outside, and the new ignition cables worked quite well. The bike was quite literally - brilliant. Eagerly, I dashed back into the garage and grabbed a helmet, ready to feel the cool night air on my sweaty face. just for a quick spin around the block. I had the throttle pegged, the bike emitting its patent weedwhacker noise. The lights got really bright, then - pop, pop, pop, pop. All 4 bulbs blew. The engine still ran. One more thing to replace. 

In bed, I smiled. Success always comes with failure, and now I have something to do this weekend.