round the mountain, across the river, and through the woods ... to get lost i go

I was able to get some "Ed time" today and used it to get to know the KLR. Today I earned a nickname that others have used in reference to me -- Adventure Ed.

I spent an hour here on the computer before leaving in order to allow the sun to reach a little higher into the sky and let the temperature come up some. It also gave me time to try and find some established trails to go explore. I was really getting nowhere and I finally just gave up and figured if I found something, great! if not, well it's just some saddle time -- not entirely a bad thing at all!

So I just decided that there is an area referred to as Max Patch nearby (about 30 miles or so) that is nothing but gravel forest service roads. Surely I can find some interesting area(s) to explore there. Here is what I come up with (it's just a map of where I went, and is mostly for my reference, but feel free to click it if you want -- it'll take you to googlemaps)

http://tinyurl.com/6lnglxh


I got the bike out, geared up, and hit the gas station. Now, with a full tank and empty head it was time to motor on. The first 15 or so miles was asphalt, but I was soon on some gravel and climbing what is referred to as Round Mountain. I find myself really tentative at this point, but I am still trying to get a feel for the bike. 

I saw this spring and decided to stop and get a couple pics and a few sips of some cold mountain water as well. Nothing like spring water!


I continued on and after a few miles or so, saw a road off to the left and decided to take it. I had been climbing all along and now am headed downhill.


Once at the bottom, yet another road off to the left appealed to me. Appealed is probably not the right word. It was almost as if it was summoning me. 


Far be it for me to ignore such an inclination, so I went with it. Within 500' there was a water crossing. It looked pretty tame so I crossed it and had no issues.


After another 1000' it came to a loop with no other way out. Or so I thought! On my way back out, I noticed a narrow trail branching off to the left. If you did open the link above, the point marked B is where the adventure started. The trail branches off to the left of the B.


Again, I felt like I was being summoned to take that roa -- err trail. It was too narrow for a car, but about the size for a 4wheeler. Hmm this could be good! 


So again, I was just dumb enough to follow that inclination. I parked the bike and walked over to find out how bad it was. There was a mud puddle in between a couple of whoops.


It looked rather intimidating, but it was one of those if you don't go, you won't know situations. Being as dumb and curious as a cat, I wanted to know, so I went! 


I went over the "dune" and into the puddle with the RPMs up so I would be ready to hit the throttle when I needed it. While it was rather deep, I cruised right through without any trouble. It seemed easy -- too easy! 


I got my feet wet and managed to keep the bike upright with no sense that I was ever out of control. I let out a loud WOOHOO and instantly a smile was pasted all over my face under that helmet! It was a feeling of accomplishment! 

There were a few more areas, that caused me to park, walk ahead, check out the trail, then walk back and continue on. 


As I was going along I couldn't help but think, 'I sure hope this comes out somewhere'. Some of the slopes were a significant downhill, and the ground was a mix of stones and muddy terrain from two days of some significant rain.


I was basically walking it down the hill as the comfort zone wasn't where I wanted it yet. A little brake, a little coasting, a little duck-walking. I only did this on the steeper sections, but it kept my attention. 


One of these hills re-kindled my thinking of "I sure hope this comes out somewhere!" as it was about a 1500' downhill steep grade. I definitely didn't want to come back up that with the slick, rocky terrain!


Shortly after that hill, though things leveled off. I found a place beside the river that was a good place to stop and just relax a minute. My temperature gauge had worked itself to the middle point and stopping to give the bike a rest seemed like a good idea.


I sat there and listened to the rush of the water as it cascaded over the rocks on its downward journey. It was quite serene.


After my zen moment, I mounted back up and journeyed on. It wasn't long before I found another downhill and this one was basically a spring runoff with a rocky bed that mandated more duck-walking and playing with the clutch and brakes. It wasn't bad, though.


Then there was another steep downhill slope. This wasn't long but it was still intimidating. I managed it okay doing more of the duck-walking stuff. Once again, my mind reverted back to "I hope this goes somewhere" because I didn't want to have to scale *that* slope either. 

 I got to another water crossing -- the same river that was pictured above. This one, though, was more than I wanted to take on. 


There was a strong current, and the river had wallowed out the bed to nearly 2' deep in a couple spots. The rush, the 2' depth, and the 12' or so width, all combined to deter me -- and my stupidity and curiosity ended ... right there!


I walked back to the bike and intended to turn it around. Only, the trail wasn't wide enough to pull a U-turn and I had to pick up the rear tire and scooch it around a few inches at a time, all the while trying to make sure I didn't retract the kickstand. When I got it about 90* from where it had been facing, I figured I now had enough room to ride it out by pulling up the bank, coasting back, turn the bars, and repeat. I managed this as a five point turn. 


What I had been regretting all along just came to be. I am going to have to go up some of those slickery slopes. Yeeha! I guess it's time to get my stripes!


I made it back up the rocky creek bed with minimal problems. The rocks made you pick good lines and I think I did fairly well with that. 


However, I had to take it slow because some of the rocks were large and I did manage to stall it a couple times, being cautious. This spiked my temperature gauge to nearly 3/4 on the high end. It was time to let it sit and cool.

Sadly, it did this right at the slope I was dreading. So that whole time, I got to sit there and stare it down. To say I was intimidated would be underselling it. 


I stared and stared while waiting. Convincing myself, you *got* to do this. That slope looked menacing. I took a picture but the picture doesn't relay it well. 


The engine cooled enough for me to just face it. So I did. I goosed the throttle and kept it in an RPM range that produced forward motion and just hung on! 


The ass-end got rather squirrely, but I just kept at it. Hey, this ain't so bad afte-.... PLOP!


I hit a rock or something that stopped my momentum completely. I went from moving at about 5 mph to not moving at all and then went over on the left side. Not a hard fall, but still a fall. I had been doing well so far and had kept her upright up until now. 


Ah well! I knew this was going to happen and now that first fall is out of the way. It didn't hurt anything critical. I picked it up, mounted, and gave it another go! Crested the hill and had another feeling of satisfaction. 


Then off to the level section and noticed that I was keeping my throttle open wider and RPMs up. The ass-end was again slipping all over, but it felt good! 


I just stayed on the gas! I was starting to establish a comfort zone with this monster.


I was gaining confidence with every few feet of travel. Then I came to that long, steep downhill (now uphill) grade that worried me before. By now, however, I was feeling okay about it.


I just grabbed some throttle and took that hill on! Did fine until one of the squirrely slides put me over near some brush and the bike stalled as the rear wheel got halted by a downed tree limb. Put the kickstand down, moved the offending branch out of the way, and jumped back on, fired it up, hit the throttle and spanked *that* hill. More confidence and satisfaction. 


Confidence is a good thing, but can be a double-edged sword. The rest of the trail was relatively tame (compared to what I had just conquered). I got all the way back out to the entrance where the double-whooped mud puddle was and charged at it again. After all, it wasn't so bad the first time!


However, this time, I took a different line than when I first went in, because it was much deeper where I went this time. Also, I don't think I carried as much throttle when I entered the puddle. It stalled -- and I was screwed.


How screwed? THIS screwed!

No matter what I did I could not gain any traction. I stepped off the bike and my foot sunk about 8" into the muck substrate below the water. Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!


Now this pic was not the original angle I took. You cannot see it from the pic, but where the front tire is pointing, is the least steep way out, so I had moved the front wheel to that angle in an attempt to get it out of its temporary prison.


Well this didn't work --at all! No matter what I tried, I soon realized that she wasn't coming out under her own power!


Worse yet, I am in an unfamiliar area, on (well off of) some forest road and have no freakin' idea where I'm at. No GPS either to be able to give coordinates to someone. 


I called Melissa (yeah somehow still had service -- at least!) telling her to go to Google Maps and look up some stuff. That quickly proved to be a waste of time.


I then told her to  look up the TN forestry  site and maybe try and get in contact with them. She hung up with me and said she would have someone call  me. About 10 minutes later, sure enough someone calls.


Not the forestry department, but the Cocke County Sheriff's Dept. He knows as little about the area I am in as I do. He says he will call someone and then call me back (or have them call me).


My phone didn't ring again. I gave up on waiting on Mr. Sheriff man to help and started walking back towards ANYthing that may be a landmark I can offer up to maybe get an idea where I was.


I called Melissa told her I was walking out and maybe she should come get me. She calls me back and tells me she was just talking to the Del Rio (closest "town") Rescue squad. They are sending someone out to find me. How the hell are they going to find me? I am off of a road that is off of another road (the forestry dept. didn't waste money on putting street names up).


Within 10 minutes a guy from the rescue squad dispatch office calls me and tells me to stay on the line and we will work through this until they find me.


The road that I came in on was all downhill. Which means the *walk* is now all uphill. 


My fat arse is NOT in shape. I kept walking but after about a half mile my legs are getting heavy. To make matters worse, my socks and boots are SOAKED from standing in that muck trying to get the bike out.


(as an aside -- David Ryder gave me some excellent advice a couple weeks ago, but I forgot to do it. He told me my toolkit needs to have a come-along. DOH! not sure if that would've helped since I was alone but it might have)


I could hear some of the radio chatter of the rescue squad through the dispatcher's phone. Every 5 or 10 minutes or so he would say, "hey you still there?" "Yup, just taking one step at a time"


He told me to just listen for sirens. They would sound them whenever they came up to a road that was in the direction I told them I would be (if looking at the map link, I was on Wolf Creek Rd. -- again, that's NOT labeled on the road itself)


I got stuck a little after 3:00. I started walking about 3:30. It was nearly 6:30 when I came across any kind of helpful information I could share with them. I found a sign saying I was in Rattlesnake Gap. 


I had earlier told the guy I had seen that sign, but he told me from the information I gave him, there was no way I was that far back. So all this time they had been looking for me about 5 miles or so away from where I had turned off. 


He told me to stay at that sign and someone would be there in a few minutes. It is rather dark now, and sure enough I soon see some headlights. They show up, we get in his truck and then he asks what my plans were -- "Do you want to get the bike or do you want to just head home?"


"Well if we can get the bike out tonight that would be excellent. I really don't want to leave it behind, but I have caused you enough trouble already, so if you don't wish to, that's fine, I can get it tomorrow."


He didn't have any rope handy so we started back, then he remembered he had some stuff that looked weak, but had a strong tensile strength. I told him I was game if he was. He turned around and we started back down the hill towards the bike. 


It was funny, one of the guys in the truck said, "Yeesh! I can see why it took you three hours to get out of there" It was probably about 3 miles and it was ALL uphill too!


We get to the bike and he didn't want to grab it by the forks, and I was quite alright with that too. We tried to grab the handlebars but all that did was pull the bike DOWNwards. We grabbed a frame member down by the radiator and that was what did it. That KLR come right up out of that muddy prison and I was a happy man!


I slipped them a $20 for their efforts and told them to grab some beers or something once their shift was up. The guy didn't want to take it, but I convinced him I would have had to pay a LOT more for a tow truck, or if I had to come back tomorrow, would have to spend gas money anyway, so he quit arguing.


The rest of the way home was uneventful, save for the fact my hands and toes were frozen. It was probably 45*, but my shoes and socks were still soaked, and I had brought my 3 season gloves and they provide no protection from the cold. Additionally, when we tried pulling the bike out by the handlebars, it had moved them out of place (and I had no tools with me) so the barkbusters were no longer providing any wind protection.


I got home and removed wet clothes and jumped in a HOT HOT shower. I cannot remember a shower feeling so good. Followed that up by propping my butt next to the fire. 


WHEW! what a day! It was great, and I can see me really enjoying this kind of riding. I just need to make sure I am at the right speed and RPM range to tackle some of those mudholes!   LOL


Here is what a KLR should look like after a good day on the trail! Good times! Good times!



Tomorrow it will get a bath, and I will likely pull off the shifter peg to clean in there and will wipe down the chain and re-grease it. Oh and fix the handlebars.  

garage time ... flies!

I have been trying  for about a week or so now to get out to the garage but things keep preventing me from it. Last Friday, I whimped out because it was cold, and I had a few beers so probably not a good idea anyway.

Saturday, Dad and I went to pick up the KLR over in Nashville, by the time I got home, I was a bit whooped, so again, probably not the best time. I don't remember why I didn't get out there Sunday, probably got lazy or something. Melissa has gotten home late pretty much every day this week, so I didn't manage to get out there after she got home either.

Today, she had a late appointment (5:00) which would allow me to get some stuff done before she left, and if she didn't get home too late, upon her return. I started with the tractor and intended to grade the driveway. However, just as I was about done, a support member for the box blade let go and the blade would no longer lift. Great!

I look it over and find that the mount point is a casting on the rear wheel housing. Oh my! Dad is gonna love this! The damn thing was sheared in half.

Dad wanted me to go to the dealer and show them what broke and get an estimate of the repair. We have a hefty repair bill in front of us.

I wasn't doing anything I hadn't done with it before, it .... just .... let go! Never seen anything like it, and neither had the people who sold us the tractor.

By the time I ran up to the tractor dealer (grading normally takes a half hour or less) it is two and a half hours later. Yeesh! this Bandit won't be running before my birthday at this rate!

After getting back, I reassembled the fuel tank. It looked pretty good with that new "paint" in it.

I managed to pull the carb bowls and set my floats within spec. Good thing I took the time, I was going to put them back in without checking, but two were off by 3 mm so I likely would've had to pull them off again had I not took the time.

Then the tractor guy came to take it off to their shop. There goes another half hour. While he was loading, Dad's chair quit working. Are you kidding me?

This took another half hour and by now, there isn't much point in going back out to the garage as Melissa will have to be leaving to make her appointment pretty soon.

She went to her appointment and returned, and I headed back out to the garage. This is the part I have been dreading -- okay the *next* part I have been dreading. I need to get the throttle cables back on. I struggled with this last week and spent hours getting nowhere.

I have been told how "easy" this is supposed to be, but I am not finding it to be so. I can get the ferrule in the hole, but aligning the cable with the slot on the back cable is whipping me!

I keep at it and at it, but am still getting nowhere. I finally managed to get the cable to slip in the slot. SWEET! I then slap the front one in (that one's easy because it's up front and easy to get my fingers too -- the other one is hidden in between carburetors) . I check the throttle grip and it pulls fine, but does not snap back. (insert multiple bad words here)  Apparently, I put the cables on the wrong side! (insert more bad words)

I unhook them and continue trying to get the cables to cooperate. By now it's been another two hours and the mechanic's chair thing I've been sitting on has become too much.

My ass hurts! I mean really hurts! That thing is a torture rack if you sit on it for any length of time.

I resign myself to some lathe time. It has been a few weeks since I attempted to turn anything and much, much longer since I have turned anything that made it to finishing stage.

I looked at some of the free wood lying around the garage but decided against it and grabbed some of the stuff Dad bought me a while ago. I grabbed a thin stick of Cocobolo I was thinking I could rough turn a beer tap handle with it. Then I couldn't find the tail stock spur that would help hold it. I cannot turn without it so abandon that for a piece of Rosewood (I think -- no longer marked).

This stuff is tough! I keep getting tears and scratches, and my tools are sharp. I have learned to keep the grinder mounted to the workbench at all times so I can just walk over and sharpen anytime I need to. If it's easy, then I am more inclined to do it.   ; )

Anyway, I get it turned and have decided it will either become a bowl or a box with lid. That is yet to be determined, but the shape is roughed out. I was getting a bit tired, so figured that was a good place to quit.

I decided, I should at least sand it before calling it a night. After sanding there were still a couple spots where the tool had tore into the grain a bit. I decided to hit those spots again with a sharp tool and then re-sand. Still didn't smooth out those rough areas.

I have some CA glue which is really good for filling in cracks, so I figure I could possibly use some to fill in these tore out areas. Besides, pen turners often use CA glue to put a nice gloss on their work. Two birds with one stone!

So I dribbled a couple drops on the work and turned the lathe on, keeping a rag on the piece so the glue will work itself into the grain. Oh my GOD!! this stuff is nasty.

I felt my nose hairs burning! and my eyes burning! and it was from the fumes from this stuff getting hot as it was rubbed into the wood. Wow! I never heard anyone who had discussed using CA glue mention this before, maybe it's an initiation ritual. That stuff is wicked!

However, it *did* put a nice finish on the piece and it did smooth over the rough spots better than anything else I had tried tonight. Enough so, that I put on a second coat and endured another round of eye and nose burn.They are still not smooth, but smoother! I will try to get a picture of it later and post it here.

I figured even though I hadn't accomplished much of anything, that was enough for the night. I got in the house to find it was 1:40 AM. Holy crap! garage time flies!

Communications breakdown ...

A couple of days ago, Dad tells me he wants to get a dirt bike and followed it up with "I'm serious about this". Knowing, that *he* is going to be unable to ride it, I selfishly try to persuade him into purchasing a Dual Sport instead since that would be more valuable (to me anyway).

I mean, wouldn't it be better to have something to ride TO the dirt instead of trailer it there so you can unload, ride, then RE-load after wearing yourself out? True, a dedicated dirt bike would be better once you get TO the dirt, but a DS would excel because you wouldn't have to trailer your bike to or from it.

I tend to ignore anything Dad says about wanting to do something until he repeats it. Dad talks the talk much more than he walks the walk. If I had a dollar for every time he said he wanted to do something (and we didn't do it) ... the Rockefeller namesake bear some credibility!

So he repeated it last night (Friday) and even suggested going to a Kwaki dealership to see what they had. I decided I would cut him off at the pass in case he was serious.

In the morning when I had woken up, I checked the local dealerships to see if they had any used KLRs in stock. Well they didn't, so upon checking their new inventory I found that MSRP is around $6-7K. I figured that would put an end to this talk. Surprisingly, he came back with that is in the ballpark I was thinking.

Really?!? Okay, then! I had found a few used KLRs on Craigslist and one in particular I had really liked, but had figured it was too high-priced. That is, until he said $6-7 thousand *wasn't* out of budget.

I found a really good looking '09 model with less than 9,000 miles listed for $4,200. The owner had purchased this to make a trip to Cabo San Lucas and was intending to sell it when the trip was over. Dad said give him a call, and I absent-mindedly didn't notice that the area code was a Nashville number.

Nashville area is 3 hours drive each way. Again, I figured this would put an end to this talk. Dad still didn't balk. The owner told me he would even knock $100 off the price for making such a drive. Hmmm ...

It's Saturday and now 11:30 AM and the bank closes at noon. We had to make a quick run to the bank to withdraw the cash or else we would be making a second trip if the bike had any appeal. We got to the bank 10 minutes prior to them closing. Sweet!

I managed to find the place without little difficulty thanks to the good directions I was given. I meet the guy and he starts going over the bike with me. Everything looks in order and he starts it up -- it hits on the second (audible) revolution.

This is where I shocked the poor fella. I asked him if we could wheel it over into the grass and gently lay her down on her side to see if I could lift it. I figure I'm going to use this bike mostly for off-road riding and she is going to fall at some point -- especially since I cannot quite flat-foot it -- it's TALL. I'm not on my tippy-toes, but the heels of my feet do not touch down.

Heh! you should have seen the shock and reluctance this guy had to the idea of purposely laying this bike down. He did *not* want to do this, but proceeded to do so, once I assured him we wouldn't hurt the bike.

I plan to do mostly off-roading with this bike, and since I cannot flat-foot it, I expect it will fall over. Additionally, I expect I will most likely be alone when this happens, so I need to be sure I can lift it up once it does.

I am sure if he had any Mrs Cravetz-nosy-type neighbors they were yelling "Abner! ABNER! come look at this!" As I went to right the bike, I found there were no places to grab it to man-handle it and that I would need to do the SKERT method to right it.

I guess the guy had no confidence in me as he grabbed the bars to "help" me. Surely not at all what I wanted, but I understand his side too. He then gave me a re-assuring the bike is only 350 lbs. Okay, that works.

My other request was to be able to run it through the gears and test the brakes. He told me he wouldn't mind so long as I were to show and let him hold the money in case anything happened. Not an unreasonable request, and I obliged him.

Everything seemed fine, but you sure have no risk of whiplash due to acceleration with this bike. Much more, it is too tall gearing-wise. The first order of business is to get the sprockets changed so that it has more low-end torque.

It damn near stalled as I turned around in the cul-de-sac in SECOND gear. YEESH!

Still, I cannot wait to get out and find some trouble with this bike. It's gonna be fun -- especially once geared to handle the terrain I intend to subject it to!

As we were on our way home, Dad said to me "I guess he will be partying tonight" Heh! you would think so.

However, whatever this guy is doing he seems to be living right (Maybe he is BRM's cousin). He told me while we were talking that he has 27 bikes. Two Runes (not cheap bikes), a harley softtail, a wing, a few sportbikes, some (other) cruisers, and some dirtbikes. Furthermore, when I told him we were pressed for time to make it to the bank today, he told me that we could do this on Monday as he had no job. I didn't ask him how he makes/made the money to afford all those bikes.   ; )

here are some pics

It has a Russel Day Long seat, a taller windshield, new rear tire, those large bags, and the barkbusters already equipped. This will be fun to play with.

On the way home Dad mentions that he still would like to have a couple 175cc thumpers to ride around the property. WHAT?!? a couple bikes? where did this come from? Apparently, I missed something in the translation!

I thought he was getting this for me to tool around on -- not so much -- he wants something for me and the kids to run around on the property. Well, he sure didn't communicate *that* point too well.

patience lost ...

So I got my sorry ass back in the garage tonight. Been trying to ever since Friday evening but one thing or another has prevented me from doing so.

I got my POR-15 fuel treatment Friday morning and have wanted to clean out the Bandit's fuel tank. It has been removed from the bike and emptied, so it was just a matter of adding the chemicals.

I read the directions and it seemed rather simple. Heh! that should've been a clue!

It is a 3 stage process where you add some warm water at a 1:1 ratio with the chemicals and slosh it around the insides of the tank. The first stage was a solution that would remove rust and the sludgy lacquer-type film left by gas that has sat a while. The second treatment would remove the alkaline finish and create an acidic base for the final coat, the sealant, to adhere to. Of course, the petcock and filters need to be removed to do this and the holes are covered with duct tape.

The directions suggested that warm water would be more effective than cold water -- but not to use hot water as it will likely break down the adhesive of the duct tape. It is laundry day and after a couple loads, our hot water heater was no longer kicking hot water out of the tap -- not even warm water by this point. Okay, I put some on the stove to boil, but planned to stop it before it boiled, after all, I just wanted it warm.

I sat down for too long and it was nearly boiling by the time I got to it to turn it off. No problem, I will dilute with cold water. So I do that and pour the first round of chemicals into the tank, add the water, and sure enough, as soon as I picked it up, I noticed a puddle forming underneath the tank. Apparently, I hadn't cooled it enough.

Okay, I pull the tape and add new tape and just try to be sure to avoid the petcock area (the tape on the other vents were just fine) as I swirl it all around. It leaked periodically as the liquid would be swirled over the area that was taped off and coming loose AGAIN. The swirling needed to be done for 20 minutes and then rinsed out.

Once the tank was drained of all the rinsed water, it was time for the second chemical solution. Again mixed with *warm* water. It has been nearly a half hour since I heated the water, so surely it has cooled down by now. However, I use more cold water this time and head back out to the garage to mix this cooler water with the second stage chemical.

I am sure you have guessed by the way I have phrased it, that the water was still too warm for the duct tape. Well, you are correct.

Even though, it was significantly cooler, it was still too warm. Another 20 minutes of carefully swirling the water around and being diligent around the petcock area. After this was drained, rinsed, and then drained again, came the critical part. The tank needed to be completely dried out of all water before proceeding to the sealant.

I took an old hair dryer and turned it to high and pointed it down into the tank and angled it around trying to get some heat into all the nooks and crannies and hopefully evaporate all the water that I couldn't see. I felt pretty confident that I had gotten it dry, so then moved on to the last stage.

Mix up the contents of the can until it has a uniform color and dump into the tank. The "paint" then needs to be applied to every part of the tank by twisting and turning it in all directions. The sealant should not be in the tank longer than 20 minutes and then all the excess needs to be removed.

This was where it gets frustrating. If there is a way to get this stuff out of the tank in 20 minutes, I sure would like to know how.

I removed the tape from the petcock, and being the consistency of maple syrup, it was near impossible to get the stuff out the hole. Especially since the outlet for the petcock is slightly raised to avoid sucking up the trash and sludge that sets in the bottom of your fuel tank.

This means turning the tank nearly upside down to get it to seep out the petcock outlet. Of course, before any gets out that tiny hole, most of the stuff has now run over to the other side of the tank. After many, many attempts at getting the sealant out of the tank by tilting every which way, the stuff has now created quite a mess!

The container I was emptying this into, was plenty large enough to allow me to get the runoff to go into it as I tilted the tank all around. While it did run off into the container, it also has dripped all over the bottom of the tank by now. This is paint by the way.

I would wipe it down, but having not been wearing gloves, it is also all over my fingers by now. Again, I'm still trying to get the sealant out by manipulating the tank. At this point, I am holding the tank insulated by some old rags. I guess my fingers had slipped a couple of times, as I had noticed my blue tank now has some silver spots on it. SH*T!

I hosed the areas off and used some 1200 grit sandpaper and slight pressure in an attempt to remove the partially dried paint without scratching the finish of the tank itself. Luckily, this worked pretty well.

At this point, I am more than frustrated as I have been futilely trying to get all the excess out. There is still a little left, but after nearly an hour of trying to remove the stuff that shouldn't be in there more than 20 minutes, I decided to tilt the tank up and let whatever little excess there is to settle and dry down in the very bottom of the  tank (closest to the seat). Probably not going to be a problem as there wasn't much left in there to start with, but am agitated that I didn't have the patience to finish the job properly.  It'll take 96 hours for this to cure so I am idle for the next few days as I do not wish to stir up any dust in the garage until it has.