So I got everthing put back together. Found out that 20 weight oil is actually very...heavy. My shocks are really stiff and I'm probably going to swap that out for 15.
Excited to be (once....again....) I rode it around some roads in the middle of nowhere at 1am, enjoying the desolate night. As my mind wandered, I started to wonder when the thing would break down again. Hmmm. What will it be?
The answer came in form of me twisting the throttle, I think a common answer for a confusing subject among our motorcycle brothers. Except the thing bogged badly, and, a few seconds after that, would only run when at about an idle rpm.
So I idled it as far as I could, which ended up being an intersection in the middle of nowhere, slightly better than nothing in the middle of nowhere. The bike shut off. I think I was out of gas.
Anyways, 40 minutes later, my friend (who was having a bad night previously) was pouring gas into my tank, and I had him sit on it. He was urging me to let him ride it, and the short of it was - I let him. I was freaked out. I knew the negative probabilities were scary, no matter what I told him. I didn't tell him enough, and he didn't listen to me, anyway. I tried to make him repeat after me "to stop, grab the two front levers". He wouldn't say it. How are you supposed to teach lead singers of punk rock bands this kind of stuff anyway?
Anyway, he of course gives it a good amount of throttle, lets the clutch out too quickly, and wobbles/jerks badly, which made me think he was going to crash. There goes my bike, and my night. Somehow...he didn't, and soon disappeared into the night, along the long straight road ahead. The road was completely empty, and there was hundreds of feet of flat on either side. It would be near impossible to die, but of course he could get hurt easily. That's what I told him anyway.
After taking his time to turn around and come back, he finally gets back and stops in front of me - 5mph......3mph......1mph.....stop......leeeeaaaaaannnnnnn......ohhhhhhmanit'sgoingovershit!
I shouted "engine kill! engine kill!" - and turned off the engine as he was unsuccessfully struggling to keep it up. It ended up laying down nice and slow like it was done on purpose. Right. Picked it up, and rode home. It was 3AM, and I ate a burrito.
He now requires a motorcycle. It was wrong, unsafe, incorrect, irresponsible, improbable, but now we are one more.