Semi-lucid Geezer Changes A Whizzer Tire And Ape Hangs A Spring Clamp Without The Aid Of His Sultry Wife

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Goldenrod

I live for the CABE
Semi-lucid Geezer Changes A Whizzer Tire And Ape Hangs A Spring Clamp Without The Aid Of His Sultry Wife

By Ray Spangler



Both my Whizzer and my life partner looked fetching in the warm Spring sun. Every Whizzer owner with a flat tire has fantasies that feature flipping over a Whizzer on its handlebars and saddle to change a tire. No-can-do. We motorized maniacs live in the land of real men, who sniff oil and gas and stir our coco with our thumbs. Lately, some of us have been cheating with bar hoists. I am a death-deifying cheapskate who gets the last five feet out of a bike tire. When the bald tread thumping raddles my chuggies, I begin to consider a pit-stop purchase.

I snapped some pinup photos of my five-inch brake and Red’s rounded rear features for any serious voyeurs in our group, who have been released with ankle monitors. Changing a whitewall tire is the closest I get to purchasing naughty underwear, so I make the most of it. Her Indian name is: Squaw-who-putts-with-pleasure. As you can see from her trussed-up, elevated rear positioning, this is not a challenge for the faint of heart. My usual rude workplace language seemed to act like a soothing narcotic while I toiled mightily in the fresh air. She never moved a centimeter during this very invasive ordeal.

Some patrons of painted Iron Ladies chase after the young, fancy girls minted in the recent century but I seek comfort among my assortment of bejeweled, antique tarts. I favor a time-worn, robust, fat-tire partner with a sparklingly, successful makeover, to be my rider. Rusty Schwinn parts in the hands of a master restorer have always returned this devil-may-care rider back to my dilapidated van. Some of my friends may remember a different version of this history, but we wind-in-the-hair veterans of the blacktop, tend to remember only the most pleasant of experiences.



Too-da-loo and congratulatory hugs all around,

Must dash, wife waits.

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1586033

This is my cowgirl, Whizzer Vanna professionally pointing to the heavy-duty clutch bracket. The third picture shows a valve stem tube protecter that keeps the valve from guillotining itself by pulling side-ways during acceleration. Notice that I had to take the Indian saddle off to get the rear pal seat off.
 
Last edited:

razinhellcustomz

Cruisin' on my Bluebird
Semi-lucid Geezer Changes A Whizzer Tire And Ape Hangs A Spring Clamp Without The Aid Of His Sultry Wife

By Ray Spangler



Both my Whizzer and my life partner looked fetching in the warm Spring sun. Every Whizzer owner with a flat tire has fantasies that feature flipping over a Whizzer on its handlebars and saddle to change a tire. No-can-do. We motorized maniacs live in the land of real men, who sniff oil and gas and stir our coco with our thumbs. Lately, some of us have been cheating with bar hoists. I am a death-deifying cheapskate who gets the last five feet out of a bike tire. When the bald tread thumping raddles my chuggies, I begin to consider a pit-stop purchase.

I snapped some pinup photos of my five-inch brake and Red’s rounded rear features for any serious voyeurs in our group, who have been released with ankle monitors. Changing a whitewall tire is the closest I get to purchasing naughty underwear, so I make the most of it. Her Indian name is: Squaw-who-putts-with-pleasure. As you can see from her trussed-up, elevated rear positioning, this is not a challenge for the faint of heart. My usual rude workplace language seemed to act like a soothing narcotic while I toiled mightily in the fresh air. She never moved a centimeter during this very invasive ordeal.

Some patrons of painted Iron Ladies chase after the young, fancy girls minted in the recent century but I seek comfort among my assortment of bejeweled, antique tarts. I favor a time-worn, robust, fat-tire partner with a sparklingly, successful makeover, to be my rider. Rusty Schwinn parts in the hands of a master restorer have always returned this devil-may-care rider back to my dilapidated van. Some of my friends may remember a different version of this history, but we wind-in-the-hair veterans of the blacktop, tend to remember only the most pleasant of experiences.



Too-da-loo and congratulatory hugs all around,

Must dash, wife waits.

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This is my cowgirl, Whizzer Vanna professionally pointing to the heavy-duty clutch bracket. The third picture shows a valve stem tube protecter that keeps the valve from guillotining itself by pulling side-ways during acceleration. Notice that I had to take the Indian saddle off to get the rear pal seat off.
That poor Lighting Dart looks a whole lot worse for wear.. Been rode hard and put away wet more times than not... Good thing you made that "Pit Stop Purchase"...
 

Billythekid

I live for the CABE
Question how did the pal seat originally mount to the seat post ? Was the pal seat loosey goosey and bounce giving you “suspension”or was there a factory mount to hold it firmly in place ?
 

Goldenrod

I live for the CABE
Question how did the pal seat originally mount to the seat post ? Was the pal seat loosey goosey and bounce giving you “suspension”or was there a factory mount to hold it firmly in place ?
Question how did the pal seat originally mount to the seat post ? Was the pal seat loosey goosey and bounce giving you “suspension”or was there a factory mount to hold it firmly in place ?
The seat end just rides on the post but a heater hose clamp must be positioned on top to keep it from rattling. The tubes rust out if they are stored improperly (up-side-down). My lady needs a pillow when she rides behind. These came in non-matching colors so I powder coated mine to be the uniform color and I had it pin striped.
 
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