So yeah, last Thursday my ’93 CBR started sounding like a bag of bolts in a washing machine. Knew I needed parts yesterday. Didn’t want to sell a kidney paying dealer prices or wait months.
The Initial Disaster Zone
First thing I did? Called the fancy dealership downtown. Guy laughed like I told a joke. Said try finding unicorn teeth instead. Great start. Then spent hours googling, landed on these sites charging more than my bike’s worth. Felt like punching air.
Panic Mode Plan:
- Dug through my garage stash – found one dried-up gasket and disappointment.
- Posted “HELP” in five Facebook groups – got ten guys selling ’08 parts. Useless.
- Emailed that “vintage parts” shop – radio silence. Shocker.
Hitting Gold in Junkyard Mud
Finally drove out to Burt’s Salvage Saturday morning. Place looks like a bike graveyard. Told Burt what I needed – he just pointed at a mountain of metal near the back. “Good luck, kid.” Spent three hours up to my elbows in grime.
Tore apart four different ’90s CBR carcasses. Found a half-seized fuel pump I could rebuild. Grabbed a decent clutch cover all scratched up but solid. Burt charged me fifty bucks cash for the pile. Dirt literally fell off the parts when I slapped ‘em on my truck bed.
Pro Tip From The Grind:
- Take your own tools – his were rusted shut
- Wear gloves thick enough to stop glass shards
- Bring pics of YOUR bike’s guts – stops second-guessing
The Waiting Game Sucks
Cleaned the fuel pump in my driveway Sunday. Looked rough but functional. Ordered rebuild kit Monday from a mom-and-pop shop. Still cost less than one “new” part. Took eight days shipping – sat biting my nails hearing that death rattle every time I walked past the garage.
Slapped it all together last night. Started up smooth. Still got a chirping noise somewhere deep inside. Might be next weekend’s problem. But hey – fifty bucks plus sweat beats five hundred any day. Burt wins employee of the year.
