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#1
05-06-2003, 04:24 PM
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Harley carburator
I've got a harly with an evo motor and stock carburator.Bought the carb. new last year and the bike ran great.this month after taking it out on its maiden ride(after winter) it's not so hot.
when I'm idleing and go to take off the bike sputters and almost dies and the goes.someone said that it should be rejetted but I think something should be cleaned out.after all it was great last fall. anyone have any ideas.I'm not that mechanical;but I'll give it a try.thanx,moysh 
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#2
05-06-2003, 05:56 PM
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Did you run the bike for 5-10 minutes once a week during winter? If not more then just your carbs can get out of sync. If the bike is sputtering it could be a couple of different things, plugs, carbs, coils, etc. Try if you can to have a friend who knows mechanics diagnose the problem before going to the harley shop and getting ripped off.
__________________
......or if your a loser who drives a Civic with a type R sticker, racing stripes, blasting really bad rap music through your suburban area with your pretentious "I’m 21 but I’m still in high school girlfriend" while driving with your hand up on the top of the steering wheel exposing your underdeveloped pasty white vitamin deficient arm and wearing your backwards BS upside down visor hat while feeling the tacky as a "Florida vacation" single diamond earring in your ear, If you are this person...with any luck the sun in its precise celestial positioning as you putter on by...will reflect its scorching rays into your earring, bouncing intensely in your rearview, and finally making contact with your eyes through the thin cheap lense of $5 gas station Oakley rip off glasses.. then burning your retnal cones into smoldering melting gobs of ocular material as you are blinded by the purest form of energy in our known universe, and as you scream no one can help or hear you because they don’t know what’s going on since the weed whacker sound of your shitty tiny little muffler which makes the Civic sound like a 747 rages on underneath making everyone turn at disgust and comment to thier husbands or wives how much of a dickweed you are by attaching that automotive abnormality to your stock economical daily driver engineered by Japanese Automotive specialists to fit the needs for entry level business workers in their early 30's, however your pathetic looking $11,000 car which you want to look like a friggin spaceship with redundant ground effects is now out of control since you are blinded, and as your car plunges off the side of a cliff while you scream in the purest form of terror while knowing you have lived a horrid excuse for a life, by doing the bare minimum in every facet of existence, while getting fired from one pathetic job to another, the majority of your time spent slacking smoking dope, getting kicked out of school, polishing your "game" on sweet innocent underage girls you eventually 'de flower' through exhaustive yet succesful attempts to get the date rapist drugs you have stashed in the glove compartment, into your poor victims drinks while offering them to take the "Pepsi Challenge" while making your mother hate you, and your poor father who wishes he had a daughter instead of your pathetic ass, since a girl would be more of a man than you ever were, like the occasion when you were hit in the arm by a wild pitch in little league, then you cried like a fat kid who dropped his ice cream cone, I'm already envisioning you impacting the rocks below, in a spectacular fireball ignited from the residue hairspray from your girlfriend plastered in the fabric passenger seat, blinded by your earring, deafened by the loud "Bling Blingin", and I will smile and roll around on the ground in orgasmic delight while you are consumed by flames whose intense heat and fury will liquefy your bone marrow that I will use to make jelly beans out of and eat them happily at your funeral as midgets dressed like Alex 6005321 from "A Clockwork Orange" dance around your coffin to loud industrial style techno music and strobe lights, and I will sleep soundly at night knowing another successful conquest of Darwinism has been attained.
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#3
05-07-2003, 03:36 AM
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i wouldnt take it too a dealer/mechanic at all yet, if you cant then id get a friend who can to check the; plugs, air filter, fueslage lines, baffles, the fuel jets 2 the carby. im not familiar with how easily a harley engine is accessible, but all that should take u no more than an hour and a half, two hours tops.
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#4
05-07-2003, 07:13 AM
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this was such a bad winter,I didn't use the harly at all.I used my other bike.that's why I didn't think it had to be rejetted.Is there some kind of pump line that I can clean out?I've checked about everything else mentioned.I just don't see how it should be rejetted just from non use.moysh
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#5
05-07-2003, 03:11 PM
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Carbs are just incredible mazes of small little pieces. I would bet that you probably have a Mikuni carb, as they are popular on most Harley's.
 There are a good deal of little rubber gromets that need to be warmed up and used often so they dont get old and crack. If they get hard then your jets and needles etc. will not function correctly and can deliver wrong amounts of fuel.
__________________
......or if your a loser who drives a Civic with a type R sticker, racing stripes, blasting really bad rap music through your suburban area with your pretentious "I’m 21 but I’m still in high school girlfriend" while driving with your hand up on the top of the steering wheel exposing your underdeveloped pasty white vitamin deficient arm and wearing your backwards BS upside down visor hat while feeling the tacky as a "Florida vacation" single diamond earring in your ear, If you are this person...with any luck the sun in its precise celestial positioning as you putter on by...will reflect its scorching rays into your earring, bouncing intensely in your rearview, and finally making contact with your eyes through the thin cheap lense of $5 gas station Oakley rip off glasses.. then burning your retnal cones into smoldering melting gobs of ocular material as you are blinded by the purest form of energy in our known universe, and as you scream no one can help or hear you because they don’t know what’s going on since the weed whacker sound of your shitty tiny little muffler which makes the Civic sound like a 747 rages on underneath making everyone turn at disgust and comment to thier husbands or wives how much of a dickweed you are by attaching that automotive abnormality to your stock economical daily driver engineered by Japanese Automotive specialists to fit the needs for entry level business workers in their early 30's, however your pathetic looking $11,000 car which you want to look like a friggin spaceship with redundant ground effects is now out of control since you are blinded, and as your car plunges off the side of a cliff while you scream in the purest form of terror while knowing you have lived a horrid excuse for a life, by doing the bare minimum in every facet of existence, while getting fired from one pathetic job to another, the majority of your time spent slacking smoking dope, getting kicked out of school, polishing your "game" on sweet innocent underage girls you eventually 'de flower' through exhaustive yet succesful attempts to get the date rapist drugs you have stashed in the glove compartment, into your poor victims drinks while offering them to take the "Pepsi Challenge" while making your mother hate you, and your poor father who wishes he had a daughter instead of your pathetic ass, since a girl would be more of a man than you ever were, like the occasion when you were hit in the arm by a wild pitch in little league, then you cried like a fat kid who dropped his ice cream cone, I'm already envisioning you impacting the rocks below, in a spectacular fireball ignited from the residue hairspray from your girlfriend plastered in the fabric passenger seat, blinded by your earring, deafened by the loud "Bling Blingin", and I will smile and roll around on the ground in orgasmic delight while you are consumed by flames whose intense heat and fury will liquefy your bone marrow that I will use to make jelly beans out of and eat them happily at your funeral as midgets dressed like Alex 6005321 from "A Clockwork Orange" dance around your coffin to loud industrial style techno music and strobe lights, and I will sleep soundly at night knowing another successful conquest of Darwinism has been attained.
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