One of the things I truly love about the Internet has always been the folks who are super passionate about something, who spend tons of time and energy (and frequently money, but you don't really count the money when you're super passionate about it, do you?) learning everything about that thing.
And then, they share that passion with the rest of us. Back in the days of Flickr and forums, you'd find lengthy threads detailing how they did X complicated thing to their bike, and how you can do it, too. Whole explainers, sometimes with hand-drawn diagrams; that kind of thing. It was very much like the digital equivalent of finding a like-minded group of friends in your area, hanging out in their garage or basement or tiny apartment kitchen, and just hashing out how to change that one thing that's been driving you nuts about your bike.
Or like when you and your buddies had a garage band that one time. Or two times. That same enthusiastic DIY energy, only distilled through the waves and wires onto the Internet. At its best, YouTube can very much be an extension of that energy, only with the benefit of video that, when carefully edited, can show you in detail and up close what a thing that a person is trying to describe to you actually looks like.
Honestly, at its best, it's kind of amazing. Maybe it's easy to become jaded about it since it's like a firehose of options that are available now, but I still sometimes sit back and marvel at how far we've come. If you're even a little bit of a DIYer, and you've been at it for any decent length of time, it's hard not to.
It takes a certain amount of guts to start up a channel where you're showing people how to do things, because there will always be a certain number of folks that only want to come into your comments and talk smack for some reason. But it takes an even greater amount to admit when you got something wrong, and then dive back into your project to diagnose it and figure it all out.
And yet, that's what the Bearded Mechanic just did. Why? Because even if you're super good at something, you're guaranteed to make mistakes every once in a while. It might suck and be frustrating, and you might even have to walk away from your project entirely for two or three months (or years) before you're back in the correct headspace to troubleshoot it, but it's bound to happen.
I mean, you're human, right? So even if you're good at something, you will sometimes make mistakes. It's just a fact of life.
As Craig demonstrates here, being in the correct headspace to methodically take your work back apart, consult diagrams and/or the workshop manual, and figure out your problem is what you'll need. Proper tools and a space to lay out the parts so you don't get them mixed up are important, but being mentally prepared to tackle it without rushing or getting distracted are arguably even more important components to finding and fixing the issue.
In his case, it was literally a single washer that was out of place in the clutch basket assembly. But then, as sometimes happens, in the course of solving one problem, he ended up finding a completely different problem that didn't exist before. Did it matter that it didn't exist before? Not really, because the fact was that it existed now, and so it still needed to be addressed in order to move forward and successfully kickstart this little XR.
The thing about doing repair and maintenance on your bikes isn't always about time on the clock, having the right tools, and having the space to spread out and work in such a way that you can keep track of any and all parts (no matter how big or small) you take off. Sometimes, the biggest factor is being in the correct headspace to tackle whatever issues it is that you're trying to work through.
Sometimes, you find peace on the workbench. Other times, you need to find mental peace before you can even start to step to the workbench, because your thoughts are too scattered. It's important to be able to recognize where your head is at and how to get where you need to be, whether that's for wrenching or riding.
Here's hoping for a year of mental peace for you, your loved ones, and your bikes. Yes, even if your loved ones are your bikes; no judgment here.
