RE Sucked at Resaca - RE Sucked more

Noticing the plug was very pale, a sign of getting hot, he suggested it may have cracked and so he set off to get me another.  In the time that it took me check the points and reset the static timing (rechecking one of the maintenance items I had completed before the ride) he was back with a brand new spark plug. Now I was sure I would be on my way.  I screwed the plug in, attached the HT lead, and spun the starter. 

Nothing! 

We pondered the problems some more. 

Deciding the issue must be gas related, or at least that unhappy blend of ethanol and gas they sell here in Georgia, I received some advice that turned out to be a life saver.  My new best friend advised me that the ethanol blend can cause piston rings to not seal correctly on old engineered motors, such as with the RE.  The workaround to get a sick motor like this started is simple, as follows: 

1. Get your drinking straw from your toolkit (what, you don't carry a drinking straw?)
2. Dip it into your can of oil and plug the end so you hold a reasonable quantity in the straw (if you ride old British bikes, you always carry oil)
3. Drop the oil into the chamber through the plug hole (you did leave the plug out before you started this, didn't you?)
4. Repeat steps 2 and 3, but this time pulling gas from your gas tank (yeah, you won't be drinking through that straw again!)
5. Put your plug back in and reconnect the lead
6. Hold the throttle wide open (the motor is effectively flooded at this point)
7. Spin or kick start the bike, and it should fire right up 
8. Take your happy tail home, park the bike, shut the garage door, turn off the lights, go inside and have a beverage! 

The motorcycle fired right up and seemed adequately stable to take a chance on continuing my ride.  I thanked my new buddy profusely, and headed back to join the 515, then onto the I575 and homeward bound to Woodstock.  I'm not really sure how it worked, I want to believe it was will power, but I managed to hit every traffic signal at green before I made it to the I575. I kept rolling homeward bound. 

Exiting the I575, I managed to keep the bike running all the way to my sub-division. Feeling the relief of being nearly home I must have let down my guard.  At the stop sign just inside my sub-division the bike stalled and would not restart.  I looked up the hill, yes it stalled at the foot of another hill; what is it about hills?  "That's not so bad," I thought to myself, "once I push it over the top I can roll down the other side to home.”  Um, 400lb of motorcycle uphill is no joke, let me tell you.  

Fortunately one of my neighbors pulled in ahead of me and jumped out to help me push the bike over the top and I then sat on to coast home.  Just one final spit in my eye was to come, and that was the ridiculously steep driveway at our home.  My wife came into play here, helping me push the bike up the slope and into the garage. 

At this point the final stage of the recovery plan came into play; I shut the garage door, turned off the lights and went inside for a long cool beverage.