I just did a 27,000 mile trip on this bike. I was all over the continent, deep into the Arctic circle, as far north as you can possibly ride, through the lowest and hottest part of the country, through some of the harshest, most desolate and remote environments we have. And I was never gentle on the bike; pounding it over logging roads, gravel, dirt, mud, anything and everything, places this bike was never supposed to go.
So when, and where did something real actually break on the bike?
Earlier today, my clutch cable snapped . . . when I was, for completely unrelated reasons, 300 feet down the road from my favorite local motorcycle shop.
I need to start playing the lottery with this kind of luck.