When I started riding motorcycles in high school, I don’t remember hanging out in a motorcycle shop…ever. I’ll bet they existed in Rome in those days, but it’s just not something we did. When I got back into motorcycles in my suburban days, things were different, I had settled into my career and home and was looking to add some spice to mainstream life. A motorcycle dealership showroom was just the ticket. Unlike shopping, hanging out in a motorcycle shop is about communing with new and used bikes, talking about their pros and cons with the salespeople and other customers, looking over the merchandise and apparel, discussing parts and service with the office staff (rarely the actual mechanics), and generally wallowing in the enthusiasm for the sport. People are far more transactional at a car dealer showroom, but there is no hard sell at a motorcycle shop unless you invite it in.
On Long Island there were two BMW dealers. The one that did the high volume business was on the North Shore where the big bucks lived, and the other, which I frequented, was the real enthusiasts’ shop where the lead mechanic, Arthur, owned the place and knew everything about the bikes. He called his shop Precision BMW, which seemed an appropriate name. But Arthur was such a good bike guy that he had no time for the business. Over the years, as his lack of business prowess and my general boredom with my business grew, I agreed to lend Arthur some money for his business. I was a banker after all. As the things do when business and pleasure blend, what started as a loan, became a partnership based on my carelessness with my disposable income and Arthur’s never ending ability to fall behind on not-so-trivial tasks like filing and getting paid for his warranty work (which was considerable). Good domain expertise did not translate at all into good business practice. One thing led to another, and I ended up getting a fraction of my loan repaid from inventory. In some ways, it was an interesting outcome of my motorcycle shop obsession. It taught me that being able to get any of the bikes or product that I would wander around contemplating during all of those visits were not really things that I wanted or needed.
Perhaps the best perk I got from that partnership was a ticket to join Arthur at a BMW Motorcycle Show in Munich one year. The Intermot gathering was, itself, only so interesting to me (my enthusiasm was far less than the level on display by the serious gearhead attendees), but the free promotional ride on company bikes down through the Grossglovkner Pass in Austria, just beneath the gaze of The Eagles Nest lair of Adolf Hitler, and into the northern Dolomites of Italy, was the real prize. The trip was with a dozen other U.S. dealers and led by a team of Austrian Eidelweiss tour guides. These were some of the most experienced riders I had ever seen. When we arrived at our destination in Cortona d’Ampezzo, the relatively less well traveled dealers wanted to hang around the chic Tyrol town rather than ride. I was the only rider to show for the morning ride, so the Eidelweiss tour guide took me alone out to ride the 13 high mountain passes that define the Dolomites. I figure we rode about 260 switchback turns that day and here’s the thing….I don’t remember seeing the tour guide’s brake lights go on once during that spirited ride. He was a pro at engine braking and taught me more about riding in one silent day than I had learned in a lifetime of motorcycle riding. It was a thrilling day.
When I repositioned my Motorcycles out here to San Diego in 2012, I began going to the Escondido BMW motorcycle shop and found that it had a similar feel to Precision Motorcycles except that it was bigger and better run. The bigger showroom is an even more conducive place to hang out. with more bikes and much more product. I am older and wiser now about motorcycle shops, but I also have more time on my hands, so I’m not sure that they are any less dangerous financially than they were when I lived in New York. I currently own two BMW motorcycles (a 2019 R1250 GS Adventure and. 2021 R-9-T 1200), which is really one more motorcycle than I need. I’ve owned more in the past, but it stills seems to be more work for me to exercise both bikes myself since I only rarely have guests who want to take a ride. That causes me to wonder whether I should sell the R-9-T, which has been a fun bike, but not a bike that I would ride long distance. I have 13,000 miles on my GS, accumulated in 5 years and 3,000 miles on the R-9-T in 4 years (only 1,000 of that being my mileage).
Today I am sitting at the new BMW of San Marcos, which is the new incarnation of Escondido BMW Motorcycles. It is an even bigger shop than before. I am here getting my GS Adventure serviced. Killing time here for a few hours has reminded me just how dangerous these stores are for me. I’ve probably sat on 10 motorcycles so far and even talked about the cost of swapping my R-9-T for a few other bikes that look like they’re fun and different (like a Ducati 800 Scrambler). Lucky for me, I’ve known the salesman (Rudy) for a long time and he advised me against any of the trades. That kind of honesty is one of the reasons I tend to like this shop. I’ve also toyed with the idea of replacing my seat back bag, but realize that spending $350 to replace a perfectly good bag that I rarely use and don’t even know what’s in it at the moment, might be considered frivolous. This is what happens to me when I hang around a motorcycle shop.
I have to bring my R-9-T in for its overdue annual service next week, so on a whim I asked Rudy what he would pay me for it. He said he would take it on consignment for $6,000. My quick math tells me that the bike costs me $800/yr to maintain and insure, so perhaps $1,500/yr with depreciation thrown it. That’s a lot of money for a guest bike that’s rarely ridden. So I called my son Thomas and my friend Chris, the only two guests who have ridden the bike in three years and asked if either of them expected to ride it any time soon. Despite not having any visits on their agendas at the moment, they both expressed a degree of disappointment at NOT having access to a ride when they do come out (both expecting to do so with enthusiasm but no firm dates). So much for prudent cost cutting. Where is my household DOGE when I need them? So I will keep my accommodation bike for st least another year, riding it lithly around my neighborhood to keep the battery charged. And I will take it into the shop next week (no, Rudy, I will not be bringing the title with me) to spend another $400 to feel I’m keeping it in good condition and to turn the damn “Service Due” light off. I’ll do that for another two-hour session of the bike shop blues.