Free Wheelin'

I had years of dedication and a natural inclination

And a childhood game I just could not outgrow

But the last man standing was saying, bring on a little bit more

Jimmy Buffett

When was the last time you walked into a motorcycle shop and just sat for an hour chatting with the boss?

I know there are plenty of times when I have dropped by one of the shops that advertise in this fine publication, and spent time with the folks there, but almost all of these are busy places, with motorcycle sales, a parts and accessory counter, and a behind-the-scenes service department with multiple bays and technicians doing their thing.

All these shops are usually great at what they do, and are run by real moto-heads that, if not busy with the motorcycle industry, would be busy simply riding motorcycles.

A few weeks back, I dropped by Sport Motor Service in Newmanstown, Pennsylvania, and had a long lunch with my friend Dave Newswanger. Dave has been a one-man band for decades out of this small shop along Route 419.

When I arrived, Dave was busy finishing up the one bike in the shop – replacing the fork seals, and a general looking over this regular customer’s cruiser. It was a nice hour or so, and in addition to simply catching up, we had a good talk about the industry in general, and smaller shops like his specifically.

I was reminded of a time years back when I first got involved in the motorcycle industry. (Play the harpy flashback music)

Heading from my teenage years and into young adulthood (ha), I spent an inordinate amount of time in local motorcycle shops. Eventually, they figured they may as well put me to work, and I worked parts at Camrod Motors, one of the first “Super Shops” in Hell’s Kitchen, on 57th Street, selling all four Japanese brands. A lot of people worked there, and hundreds more came in and out every week.

It was a busy place in the busiest city in the world.

From there, I moved to a single marque dealership – Paragon, a shop in Long Island City, first assembling Hondas out of the crate, using the tool bag off my Kawasaki Z-1. (I have since invested small fortunes in tools, much to my wife Shira’s dismay). I stayed on for a few seasons as a salesman before moving on, and landing a decade or so later here at Backroads. Even though there were bigger shops, a trend that has continued till this day, there were always smaller independent shops to be found. Usually, they sold accessories, did service, and perhaps sold a few bikes on consignment. There are still a number of them to be found and, once a relationship is made with these smaller shops, they can become priceless, as they, many times, will go far beyond what a larger and more frenetic mega-dealership can or will do for you.

These smaller shops have an allure, a certain je ne sais quoi to them. The relative quietness. The smell…the smell for sure; a mix of fresh rubber from the tires piled along the shelves, motor oil, grease, and sweat. If we could bottle this tang, we might have a new industry.

Back in the day, half a century ago (wow), there seemed to be a lot of smaller independent shops… many times one-man affairs like Dave’s Sport Motor Service. In Woodside, across from their family-owned beer distributor, my friend Mike Devito could and would tune, fix, adjust, or rebuild your brakes, engine, or entire bike. Whatever you needed. 

Life was easier back then.

There are still smaller, independent shops to be found, and not to take anything away from the huge Motorcycle Shopzillas out there, but if you know the smaller shops and owners, you have found a good thing. 

You will find the same feel with a lot of the smaller dealerships, which have been family-owned and operated for generations. 

These are the folks who, if they are closed, are out riding. You know these shops when you enter them.

The industry has changed over the decades, and Amazon, ‘Zilla-style internet ordering, and the pandemic have sliced away at some of these smaller shops, and many of them simply closed and went to smell the flowers.

But, not my buddy Dave… he loves what he does, and is awesome at it.

He will be one of the last men standing.