On The Mark

“I hope it goes to a good home” is what people say when they sell a bike. They’re inanimate, but motorcycles are still objects of our affection. They carry the mods we’ve made and the “beauty marks” that inevitably happen if we ride, like the little scrape on the saddlebag from backing into a tight parking spot at a hotel. Perhaps there was a stone kicked up from a truck or a broom fell over in the garage and made a tiny dimple in the tank. Each mark tells a story, or begs one be told.

When the time comes to part company with our beloved machines, we all want them to go to a good home where they’ll be loved as we did. A dear friend sent me a video of his beautiful GS going down the driveway on a trailer. There had to be a bit of melancholy associated with the event or he wouldn’t have taken the trouble to record it. His bikes have always been meticulously cared for and I know he wouldn’t want to see it butchered by a careless new “father.”

The other thing I know is that it wasn’t just a bike departing, it was a retirement from “the life.” Like my colleague Rathjen talked about in his recent column, my dear friend took stock of his situation and physical condition and decided to make a thoughtful decision not to continue to ride. It must have been hard, but he is a wise and caring man and ultimately, he felt it was the right decision. I admire his wisdom, but at the same time I hope he continues to enjoy the Backroads family for years to come, much like some other folks are doing.

I got a bike one time like that: a fellow pulled up at Morton’s with a low-mileage, super-clean S1000R with a few tasty mods and told them he was done. He didn’t want a consignment sale or trade, just whatever they’d give him because he was walking away from the life. Something or someone had scared him into making the decision to hang up his helmet. I happened along that very afternoon and now that beauty graces my garage. I have always wanted to tell him it “found a good home” but he remains anonymous.

Another bike came from an estate, a beautiful, low-mileage S1000RR owned by a fellow engineer who tragically lost his life falling down some stairs. Stuart Beatson pointed out the bike to me and said, “That would make an excellent track bike.” I knew it would be important to the family for the bike to go to a good home and I told Jeff to propose a decent price to the estate, as I didn’t want to short-change a widow. We came to an agreement and I hope she’d be proud of the work I’ve done learning to ride that beauty. After a long, hot day at VIR, I told Stuart I was committed to learning to ride that bike well and he grinned broadly. Little did I know it would be the last time I’d ride with him.

I once bought a bike from a fellow whose uncle had ridden it. It was a well-cared-for machine, but had not been ridden in a while, so the inevitable marks of time were present. I was apologetic when I bought it, knowing what it meant to him, but my stated intention was to make it a “café racer,” those being all the rage at the time. I foresaw stripping parts and bobbing the fenders. In my mind’s eye, I saw it looking like it could turn up at the Ace Café to “break the ton.” I was never able to mod the bike that way and ended up selling it to a fellow collector, both because I hadn’t the time to do the job properly and because it just didn’t feel quite right to do it.

Another friend had a Versys he’d ridden all over the country, including up to the North Slope. After being hit by a texting driver and sent careening into the oncoming lanes, he decided to hang up motorcycling before it could happen again (he was uninjured, partly because of his excellent gear), and the bike merely took it on the panniers. He sold the bike for a pittance to a newer rider on a budget, a young man who was happy at the chance to get a well-used, but well-cared-for machine at a really good price. As for my friend, all he wanted was for it to “go to a good home.”