Back when BMW’s R nineT motorcycle was just released in the US, I had to test drive one. The iconic Boxer engine, nicely graded chassis, and great brakes wowed me through some sweet turns along Scantic Road and Crystal Lake Road in central north Connecticut. The bike’s sharp neoclassical style caught the attention of passersby when I stopped to take a photo. But the two guys on the modified Honda Civic are the most impressive.
Waiting to their left at a traffic light, I noticed that they were laughing rather mockingly. The driver pointed at the bike and called out to me. “Where do you get the BMW logo?” His question was drowned out by more laughter.
“They must have put them at the factory in Germany,” I said.
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“Yes, like BMW makes motorcycles.” “Yes, since before they made cars.”
They were still smiling when the light turned green.
There is anecdotal evidence that many people don’t know BMW car make motorcycles. I’m grocery shopping in my hometown, and as usual, I’m wearing a baseball cap. This one features a round BMW shape with “BMW Motorcycles” embroidered underneath. In a particular aisle, I stopped to compare items on the shelf when I heard quiet laughter. I looked around to see what I was missing.
“That’s funny,” said the only other shopper there.
“Sorry, what’s up?”
“Your hat.”
“What’s so funny about my hat?”
“BMW doesn’t make motorcycles.”
“In fact, BMW has made motorcycles longer than cars.”
“You’re kidding!”
“They make sport bikes, touring bikes, adventure bikes, cruisers, you name it.”
On my phone I took an image of the R 1200 RT. “This is mine,” I say, zooming in on the BMW circle on the side panel. “See?”
“Oh my god, you are serious! I can’t wait to tell my husband. He won’t believe this! “
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Then there was a brief conversation I had a few years ago with a teenager trying his best to look cool while pumping gas into a pickup truck. His parents and siblings were in the van, a situation that could be embarrassing for a teenager, but he managed to get the situation under control by calling the motorbike taxi guy.
“Hey man, nice bike!”
“Thanks,” I replied as everyone in the car turned to watch.
“What kind is this?”
“A Honda ST1300.”
“Wow… really? I never knew Honda made motorcycles. That’s great.” He hung up the nozzle, nodded in confirmation to me, and hopped into the car.
My motorcycle brand philosophy is “Two Wheels Good”, but I’m happy to give myself some shade back. While stopping on my ST1300 and waiting for a right turn, a Harley-Davidson Ultra pulled into the left turn lane beside me. The car has a shiny two-tone paint job and a spotless chrome finish. The couple on board sports matching leather jackets with tassels. The driver looked at me and shook his head. “Nice scooter,” he laughs, with obvious satisfaction. Witty guy.
I raised my visor to answer. “Thanks, buddy. Nice tractor. “His passenger was laughing so hard, I thought she was going to fall. Stunned, the guy turned his face away and waited for an opportunity to turn left.
Related story: Perception | Become a good Samaritan motorcycle racerby Scott A. Williams
At the same intersection on a sweltering summer day, a young woman in a doorless Jeep Wrangler pulled up to my left. She looked over at me, dressed as I always was in an armored, all-weather riding suit, and announced, “You look so hot in that.”
“Thanks very much!” I replied with a thumbs up. At first, she seemed confused by my answer, then burst out laughing, seemingly embarrassed by her unwanted double.
Sometimes it is the motorcyclists who initiate a conversation. While I waited in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, to board the ferry to Maine, the cold gray sky poured a torrential downpour. A ferry worker steers a group of bicycles into my right lane. I exchanged waves with the riders and passengers. Despite the wet conditions, the only “shower” I could see was in a few passengers who had cut holes in their heads and arms in large plastic trash bags to wear stylish raincoats. One of the passengers called me, “Are you dry in that suit?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “So warm.”
She slams her driver into the back of his helmet and begins an I-told-you-so act.
On a much drier day, I approached the old (and unstructured) Lake Champlain Bridge between Chimney Point, Vermont, and Crown Point, New York, and a formal-looking woman wore a uniform and high-rise vest. signaled me to stop. . “Good morning, sir,” she began, “I am conducting a survey for the DOT to inform the design of a new bridge at this site. May I ask where are you going today? “
“Calabogie,” I replied.
“Excuse me… where?”
“Calabogie, Ontario, Canada.” I said it was on a lake west of Ottawa and pointed to my GPS, explaining that my expected route would take me over the Adirondacks and to Canada via ferry from Cape Vincent.
“Calabogie,” she said, making notes on the clipboard. “That would be an exception. Enjoy your trip! “
I love my rides, sometimes made more memorable by the things people say to the motor guy.
This column by longtime collaborator Scott A. Williams originally appeared in the September issue of Rider.
Related story: Scott A. Williams | Episode 41 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast
