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March 31, 2008
Relief
I did not win the auction for the 1986 Ducati F1. As much as I would have regretted not having bid on it, the overall feeling is one of relief. I can say with some justification that I have been responsible for driving the price of two used Ducati F1's upwards by several hundreds of dollars.
The auction being concluded, I can focus on waiting for the 1990 750 Sport to return from the shop. We have long since passed the 2-month mark, and we are fast approaching 3. Every once in a while, the service people will call with a question about the battery, whether or not to spend an extra 20 dollars or not, or how they are sending the brake lines off to be duplicated in stainless. Then I hear nothing from them for a while, because they get busy with other things. The duration of service times for Ducati's explains the saying "I have two Ducati's: I have one to ride while the other is in the shop!" It also explains why many Ducatisti tend to take on their own servicing.
At this point, what I lack more than anything else is time. Though I enjoy tinkering, my past experience demonstrates that I have many tasks to consume my leisure time. Some of these, such as tending Higglety-Pigglety Farm, have rather inflexible timetables. After all, one must sow and reap according to nature's schedule.
Posted by Underblog at 8:08 AM | TrackBack
March 29, 2008
Regret Prevention
Roomie and I have often formulated our decision-making policy as one of "regret prevention." Regret prevention applies to, among other things, the purchasing or not of motorcycles. For instance, right now I regret not having bid $7,900 for a 1986 Ducati F1 a couple of weeks ago. If I had, I would have the F1 for less than I was willing to pay for one last year. I had my reasons for not bidding on the F1 two weeks ago, i.e. I was in Durango skiing when the auction ended and could not very well bid from the slopes. Turns out I probably could have, but when I left it was uncertain if I would have the time.
In any case, the bike is up for auction again this week. Evidently the winner of the previous auction decided that it was going to be too costly to ship the bike to Germany. The irony of regret prevention here is that I will in all probability be relieved if the auction price goes above what I am willing to pay. It is not the best time for me to be spending more on motorcycles, and acquiring this one will require me to put a couple of others (750 Sport, Benelli 250 SS) on the block. Even with the additional work of selling two motorcycles, taking on another project, and arranging the delivery of yet another motorcycle to Albuquerque, I know that I will regret letting this motorcycle be sold for less than what I was willing to pay for it.
Posted by Underblog at 8:04 AM | TrackBack
March 27, 2008
No One Ever Crashed When We Rode
I heard from KB yesterday for the first time in years. He and I go way back. We met through friends and a common café in San Francisco right around the time I acquired my Lambretta SX200. He remembers (or should remember) when I graduated to "big wheels" and bought first the Honda CB350, then the BSA A65 Lightning, and ultimately the Morini 500. He And he respected my decision to stand by the little wheeled members of the stable.
We used to ride together every couple of weeks, first meeting for coffee and discussing the route then riding either north south or east of San Francisco to the coastal mountains and river valleys. We shared some other interests: fine art, wine, food, real estate, etc, but it was and is motorcycling that formed the real bond between us. I liked riding with Kent because when I tired of riding on large sweeping curves where the Guzzi's 2:1 advantage in displacement became evident, he never complained when I insisted on super-twisty roads where the Morini's flickableness and the road's narrowness prevented his passing me.
At one point, he shared a South of Market flat (with enclosed carport) with my Morini-friend TC. Though that particular arrangement did not work out in the long-run,* the three of us did once manage to ride to Yosemite. The ultimate object was Mono Lake, which happens to be the caldera of a dormant volcano. Walking back from dinner to the little housekeeping cabin, we felt the unmistakable rumble of an earthquake. The next morning we learned that all the roads in and out of the park, save one, were closed due to rock and mudslides. Thwarted in our attempt to photograph Mono Lake, we rode our bikes back to Healdsburg, where my future bride served us dinner.
KB has managed to hang on to his Guzzi CX100 Le Mans the entire time I've known him. He has made some substantial upgrades to his own fleet, adding a Guzzi 750 Sport (euro-model), a Le Mans 1000 (which he keeps in OR for Left Coast riding), and a 850 Le Mans. He was always more ready than I to suffer four-wheeled passion than I and has acquired since I've known him several Alfa-Romeo's, Porsche's, and most recently an Audi A4 Quattro. This last vehicle he deems a nod to practicality, since he needs a reliable way to get from Long Island City to his cabin up in Connecticut.
We talked about riding together again some time, perhaps near his place in the Adirondack's, perhaps in New Mexico. With the 851, he says, I might be able to finally keep up with him.
* After all, as Keynes famously said "In the long run, we are all dead."
Posted by Underblog at 6:05 AM | TrackBack
March 4, 2008
Fair Market Value
A recent discussion over at ducatipaso.org has had me thinking about the market value of the inventory in the garage. First, a couple of observations: Many bikes never make the reserve price the seller has set for them on eBay. This means that the seller thinks a local buyer will spend more (true, if they save on shipping) or that the seller more simply has unrealistic expectations about what the market will bear. Several makes of motorcycle appear to be more prone than others to this high reserve phenomenon, including Harley-Davidson and Ducati.
EBay sellers appear to be trying to sell their "old, used" motorcycles as "classics." Alternatively, it may be that sellers have so much invested in their bikes both in terms of initial investment and accessories (chrome for Harleys, carbon for Ducati's) that they have inflated for themselves the worth of the machine to anybody else. As was pointed out on the message board, sellers often find that the value of the parts is greater than the motorcycle they have assembled, and decide to strip off the goodies before selling.
Some motorcycle-wheeler-dealer types watch the eBay auctions with an eye to estimating the present net worth of our fleets. As buyers, we are interested to know when a "bargain"—ie a bike selling for less than similar ones have recently sold for—comes up. From Econ 100 we recall that the value of something is no more or no less than what someone else will pay for it: the supply and demand curves intersect at price.
While motorcycle purchases are seldom rational, they often need to be rationalized. I recall each of the home purchases I have made. In each instance, the house would have been perfect if we could have paid less for it. But each time, the decision was in the final moment an emotional one. We bought because it just seemed right. And while motorcycle purchases are not driven by necessity, the same rule applies. As long the bike is one we really want, we can be fairly sure that we are not overpaying for it (meaning in almost all cases that the seller feels we are underpaying for it), and we have the necessary ducats, we will go forward with the sale.
Posted by Underblog at 6:00 AM | TrackBack
March 1, 2008
Reflections on a Garage Full of Motorcycles
I like having multiple motorcycles. Even more disturbing, I enjoy the thought of having even more. I understand that ownership and upkeep on a veritable fleet is difficult for non-collectors to understand, and indeed I struggle with the idea myself. One rationalization for having several bikes is that they serve different needs. I can ride my Trail 90 to work and back comfortably, since the traffic flow speed between there and home seldom exceeds the 90's top speed. (Every once in a while, I am slowed by a headwind.) However, I wouldn't dare ride the 90 to Cuba and beyond, much less Taos. I have reported here that it is nice to have a spare for a guest to use while they are visiting. This means that a pair of the bikes have to be suitable for the same kinds of roads.
Some bikes (in my case, the Benelli 250 SS and the Morini) simply deserve better than they have now. The Benelli I purchased as a potential lightweight commuter, and the Morini has served me for so long that getting rid of it now would seem more like a divorce than a business arrangement. Come to think of it the Morini has been with me longer than my wife, and it was hardly new to me when we were married. The Maicoletta is my retirement project, should I ever be so lucky as to (a) retire and (b) find the source of its mysterious inability to downshift.
So each bike in the fleet has its purpose, right? Of course not. I can ride only one motorcycle at a time, and as anyone who has bikes (plural) will tell you, there is one bike that ever gets the real miles put on it. In the past year, that is the 851. On the other hand, if I kept the 851 and ditched the others, the battery would go flat, the tires square, and it would seldom get beyond second gear. And rationalizations as above are no help in figuring out why I feel the need to compulsively review the eBay listings for F1's (too expensive so far) and early 90's 900 Supersports.
I will tell you this: When I walk through the garage, snaking between the bikes, I am thrilled in a beaming-smile-on-my-face kind of way. And that is worth something, I think.