The ones that got away: Motorcycles I didn’t buy

While my experience pales in comparison to some of the guys who have been in the motorcycle writing business full-time for decades, I have had the chance, thanks to my work in the industry, to ride a lot of different motorcycles. I’ve lost count of exactly how many, but the number of motorcycle brands I’ve ridden is 20. I’ve ridden singles, twins, triples, fours and a six. Chain, belt and shaft drives. American, Japanese, British, Italian, German, Austrian, Chinese and Indian. Gas and electric.

Riding is one thing. Buying, however, is another. Perhaps because I’ve had the chance to borrow many bikes, I’ve bought fewer than some people who have been riding as long as I have. I’ve only owned 10 motorcycles and almost all of them were purchased used.

You can learn a lot about a rider by seeing which bikes he or she is willing to plunk down money for, but I think it’s equally telling to consider the ones we almost bought but didn’t. I have some very specific memories of motorcycles that got away. 

The R 1100 R was far from the most shapely version of the BMW oilhead boxers, but I was more interested in how it worked than how it looked.

BMW oilhead boxer

A constant theme of my motorcycling life has been me admiring the well sorted and well equipped sport-touring motorcycles, with their competent handling, powerful engines, comfortable ergonomics and integrated luggage — and then going out and buying something less practical instead. For much of the 1990s, I was pretty sure that ideal sport-touring bike for me was one of the BMW oilhead boxers.

When BMW modernized its boxer engine in 1993, I was living in Puerto Rico. This was before I went to work at the American Motorcyclist Association, so my experience with motorcycles was a lot more limited. In those days, I still had a fondness for air-cooled engines and the torque of twins. The revised BMW seemed to combine those virtues with smoothness and sophistication.

Price was a deterrent, as it always is with BMWs. In Puerto Rico, there was no opportunity for me to test ride one. And on a relatively small island, the long-haul ability of the BMWs was mostly wasted. But some day, I told myself, I would have one.

With that in mind, one summer I rented a BMW R 1100 R like the one shown above, but equipped with saddlebags and a windshield, for my annual vacation to visit the family in the states. I rode it from New Jersey to Vintage Motorcycle Days in Ohio and back. It did nothing wrong. But at the end of the ride, I wasn’t sad to turn over the keys. Not for the last time, a motorcycle I coveted in theory left me lukewarm in real life. I didn’t fall in love with the BMW and we parted as friends.

Years later, working at the AMA, I had the chance to ride several more iterations of the BMW boxers. They were all good bikes, and all of them were better looking than the R 1100 R I first rode. None of them ever induced me to part with my money, however. Now I realize that when I told myself that someday I’d own one, I was mistaken.

In 1998, it was either this Honda Superhawk or a Triumph Speed Triple. I bought the Speed Triple and have kept it ever since. I often wonder if I’d still have the Superhawk if I had bought it instead.

Honda VTR1000 Superhawk

In 1998, while I was still living in Puerto Rico and freelancing full-time, I fell into a short-term job that required me to work my ass off for three months. I’d get up every morning at 6 a.m. and work like a fiend to turn in translations of news reports in the island media by noon. I had the rest of the day to do my regular work. When the job ended, I had a chunk of unexpected money and a strong feeling that I deserved a reward.

When I went to VMD on the BMW, I did some demo rides. Based on those rides, I ruled out the first-generation Buells of the time, but the new fuel-injected version of the Triumph Speed Triple that came out in 1997 greatly interested me. I was also intrigued by Honda’s Superhawk. Two problems: There was no Triumph dealer in Puerto Rico at the time and the Honda importer was marking up new Superhawks (and everything else) to a level this tightwad couldn’t stomach, even if I did have a small windfall in the bank.

I found out, however, that I could ship a bike from Florida for just a little more than $300, and by buying used I could avoid part of the taxes slapped on vehicles when they came into the island. I found a Speed Triple at a dealership and a Superhawk for sale by owner, got a cheap flight to Orlando, and set off to spend my windfall.

I went to the dealership first, rode the Speed Triple, and never even made it to see the Superhawk. I still have the Speed Triple after all these years, and at this point, I’ll have it until one of us expires. I sometimes wonder if I would still have the Superhawk if I bought it instead. The two bikes have some similarities. The first-generation fuel injection on the Triumph and the monster-size carburetors on the Superhawk meant both get poor gas mileage and range. Both offer addictive torque from distinctive engines. The Superhawk is one of those bikes that pop up in conversation and I often hear people say, “I wish I hadn’t sold mine.”

So in the end, yeah. I think if I had bought the Honda instead, it would probably be sitting in my garage today in the same spot where the Triumph now sits, with an equally large number of miles on it. I guess there was no bad choice back in 1998.

The original Yamaha FZ1 was a very competent motorcycle and I thought the “bumblebee” paint scheme was particularly attractive.

Yamaha FZ1

I did everything on that Speed Triple, including long trips and even hauling camping gear. But I continued to look longingly at bikes that had better wind protection and could accommodate hard luggage without looking as out of place as if I’d strapped a plow to Secretariat. The Yamaha FZ1 fit the bill and I loved the bike when I rode it. I always kept my eyes open for one for sale at a good price.

Every time, though, I couldn’t get past the idea that it was too much like the Speed Triple I already had. So instead I bought a BMW F650 with Givi bags and rode it to Mexico. When Yamaha came out with the second-generation FZ1, I had the chance to go to the press intro. I expected to love it. The FZ1 goodness, now in fuel-injected form. In reality, it also left me lukewarm. The styling was droopy and the fuel injection just made the throttle snatchy. Now, so many newer and better bikes have come along that I know I’ll always respect that original FZ1, but I’ll never own one.

I’ve never been a fan of the retro bikes harking back to the 1960s, but I seriously considered buying a Kawasaki ZRX1200R, which drew on an entirely different era for its styling.

Kawasaki ZRX1200R

Giving up a steady paycheck for the less certain life of a freelance writer has its benefits, but it also means you have to plan for fluctuations in income. Having left the AMA to start my second stint as a full-time freelancer, I was trying to establish enough work to carry my share of the family burden. Most of that work was not motorcycle-related, at first, but the biggest part that was motorcycle-related was writing for Kawasaki’s online publication, Accelerate. I was providing story-specific photos along with the articles, and I sure couldn’t send in a photo of either of my Triumphs to the Kawasaki corporate publication. Since I lived 2,250 miles from Kawasaki’s U.S. headquarters, I couldn’t just pop over and borrow a bike from their fleet for photos.

I still coveted the big, impressive, sport-tourers, and in Kawasaki’s case that was the new Concours 14. I rode it when it was introduced and was impressed. But when it came to slapping down money, it was too heavy, too complex and too expensive for me at the time. Nothing else in the Kawasaki line seemed right.

Used ZRX1200Rs could be had cheap, however. I knew from experience it was a good bike. And while attaching luggage to those Lawson-esque lines seemed vaguely sacrilegious, and the wind protection from the bikini fairing was minimal, on both counts it was still better than the Speed Triple.

In the end, I bought a new, leftover Versys for not a lot more money than a used Z-Rex, and didn’t feel at all bad about bolting Givi bags to it. I gave up some power to gain some nimble handling, lighter weight, better wind management and fuel injection. It was the right decision. But if I ever bought a retro bike, it wouldn’t be a Triumph Bonneville or an Indian Chief, but a Z-Rex in Lawson green.

The next one

These thoughts are particularly on my mind because I am thinking about an upgrade and replacement for the Versys. I have now gone longer without buying or selling a bike than I ever have in my motorcycle-owning life. I’m due. Overdue. I’ve been considering some options. One of them, I hope, will become my next ride. At least one of them will become the next entry on the list of those that got away.