Category Archives: Photographs

The GOAZ vintage bike show

A day in the sun.

Motorcycles used to be single brand things in the store. In the UK of my youth any self respecting high street would have several such stores from Triumph (died in 1983), BSA (1972), Matchless (1966) and Royal Enfield (1971) for the lowest demographic, through to the Velocette (1971), AJS (1969) and Norton (1975) stores for the higher tuned machines with racing aspirations, then onto the high end which meant Vincent (1955) and BMW (which continues merrily to this day).

With one exception, all the great British marques failed owing to crappy engineering, with little reinvestment in modern production machinery and newer designs, the same curse which destroyed most of British industry while louche aspirants to power like Margaret Thatcher saw to it that Britain became a financialized nation centered in London, making precisely nothing, while shuffling paper denominating debt and real estate.

The one exception was Vincent which went under because of that generic British curse, lousy management. But without doubt, above all these self-inflicted wounds, the one machine which destroyed British motorcycle manufacture was the Honda CB750 of 1969, an across the frame, air cooled four which did all the things British machines did not. It started first thing, sported a powerful engine, had an electric starter, was reliable as a hammer and never leaked oil. Honda got there after making smaller predecessors like their fine 125, 175, 250 and 400 multis, all leading up to the killer 750.

So now the high street line up – this is the early 1970s – found one brand stores from Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki, the ‘Big Four’, all making superb, powerful, beautifully executed multis. And, of course, BMW, with its staid but reliable and oh-so-well-made twins.

Then the accountants started to take over and today the single brand store no longer exists, unless you consider Harley-Davidson and the ever failing Indian. We can disregard those as they are restricted to PTSD sufferers who were once pawns of the Pentagon, fighting yet another losing war while having their guts vaporized along with their grey cells, such as they were.

They buy motorcycles not to ride but to commiserate.

For the other big name manufacturers, the chances that you will find many brands under one roof are high. One such (very large) roof is GOAZ Motorcycles near my home in Scottsdale, Arizona where on one lot you will find Triumph (resurrected and alive), BMW, Aprilia, KTM, Ducati, Vespa/Piaggio, the Big Four and Ducati. And let’s not forget the Ural, a Russian piece of garbage with a sidecar sold only to the criminally insane.

Every fall, in the first week of autumn (the start of our riding season, as you can no longer fry an egg unaided on the sidewalk), GOAZ holds a vintage motorcycle show where exhibitors (like me) are required to pay a $15 entry fee to show their old machines. Strange economics. Shouldn’t the gawking visitors be paying? It’s a fun show not least because Harleys and their owners are not welcome (there’s the world’s largest HD dealership next door for these knuckle draggers, complete with tattoo parlor and wedding chapel. The dealership actually makes more money from clothing sales than from bikes but the profit leader is the service section because, you know, Harleys make pre-war British bikes look like exemplars of reliability. No, I am not making any of this up.)

The 2018 fall show was held today and my much ridden 1975 BMW R90/6 was again on display, accompanied by lovely old Ducatis, Benellis, Moto Guzzis, British bikes aplenty, lots of vintage Japanese iron, Vespa and Lambretta scooters and on and on.



Just one of the many marques sold at the gigantic store.


Detail of the fine 90 degree transverse V twin in a Moto Guzzi. Non-period NGK spark plug cap really must go.


The ‘Goose’ in all its splendor. Beru spark plug cap is the right one. The asking price of $15,000 was 100% too much.


Architectural design touches on a Benelli 250 four, a two stroke screamer that could top 90mph in 1975.


British and Best. The 1954 Vincent Black Shadow. The speedometer is not just for show.
The bike, however, is for show only, as the low post-restoration mileage and accompanying trailer testify. Ugh!


Detail of the 1000cc V-twin in the Vincent. Known as the ‘plumber’s nightmare’ for good reason.


Wishful thinking, for the Vincent’s brakes were reluctant to do anything of the sort.


A tribute to the welder’s art. Exhaust junction on a Kawasaki Turbo.


Exquisite exhaust routing on the bejeweled 1975 Honda CB400 four, one of the machines which buried the British motorcycle industry.


The huge single piston 500cc Yamaha ‘thumper’ of 1978. A counter-balancer ensures
your fillings do not fall out while a compression release makes the kick-starter usable.


My daily rider, a 1975 BMW R90/6 with 63,000 miles and 29 years of ownership on the clock.
Still bright chrome explains why these cost so much back in the day.


Entertainemnt. Purportedly.


All snaps on the iPhone7 in HDR mode.

The air cooled twin

BMW, of course.

BMW has been making motorcycles with air cooled twin motors since 1921. While the line was discontinued in 1995 in search of more power for children who think that 100hp is called for in a single track vehicle, the design layout continues in air and oil cooled twins to this day from the BMW factory. Sure the charm and light weight have been lost but the design is as right today as it was almost a century ago.

The 900cc motor at left is in a 1975 R90/6 which is now in my 29th year of ownership. The fully faired touring rig on the right is a tad larger at 1,000cc. Both develop around 60hp, perfectly adequate for touring at 70mph all day long. The beauty of these air cooled twins is that the cylinders are way out there in the air stream, so no oil or water cooling is called for. While the later machine sports a small oil cooler it’s quite unnecessary in practice. A related benefit is that the design means that the center of gravity is very low indeed, making maneuvering at low speeds child’s play. Try horsing that high mounted Japanese ‘across the frame’ four around at parking lot speeds and you will get my drift.

Each cylinder has its own carburetor, as is clear in the image. These share the same technology present in the 1921 version and are as reliable as a hammer. Periodic valve lash check-ups and adjustments are very easy as the valve covers are simply removed (two nuts and one bolt), giving full access to the valves and followers. Rapacious and unnecessary demands for ever more power doomed these machines, which remain firm favorites with touring riders for their quietness, freedom from vibration and comfort. 300,000 miles on one of these engines is no big deal.

The last time horizontally opposed, air cooled motors were used in cars was in the original four cylinder VW Beetle and four and six cylinder Porsches, before both went to water cooling. The modern Subaru uses the design in a water cooled variant and the motors are also famously long lived.

iPhone7 snap.

Bartlett Lake, AZ

In the Tonto National Forest.

Bartlett Lake is 35 miles northeast of Scottsdale and is deserted on weekdays. The ride through the high desert is lovely, and while the 20 mile approach road through the Forest has seen better days the gentle sweepers and absence of traffic make for a fine opener for the 9 month motorcycling season here, now that daytime highs have dropped to the low 90s.



No traffic in sight.


The map view in Lightroom.


The Last Stop is the only dining place at the lake. Usual burger fare.
Note the matching 1975 historic registration plate on my 1975 BMW R90/6,
now in my 29th year of ownership and a delight to ride.

Boat and JetSki rentals are available.


This was the first occasion on which I aired out the camera in my ‘new’ iPhone7. In contrast to the 8mp files from the excellent camera in the iPhone6, iPhone7 files are 12mp and what little grain there was in iP6 images has disappeared, the crazy azure skies have been tamed a bit (if not quite enough) and resolution is everything you would need for the largest of prints. An incredible technical accomplishment.

The miserable CEO of Apple, Tm Cook, a man devoid of original ideas, claims that one of the justifications for the crazy pricing of the latest iPhones is that you get a great camera thrown in. Well, there’s no question the camera is fine (albeit with the world’s worst ergonomics) but I’ll stick with a separate SLR when conditions get challenging. But for a day-to-day snapper the camera in the iP7 is exceptionally good.

Prescott, AZ

Cowboys!

Dating from the 1860s, Prescott is in the center of Arizona, two hours northwest of Phoenix and was once the capital before Arizona became a state.


At some 5,000 feet above sea level temperatures are 10-20F cooler than in Phoenix, and snow in the winter is usual. The town is home to 40,000 residents. Prescott has been somewhat discovered in the two decades since I last visited it, long stretches of ugly strip malls sorrounding the city center testifying to Americans’ spirit of place. But the town center, the square dominated by the turn of the century courthouse, remains special.


The Courthouse.

I was using film on this visit and entry to the Courthouse dictates that one passes himself, his gonads and his film through a variety of irradiation gear because, you know, terrorists will almost certainly target downtown Prescott in their next go around. I asked the goon manning these devices to check with his boss man and he assured me my film stock would survive (status: it did) but no feedback on my privates or future prospects of child creation (status: uncertain). Kodak says that high speed emulsions risk fogging, but 100 ASA Ektar seems to have done fine.


Unending war. America’s commitment to world peace ceased in 1945,
that to unending war starting at the same time. We have yet to win
a conflict since that change in philosophy.



The Palace Saloon on Whiskey Row dates from 1877.


“Come up and see me some time”.
Inside the Palace Saloon. Here’s where the insane flexibility of digital is really missed.
No cranking the ISO up to 1600, so it meant jamming the Nikon F100 against
the pillar and praying that something would come out after a 1/2 second exposure.


Ten pointers and associated dignitaries and desperadoes adorn the walls of the Palace Saloon.


Ektar struggles mightily with the dynamic range here.


Wild West architecture survives on Whiskey Row.


Unpronounceable maybe, but the Hassayampa Inn dates
from 1927 and includes many fine Art Deco touches of the era.


The Elks Theater.


And serving the world’s finest hamburger, too. American Hype never ceases to amaze.

Nikon F100, 24-120mm AFD Nikkor, Kodak Ektar 100.

Ektar! Watch out.

A color brute.

I made mention of Kodak’s Ektar 100 film here when I first started messing about with film after a decades long hiatus spent genuflecting to the digital god.

This is not an easy film to use. The contrast is brutally high and even a smidgeon of over-exposure means highlights will blow out and there is no way the limitations of the film medium will permit their recovery in post-processing.

So I have learned to set the Nikon F100 to -0.3 stops exposure correction using the +/- control and expect that for the next roll I will migrate to -0.7 stops, meaning I am rating Extar at 160 ASA and recovering detail thus in Lightroom:

Here’s an image snapped in Prescott AZ the other day – any hint of over-exposure would have blown that roof out:

Sure, the sky came out darker than it really was, but Extar is about drama, not realism. I get enough of the latter from the NYT daily, and it’s not a pretty picture.

Nikon F100, 24-120mm AFD Nikkor, Kodak Ektar 100.