When I go to the gym, I’m usually on either the treadmill or a stationary bicycle, and I like to listen to music when I’m working out. Good tunes relieve the boredom of indoor aerobic exercise, and if I get the right tunes, it keeps me in the zone. One of my favorites is Little Richard, and there are a bunch of his songs on YouTube. A couple of weeks ago, one of the Little Richard YouTube videos that popped up was an hour and a half long (and that got my attention). It wasn’t just a song…it was a movie about Little Richard’s life, and I’ll tell you, it was good.
You can watch it here, you can go to full screen on your computer, or you can watch it on your television if your TV gives you Internet access. The Little Richard movie is a bit formulaic (it’s a typical rock hero life story kind of movie), but I enjoyed it and I think you will, too.
We watch our Google Analytics regularly, and one of the things that impresses us is what impresses you. You might be surprised to learn that our most frequently visited pages and blogs are the product reviews, and in particular, the book reviews. That’s one of the reasons why I want to get the word out to our readers about one of the best books I’ve read this year: A.J. Baime’s The Arsenal of Democracy.
I first read A.J. Baime’s work in The Wall Street Journal, where he does a weekly piece on interesting cars. You know, cars with a story behind them. Cars that are still driven regularly. I’d subscribe to The Journal just for those stories, although that newspaper has much more going for it than just Mr. Baime’s car stories. (The WSJ has objective reporting, something sorely missing in The Los Angeles Times and The New York Times, two papers that lean so sharply left it’s amazing they’re still standing.) I like A.J. Baime’s WSJ articles, and when I learned he also writes books, I was in.
In a word, The Arsenal of Democracy is great. It’s a wonderful book weaving together the stories of World War II, the Ford family, Detroit’s wholesale conversion to war production, the application of mass production to weapons manufacturing, the logistics of building major manufacturing facilities in the middle of nowhere, and Ford’s production of the B-24 Liberator. Ford built B-24 bombers at the rate of one an hour (actually, they did slightly better than that by the end of the war), and there’s no question Ford was a major factor in our military success. Baime made it all read like a novel, but all of it actually happened.
Folks, trust me on this: The Arsenal of Democracy is a great book. I think it’s one you should consider adding to your list if you haven’t read it already. You can thank me later.
So here’s the deal: In 2008, with the advent of the Great Recession, motorcycle sales in the US fell to half of what they had been (and up to that time, they had been steadily climbing).
Okay, that’s rough…a drop to 50% of prior sales is a major hit, but hey, these things happen and it’s logical to assume that sales would gradually rebound and the uptick would continue.
Except they didn’t. Post recession sales tanked to 50% of their prior levels and they never recovered. Oh, they came back a little bit, but not anywhere near where they had been. Based on this, it’s been sort of a national pastime in the two-wheeled world to put forth reasons why this happened (presumably, so the reasons could be addressed and we could get back to the good old days of taking second mortgages to buy overweight, oversized, and overpriced driveway jewelry). Here’s the problem with all of the explanations: With essentially no exceptions, they all came from motorcycle industry insiders. Motorcycle importers, motorcycle journalists, motorcycle dealers, and such. Wouldn’t these be the people to provide the big reveal?
In a word: No. Especially with motojournalists, who seem to pontificate a lot on this issue. Hell, these folks couldn’t even keep their magazines afloat. But it’s also the case for the manufacturers, the importers, and the dealers. They’re the ones who got us here. If they had the answers, they would have fixed things already.
I’ve been a consultant for more than 30 years helping companies with delinquent deliveries, poor quality, and behind-schedule performance, and when I was hired by any of my clients, it would always be by the chief executive (I quickly learned not to waste my time marketing to underlings). I’d always tell the chief execs during my first meeting that improving performance would involve replacing at least some of their key staff members. “They’re the folks who got you here,” I’d say, “and expecting them to be the ones to fix the problems is not the answer.” I think it’s the same situation when addressing the US motorcycle sales slump. The folks who called the shots (cabals of industry execs and motojournalists) prior to, during, and after the recession don’t have the answers. Repeatedly having meetings to discuss the issue with these same folks fits the classic definition of insanity: Doing the same thing again and expecting a different result.
So who has the answer?
You do. You are the folks who actually buy motorcycles. You’re the ones who created that heady rampup prior to the recession, and you’re the ones keeping your wallets closed now. We need your help. Tell us. Why? What’s holding you back? Please, leave your comments. We want to hear from you.
Whoa, it’s another photo safari in Death Valley! It was to be a Subie CrossTrek adventure this time, and we did it in single day…up early in the morning, a 200-mile run to Death Valley, and then a long ride home. I told good buddy Greg about our plans, Greg mentioned that even though he is a California native he never been to Death Valley, and we were off at 4:00 a.m. on a dark and cold morning a couple of days after Christmas in 2013. I had just bought the CrossTrek, and it was a good way to put on a few breakin miles. I could give you a detailed itinerary for our ride, but I’ll let the photos and a few short captions speak for themselves.
The Gleesome Threesome…yours truly, Susie, and good buddy Greg rolling into Death Valley on a cold and bright December morning.A scenic and iconic Death Valley photograph: Badwater Basin. Look up 300 feet, and you’ll see the photo below.282 feet above my vantage point. I must have used a telephoto lens.The lowdown at Badwater Basin.Exercising Photoshop. I stitched together a few photos from Badwater Basin to create this shot.Another stitched-together photo from Badwater. That’s Greg off on the right. I should have left the polarizer off.Somewhere in the Valley.Greg pondering stacked rocks out on the desert floor. You see this (stacked rocks) frequently. I need to Google what it represents.A road shot with the camera just a few inches off the highway. These sell. Go figure.The CrossTrek at Artist’s Palette. The CrossTrek was a great car. I put about 120,000 miles on it and then traded it in on another Subaru.We had lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, and shortly before turning off the road, we saw this guy. He is obviously well fed.As soon as we sat down for lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, this guy landed a couple feet away. We had just seen the coyote. I asked the roadrunner if he owned anything made by Acme, or if he was being chased by old Wiley. He responded with but two words: Beep Beep.Another panoramic shot I stitched together of the Death Valley desert floor.Panamint Springs petroleum larceny.A final splash of color as we left the Death Valley area headed for Highway 395 and the long run home.
I’m a fan of Death Valley National Park, and if you’re into this sort of thing and you enjoy photography, Death Valley is a magnificent destination. That December day back in 2013 was long but colorful, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I don’t know if it’s true (and in today’s environment I don’t even care if it’s true) but I read somewhere that ATVs are outselling motorcycles. This makes sense as ATVs or Quads or whatever you want to call the things are low-skill devices that anyone can ride off road.
Back in the early 1970’s the big boom in motorcycling was started in the dirt. Kids like you and me bought mini bikes and enduros by the zillions. An entire industry sprang to life and that industry supported all levels of riding. Collectively, we learned the difficult art of steering a wiggling motorcycle across sand and mud and rocks. It wasn’t easy. It took a lot of talent to keep from crashing and we lost a lot of good people to concentration lapses or simple bad luck.
The first ATVs were 3-wheeled contraptions that took even more skill than motorcycles to ride in the dirt. It didn’t take long for manufacturers to figure out 4 wheels were a lot more stable than 3 and that was the beginning of the end for motorcycles in America.
Since children cannot operate motorcycles on the street, dirt bikes were like a Pop Warner league feeding well-trained riders into the Bigs: The Pavement. Harried on all sides by nearly unconscious automobile drivers our generation’s ability to ride a motorcycle in that buoyant area beyond the limits of traction became a right handy survival skill. And so a huge bubble of capable motorcycle riders surged through the land buying motorcycles at a clip never before seen.
Meanwhile, the Quads kept getting bigger and safer while dirt bikes were safety-limited by their very design: They fell over. Anyone can steer a quad. It takes no skill whatsoever to trundle along following the huge ruts made by thousands of other quads. Trails were ruined by the excessive width and sheer quantity of idiots driving their miniature cars. Dirt bikes were hard to ride and safety concerns overtook the nation’s parents. As ATV’s filled the forests the available pool of motorcycle riders dwindled. The farm system began to dry up.
Now, Quads cost $25,000 and are the size of Jeeps. Four people fit comfortably strapped into a steel cage, safe from the environment they go about destroying. ATVs can go almost anywhere their bubblegum tires will support the vehicle’s weight and the weight of their passengers. Automatic transmissions erased the last vestige of talent needed to explore off road. On the trails I ride kids on motorcycles are the exception not the rule. Sometimes I can go all day and see nothing but quads. How many kids raised in a cocoon of steel bars would be crazy enough to start riding a motorcycle on the street? We know the answer: Very few.
It’s not the cost of new motorcycles; there are plenty of cheap bikes available. It’s not Gen X, Y, or Z being too chicken or into their cell phones. It’s not branding. It’s not lack of riding areas. None of these things killed motorcycles.
A safer, easier to operate dirt machine was built and human nature did the rest. ATV’s are capturing the kids at their most impressionable age. Motorcycles are not. Nothing we can do will reverse that trend.
The call we put out earlier about sending a photo and describing your first bike was answered almost immediately by our good buddy and YooHoo aficionado Fred. Check this out, boys and girls:
JOE!
There was a Tecumseh-powered Mini-Bike before this one, but I consider my Yamaha Mini-Enduro to be my first REAL motorcycle (picture attached). I put 100’s a miles a day on it in the woods around Woodstock Connecticut and Sturbridge Massachusetts….especially in the woods around Bigelow Hollow State Park – got lost in there more times than I care to remember!
Note how skinny I used to be…..Mom wasn’t stocking up on the Yoo-Hoo for me…..
Fred
We wrote to Fred and asked what he’s riding today, and here’s his answer:
Only the finest motorcycle known to man (or woman) – my trusty 2007 Caspian Blue Triumph Tiger 1050 – pic attached.
Over 76,000 trouble-free miles and smiles from North (Nova Scotia) to South (Florida) and West (Arkansas) and back East (Connecticut).
And it’s got PLENTY of storage for the Yoo-Hoo.
Fred
Fred, we admire your choice in your first motorcycle, your current motorcycle, and of course, beverages. I used to ride a Caspian Blue Tiger as well; mine was a 2006 and I loved it. Thanks for writing and ride safe.
So how about the rest of our riders and readers? Does anyone else care to share their first ride with us? Write to us at info@exhaustnotes.us!
A road that dates back to before the Revolutionary Way, and one used by our Continental Army to defeat the Brits.
Last August I was back in New Jersey for my 50th high school reunion. I visited and wrote a short blog about the Princeton Battlefield State Park, and that turned into a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics magazine. It’s in print and online, and you can read it here. Better yet, buy a copy of the January/February 2020 issue. You’ll like it.
You know, New Jersey is not a state that springs to mind when considering great motorcycle rides, but they are there. I grew up in that part of the world, and it has resulted in three pieces in Motorcycle Classics about rides in and through different parts of New Jersey. Even in the highly-developed central Jersey region, there are more than a few rural roads and great riding if you know where to look for it. I used to love riding those roads when I lived back there. The New Jersey seafood and the pizza are beyond comparison, too. It’s the best in the world.
I guess that brings me to my first motorcycle, which was a modified Honda Super 90. I wasn’t old enough to drive yet, but that didn’t slow me down. I rode that thing all over no matter what the weather.
A 1965 Honda Super 90, and yours truly at age 14. Nothing slowed us down in those days.
How about you? What was your first bike, and where did you ride it? Got a photo? Send it in and tell us about it, and we’ll publish it here on ExNotes. Email it to us at info@ExhaustNotes.us!
You guys will remember good buddy Chris C., an RX3 and RX4 rider and a loyal blog reader. I was shocked when I received this email from him a day or two ago:
Hi Joe.
Just wanted to drop you a quick note about my recent time in the hospital.
Doctors found a benign tumor in my head and I underwent successful surgery to have it removed.
Exactly 1 week after surgery I was riding a bicycle, and 2 weeks after surgery I was riding my RX4. Don’t tell my doctor. The first thing I did after surgery was catch up on reading ExhaustNotes blog.
You know, after brain surgery I seem to have found deeper meaning in Gresh’s blog posts.
Feel free to use any of this and the attached photo in the ExhaustNotes blog.
Chris
Wow, Chris, I am so glad you got through this okay. You have our best wishes for a continuing successful and speedy recovery, and thanks so much for writing to us.
I mentioned my Bulova Lunar Pilot watch (one we’ve done a blog on before) to one of my gun buddies, and he told me that he had the Omega version of that watch.
The Omega Speedmaster on the left, and my Bulova Lunar Pilot on the right. The Omega is a tiny bit smaller, which I prefer.A closer shot of the Omega. It has a curved crystal, which made photographing it without glare a bit of a challenge.The back of the Omega. It’s a classy watch.
Actually, it would be more appropriate to call mine the Bulova version of the Omega watch, as the Omega was the first in space and the Bulova came later almost accidentally. You can read that story here. Also, my Bulova is a reissued, modified design of the Accutron watch astronaut Dave Scott wore on his Apollo flight. My buddy’s Omega is a faithful duplicate of the original Speedmaster worn on the Moon. The Omega is a much more expensive mechanical watch, and it is a very classy item. The Omega Speedmaster sells for thousands of dollars; I paid $275 for my Bulova.
Ah, we’ve got a lot of good stuff coming up on the blog. Most significantly, Uncle Joe is thinking about getting back on the Zed resurrection. Send us your comments; we need to keep the pressure on Arjiu to make that happen.
More good blog stuff is in the works, too. Good buddy Don wrote and asked about the .257 Weatherby No. 1. I have that rifle back from Ruger. The boys in New Hampshire put a nice piece of Circassian walnut on it to replace the cracked stock, and it shoots great with a load good buddy Mississippi Dave recommended. Watch for that story soon. I’ve got more fun in front of me sorting the Garand’s habit of throwing the first shot of each clip low left, and I’ll write about it here. And a story requested by good buddy James on the XP100 Remington (I actually owned one of those in the 1970s chambered for the 30×223 cartridge). And here’s another gun-related topic: We’re thinking of a postal match…you know, a match where you shoot your target and mail it to us. If you’re interested in participating in something like that, let us know.
We’ve got a movie review coming about The Great Raid (spoiler alert…that movie was great), and a book review about A.J. Baime’s The Arsenal of Democracy (it’s the best book I’ve read this year). There’s the always moving to the right YooHoo review (hang in there, Fred; it’s coming). There’s more watch stuff coming, too. I love my Gear’d Hardware watch, and I’m becoming a real fan of the Casio G-Shock watches.
There’s more motorcycle stuff in the works, too. I’ve been dreaming about getting back to Baja again, either on one of my CSC bikes or perhaps something different. I want to look at the Triumphs again; I’ve always loved their motorcycles. I think I can talk CSC into letting me take a WIZ (whoa, that doesn’t sound right) for a ride. I won’t take a WIZ to Baja (it’s an electric scooter), but it looks like it would be a hoot to ride locally. The challenge is finding one; CSC sells them as soon as they get them in stock. It seems everyone wants to take a WIZ.
We keep talking about making a political comment or two, but hell, no matter what we say we’d upset half our readership. We had one guy actually bitch about one of the pop-up ads that appear on our site mentioning President Trump, and he had his shorts in a knot about that (off to your safe space, Snowflake, and that ain’t here). For the record, we don’t control the pop-up ads (the ads appear based on the site’s content, your location, your prior website visits, and other secret stuff that goes into a supersecret algorithm that only God and Google know about). It’s interesting but unknowable for us mere mortals, but in any event, if an ad appears talking about something that pisses you off, don’t blame us. And if you really get upset, hell, click on the ad. Then they have to pay. And do you know who they pay? It ain’t Trump!
Well, maybe all this is too controversial. I’ll go to a safe topic and not ruffle any feathers. Maybe something about Indian motorcycles and their lineage. Yeah, that’s the ticket.
Click the comments section of any post regarding the Indian Motorcycle Company and someone will be bitching that Polaris Indians are not real Indians. Within the first three or four replies you’ll see an outraged commenter laying out the perjury case on Indian. “It’s a lie!” they stammer. “Indian went out of business in 1953!” Along with constitutional scholars and threats of civil war Polaris Haters infest the Internet. Their selective-amnesia purity code and compulsion to complain loudly every time Indian tries to sell a motorcycle borders on fanatical. You couldn’t pay enough to get people so determined.
Clymer’s Enfield Indian from the 1960’s. One of the best-looking Indians ever.
Since it is presently impossible to go back in time to right all wrongs the Indian Haters would rather see Indian go out of business. Again. If the Haters are in a generous mood they may offer renaming the company as a way back into their good graces. Mind you, they still wouldn’t buy anything from parent company Polaris because they hate them too. I don’t see why Indian should give a rat’s ass about what these goofy product-junkies think. Indian is busy building motorcycles, not engaging in petty, low-effort Internet attempts to tear down other people’s hard work.
The thing that really riles the troops is when Indian puts 100-year badges on their bikes. The loonies go apoplectic. To them, an unbroken corporate line from 1903 to the present is the only acceptable scenario for Indian to exist. With the old brands like Norton, Triumph, Ossa and Benelli being bought up the Haters will have plenty of companies to be angry with for a long, long time.
Mid-1970’s Italian made Indian dirt bike.
The Haters aren’t solely responsible for the black hole at the center of their hearts. Vast quantities of intellectual capital have been expended on brand building in this country and in some cases it worked too well. We have created a monstrous humanity more concerned with defending brand-authenticity at the expense of reality. Haters have been sold to for so long that they actually care about the logo on a gas tank. It’s misplaced consumer loyalty created by Ned in the advertising department and it’s sad to see in action.
A Velocette-engined Indian that should drive the purists crazy.
Who cares what happened to Indian 70 years ago? Who cares how many times the company has passed through shifty hands? Who cares if clone engines were used or Italians made Harleys or if Clymer used Royal Enfields? Who cares about any of it? It’s a friggin’ motorcycle company, not a pledge of allegiance. When the history of the world is finally written the trinkets we bought to amuse ourselves will not even warrant a footnote. All you need to concern yourself with is that the Indian brand started in 1903 and here it is nearly 2020 and you can still buy a damn good American-made motorcycle with Indian written on the side of the gas tank. There’s your continuity, Bub.
Click the comments section of any post regarding the Indian Motorcycle Company and someone will be bitching that Polaris Indians are not real Indians. Within the first three or four replies you’ll see an outraged commenter laying out the perjury case on Indian. “It’s a lie!” they stammer. “Indian went out of business in 1953!” Along with constitutional scholars and threats of civil war Polaris Haters infest the Internet. Their selective-amnesia purity code and compulsion to complain loudly every time Indian tries to sell a motorcycle borders on fanatical. You couldn’t pay enough to get people so determined.
