Shipping News

Shipping news

LEANINGS

peter Egan

SIGHT UNSEEN. IF EVER THERE WERE two words to send a shiver down the spine of the prospective motorcycle buyer, them are 'em, as my old English teacher used to say. Over the years, I've known several

people who bought bikes over the phone, or by way of photographs and letters, but I've never done it myself. As a guy who has sometimes been hoodwinked even after a close personal inspection and a test ride, I've naturally been hesitant to buy a motorcycle from more than six feet away, much less halfway across the nation.

Until last week.

That's when I picked up a copy of Walneck's Classic Cycle Trader and noticed an ad for a black-and-gold 1981 Ducati 900SS with 40mm carbs, solo and dual seats, low miles, in "ab solutely beautiful condition."

As an aside here, let me just say that the bevel-drive 900SS in black-and-gold livery is one of my favorite motorcycles of all time. I've owned two earlier sil ver-and-blue versions, which looked stunning, but there's something about the black one that hits me where I live. Perhaps years of British bike adoration (Vincent, AJS, Velocette, etc.) have in grained a positive Pavlovian response to black motorcycles with gold pinstripes into my suggestible brain. In any case, I go a little weak in the knees whenever I see one. Or an ad for one.

And then there's the mechanical side of the old 900SS, whose Seeley-inspired frame and cycle parts seem like nothing so much as a minimal carriage for two large pistons hammering away in perfect harmony. Long and elegant, slow of steering and dead stable, it's like owning a twin-88 anti-aircraft gun you can ride.

Anyway, I picked up the phone. Hav ing examined the ad carefully, I was a little concerned about the model year. In 1981, Ducati softened the lines of the 900SS somewhat, designating it the S2 model. Was this a repainted S2?

No, the owner assured me. It was a 1980 model, titled as an `81, which is so often the case. Its original color was black and gold, though he'd had it re painted to get rid of a few minor dings and scratches and freshen it up. The owner, a very pleasant guy named Gerry Wild, said he'd bought it three years ago, with only 3000 miles on the odometer, and he'd put another 4600 on it; 7600

total miles. He also owned a Guzzi Fal cone and a Ducati 750 Sport, and was selling the 900SS to buy a share in a glider. All good credentials, in my book. He sent me a complete set of photos, and of course I stayed up all night looking at them. The bike looked very clean indeed. Immaculate, even. I called back that weekend, we negotiat ed a price and I agreed to buy the bike. Deal done, right?

Well, not quite. I had to get the bike home.

Seems Mr. Wild lives near Philadel phia and I live in Wisconsin. I got out my trusty Rand McNally and realized that Philly is nearly as far from here as New York City. Two days of hard dri ving each way in my van, with a lost day to load the bike, sign the title, etc. Five days of meals, hotels, fuel and pounding the pavement. Long time away from home during the holiday sea son, which it is as I write this. Also, my back had been acting up again, and my van seats were God's gift to chiroprac tors everywhere. Had to be a better way.

I recalled that my friend Bruce Fin layson had sold a Motobi 250 to a col lector in California awhile back, and had used a trucking company connect ed with the AMA for shipping at a fair ly low price, $300-$400. I called Bruce and he said they put his bike on a pallet with four tie-downs, and the bike got there about a week later, in fine condi tion. "Recommend it," he said.

So I called Liberty Moving & Storage (800/640-4487, ext. 1), agents for Allied Van Lines. A cheerful woman named

Michelle told me shipping would be $401 if I were not an AMA member, or $301 if I were, but I could join the AMA for $28 by calling 1-800-AMA-JOIN. Also, if I wanted to pick-up and drop-off at home, rather than a business with a loading dock, I should add another $63 at either end.

That sounded better to me than going though two extra loadings and unload ings in the snow, so my total cost, she said, would be $427. That included $10,000 free insurance on the bike, with $800 deductible. If I wanted $100 de ductible, I'd have to add another $89.25, or $105 for no deductible. I decided to take my chances with the free insur ance. "When can you pick up the bike?" I asked, half expecting her to say, "Eight weeks after Daytona."

"Would tomorrow morning be all right?" she asked.

Gulp. "Better make it Thursday," I said. "I have to overnight a bank check to Mr. Wild."

"Fine. If we pick it up Thursday, your bike should arrive between the 21st and the 29th of December, in ap proximately a week."

"Sounds as if you've done this before." I said. "Do you ship a lot of bikes?"

"Thousands," she said.

Thousands? Becoming interested in this whole process, I talked to a gentle man named Bud Kindermann, an avid motorcyclist and 20-year AMA member who is Liberty's president. He verified the numbers: "We've shipped about 4000 bikes this year; 90 percent of them are for riders who want a bike shipped to a vacation spot-or warmer weather in the winter-so they can fly in. The other 10 percent are people buying bikes, like you, or shipping racing bikes to a track." So. A whole new world in which

motorcycles can travel cross-country without needing food, fuel or rest. Great idea, but still a leap of faith for me, as is buying this first motorcycle sight unseen. Always hard to trust oth ers in matters as personal as a motorcy cle, like turning your dog or cat over to the airlines.

We'll see how it all turns out. I'm looking out the window even now. Waiting.

Postscript: The Ducati arrived today, December 26. Beautiful bike. Not a scratch. More later.