IN IT FOR THE MONEY
IGNITION
WANDERING EYE
LAS VEGAS: WHERE HISTORY COLLIDES WITH CASH ON A HIDEOUS CARPET
PAUL D’ORLEANS
According to economics theory, a motorcycle has an initial value based on production costs, but after its theoretical utility is spent, that value diminishes rapidly, with rock bottom being the price of scrap metal. This was the case for most of the 20th century, when, say, a shiny new 1918 Harley-Davidson “J” was hopelessly outdated by 1929 and typically junked.
Individuals who bucked the Law of Obsolescence and preserved old bikes were considered oddballs, hoarders, and junk collectors. I was one of those people; in the 1980s and ’90s my passion for old motorbikes was met with raised eyebrows, regardless of my growing expertise on their industrial and cultural history, gained pre-internet by an equal mania for hunting down (and actually reading) books. The book thing of course made me doubly eccentric—why waste a good education on motorcycles?
Regardless of the global industry for old bikes—publishing, parts manufacture, renovation, photography—it was our Dangerfield era. That changed in 1998, with a double-barreled cultural blast of money and museums. The Art of the Motorcycle exhibit at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum was our 4:20 moment, an instant attitude adjustment for non-bikers, who swamped the show—still the Gugg’s most attended ever. You could smell change in the air; suddenly billionaires, movie stars, and even Robert Hughes, the art critic for Time, came out of the closet as bikers.
That same year, an odd British TV show about old crap landed on our shores. Antiques Roadshow had folks digging for gold in their attics, and everything collectible was literally reappraised. It’s no coincidence prices for great bikes almost simultaneously shot skyward. The twowheeled gold rush was on.
Trade in objects with no benefit to their
producers is called the secondary market. Jeff Koons is happy his oversize stainlesssteel “balloon puppy” sells for millions, but he doesn’t see a penny after they’re first sold via his gallery. Same with that 1918 Harley-Davidson. H-D can only bask in reflected glory if it sells for at auction.
The secondary market for collectibles is enormous; a single art auction can top $1 billion. The motorcycle scene is humbler, with the world’s largest auctions (held in Las Vegas every January) grossing around $15 million for the 1,000 or so motorbikes sold. Given their fees to buyer and seller, the two houses duking it out for top dog—Bonhams and Mecum— collect $4 million to $5 million between them. Not bad for a weekend’s work.
I’m fascinated with the rise and fall of old bike prices, but sorting the threads of “value” for theoretically useless stuff is a Gordian knot of speculation, connoisseurship, greed, and ego. Culturally important objects are affordable only to institutions and the very wealthy, and a few motorcycles have reached that gilded Neverland. That includes JAP-engined Brough Superior SSioos, Crockers, Cyclones, real eightvalve Indians/Harley-Davidsons, Vincent Series A twins and Black Lightnings, kompressor BMW Rennsports, original-paint strap-tank Harley-Davidsons, super-celebrity bikes, and a few ex-GP Ducati-Matchless-Moto Guzzis. That’s pretty much the list; if you have any of the above, you win!
Only one bike rose to the Pantheon at the 2017 Las Vegas auctions: a 1912 Henderson Four in original paint sold for half a million. Meanwhile, the American antique furniture market has tanked, and mid-level art (and motorcycle) prices are pancake-flat. If you’re buying a piece of two-wheeled history, the only solid bet is to love it for what it is, what it does, and what it did, and forget about what it might do.
BY THE NUMBERS
$852,000 HIGHEST PRICE PAID AT AUCTION FOR A M0T0RCYCLEA 1915 CYCLONE BOARD-TRACK RACER
$179.4 million HIGHEST PRICE PAID AT AUCTION FOR AN ARTWORKPABLO PICASSO’S LES FEMMES D 'ALGER
301,037 VISITORS TO THE ORIGINAL GUGGENHEIM ART OF THE MOTORCYCLE EXHIBIT, JUNE 26SEPTEMBER 20,1998
