I use these logbook entries to share my thoughts and experiences while riding my motorcycle on historic highways and scenic backroads. A lot of motorcycle owners and mechanics use a logbook to track maintenance and notes about their travels. This entry goes off script as I reflect on a restoration project from a few years back. They say restoring neglected motorcycles brings peace and meaning to a mechanic’s craft. I don’t know who “they” are but I like to think that every bike has its own unique story and history that can be lost over time.

When a motorcycle sits unused for too long and labeled beyond repair, it often gets discarded or parted out. However, some see its potential, turning the restoration into a passion project. This process not only revives the bike but also its spirit. Hearing the engine come back to life is a satisfying reminder that nothing is ever truly lost. When you restore an old motorcycle, you are rewriting its history. You’re working to give it a second life. This project can also show that every story can continue. With vision and care, the future can be rewritten.

Several years ago, a 1992 BMW K 75RT was trailored in to the shop “Dead on Arrival” after spending decades in a garage unridden. What most would consider a lost cause, the owner of the motorcycle wanted to ride it again. To me there was something appealing about this machine. Maybe it was the hand painted pinstripes or the distinct full touring fairing. I was a novice mechanic right out of factory training, and this project was one of my first. The signature BMW 3-cylinder inline engine known as the “flying brick” gave it a classic look from the 1980’s when BMW introduced their new K-series 3 and 4 cylinder engines: the K75 and K100. After talking over strategy with the shop owner I was handed the repair order and got to work.

I installed a new fully charged battery and the bike still wouldn't start, no surprise there. So the next step was to add fresh fuel in order to test fuel pressure. After cranking the engine the fuel pressure gauge read zero psi, no surprise there either. On these projects, it’s good to follow a step-by-step diagnostic process even if you know what the outcome will likely be. After inspecting inside the fuel tank with my flashlight I immediately saw that the internals were in really bad shape and needed to be replaced. The tank was filled with bits and pieces of wire sheathing and rubber fuel line tubing. It needed all new internals, fuel lines and a fuel injector flush. The goal here was to get the bike started in order to get a full picture of what I had on my plate.

After several months of on-again, off-again repairs, I continued to diagnose new issues as they came up while I was working on other bikes and waiting for new parts to arrive. Some repairs, once complete, simply lead you to find another problem. It's frustrating, but it's part of the whole process. A faulty speedometer and tachometer reading, bad wheel speed sensors, old brake lines clogged with disintegrated rubber sheathing, a bad air intake sensor (a part unique to this particular model from 30 years ago), and the list went on. The whole experience builds character and at moments can turn you into someone no one likes to be around.

Eventually, I got the bike running again and the time came to put this reborn machine to the test on its final ride. The start was crisp, the throttle was responsive, and the motor hummed like it hadn’t for years. All the effort and frustration - the late nights, the scraped and swollen knuckles, the distinct odor of decade old fuel on my hands, in my nostrils and on my clothes that lingered for days; all of it culminated in a final 10 mile test ride. As I rode out of the parking lot and shifted into second gear you couldn’t rip the smile off my face. Not because the project had come to an end, but from the thoughts in my head mulling over what transpired over the course of several months. The few moments of triumph and the countless missteps and failures. The doubts in my head along the way of whether any of the work I poured into this project would make this motorcycle run again. It reinforced the understanding that mastery comes through practice, persistence, and embracing the potential for failure as a stepping stone to success.

This BMW K 75 RT, a forgotten relic was now a testament to longevity and endurance. It reminded me that with a little effort and dedication, even the most neglected motorcycles could be brought back to life, ready for new adventures. When the customer came into the shop to pick up her restored motorcycle I saw the reminiscent look in her eyes and in her stance while looking over the old bike that looked new again. Maybe she was thinking of all the memories she had riding this machine and now a second chance to make new ones.

A passion restored and new adventures to be had.

A Passion Restored

Castle Hot Springs Road

Bloody Basin Road