Should have said, my being what in my time and place would be called "a biker", which is something different from what I mostly see today, whom are motorcyclists, a different social group and culture (no criticism implied, just not the same thing).
And many bikers would revel in old (often British, but not necessarily) engineering, where the sparseness and simplicity of solution would be tempered by the pure engineering that went into them from the bottom up, instead of using technology to solve the design failings. These people would make their own parts by necessity, and often would have (while not having the resources to own themselves) access to machining tools (often they were factory workers, skilled in running lathes and milling machines of old, and similar, or friends of) and their innate (learnt through experience and apprenticeship) engineering ability.
For example (and I was never in that social group, or of the experience and ability to do this sort of maintenance stuff myself) of all the bikes I ever owned, the one that far and away I fell in love with, was a small air cooled v-twin, made by a moderately obscure Italian bike maker called Moto Morini. This thing was built like an old tractor - very agricultural in style. Very basic, very simple (the electrics were a longstanding joke among owners), yet ran like it was on rails. It was a relatively low powered 500cc engine, very basic compared to contemporary modern bikes, especially the Japanese competitors of the time (in the '90's), and yet in the right conditions (I lived and rode in central London much of the time), and there was little could beat it despite being maybe half as high again in capacity, and much higher energy output, I would regularly hammer them into the ground (metaphorically, I hasten to add!), because a dry clutch beats a wet clutch, especially when the high torque meant I was changing to second when they were changing to third, so losing power more than me on those changes, and mine was the size and weight of a typical Japanese 250, so had much better power to weight ratio, and better clearance in overtaking (usually with inches to spare as standard - running the white lines, dodging the keep left bollards, etc) and it's frame was so well designed despite it's simplicity, the thing out handled most other bikes it came up against.
This is with the caveat of special conditions - over about 65 mph on a clear road (clear equals the central white line was not blocked with other bikes!
) mine would start to run out of steam and be beaten with ease, on a motorway? Forget it. It was made for twisty mountain roads, not highways. But the pure simplicity and yet perfectly balanced engineering made it one that became almost a part of you, and the relation between yourself and the road surface was so tightly bound it was an incomparable experience, and riding it was just zen (no words for it). Lots of other bikes that excelled in some way or other, but never one to topple her place on my pedestal of sheer love!Ah, nostalgia! So much better than the real thing ever was!
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