P120
CN
III LOWSIDE
BY RENNIE SCAYSBROOK
T
his is a subject I have held
off on bringing up for many
years, simply because I
know I was part of the problem
many moons past.
Twenty years ago, I used to
work in a motorcycle dealership.
It was run by an old lady named
Anne Harris, along with two busi-
ness partners, one being her
husband.
This lady was a tiger in busi-
ness. I was constantly in awe of
her ability to remember a cus-
tomer's name and the motor-
cycle he rode, even if he'd sold
that bike 20 years ago. It was a
guaranteed way to ensure repeat
business, as for many, walk-
ing into the dealership was like
going to the bar where the bar
tender knew your name and your
drink.
I always look back on my time
at the dealership with fondness,
but, if I'm honest, I was a naïve
16-year-old dirtbag with not a
single customer service bone
in my body. In my delusional
skull sponge, I was there not
to learn about the business of
running a motorcycle dealership,
but to simply earn some money
and get discounts I could use
in my professional road racing
endeavors—which never went
any further than the end of the
dealership driveway.
Years later, I went back into
the same dealership to buy
some oil for my Yamaha YZ450F.
The shop had changed owners
in the 10-plus years since my
last visit, and I noticed a definite
change.
PULLING TEETH
Motorcycle dealerships are the
lifeblood of the industry. Some
have evolved, some not so much.