You’re looking at a stretch of Ohio asphalt that most people would drive right over without a second thought. But from the saddle of a 1974 Honda CB550 or a 1982 Seca Turbo, that road looks, smells, and feels completely different.
I’m Dennis Ball, and I believe that modern motorcycles have become too perfect. They’ve lost the conversation between the rider and the machine. In my garage, I prefer that dialogue.
A vintage motorbike is a beautifully defiant analog machine in a world saturated with digital interfaces and endless connectivity. It’s a deliberate rejection of the dashboard that looks ready for a moon launch. Your instrument cluster is a testament to simplicity: two honest dials, one for speed and one for revs, providing essential data without distraction. There are no layers of software, no configurable rider modes for rain, road, or track; just the direct, unmediated connection between you, the engine, and the road.
The interaction is purely mechanical. A cable throttle, not a fly-by-wire system, ensures that every millimeter of wrist movement translates instantly into a corresponding engine response. This directness demands respect and focus. There’s no traction control to save you, no sophisticated rider aids to flatter your skills, and certainly no launch control or quickshifter. When you fire it up, there’s no digital ceremony, no screen lighting up like a video game. Just the simple, satisfying mechanical churn of a true engine coming to life
I currently maintain a fleet of seven vintage bikes. They aren’t museum pieces; they are living, breathing (and occasionally leaking) pieces of history. I started this site to document:
I don’t “do” social media. I’d rather be on that road in the photo above than chasing a trending hashtag.
If you want to follow along with the restorations, the ride reviews, and the occasional roadside repair, I’m currently working on a newsletter – my Garage Journal. Watch this area for a sign-up button in the near future!
“The scrappy little Honda vertical twin that’s never met a twisty Ohio backroad it didn’t want to explore.”
“The gold standard of balanced engineering—buttery smooth, perfectly poised, and effortlessly cool.”
“A six-cylinder mechanical masterpiece that sounds less like a motorcycle and more like a Formula 1 car.”
“A wild, whistling time capsule from the decade when ‘the future’ meant boost and full-coverage fairings.”
“The modern 250cc scalpel that reminds me just how sharp and flickable a lightweight chassis can be.”
“The ultimate two-wheeled Swiss Army Knife: torquey, sensible, and always ready for the long haul.”