Editorial
Line of Sight
Like the motorcycles themselves, every rider is unique – a summation of that person’s individual knowledge and background. That said, there lies a common thread that most all of us follow and it’s not surprising, considering the era and common practice established through marketing. From the data collected by WMM’s WordPress webhost we have a good idea how many people visit and which features are the most popular, but no real idea of the age or experience of these visitors. Feeling it’s a sure thing, for sure, if I were the betting type a generous wager would be placed on the fact that most of the content of this website is consumed by my contemporaries. For this demographic, no explanation is needed to recount what it’s like to be a well seasoned biker but like everything in life, there will always be good mixed in with the bad. Which one wins?
Getting to it, this writing is motivated by a curious mix of guilt and smug joy. Looking into exactly what this title means, I’m reminded there is no definitive line of sight – only what’s visible to us from our personal perspective. For me, this simple circumstance has grown to mean a great deal, and once plagued with looking at life through an old, ever dirtier pane of scratched glass, it’s ironic how this old school biker could benefit so greatly from modern technology. Functional but becoming somewhat detached, my sagging suspensions, damaged intake and failing headlight were pushing ever closer to the metaphorical scrap heap. From there, my lovely Merry somewhat oversaw the undercarriage repair and tighten, then followed by a somewhat unpleasant intake rebuild using various plastic repops. Six months after swapping clear lenses for the aging cataracts I was born with, life has become subject to dramatic change. Ever dream of going back in time? That happens every time I’m pulling on the gear and on the bike, seeing things with a clarity never experienced…not even at nineteen. No secret to those with similar mileage, I’ve no doubt why this procedure has become wildly popular, and I’m so very grateful for the great docs and support from friends and family. Once the last bandages were removed my personal rebuild qualified me as roadworthy again, and words don’t describe the color splashed, hi-def motion picture played out before me daily.
Proper gratitude given, we could end this editorial right here. But remembering all the questions I had and maybe someone reading this has questions too, I’ll elaborate. In my case, specifically, an absolute intolerance to sunrise/sunsets and a growing list of negative light conditions traded riding miles for less threatening webwork in slow, incremental measures. I’ll spare us all the boredom reading about my work and/or schedule, but like most normal people the stress from simply trying to survive impacted many decisions. Before long, I was cancelling meet ups and ignoring the bikes, but it all caught up with me. Well before my cataract surgery I was (literally) grinding through a depressing writer’s block…having lost that thrilling balance of writing after riding. Or wrenching. Vowing to always keep a project going that promise was kept, yet now jumping between two different workshops and three (or more) different motorcycles comes the realization I’ve overcompensated. Dropping further behind on some old writing goals, a new frustration grows with the lack of new content and the rows of unpublished digital treasure, some years in the making. But! Countering are decades old projects that have waited far longer, and my instincts agree. Truly in awe regarding the depth of John Wittner’s career and the generosity of his circle, I still haven’t looked for those words. Ironically, our project 1100 Sport is slotted to play a lead role…but it’s apart. Now laughing at myself I wonder; what good is sticking to the plan when you keep changing it?
Staying on its feet even when a backed-out rear drive bolt carved the rear wheel like a lathe tool, I’m grateful son Alexander Woodbury wasn’t injured riding the silver Carbie home. Up until then we’d been enjoying as opportunity allowed, but now began the bleak task of finding a replacement. Made by Guzzi only for two low-pro models (1100 Sport/Daytona 4v) Guzzi ace Andrew Gray swooped in and fired off a link for one amazing/conveniently listed on eBay Germany. Throwing fistfuls of cash in the air as quickly as my thumbs would allow, both wheels have been proudly redone and await assembly…but still grumbling at myself for letting it happen. Not far away and nearly finished as I type this, Mike Larson’s 1981 CX-100 came from Texas to AZ early in 2025 as a genuine 3500-mile Le Mans. Essentially taking over the room with its aged patina and showroom originality, we’re grateful Mike granted us permission to resurrect this rare and incredible machine. As longtime CX aficionados, this beauty gives us another chance to preach the Guzzi gospel – a classic recommission that involves a simple cleaning, chassis maintenance and deep mechanical service. Pictured here checking De Tomaso’s famous four-pot dash before re-installation, Alex has very expertly repaired the singed airbox and wiring, while I’ve mostly attended to the chassis, brakes and basic sorting details. Now close to the fun part, all that’s left is to graft on the CX’s blood red Tonti fairings and body (nicely detailed by Mike) then some final fussing before road testing and a photo shoot.
Wondering again how many readers find themselves in a similar spot, the reality of available time verses fully accomplishing goals is often unrealistic, if not impossible. Old bike owners know well the danger of having too many projects, and at least in my case, priorities often change. That nearly always translates into nothing getting done, but a cruel cycle of breakdowns and age related issues across the board didn’t help my personal situation. Often left with bikes aplenty but nothing to ride, hindsight says that was probably okay…given distances of thirty-feet or more made it difficult to distinguish a clump of sagebrush from a minivan. Having that rotten, horrible burden lifted and motorcycle riding restored to my life is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me and awash in enthusiasm, I savor the extra workshop time. Taking a deep breath and using a methodical approach I’ve yet to master, success spinning the wrenches starts a simple cycle of bike trips and thus, new motorcycle features. Perhaps sipping the Kool-Aid from a mythical fountain of youth, finding that beautiful balance of the past has become my goal for the future.
Reaching this point, some satisfaction (relief?) comes from knowing I remain capable of sitting in front of the screen long enough to hammer out something. As usual, you will decide whether it’s useful or not, but it is very important to me that those who read this material or visit this webspace not just understand, but witness my passion for covering the motorcycle experience. In a majority sense, my intention editorially has been to focus on the history and not the historian, but new content has been slow in coming and I wanted to address it. Clearly aiming this at my age demographic and contemporaries who long for more satisfaction from life, the charge of fighting for your right to party is a well known idiom with sobering trueness. No matter what age there will always be surprises, disappointment and doubt, but I’m still amazed at how it all melts away when you’re rolling. As my personal fog clears, I now see new feature material and new (to me) motorcycles on the horizon; these containing varying amounts of historical significance. Excited to include late 60’s early 70’s Bol d’Or racers, a deeper cashe’ of 80’s superbikes and more special production exotics, work will continue cataloging some of motorcycling’s most important, most beautiful, and historically overlooked machines. Some of these features will be written out in the traditional manner, others will be penned in motion. Nolan Woodbury
