Issue link: http://trailridermagazine.uberflip.com/i/1456806
March 2022 358 Those s ll in the hunt much prefer word of mouth deals opposed to trying to find that needle in a haystack listed online. Within a few days, Olivier found a phone number of the dude from Boston and I gave him a shout. The news was good, he s ll had the bike and yes he'd be interested in selling. I shot him a ballpark, unseen offer that I felt was fair for both par es and hit the road for Massachuse s a few days later. Some might say vintage bike freaks are a strange breed and I'd have to agree. For many it's the thrill of the chase. Once found, the situa ons are most o en interes ng. This deal was no different. I'd arrived at the des na on to find an old home on a decent spread of property. Milling around were three brothers and their girlfriends. All in their mid-30's I'd guess. The property was interes ng enough with a huge stone fire pit and a large shed out back. Leading into the woods and around the property were a series of well-worn trails. Before I'd even asked about the bike I asked about the house and the land as it was pre y sweet. The oldest brother, the seller of the bike said he and his brothers grew up in the house and had lived in the home their en re life. When his mother decided to downsize, he seized the opportunity and bought the property from his mother. No doubt a sharp young man, his occupa on as a union electrician had proven to be a solid career path. As for the bike, as soon as he opened the shed doors the smell of rodents wa ed through the air. Instantly I knew mice had go en in mately familiar with this machine but being familiar with the drill, I wasn't surprised. The bike itself could have been considered a me capsule of sorts. Although filthy from barn dust, telltale signs like original res, graphics, bodywork and controls told the real story. This '96 550 was a low use survivor. With my best poker face I tried to contain my excitement and we wheeled the mighty 550 out into the sunlight. I'd sniffed the gas to see if it was rel- a vely fresh and it really didn't smell too bad. Fully aware of the poten al costs involved with buying a non-running old dirt bike, never mind a low produc on European ride, I'd asked the seller if he could fire it up for me. "Nope" was his answer, plain and simple. He said if he could start it, he wouldn't be selling it…Basically the Big Bore Blues and the story of this bikes life. Two silencers take the bark out of the big beast. Deep but pleasant. Two silencers take the bark out of the big beast. Deep but pleasant.