All bikes have a story. That’s part of the lore of motorcycle culture.

Bike night is where we get together and tell those stories—the build, the ride, the hunt for the bike, and most importantly, why this bike?

This is mine.

My 2023 BMW R nineT 100 Years Anniversary Edition.

At the time, my garage was already packed with KTMs. Motorcycling is an obsession, and I don’t know many riders who are satisfied owning just one motorcycle.

I had reignited my life on two wheels after more than a ten-year hiatus with a 2021 KTM 890 Adventure R.

I grew up riding dirt bikes, and when I finally convinced my wife that I needed a motorcycle again to blow off some steam on the weekends, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to go back to dirt or get a road bike.

I love both.

So naturally, I found both in one bike.

The 890 Adventure R was an adventure bike with some seriously tough dirt-bike DNA. I spent a couple of months riding it out around Ocala on the weekends, but it didn’t take long before I realized that breaking off the fire roads and getting into the tighter stuff on a very heavy adventure bike had its limitations.

So next came the KTM 300 XC-W.

That bike is a whole other story.

It gets increasingly difficult to justify buying another motorcycle when you can no longer park a car in your garage, but then BMW released the R nineT 100 Years Anniversary Edition.

And I couldn’t stop looking at it.

The bike was absolutely beautiful. Modern classic styling. Timeless lines. And that chrome.

Oh, that chrome.

I had to have it.

Business was doing pretty well at the time, so I splurged and bought one of the limited-edition R nineTs.

I absolutely fell in love with it.

It rode like a dream. It turned heads everywhere I went. And without realizing it at the time, that motorcycle would become one of the most important bikes I have ever owned.

Because this is the bike that started 73 Moto.

And in a roundabout way, it eventually helped lead me to Ace Cafe Sanford.

It started with something incredibly simple.

I had this beautiful modern-classic motorcycle, and suddenly none of my gear made sense.

I wasn’t going to wear my adventure helmet on this thing. A modern sport-bike helmet looked a little ridiculous. And I suffer from a serious case of mushroom head whenever I put on a 3/4 helmet.

So the hunt began for a classic-looking full-face helmet.

There were options online, but almost nothing I could actually go see and try on.

I walked into Cycle Gear and found maybe four helmets that fit the look.

Four.

What the hell was going on?

How were these companies missing this?

The deeper I dug into the modern-classic motorcycle scene, the more people I found who seemed to be looking for exactly the same thing.

A new generation of riders wasn’t necessarily interested in riding their dad’s Harley. They were reaching farther back—to café racers, vintage Hondas, European bikes, custom builds, old-school racing culture, and motorcycles that were as much about personality and craftsmanship as transportation.

And then the lightbulb exploded.

There was a need. And I wanted to fill it.

One helmet I found that I absolutely loved was made by a company called Hedon.

But there was no way in hell I was spending that kind of money on a helmet, having it shipped from the UK, and just hoping it fit.

Then the rabbit hole opened.

And it was deep.

I started discovering incredible brands from all over the world that seemed to understand exactly the style and culture I had been looking for.

It was like the Bee Girl finding all the other Bee People in the Blind Melon video.

If you know, you know.

Gen X.

The deeper I went, the more excited I got. Eventually I realized I didn’t just want to buy this stuff.

I wanted to curate it.

I wanted one place in Sanford where you could walk in and discover all of these brands, try them on, touch them, talk motorcycles, and find things you weren’t going to see hanging on the wall of every big-box motorcycle store.

At the time, I had a building we were renting to a tenant who operated a marketplace. Inside was a big unused section of the building.

So I commandeered about 700 square feet and started building.

I ordered as many cool pieces as I could find from brands like Holy Freedom, Deus Ex Machina, Pando Moto, Ton Up—and, of course, Hedon.

I called it 73 Moto.

73 is the year I came into this world, but it also felt like a nod to a very cool era in motorcycling. Raw bikes. Great design. Less technology. More personality.

That’s part of the origin story of 73 Moto.

I’ll tell the rest of that story another time.

But it still leaves one pretty obvious question:

Why in the hell would I take this beautiful, limited-edition BMW and strip it down to rebuild it?

Well...

My buddy Mike called me one day. He was having a hard time, so I told him, “Come up here. We’ll go for a ride.”

There’s something about riding a motorcycle that makes you forget about all the shit going on in the world for a while.

The problem was deciding what Mike was going to ride.

There was no way I was putting him on my S1000RR. That thing is a rocket ship. The old Honda wasn’t exactly ideal for a long ride either.

So Mike got the R nineT.

I took the S1000RR.

Our friend Jim came along with us on his S1000 as well.

We were riding northeast of Sanford on Maytown Road, one of those open country roads where you can finally stretch a bike’s legs a little.

There’s a great sweeping left out there. It’s almost a 90-degree turn, but long and gradual—the kind of corner you look forward to every time you ride that road.

And I was pushing.

Probably way too hard.

I came into that corner feeling like I was on a circuit, leaned over and having a hell of a time.

Then, right around the apex, I saw them.

A huge group of bicyclists coming the opposite direction.

OH SHIT.

I stood the bike up, corrected my line and made it through.

But almost immediately, I thought about Mike.

He was probably 75 yards behind me.

If that had spooked me, I knew he might be in trouble.

I looked into my mirror.

All I could see was the R nineT’s headlight going straight.

My first thought was, Shit, I don't remember there being a side road there.

Then I knew.

He had gone off.

I spun around immediately.

Thankfully, Jim had been riding behind Mike. Jim is a firefighter, and that day he had also been riding a hell of a lot more responsibly than I was.

By the time I got back, Jim was already tending to Mike.

Thank God he was there.

And thank God Mike was okay.

He had gone off into a muddy ditch. He was bruised up, but he hadn't hit a tree, and the ground was basically marsh. Considering what could have happened, that mud was probably the best place he could have landed.

Mike was okay.

But my baby?

My R nineT was hurt.

We trailered the bike home.

I wasn't angry with Mike. Not for a second.

Things happen on motorcycles.

He was okay. That was what mattered.

But as I stood there looking at the damaged bike, another thought started creeping into my head.

Maybe this wasn't the end of something.

Maybe it was the beginning.

I already loved this motorcycle.

But now I had an opportunity to turn it into something completely mine.

Something nobody else had.

Something very, very special.

And just like that...

The 100 Years Redo Project was born.

The bike is still in the garage. Some of the work is finished. A lot more is coming.

And when it's done, this motorcycle will tell another chapter of the story.

Stay tuned.

The reveal is coming.