Vintage Bikes Shine at the Montreal Motorcycle Show

Mar 13, 2023 — For many, wintertime motorcycle events are a thing of legend. Here in Montreal, we're told that when things go cold, the season's on hold. Except, events like the annual Moto Show held in late February used to remind us that this was not always the case. With the past couple of years being harsher than others, such events were frozen solid, so to speak. But the thawing winds of 2023 finally arrived, and we got all giddy when we were able to pass through the palatial doors of our favorite local expo once again.

We were greeted by the newest tech, with thousands of people there to admire rows upon rows of parked ADV, cruiser, race, dirt and electric bikes. Everything seemed so impressive in scope, with Honda and Harley-Davidson occupying a large portion of the display area. Though the motorcycles were definitely eye-catching, an apparent lack of distinction between models felt prevalent. However, off in the far corners of the room, something entirely different stood apart from the rest.

Classic and custom vintage bikes were there on display, some intended for racing and others for the looks. An entire area — labeled only as "Hangar 17" — grouped up a variety of custom builders, cafes, artists and magazines: all under the umbrella of a traditional yet unmistakably revamped old-school aesthetic. So we took to examining some of these passion projects, and we were pleasantly introduced to a burgeoning community of riders who value simplicity and accessibility over all.

The Thrill of Vintage Road Racing | VRRA

Near a make-do cafeteria located furthest from the entrance, a modest booth first attracted our curiosity. Several vintage Japanese motorcycles lay there at rest, in a single file, with painted-on numbers and racing stripes. On a nearby table, we noted the acronym VRRA, also known as the Vintage Road Racing Association, based in Ontario. Founded in 1980, the VRRA is the oldest classic racing organization in North America, known for their desire to preserve historic motorcycles while also keeping their racing tradition alive. The way they do this is simple: a competitive race is divided into historic periods spanning from pre-60s classic vintage all the way to the 90s.

As we stood there admiring these pieces of history, we were welcomed by Mathieu Chartrand, a racer who was there to volunteer by showcasing some of his vintage motorcycles: a 1968 Honda CB 175 K0, and a 1964 Honda C77 Super Hawk. "These are not bikes that fit in with ordinary track days. My CB77 has a maximum of 30 horses, so I always get stuck with the slow bikes. It looks like nothing, but I'm quite fast in a curve," he says.

Having been racing vintage motorcycles for the past 10 years, though a long-time motorcycle owner, Chartrand's passion for all things on 2 wheels was manifest in the short conversation we had with him. "I started with a KZ650, my second bike was a CB750, then I had a ZR7, a CB360, followed by a BMW K100. On a daily basis, I ride a SV1000, so I ride modern. But for racing, it's vintage," he affirms in a lively manner.

So, where did the decision to race bikes often seen behind a collector's window come from?

My first bike was vintage. I love working on my bikes, and I find that working on a bike and an engine is very zen, very relaxing. It takes me more time to change 2 spark plugs on my SV1000 than to remove the engine from my CB77. There's also the fact that a vintage bike doesn't do everything right. When you enter a curve you have to think about how you are going to handle it — you see that the bike brakes differently. There's also the performance side: my CB77 goes up to 150 km/h. There is something reassuring about not going to 300 km/h, but the danger remains. I had some accidents; if you race you will crash.

At one point, about 15 years ago, I went to the motorcycle show. I saw that there were vintage motorcycle races going on. I talked to Claude Aubry without knowing who he was, and years later I met him on the track. I told myself that this is something I want to do in my life. Racing motorcycles, but why not vintage motorcycles? I committed to the process and before I was 40 I made the decision. At 43, I got on the track for the first time; I had never raced before. Now I'm 53. This is my 10th year and I intend to ride until my body allows it.

From a mechanical point of view, is the maintenance cumbersome?

Obviously, when you race a vintage bike, maintenance is more present and more frequent. But, it's not for nothing, and not to sell one company more than another, I race a Honda: there is a reason. Parts are more accessible and strangely enough I still find accessible original Honda parts for 50-60 year old bikes. It's much more reliable in general, and of course like anyone who races, at some point you want a little more performance. You get pistons, you get valves, you get springs. But winters are long in Quebec, and while the Canadiens are losing on TV, I'm working on my engine.

What are some of the quirks of a vintage motorcycle that you have to be aware of when racing? Do they affect the way you lean into a curve?

I'll tell you that it brakes a lot less, but it teaches you to ride differently because you don't have a lot of power. So you have to keep your speed in the turn, because if you brake too much you won't manage to accelerate much after. Look, we lean the same way. I would say that I probably lean a lot more with a vintage race bike than I can lean on the street. Racing a motorcycle, vintage or not, is not like riding on the street. It's a much more intense and violent experience. On my bike, I race, I turn, and I drop my knee, even if it's a vintage bike. I still have race tires on it, so it allows me to lean as much as a modern bike. It's just that the riding is different, less recovery, less braking, etc. I'm completely at the limit, all the time.

No Plans, No Destination | Oneland Magazine

Off in the opposite corner of the expo area, a large boxy structure housed some of the most varied and custom Harleys we've seen. For the duration of the event, "Hangar 17" would be the temporary home to a group of artists, builders, writers and illustrators devoted to sharing their passion for vintage revival — combined with a fresh take on what once was, and what could be.

We spoke to Charles-Édouard Carrier, journalist and co-founder of Oneland Magazine, who explained that

The idea at the beginning was to create a show within a show. So, we wanted to make a motorcycle event that brings more attention to the custom scene, artists, the new generation. Above all, we wanted to create a bridge between the manufacturing side and the artisan side, and I think that the 2 at the same time in the same place was the best way to do this.

Hangar 17 began, as its name denotes, in 2017. It has a special place in the Montreal Motorcycle Show because it shines the spotlight on the people behind the machines. All of these bikes on display are here somehow, grouped up together in one space, but the spirit of this expo within an expo does everything it can to remind us that we're the ones that pave the way forward. Without the soul of a community, it's all just a display of immobile pieces of metal, neatly assembled together.

The inception of Oneland Magazine began with the will to bring together various riders through web content and in-person events. The core idea is that there is 1 world under 2 wheels, and it begs to be explored. According to Carrier, "at its base, Oneland is about gathering around motorcycling, travel, and this culture that has existed for over 100 years in Quebec."

Hangar 17 is obviously full of custom bikes, vintage choppers and all that. Do you have a relationship with vintage motorcycles in particular?

When I first started riding, a lot of it was with older people. Then we were looking for a way to get young people together around motorcycling several years ago. That's really what started it all, with Oneland, with Hangar 17 and with the TV shows. But I started riding motorcycles when I was 30. It's not something that goes back generations, I discovered it at 30, but with guys who had been doing it for 30 years. I was introduced to this world by that generation, and after that we adapted it to our way of doing things, and we created these links with the past.

I'm really a person who likes the meditative and evasive side of travel. I'm not a mechanical guy at all. I like to meet people, to discover things, no plans, no destination. For me, that's the best way to ride a motorcycle.

Do you think there is a strong heritage of old Harleys and custom bike scenes here in Quebec? How do you think the bridge between old and new generations occurred?

I think the bike world is a small world; I think it's a world where there's a lot of openness, a lot of support and a lot of camaraderie. I think that having this kind of community spirit, which has always been there in the motorcycle world, means that the younger generation has inherited all this experience. People today who are 60-70 years old, who have been riding motorcycles all their lives, are very happy to be here at Hangar 17 and to be able to pass on their knowledge, to pass on their history in recognition. And I think that this bridge is natural because motorcycling brings people together, regardless of age, model or language. When you travel on a motorcycle, bonds are automatically created. I think that's why today we are all in the same place at the same time in this atmosphere.

You've traveled all across Canada. Are there certain routes that are close at heart?

For me, the 2 most beautiful roads I've done so far are the Billy Diamond road, the James Bay road that starts in Matagami and goes up to Radisson. It's a 100km road and it was recently completely redone, so the asphalt is new, no traffic, winding; you cross the tundra. It's a beautiful road and it's not very well known. Otherwise, Victoria Island is incredible because you have the surf culture mixed with the motorcycle culture. I find it really fascinating and it's in Canada; it's even cooler because it's at home.

The Art of Custom Building | Clockwork Cycle

Also within the Hangar 17 expo area, we ran into Samuel Guertin, a custom builder by trade and the founder of Clockwork Cycle, based in Montreal. The shop specializes in vintage Harleys and sand casting custom parts for early models all the way up to EVO. Speaking of which, Guertin's completely tricked-out '48 Panhead (featured image of the article) and '79 Shovelhead (see below) were both on display, garnering many awestruck looks and serving as a good conversation starter for passersby.

Guertin is also organizing "Roll the Bones," a vintage moto expo in Montreal. The 5th edition is happening this May, and we can expect to see more than 50 modified vintage and traditional bikes. According to Guertin, this event was launched because "in Quebec, there wasn't much of anything similar. We didn't have this kind of event that revolved around the new wave revival of old Harleys and choppers. These are the types of bikes that get me stoked."

According to you, is there a big market for vintage motorcycles in Quebec?

It's not a huge market, it's not like California here. But there are more and more young people who are interested in this and who are looking for these old bikes to give them a new life. There is also the chopper tradition, and what interests me are all the stories behind it. Yes, it's a style that comes from the West Coast, but we had some cool stuff here in Quebec in the 60s and 70s. We're inspired by that and we're trying to take over and keep it alive. It's a beautiful thing.

As a mechanic, you've seen a bit of everything. Are vintage chopper machines difficult to maintain, repair and modify?

Sure, they're not modern bikes where you turn the key and don't ask questions. When you ride an old Harley, you have to expect that sooner or later something will happen, you'll be stuck maybe on the side of the road. But at the same time, it comes with the idea that what will happen will happen; you take your little bag of tools with you. Yes, things might break, but these are also bikes that are made much simpler than today's bikes.

Whenever something happens, honestly, you can almost always get by with pretty basic tools. In the past, these bikes were used a lot for war. They would send the guy with his bike and his bag of tools and then he would be able to rebuild an engine in the middle of the field. It's made to be fixed yourself, so there's no need to go to the dealer and plug a computer into it. That's what's cool about these bikes, but yes you have to expect that you're going to have little hiccups with them, they will leak oil, but that's part of the adventure.

My friend Eric and I were riding in Gaspésie together and his bike was acting weird; it was vibrating strangely. We scratched our heads and wondered what it was, then we found ourselves in front of a closed sugar shack, the bike on some logs, removing the 2 wheels and trying to see if there was anything loose. Finally there was nothing wrong and it was a windshield problem [laughs]. You know, we always end up working things out and it makes for great stories all the time.

Do you have a particular project that is memorable for you?

For me it's this one here, a 1948 Harley Panhead. It's the first year of the Panhead engine and it's a bike that I did completely custom. There are a lot of parts on it that I cast in sand with aluminum. I really pushed my limits to remake this bike by building a traditional early 60's chopper with the same shape, with respect to what was done in the past — but with my own personal twist. It's a project I'm pretty proud of. Yes, these are traditional shapes, but if you look at the wing tip at the back, it's a part you never see. It's a part that I cast myself, that I totally invented. Still it could have been a guy in 1962 that made this piece because it has the look, but it was made in 2022 by hand with the means I have.

It's stuff like that that I think is cool. I don't have a big shop with CNC machines, 3D printers. I work with old lathes, old tools, the little forge I made for myself to pour the metal: it's all homemade stuff with small means, but people are often quite impressed with the results I'm able to obtain.

Harley Meets Black Sabbath | Doomsday Machine

Smack in the center of Hangar 17, it was impossible to miss David Battistuzzi in front of the Doomsday Machine logo, the latter clearly inspired by Black Sabbath's album Master of Reality. In front of the doom-booth, several custom bikes were parked on synthetic grass made to look like a campground. This only added to creating a sort of laid-back, "hanging out with our bikes, listening to our favorite tunes" kind of vibe.

And this is the spirit at the core of the Rally in the Alley motorcycle event, launched in 2014. "There wasn't a scene per se, so I just started organizing events, and people started getting together. It kind of became a network of friends," affirms Battistuzzi. As for motorcycle types, it's all about the 60s and 70s lo-fi cheaper choppers. The principle is that you don't need a lot of money to be involved in motorcycling, and you can get by just by talking to people, making friends and sharing whatever knowledge you have. According to Battistuzzi,

Chop what you got is our motto. So yeah, the Rally in the Alley is a small scale thing that grew over the years. And then bigger events popped up since then. We've been there the whole time, we know most of the people that organize other events and we go to them all. It's about community for us, it's always been about community for me.

Do your events center around showcasing other people's work?

Yes and no, it’s not just that. We love supporting the local small shops, because they’re the heartbeat of the community in a lot of ways. But also, just encouraging people. You don’t have to be a pro shop or a pro builder to do this yourself in your garage, you know. Through meeting other people and sharing your skills, you can do it yourself. Start small and go up, but these radical bikes [points to display] were done in guys' personal garages, they just learned themselves. A guy knows a welder who knows an electrician who knows a painter or whatever. At the end of the day, you have a very nice bike, and that’s what it was like in the early days, in the 60s.

I apprenticed under a guy who was building choppers in the 60s. There were no shops doing that at the beginning. He had to find parts or find a guy who could build you something. Guys just got together and shared a garage over the winter. Come springtime, everyone had new bikes, and so that’s the spirit of what we do.

Do you have your own shop as well?

No, we’re just a bunch of guys who have a garage together, but it’s not open to the public. It’s a passion project, and people can come by and ask us questions, we’re here to share. All of the events we post publically, everyone’s welcome. You don’t even have to have a motorcycle. The Rally in the Alley for me was about getting people who don’t have motorcycles to come and check out what it’s about. It’s just skateboarding and music and stuff. Half the people don’t have bikes and that’s cool, we just hang out and get to know people.

We were speaking to Charles-Édouard about this generational gap, the old builders in Quebec passing on the torch to the newer generation in a way. How do you think that evolution happened?

I think it just happened like anything else, like a new wave of bands come and people aren’t listening to their dad’s music anymore. It was like that, we just got into a different scene, and we like doing things a little different. But the gap is starting to close again, because we’re starting to really appreciate what the older guys did, and they are starting to appreciate what we’re into. So especially older guys who had these bikes when they were new are coming up and talking to us about what they were doing back in the day. We’re just trying to share the passion that we have and learn from these guys, and if they’re willing to talk to us about it we’re there to listen.

The Modern Resurgence of Classic Machines

Whether custom builds and DIY is your thing or not, it's impossible to deny how important and alive the vintage scene is. This is not a phenomenon which is constrained to our local motorcycle show, and it's actually increasing in popularity. While some are going electric, others are seeking out simpler and more accessible ways to understand their motorcycle. It's not about hi-fi vs lo-fi or anything like that, they're all different ways of embracing a sport which we all love.

Yes, custom builders and small shops still have a voice today, in a market dominated by big names and big bucks. And considering the hefty price tag which usually accompanies newer vehicles, people can opt to invest in their skills instead. To have knowledge and expertise in something is to be free from a type of dependence. But it's also about connecting to the history and culture of motorcycling in a deep and meaningful way. The "analog resurgence" in motorcycling has appeal today because it provides concrete and direct access to the machine. Everything is there — waiting to be taken apart, waiting to be understood.