Why sell motorcycles for a living if you don't love motorcycles?

Maybe you've had some form of this experience. You go into a dealership and find you know more about the products for sale than the person whose salary depends on making the sale. In the U.S. market, motorcycles are overwhelmingly sold to enthusiasts, people who are buying out of passion, not pure practicality. How can you excel at your job of selling to those customers if you don't share, or at least understand, their passion?

It's a problem I've talked about with Spurgeon, both because he has experience working in a dealership and also because he and I both know that there are some really good ones out there providing great service. (I suspect anyone who regularly listens to the Highside/Lowside podcast can name Spurgeon's favorite KTM dealer because he has praised it so much.) It's not really about us, though. We know what we're buying. But what about the new rider just getting started who needs some guidance and walks into a dealership?

The lack of knowledge among some motorcycle dealership employees doesn't annoy me as much as it mystifies me. If they're not excited enough about motorcycles to keep up with what's new, why did they choose this line of business? These four examples illustrate what I'm talking about.

Scene one: How do ya spell that?

Years ago, I foolishly tossed my Kawasaki Versys and my body onto Main Street just a week before a planned trip, breaking a footpeg bracket. I called the closest Kawasaki dealer to see if I would be lucky enough for them to have the part in stock so I could salvage my travel plans.

Me: "Do you happen to have a left-side footpeg bracket for a 2009 Kawasaki Versys?"

Guy who works the parts counter: "A what? How ya spell that?"

Consider that the Versys had been in Kawasaki's lineup for nearly a decade at that point. I wouldn't expect the average person on the street to know what a Versys is, but the guy who chose to work at the parts counter of a Kawasaki dealership?

Scene two: Whoa, what's that?

The Versys was my build-it-yourself lightweight sport-tourer. When it came time to replace it, I decided to buy a genuine sport-tourer, and after much dithering — I mean, research — I decided on a 2014 to 2016 Honda VFR800 Interceptor Deluxe. Because they were pricey when new and thus never sold well, used ones were hard to find. I made my task more difficult by insisting on the Deluxe model, which added rudimentary traction control, adjustable suspension, heated grips, and a center stand. All features I wanted.

I finally found a red one at a dealership just 100 miles from home and hurried down to see it. I had already gone to a local dealership that advertised a white Deluxe, only to find out it was really a standard model and they didn't know what they had. So as I was looking over the red one and chatting with the sales guy, I fingered the adjusters on the top of the fork legs and said, "Yep, this one really is a Deluxe."

The sales guy did a double take, examined the adjusters closely and asked, "What the heck is that?" Now since this wasn't a current or high-volume model, I wouldn't have necessarily expected him to know that the adjustable suspension on the individual bike he was trying to sell me was a genuine selling point over other Interceptors, information that would be useful in closing the deal with some customers. But it was more than that. Subsequent conversation revealed he didn't know what adjustable suspension was. I ended up explaining it to him.

Scene three: A what?

Last year I stopped by a local dealership to see a used motorcycle they had listed on their web site. One of the sales guys greeted me as I walked in with a friendly, conversation-starting "What'dja ride in on?"

"Just my old Speed Triple," I replied.

"What's that?" he asked.

Now in fairness, this is not a Triumph dealership. On the other hand, it was the 31st consecutive year of Speed Triple production and it's not that rare a model. I suspect a poll of Common Tread readers would find that a wide majority have at least heard of a Speed Triple, even though a majority of them don't rely on the ability to make conversation with motorcycle enthusiasts as part of their career success.

Scene four: Is that a thing?

I'll soon get our first opportunity to test ride the Honda CB750 Hornet and CB1000 SP Hornet, which have been popular in Europe but are just coming to the U.S. market this year. As I was out running some errands recently, I decided to stop into the local Honda dealership to see if they had any interesting used bikes on the floor (they didn't), and just because I hadn't been in there for a year.

Making small talk with the sales guy, I asked, "Do you know when you're going to get some Hornets in?"

I won't bore you with the tedious conversation that followed, but it quickly became apparent that neither he nor his manager had any idea what a Hornet or a CB750 or a CB1000 SP was or that they might be something potential customers would be interested in. After a couple of phone calls and long after I had begun wishing I'd never asked the question, they told me that there were some new models called Hornets coming in, possibly in June or July.

Passion played out

I regularly read Dealer News as part of my effort to keep up with what's going on in the industry and to get the pulse of that portion of it. The columns frequently talk about how the people behind dealerships are motivated by their passion for powersports. (As an aside, that "powersports" aspect may explain some of the lack of motorcycle knowledge among the sales people mentioned above. Maybe — I'm being hopeful here — they're more knowledgeable about the bigger ticket UTVs and other vehicles that overshadow motorcycles in many dealerships today.) I do believe the dealer principals are motivated by their enthusiasm. I don't think anyone does a coldly rational analysis of all the businesses they could potentially start and decides that a motorcycle dealership is the surest path to fame and fortune. No, they start that business because they love it.

So why are they sometimes hiring people who know little about the enthusiast products they're supposed to sell?

If you're involved in the front lines and have an insider perspective you'd like to share to explain the phenomenon, I'd love to hear it in the comments below.