Brown's Cycles on Highway 101 near Paso Robles is a bike shop where they haven't thrown anything away since 1943. You owe it to yourself, to pull off and check it out.
From the front you can see what's going on in the back.
The rear of the shop spews out to this. Graveyard or heaven?
Not for sale apparently. It could be the bike from Little Fauss and Big Halsy.
Some old, some retro and some.....just plastic.
Some lost their heads.

The quickest way to LA from my home is to head down the 101 and then cross over to the I5 somewhere around Paso Robles. This town is infamous to me for two things. Jake Zemke, for he lives somewhere near there, and that stand alone cycle shop that has the dirtbike perched atop a huge pole.

That brazen display along with the retro sign of a rider in sideways slide have always intrigued me as I flew past it with cruise control set at 74mph.

In a world of corporate marketing anxious to offer a diluted piece of everything, I was intrigued by a bike shop that displayed such a specialized interest. Let's face it, even amongst us motorheads, dirt track is a minority.

For the many times I have traveled past this place I had always been desperate to start work, or get home to see the family. This time though, I had what is legally left of my family with me...so I dragged him in and looked around.

I am, to be honest, recounting the second time I stopped by. The first time I didn't have my camera never mind my wits about me. Three weeks later, as I returned in the opposite direction I brought in the camera.

Bent over a Honda bottom end just beyond the counter which separated customer from mechanic was David Brown of Brown's Cycles. He looked up inquisitively. What I wanted to say was ?Can I go all over this shop and take pictures of everything and constantly ask you questions?'

But instead all that came out was,

"Hey man. Uh, who's is that 400 Enduro out there"
"Some guy who wants to sell it" came the deadpan reply. It was not unfriendly. Just factual.
"How much for?"
"Three grand" he said. Not with a smirk, but in a way that meant to say that, as was confirmed later by a highly paid Factory Yamaha mechanic.....it was a little too much.

"What about that?" I pointed to another yellow Yamaha in the window.
"That's not for sale"
"Can I take pictures of it?"
"Sure. Take all you want"

Originally Brown's sold cars and bikes and lived in the center of town. This was back in 1940. Over the years however old Mr. Brown "got rid of" the cars and so concentrated on bikes. This information wasn't easily gained because I was still talking to the only guy there and he was busy. He was perhaps in his early 30's, son of the original Brown and current hands-on owner of the shop. To be honest he was more concerned with cleaning a big single Honda head with a wire brush under a constant flow of recycled solvent. With his bare hands of course.

By 1957 Brown's was all bikes.

Deep in here is the 69 plate that came from Nicky's 'big Honda before he went overseas'
A rare box.
Don't know what these are, but I bet you could make one out of these three.
It just got parked, and whoever did it, never looked back.
Classics. Framed pictures prove that Brown's was a Yamaha dealership.
Ricky lived nearby. Maybe he ran with the Salinas Rangers.

As you may tell from the pictures, it is not clear exactly how this place makes ends meet. Perhaps there are beaucoup savings made in not taking anything to the dump. It appears that, when a bike is deemed no longer operational the carcass is given it's last rites and delicately parked in the back to let the elements and tree leaves have their way with it.

Some of these relics look like they were stripped in the shop. The best parts placed in a cardboard box and the skeleton hauled out by two cigarette dangling mechanics to be leant against the edge of the pile.

Others were perhaps wheeled out with only a bent valve which could maybe be looked at.....later. After not too much thought though, the bike, like maybe the Suzuki with the curious tiger painted seat, would become a donor and it's vitals would disappear over the years like that time lapse movie you saw in high school biology of the bird deteriorating quickly with the help of some flesh consuming insects.

There is another class of derelict, like the older Suzuki with the upswept exhausts. It was just parked in the back, all on it's own and hasn't moved since.

A few of the lucky ones are housed inside. A little green Yamaha that might actually pass a road test with some care and attention, or three other small dead Yams that might make one operational classic. Then strangely there are about eight bikes that are enjoying some special seclusion in the deepest darkest corner. Some of them look like a few 1970's CZ's. I know the shape because my friend's dad had one. I remember ?borrowing' it one night. The dual gear lever/kick start made it a challenge to get going and it was only after using half a can of ether laden Easy Start that I finally got to see the dense blue smoke pour lazily out the extremely long exhausts. That was my first experience of 2-stroke acceleration. I was hooked for a lifetime.

The front of the store is more mystifying. Pretty yellow retro bumblebee Yamaha tanks are lined up along the wall not far from the latest off road rubber and HJC helmets. A late model Honda sits alone within sight of the 1971 Yamaha AT1 straight out of the Redford dirt bike classic movie I had always wished I was in...."Little Fauss and Big Halsy" A Ricky Graham memorial plaque leans against the oldest cash register I have seen outside Frontierland...and that is parked within 2 feet of the microfiche viewer. And all of these are remarkably super operational.

"Does Jake Zemke ever come in here" I questioned...pitching the question in an effort to gauge his local knowledge and sadly to try and show off what I thought I knew.

"No, but his dad does"

"Oh."

A more resourceful man would have asked why, but I was distracted by the colorful collection of race plates on the back wall. Apparently the #69 came from Nicky's "big Honda" before "he went overseas" I pointed out the fact that the second eldest Hayden had in fact road raced for some time in the AMA before he actually crossed the water, but it didn't register.

While talking I peered into the back of the shop. Deep in the shadows there appeared to be a bunch of bikes all lined up and partially dismantled. Above, hanging from the ceiling like a bunch of dusty bats, were some very retro gas tanks. ?Wow' was all I could say. David looked at me and smiled. "Yeah. We got a lot of junk" I asked if I could go back and look around in the rear of the shop and take some pics.

"Take all you want!" came the amused reply.

It was as I walked to the rear that I realized that there was no real definition between inside of the shop and the large back yard... the contents of the inside flowed to the outside into a large motorcycle graveyard....or rather...as my 10 year-old described it....a motorcycle heaven.


More later....maybe...