George Barber passed away yesterday. He was 85 years old and a lifelong resident of Birmingham, Alabama. His legacy will endure for generations because of his collection—and its home—the Barber Motorsports Museum and racetrack.

In 2003, I spent a day with “Mr. Barber” at the museum. We were there alone. We arrived in the parking lot at the same time and began walking toward the front entrance together, he with his key already in hand. A sudden Alabama shower hit as we crossed the lot, and we had no choice but to sprint for the door as the rain soaked us. He wasn’t a young man even then, but he was spry and in good shape. He beat me to the door—and I was 30 years his junior.

We walked the entire museum that day in wet clothes. But once he turned the lights on, soaked underwear was the last thing on my mind. The collection was staggering. Even then, Mr. Barber had amassed an astonishing array of motorcycles.

Just based on that day, I’m not sure he was the same kind of motorcycle enthusiast that you and I are—I’m not even sure he rode—but he was a gigantic collector. Some men race motorcycles. Some men preserve them for the rest of us. He began acquiring in earnest when he ran his own vintage race team in AHRMA in the early 1990s, where one of his riders was my friend Stephen Mathews; even then he had a collection of over 100 motorcycles or more. Money for acquisition was never an obstacle. His family had owned Barber Dairy for much of the 20th century, and through the milk business they accumulated vast real estate holdings and other investments. The "milk business" as Mr. Barber called it, was bought by Dean Foods in 1997. Reportedly Mr Barber spent $50 million dollars on the museum and the collection. It makes every other motorcycle museum look modest by comparison, no matter how earnest the effort.

If you’ve ever visited the museum or the racetrack, it’s obvious that Mr. Barber was a man of wide-ranging interests—art, architecture, landscaping. The grounds are dotted with sculpture and immaculate greenery. It’s a PGA-level facility at minimum, and the entire place is the physical manifestation of George Barber’s vision. There is no "good enough" at Barber Motorsports Park; there are stories of replacement concrete that did not match the original concrete that was jack-hammered out—right now—and re-poured on the orders of Mr. Barber because unmatched concrete disrupted the visual harmony of the space.

There is a multi-person crew who work at the museum who just dust.

Mr. Barber was a private man. Before we sat down for an interview in '03, he asked for my word that I wasn’t working on a book about him, his family or his personal life. Surprised, I told him the thought had never crossed my mind and explained that if I were to write a book, he was, unfortunately, pretty far down the list of potential subjects. But I shook his giant hand just the same and gave him my word.

At one point I asked the question so many older collectors are faced with as they age: how the museum and racetrack would operate after he was gone. He explained that plans were being formulated to “get this place out of my pocket every month” and move it into a trust and foundation — with enough assets to allow it to exist in its present form, essentially, forever.

He built it so it wouldn’t disappear when he did. Not many men think that far ahead. Godspeed Mr. Barber.