“Tell me more, I might be interested in a trade.”
Those are words I rarely hear, if we’re being honest: The motorcycles and cars I own are typically vehicles most people wish to be rid of, so the idea that I might have anything of interest to a person who has, say, a motorcycle that I am interested in, and that they might prefer to just swap vehicles, is a strange experience for me.
I love bartering, but typically I limit myself to exchanging my mechanical knowledge or services for parts, pieces, or other automobile ephemera. Rarely, if ever, do trade deals enter my consciousness and it likely boils down to two reasons: I like most everything I own, and it always seems easier to sell one thing to fund purchasing another rather than try to force the stars into alignment by offering weird and wonderful trade offers.
So when walking the Barber Vintage Festival swap meet in Alabama last week, and was caught by the hypnotizing, exaggerated curves of a Honda TLR200 Trials motorcycle, I didn’t even try. One of my Honda XR200Rs had ridden in the back of my van for the nearly 1000 miles south to be sold. There would be fewer motorcycles going home with me than left. I need space in my shop, as my accumulation of motorcycles and projects has reached an all-time high and thus makes actually getting any work done very difficult.
I didn’t want to waste the owner’s time, but I recognized that the $1500 price scrawled on the green painters’ tape above the headlight meant this bike likely wasn’t going to hang around long. This was my first pass through the swap meet and some vendors were still setting up, while others were just arriving. After years of coming to Barber I have noticed how many bikes get “flipped” over the course of the weekend, only moving from one vendor stall to another, day after day. Oh, and of course there’s usually a price adjustment commensurate with the change in location. Good deals get snapped up fast, and many become okay deals, or not deals at all.
So I made a point to a least talk to the owner and get the story to make sure my “one that got away” was actually going to be a story worth telling, as I wouldn’t be heartbroken to pass on a big project at this price. Of course, it appeared to be a sweet runner that was rough around the edges but solid at its core. I was keen on purchasing the scruffy TLR200 Reflex, but had a Honda of my own to sell before cash could cross his palm.
His vendor stall was full of Trials (pronounced like court trials) bikes, with their slightly goofy look that comes from the low-speed technical riding they are designed for: Small to non-existent seats, steep steering angles, and a center of gravity that feels subterranean if getting off a typical dirt bike and getting on a Trials machine for the first time. The specialized design is exactly what attracted me to the TLR. For starters, Honda only brought the Reflex stateside for the 1986 and ’87 model years. It’s a partial parts-bin special so a lot of the big consumables are available, and though stateside support is thin, there are shops in the UK that ship worldwide, and love the TLR.
The core of my motorcycle collection falls in the late-1980s time period and is all Honda. The TLR200 Reflex is also a special chassis around an XR-based 194cc air-cooled single-cylinder engine, meaning a lot of the knowledge I already have about this engine family will transfer over, and possibly some spare parts as well. Technically interesting, fits with my other machines, and no cash outlay to bring it home? Be still my heart.
And I even got lucky enough that the owner of this was not only curious about my 2001 Honda XR200R, but was impressed enough that we simply shook hands, and we both rode away happy. I traded him an XR200 that I had about $1500 invested in, for a bike he was offering for $1500. He got a good deal, even with that oil leak I never bothered to fix. I didn’t learn until later that I paid just a few dollars off the new MSRP. Check out this amazing sales ad:
Indeed, the TLR is an interesting little bike. Those who know Trails bikes would call it a novelty, pointing out the geometry is merely halfway between a standard dirt bike and a dedicated Trials machine. Some even go so far as to cut and re-weld the frames to adjust the steering head angle, the reverse of what you see done to the Captain America bike ridden by Peter Fonda in Easy Rider. The TLR is also a porker compared to “real” Trials machines. Honda wanted the TLR to be street legal and thus it is weighed down by a battery, lights, gauges, keyed ignition, and all kind of other relative nonsense.
Does this mean the TLR is a bad bike? Well, no. At least not to someone like me who is as much interested in owning a motorcycle that captures the mind as much as the spirit. The TLR is a halfway point between two extremes, and when taken for what it is, can be quite fun.
Before shaking hands and riding away aboard our new-to-us machines, my trading partner encouraged me to enter the vintage Trails competition, even if the bike was underprepared with the crusty motocross knobby tires, sticky cables, and ancient chain and sprockets, plus all the technical drawbacks inherent to the TLR200 Reflex. It’s the first Trials-styled motorcycle I’ve ever ridden and the last time I did Trials it was on my XR250R, so how could I not at least “compete” just to give it a try?
So after a good night’s rest, I set the tire pressures on the TLR and slowly rolled over to the off-road registration table and signed up for Trials. In my excitement to potentially use my new toy I forgot to check and see if I had cash to cover the entry fee. Luckily Chris Todd, one of the tech inspectors, kindly covered my entry fee after hearing my tale of buying the bike just 24 hours earlier and wanting to try it out. It’s people like that who make playing with old motorcycles fun.
The TLR200 competes in the “modern twin shock” class and I was not even the only TLR there. Half the class was made up of TLRs, but all the others were hot rods compared to my stocker. New shocks, good tires, and a diet go a long way in transforming a TLR200 from a Trails-ish bike to a better Trails-ish bike. Still, something I’ve learned over the years is that the bike you ride matters little if your goal is to become a better rider and have fun.
While puttering through the woods on the TLR I was reminded of all the great parts of motorcycling: Being out in nature, and practicing a skill. The conversations and experiences shared with other competitors was a great bonus. I would have enjoyed sitting in my hammock and watching road racing practice, but I’m 100 percent sure I enjoyed actually riding a motorcycle more than just watching, even if my scores were, well, terrible.
I went to Barber in the hopes of getting rid of one bike to clear up some space in the garage so I could hole up all winter and chip away at the multitude of projects currently begging for attention. Instead, I brought home a different bike that encourages me to walk in the garage door and then roll right back out and ride around my back yard at a glacial Trails-appropriate pace, the little air-cooled engine thumping happily in the cool fall air as the leaves drop, reminding that before long there will be no option but to stay in the shop. The snow and ice are right around the corner. This new-to-me TLR encourages me to do more riding and a little less working while I’m able.
So I guess I traded my storage problem for a storage and motivation problem. Great.
