Magical Mountain Motorcycle Collection

[Hugh Janus]

Historic motorcycles and newfound friends. Shown here are Scott Haith’s longtime partner Joy Blake, and restoration expert David Hostetter. (Felix Adamo/)

Scott Haith liked horses, guns, and motorcycles, and was an avid lifelong rider. But for most of his life, he wasn’t a collector.

When he turned 70, however, Haith decided to start emptying his IRA and 401K accounts before the government started taxing them. So he went shopping. He began haunting Bring A Trailer. He attended a Mecum motorcycle auction.

And being a man of taste with little regard for cost, he bought the best versions of the bikes he’d always loved, mostly British and German motorcycles from the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. He spent, and sometimes overspent. When the bikes weren’t perfect, he paid top dollar to have them brought up to showroom or concours perfection.

Scott Haith’s sprawling mountain ranch showed evidence of equestrian activity but gave no outward indication of the motorcycle collection within. (Felix Adamo/)

Haith had a barn-shaped garage at the Walker Basin ranch he shared with longtime partner Joy Blake at the end of a dirt road in an obscure part of Kern County. Soon it was filled with gleaming BMWs, Triumphs, Nortons, BSAs, and a Matchless or Vincent or two. When the barn got crowded, he built another one. When that filled up, he built another.

By then, he probably already knew he was dying.

Haith was a barrel-chested, mustachioed lawyer who had attended California State University Long Beach, received a law degree from Western State University, and was admitted to the California Bar Association in 1976. Colleagues describe him as hard-working and tough. His partner Joy likes to say that Haith didn’t have friends; he was a lawyer.

But he was extremely active on two wheels and four legs, a dedicated motorcycle touring buddy with Joy, and as an officer of the Cowboy Lawyer Association, an organizer and attendee at roundups and camping trips. With friends, Haith was affable, easygoing, and a great traveling partner.

Inside one of the many small barns that Haith constructed to house his collection were treasures like this pristine 1970 Norton Commando 750S, often wrapped in protective plastic. (Felix Adamo/)

As a couple, often traveling with small groups, he and Joy made repeated trips through the Alps, Canada, and the Pacific Northwest. Riding solo, sometimes with the group of pals he dubbed the Moto Amigos, he made multiple trips down Mexico’s Baja California peninsula and up the California coast.

He only shared his passion for motorcycles with a select few. He and Joy seldom hosted groups at the ranch. With rare exceptions, Haith didn’t show his bikes. He and his riding friends didn’t cruise down to The Rock Store on weekend mornings to have their vintage bikes ogled, and unlike many active collections, such as the late Guy Webster and Tom White, Haith didn’t invite folks up to the barn to see what he’d acquired or what he was restoring.

“He was a modest guy who wasn’t going to toot his own horn,” said Haith’s former law partner and friend, Christopher Bagnaschi. “His attitude was that he didn’t want anyone to know about his collection.”

One of the prizes of the collection, this 1967 BMW R69S had a place of honor underneath one of Haith’s many Remingtons. (Felix Adamo/)

If he wanted to ride something from the barn, he’d load it onto a motorcycle trailer, hitch the trailer to a tractor, and tow it down the half-mile of dirt driveway to the paved road, where he’d unload and start riding.

“We’d make a plan,” his neighbor and riding partner Andy Meyer said. “He’d come down his dirt road, I’d come down my dirt road, and we’d just go. Sometimes he’d bring something new that he was excited about.”

“He did that a lot,” Joy said. “It’s the only time you’d ever seen anyone haul a $30,000 motorcycle around with a tractor.”

This 1991 BMW K1 was one of the few modern bikes in the barn. (Felix Adamo/)

In time, the collection began taking over the ranch. Haith bought and had restored, at great expense, a 1962 BMW R60/2 with a Steib sidecar; a Granada Red 1967 BMW R69S; a 1960 BSA Goldstar; 1965 and 1968 BSA Lightnings; a 1966 Spitfire; a 1957 Matchless G11; four 1970s Norton Commandos; eight 1960s and 1970s Triumph Bonnevilles, including three 1968 T120Rs; assorted Daytonas and Trophys; and a 1950 Vincent Comet. This was in addition to his daily riders, a BMW R 1200 GS, an R 1200 RT, a pristine 1991 BMW K1, an impeccable 1995 Ducati 916, and a museum-ready 1990 Honda GB500 Tourist Trophy.

When a visitor asked whether he’d ever owned Harley-Davidsons or Indians, Joy laughed and said, “Oh hell no! He liked the English and the German bikes.”

Those were among Haith’s first purchases once he began to collect, and he jumped in with both feet. At the end of the first Mecum auction he attended, he called Joy to tell her he’d bought a couple of things.

“But I didn’t go nuts,” he told her. “I only spent $110,000.”

Soon, though, he made other acquisitions, bidding on bikes on Bring A Trailer and buying them from private parties on eBay.

“He got the fever,” Bagnaschi said. “For a couple of years he was on a real buying spree.”

The sole Matchless in Haith’s collection, a Red 1957 G11, had been restored to perfection. (Felix Adamo/)

He bought bikes he loved, friends said. At first he bought restored versions of bikes that he’d owned when he was younger but had to sell in order to buy other bikes. Then he started buying all the bikes he could never afford when he was younger.

“He got really caught up in it,” Meyer said. “The more he bought, he’d see another one and he’d buy that one too.”

He had several bikes restored by well-regarded BMW expert James Reinert of Owosso, Michigan, and others by the Northeast’s MAX BMW vintage restoration team. He had some of the Triumphs repaired or restored at The Bonneville Shop in Broomfield, Colorado.

Some had a place of pride in his mountain redoubt. The Granada Red R69S lived in the house, in the foyer. Visitors could get a ride in the Steib sidecar.

Haith’s tastes did not run to Japanese motorcycles; this museum-grade 1990 Honda GB500 Tourist Trophy is the exception. (Felix Adamo/)

But while Haith’s collection was growing in size and stature, his health was failing. On one visit to the Mecum auction in Vegas, he was too weak to leave his room except to go bid on a few bikes. Then he canceled a ride or two. Friends who phoned or saw him found him evasive, unwilling to talk about his physical condition. Even Joy wasn’t sure what was going on. Haith shrugged off questions, or just didn’t return calls or emails. When he was hospitalized, twice, he insisted it was just pneumonia, leaving care against his doctor’s orders.

Joy believes he knew he was sick before he began building his collection, and continued despite the growing knowledge that his condition was much more serious than anyone knew.

After his death, while attempting to put her late partner’s affairs in order, Joy would find indications in his personal belongings and on his computer that he’d been doing research and had begun treatment for non-Hodgkin lymphoma, a cancer of the blood that generally begins in the lymph nodes and lymphatic tissues. It is most commonly diagnosed in males between the ages of 65 and 75.

It wasn’t until the spring of 2021 that Haith told Joy the full extent of his condition. He began a more aggressive treatment protocol not long after, but it may have come too late.

Many of Haith’s bikes had histories; at least one had been sold at the Los Angeles shop of the legendary Bud Ekins. (Felix Adamo/)

Haith had his first round of chemotherapy around July 15, 2021. He died less than a month later.

Nothing in his will indicated what was to be done with the motorcycles. It was assumed that they were included with the homes and ranch properties in Walker Basin, which were left in Joy’s care. And she had no idea what to do with the collection.

It was still growing. Haith had kept on acquiring and restoring right up to the end. On the lift in his main workshop was a rare 1959 Vincent Comet. The wheels were off, being re-spoked and restored, with other parts in the process of being cleaned up or replaced. Nearby was yet another Bonneville T120, in the beginning stages of reclamation.

It appeared that, despite his growing health concerns, he had begun planning, at last, to show some of his collection to the world. He had made arrangements to take several bikes to the 2021 Quail Motorcycle Gathering, which was to be held in the late spring. COVID canceled the Quail. Friends who came to the ranch to help sort things out after Haith’s death found a BMW and two BSA Lightnings still loaded onto a trailer, ready to head north, waiting near Haith’s truck with the “CWBY LYR” license plate.

Three motorcycles he’d bought or had sent in for restoration were delivered after his death, one of them a pristine 1984 BMW R100RS.

Haith sent some of his bikes out to be repaired and did some work himself. Among the projects he left behind was this rare 1959 Vincent Comet. The redressed brake drums had just been delivered to the ranch at the time of Haith’s passing. (Felix Adamo/)

In the weeks after his passing, word began to get around that Haith had died. People who knew him, and some who didn’t, began circling. A few bikes left the collection at lower than market prices, which sent the news of Haith’s death spreading like a California wildfire.

One of those who heard about the bikes was David Hostetter, a retired agriculture industry executive and lifelong rider who in retirement had begun operating a motorcycle repair and restoration shop in Bakersfield.

Hostetter had never met Haith, nor heard of him, nor heard of the collection, nor seen any of the bikes. This was unusual, because Hostetter is among the most connected of motorcyclists in the Central Valley. He knows all the riders and all the bikes, knows who’s buying and who’s selling. At the advice of a mutual friend, he agreed to meet with Joy and look at the collection.

He liked her immediately, he said, finding her warm, open, and knowledgeable, full of energy and possessing a raucous sense of humor. When a photographer taking a group shot warned her that someone’s hand was close to her behind, she said, “Don’t worry about that. These days I’m like the North Pole. Everyone knows where it is, but no one wants to go there.”

David Hostetter (right) and friend Greg Heiss wheel Haith’s beloved 1962 BMW R60/2, with its Steib sidecar, into the sunlight. (Felix Adamo/)

Hostetter’s first act of business was to shut down the fire sale. His second was to hire Felix Adamo, a retired newspaper photographer for the Bakersfield Californian, veteran motorcycle photographer, and former flat-track racer. Hostetter wanted him to help document the collection. Together they began unpacking the bikes, removing them from their garages, unzipping the protective sacks in which Haith had lovingly stored them.

“I was just gobsmacked,” Hostetter said. “They were just beautiful, all these amazing motorcycles, hidden away in those barns.”

From the zipped sacks emerged spotless motorcycles, attached to trickle chargers, drained of fluids but otherwise ready to ride, show, or send to a museum. Rolling the motorcycles into the sunlight for Adamo to begin photographing them, Hostetter said, again and again, “Will you look at this!”

Visitors who’d come to observe the unveiling noted the 156 miles on the Matchless, asked which was the Triumph with $17,000 in restoration costs, which was the one with $21,000. All were agog at the spotless “ketchup and mustard” 1991 BMW K1.

Adamo artfully posed the bikes around Haith’s garage, sometimes inviting Joy to come stand next to one that she particularly liked. Many had nicknames. A 1967 BMW R69S was known as “Schwartz.” The R1100RT, K1600GTL, and R1200GS were known as “Franz,” “Froederick,” and “Fritz.” The ‘65 BSA Lightning Rocket was called “Johnny Rocket,” while the ‘68 BSA A65 Lightning was “Lightning McQueen.”

Clipboard in hand, Hostetter inspected all Haith’s bikes for blemishes before readying them for sale. (Felix Adamo/)

In the months since, Hostetter has researched each bike, documenting their histories, noting how much Haith spent to buy and restore them, and trying to determine a fair market price. In some cases, he said, he’s found Haith’s investment won’t be recouped.

A BMW R90S and an R100CS were sold together for under $30,000. Leaving aside the question of what they were actually worth, Hostetter said, his research said Haith had paid $25,000 for the R100CS alone.

Vintage motorcycle historian and auction commentator Paul d’Orleans said that, for collections like these, prices are falling rather than rising.

“If these bikes had been for sale 10 years ago, they would get twice what they’ll get now,” d’Orleans said. “It’s about supply and demand, and right now there is a vast oversupply of older motorcycles [because] we keep coming across big-ass collections just like this. Guys are dying and suddenly there are another 500 BSAs, Triumphs, and Nortons on the market.”

As the warm Kern County spring burned into summer, Hostetter and Joy met many times, forming a friendship, sorting through the bikes and their papers and discussing how to proceed. Often Hostetter would drive an hour and a quarter on long winding roads from his shop to the ranch with an empty truck or trailer, and return with a bike or two that needed tuning, cleaning, or some minor repair.

A friend claimed that many of the bikes in the collection represented models Haith had sold years earlier, many of them vintage British bikes like this 1969 Triumph Daytona. (Felix Adamo/)

Some bikes soon found new owners. A ‘67 Triumph Daytona fetched $13,500. Two 750cc Nortons went for about that much each. Although the R100CS was sold for less than it should, Hostetter said a 2002 Ducati Monster Fogarty Edition got a good price, as did a ‘77 R100RS.

Sitting among the Remington statues and vintage guns in the home she shared with Haith, Joy said, “When he was in the hospital and the palliative nurse was taking over, he knew he didn’t have long. He said the last 20 years of his life were the best ones, because he had done everything he had always wanted to do. And we did it together.”

It was her hope, she said, that the bikes would all find proper homes with people who’d appreciate them as she and her late partner had.

It was also her hope that Hostetter and some of his riding pals would be back at the ranch when cooler fall temperatures arrived, so she could get back on the back of a motorcycle.

“That’s part of the deal,” she told Hostetter. “You have to come up here and take me for a ride. It was my passion too, you know.”

Source

[Pedro]

It's almost surreal to see such clean and shiny bikes on a dusty environment like that. The care it must take to wheel them around and to prevent just normal dust to get them dirty must be insane.