A Whopper Of A Tale Involving A 1954 BMW R67/2

THOMPSON, CT – If this were a fish tale, it might be considered a whopper. However, unlike anglers who sometimes exaggerate the struggles involved in landing a prize catch, motorcyclists don’t need to embellish when storytelling because the truth alone is usually sufficient.

Maine “Ted” Smith of Cheshire had such a tale to share recently at the Thompson Vintage Motorcycle Classic at Thompson Speedway Motorsports Park. I first observed him on the show ground kicking over a vintage BMW for admirers and heard the bike idle at such an astonishing slow rate that it barely had a pulse.

So sluggish was the engine that it felt like you could walk 100 yards to the beer tent, down a cold brew, detour to make a pit stop, and return between the times the spark plugs on the boxer engine fired. It was quiet and mesmerizing.

Circling back later to admire the Beemer a second time, I waved Smith over to get some details. He’d been handing out fliers to spectators for the Aug. 4-5 vintage meet in Hebron, Conn. planned by the Yankee Chapter of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America. Smith is president of the chapter. He immediately asked if I had time for a long story, then began to recall how he’d miraculously acquired the rare 1954 BMW R67/2.

The yarn began 10 or 15 years ago when he used to ride with a father and son from Naugatuck. One day an unexpected and sad call came inviting him to attend what would essentially be a wake for the father, with whom he’d been riding since 1969. Smith knew that the man had been ill but not that death was imminent. Out of respect and friendship, Smith attended the sendoff and said goodbye while it was still possible.

In chatting with the father, Smith said the man asked that he stay sober at the party and make sure his son, who was drinking, got home safely. Smith agreed. The dying man also said, “I’ve seen you looking at parts in the garage, you’re buying them.”

A thank-you for their friendship, perhaps?

Smith said he asked what the motorcycle parts were from. The man told him the son would tell him after he died.

Smith also asked how much he wanted for the parts. He was told the man’s widow would supply a price after he was gone.

The man died three days later, and the parts turned out to be the makings of a 1956 BMW R50, a smooth 494cc model. Smith acquired it disassembled for about $1,800. It took him two years to get it back together, running and on the road. The challenge was finding parts because BMW continually tweaked the model during its 14 years of existence. Smith went through three generators to get one that fit his ’56 version.

About two years ago, Smith got tipped by a friend of the existence of the 1954 R67/2, one of only 4,234 built between 1952 and 1954, that was collecting dust in a garage. It was the bike his late friend used to ride. The son still had it and, after much cajoling, he was able to purchase it. “The R67 was worn, tired. It had been driven by the original owner for years,” Smith said, adding that the son later added a sidecar and rode it through the woods with his grandson.

Smith declined to identify his friends without permission. “It would be rude to mention their names,” he said, reporting that the son is still a friend and that he’s honored to have both bikes.

Regarding his own given name of Maine, he said that goes back to his grandmother and it would be better to tell the entire saga over a beer someday. “It’s my father’s name and my father was born in 1916, 1918 and he lived in the the backwoods of Maine,” he said, figuring an abridged version would suffice.

The R50 and the R67/2 aren’t Smith’s only BMWs. He’s a collector. “I sold my Harley. I sold my BSA, so I’m down to 10 BMWs,” he said. Among them are a 1928 R62, a 1936 R12 (which was also displayed at the show) and a 1937 R17, one of only 443 made.

The 735cc R17 can be seen in a YouTube video shot four years ago (search “1936 and 1937 R17 drag race in 2013”). Smith races against a 1936 R17 owned by Craig “Vech” Vechorik of Bench Mark Works in Sturgis, Miss. on a street near the shop.

Why race such valuable, ancient machines? “Cause we’re crazy,” said Smith, explaining how some back and forth comments escalated into a showdown. Vechorik accused Smith of being a shade tree mechanic and Smith fired back that Vechorik had a museum piece. “This banter was good buddy-type banter. This was guys posturing,” Smith said, reporting that the each man won a heat before they decided to quit.

In hindsight, racing the R17s might not have been that wise. Fortunately, nothing bad happened. “That is the rarest BMW in existence, production bike, and you have to be crazy to do what we did,” Smith said.

Maybe so, but, then again, he did attend a wake for a friend who wasn’t dead yet.

(Originally published in the “Republican-American” on July 1, 2017.)