This blog is about 5 years in the making, but after a great experience at So So Cycles and Cycle Gear, I wanted ensure I told this story.

I rolled into So So Cycles in October 2025 for the 36,000 mile service on my BMW R1250 GS. This was the big one that required valve adjustments. I’ve come to a place where So So Cycles does the valve adjustments and I do everything else myself. I’ve learned a few things from the service advisors at So So and others over the years that I can handle the routine maintenance, but the technical work that needs special tools and expertise I leave to the experts (so far, lol).

While I was waiting, I noticed a bright yellow sticker on the floor in front of the service desk. “ONE GS APART” it read in bold letters, showing the yellow anniversary edition of the BMW 1250 GS. It was encouraging customers to stand one GS, or six feet apart. I laughed out loud seeing it. That sticker captured some humor and brought me back to that strange season we lived through. Well done BMW.

The sticker focused me on the tail end of 2020. I’d come into the service department needing new tires for the bike. Looking back, I’d reaslized the team here has supported me through five years and over 36,000 miles on the GS. How?

• They greet me by name when I walk in.
• They’re straight up about what work is required and what it costs.
• They share information freely about how to maintain my own bike rather than constantly pushing me back to dealer service.
• We talk about good rides near and far.
• They share humor and insight about the motorcycle industry.
• They are prompt and thorough, keeping me informed throughout the repair process
• Most importantly, they are always good humans.

We’ve worked together on that bike through some challenges – curveballs from the factory in the beginning (odd engine faults) as well as getting my custom bars setup right when my elbows didn’t quite turn as they should.

New Year’s Eve 2020

Now back to the pandemic days. After getting the tires sorted that afternoon, I headed out for one more ride before the year ended. It was New Year’s Eve and I was chasing what little daylight remained. December days are short around here. The sun sets early and the chill extends all throughout the day in a way that never quite lets go.

I rode the Briones loop. The roads were empty. Everyone was home preparing for whatever subdued New Year’s celebration they’d cobbled together in their pandemic bubbles. The golden hills took on a deeper amber tone in the low angle sunlight. The shadows were long, even in early afternoon.

My mind was conflicted as I rode. Part of me wondered if I should even be out there. The “right” thing to do was to stay home. That’s what public health was telling us. That’s what the news reinforced day after day. Stay home. Stay safe. I’d been sheltering in place since March. Nearly ten months of isolation. The mental toll of that isolation was real in ways I was still learning to articulate. It’s interesting to look back on that season when life seems so “normal” now.

But I also knew I needed to get out on the motorcycle to clear my head. The pandemic had taught me something about myself and solitude. There’s productive solitude and there’s corrosive isolation. Riding alone on empty roads felt different than sitting alone in my house for the 300th consecutive day. The motorcycle demanded presence. The cold air, the lean of the bike through corners, the concentration required to ride well in winter conditions all pulled me into the moment.

The temperature that afternoon hovered somewhere in the low fifties. Not freezing by any measure, but cold enough that my fingers got stiff inside my fading summer gloves. It was the kind of cold that seeps in gradually. By the time I made it back down from the hills the sun was already setting. The sky turned that particular shade of winter orange that only happens on cold, clear days.

The Value of Quality Service

That yellow sticker reminded me why I keep coming back to So So and why I’ve built a similar relationship with my local Cycle Gear. In the same way Cycle Gear staff have gone above and beyond helping me find a helmet that truly fits my astronomically large head (thanks mom!). These places offer something that can’t be replicated by clicking “add to cart” on a website somewhere.

The team at So So Cycles knows my bike and knows my riding. They remember what was done last time. They suggest preventive maintenance based on my patterns. They answer my questions even when those questions don’t lead to billable work. They engage with me as a fellow rider first and a customer second. They’ve given me some tips on how to maintain my own bike rather than creating dependency on dealer service.

The same is true at Cycle Gear. The staff there recognizes me when I walk in. They ask about recent rides. They steer me toward gear that will actually work for how I ride rather than whatever has the highest margin. They let me try things on without pressure. They take returns without hassle when something doesn’t work out. They share stories from their own riding. They know my bike and suggest gear that works for the rider I am, the bike I ride, and the type of riding I do. Thank you.

There’s something about walking into a place where people know you, where conversations happen naturally, and where staff share expertise generously rather than holding it back as leverage for the next transaction. I can get parts cheaper online sometimes, I can browse inventory at two in the morning, and I can read reviews from strangers. But I can’t have a conversation about whether Highway 36 is open after the winter storms, I can’t get advice on whether my fork seals really need replacing or if they’ll make it another few thousand miles, and I can’t share a laugh about the absurdity of the new stying on the 1300 GS.

The world keeps pushing us toward online transactions and algorithmic recommendations and “frictionless” commerce. There’s value in that convenience for sure. But there’s different value in walking into a place where people know your name, where conversations happen, where staff share expertise freely, and where humor shows up on yellow stickers about social distancing.

That New Year’s Eve ride in 2020 was one of many moments where I needed to get out and clear my head. The pandemic was hard on all of us in different ways. For those of us living alone it was particularly isolating. The motorcycle became a lifeline to sanity. The cold December air became therapy. The empty roads became meditation.

I’m grateful for the local businesses that supported me through that season and continue to support me now. So So Cycles and Cycle Gear have been good partners in this journey. They’ve helped me keep my bike running. They’ve helped me keep riding when riding was one of the few things keeping me sane. They’ve been generous with their knowledge and their humanity.

Thank you to local businesses that do it right. Thank you to mechanics who care about their work. Thank you to staff who engage as fellow enthusiasts. Thank you to partnerships that make this whole motorcycle journey better.