HISTORY

The roots of Black Dog Moto date back to the 1990s, when just before my 16th birthday my father bought me a Kawasaki AE50. A wreck of a thing, but he knew me better than I knew myself. Over the next few months, armed with nothing more than a basic toolkit and a Haynes manual, I set about restoring it.

I got a feel for riding by ripping across what was then an abundance of green fields. Once I reached road-legal age, I got my first real taste of freedom and that was it. I was hooked. Not just on riding, but on the process of taking something broken or unfit for purpose and bringing it back to life. A seed was planted, I just hadn’t realised it yet.

Fast forward to 2018. I had just returned from a solo tour of Italy on my Triumph T100 Black (heavily modified, of course) when I crossed paths with a true barn find: a 1995 BMW R80RT. It had been laid up for years and wasn’t exactly a prime restoration candidate, but I was more than happy to get stuck in and see where it took me.

My original plan was simple: rebuild the tired engine, refresh the suspension, de-tab the frame, and order some off-the-shelf custom parts. But then I made my first visit to the Bike Shed show in London, and the penny finally dropped. The inspiration hit hard. I was no longer going to half-arse it. I was going to build the bike of my dreams. One I couldn’t afford to buy and that, frankly, didn’t exist anyway.

No shortcuts. No compromises.

There were just a few small problems: I had no proper workspace, hardly any tools, and despite years of experience as a bespoke cabinet maker, little in the way of metal or composite fabrication skills.

Nonetheless, the goal to build BD1 was set and Black Dog Moto was born.

“Time to turn those Red and Amber lights Green”

the name? 

BLACK DOG MOTO holds dual meaning.

First and foremost, it’s for Buddy, my Black Labrador. He’s been by my side for over a decade and is, hands down, the best K9 companion anyone could wish for.

Second, it’s a nod to the human condition and everything that comes with it: self-doubt, anxiety, depression. While my own journey hasn’t always been smooth sailing, it’s more about the struggles of close friends and family. I’ve felt their pain when their Black Dog comes to call.

Does the name represent resilience against that darkness or recognition of it? I suppose that’s open to interpretation, but I like to think it’s the former..