Production Motorcycles Turn Into Icons—Will Custom Bikes Stand The Test Of Time?

When history looks back at the present landscape of motorcycling, it will record the impact of the custom motorcycle scene: its appeal to the tastemaker world of Instagram and the resultant new wave of riders, its motorcycle-as-art reshaping of the machine, its infiltration of the production motorcycle world.

But will the motorcycles themselves have a lasting legacy?

The motorcycle world is filled with iconic machines; motorcycles made legend for being ahead of their time, exotic, or exceptional. Time has made the Vincent Black Shadow a superbike of the pre-superbike era, and transformed the Brough Superior SS100 into the gentleman's hell-raiser. Nostalgia has preserved the Kawasaki H2 and the Ducati 900 Super Sport's legacy of performance and elevated the 1970s into a superbike golden age. The potent draught of romance and forgetfulness has made enthusiasts drunk on the brilliant and frustratingly imperfect machines from Wolverhampton and Meriden.

Related: Super Sport, Supersport, And SuperSport - Ducatis By Any Name

A production motorcycle comes with the history, outlook, reputation, and cultural cachet of its manufacturer. Meaning comes stamped like a VIN number. Context is worn like a tank badge. Production bikes roll through time with clout and significance bestowed on them by motorcycle lovers and the backing of industrial giants.

Merit is a consequence, not of singularity but of provenance and influence. The original GSX-R750 is all the greater because of the legacy of Gixxers that came after it. Every single Honda RC51 is endowed with the greatness of Nicky Hayden, Joey Dunlop, and Colin Edwards. Production motorcycles are greater than the sum of their parts.

So how can one-off machines compare to production models beloved by the masses?

Paul d'Orléans, the Vintagent himself, says, "Custom motorcycles have more chance of being remembered than production machines because they're unique and fascinating." He points out that the most famous motorcycle in the world is the Captain America bike from Easy Rider. "History loves custom motorcycles!"

D’Orléans elaborates: “Top-tier custom bikes will always have the potential of being the most valuable motorcycles of all because they're unique, they're art, and they tend to be associated with fascinating people or projects. In exactly the sense of the ‘fine’ art market, we put our money where our values are, and the best/most famous custom bikes are among the most valuable motorcycles in the world, and always have been.”

D’Orleans cites the Von Dutch custom Scott that sold at auction for $265,000 and Ian Barry’s White Falcon which sold for a rumored $750,000 at the Kohn Gallery in Los Angeles. “That's more than any other motorcycle built in the 21st century,” d’Orléans says.

You can’t argue with the trail of money. Or can you?

More than anything, it highlights the delineation between the custom and production motorcycle world. Production motorcycles can be judged somewhat objectively: by their performance, innovation, or impact on the larger motorcycle world. Custom motorcycles, as they veer toward art, demand a more subjective judgment. And as the art world proves, subjective judgment, by its very nature, often relies on the stark, numerical value of money to confirm the veracity of its critique.

But, in a world where a formaldehyde shark by Damien Hirst sells for $15 million and a balloon dog by Jeff Koons sells for $58 million, it’s clear that how much a work of art fetches at auction is a one-dimensional metric by which to assess value.

Furthermore, if custom motorcycles are interpreted primarily as art, they may have the potential for attracting a broader pop audience (and thus achieve a higher price at auction than your “run-of-the-mill” Vincent Black Shadow), but they lose something inherent to the motorcycle’s identity—something that a production motorcycle can never lose. The production motorcycle is art but it’s also not art. It carries story, association, and meaning that a single builder or a celebrity owner can’t impart on a machine. You can’t custom-build history and lineage.

The great custom builder Craig Rodsmith notes, however, that contemporary culture and the quality of contemporary customs may change the qualities we value. “I believe more custom motorcycles, especially many of those created recently, will be remembered more fondly than [motorcycles produced by] some factory marques of recent years. I’d say 10–15 or more years ago it was the other way around. I think there’s been a shift in contemporary customization as people have more access to information, tools, components, etc.”

Ultimately, a motorcycle’s value is a reflection of the people casting their votes, raising their auction paddles, or writing the history books. There are people who believe that to power Ian Barry’s White Falcon is the highest honor its ex-works Velocette Venom Thruxton engine could ever achieve. There are others who believe the engine should by rights be in original race trim and hurtling around racetracks.

The best custom motorcycles may eventually create their own legacies, be auctioned at Sotheby’s for panniers full of cash, and sit in a private collection. But production motorcycles— even the rarest, most expensive ones—will always spiritually belong to every enthusiast whose modern bike has its famous predecessor to thank for its desmo valvetrain, pushrods, or boxer engine. That’s the kind of appreciation in value that makes a legend.