SPOKES: Be careful what you call a ‘barn find’

The phrase “barn find” is bandied about by auctioneers a lot these days. Take the so-called “ultimate barn find” in Ohio last September. William L. King Jr. was a superlative collector. Following his death, his estate was plundered by an auction house, and his life’s work was made available for public purchase, with little recognition of what went into amassing such a monumental collection.

All I’ve learned about William L. King Jr. is that he was involved in motorcycle racing, specifically the drag variety in the ’60s; that he was wealthy and is now deceased. In addition to a very impressive assemblage of rare Indians, including a 1941 Four, a number of Harleys and a mass of subsequent components, he left an estate of classic cars, Chevrolets, Lamborghinis and such; tractors, guns, toys and furniture.

What we have here is one man’s private collection – the phrase “barn find” has been used pejoratively, and without any information about the background of his collection, the public is left to believe that William L. King Jr. was some sort of lunatic hoarder, which wasn’t the case at all. The objects were cherished and enjoyed. Most were in mint condition and carefully stored.

“Barn find” alludes to randomly abandoned ephemera; for the auction house, a sort of shorthand to imply something in basic order that’ll probably be easy on the pocket but increase in value due to its rarity. But at what cost? (If you’re interested you can see some of the collection by searching for a pre-auction video on You Tube, presented by a man in a T-shirt with his baseball hat on the wrong way ’round, gleefully rifling through William’s belongings.)

A few months before William L. King Jr. died, another “ultimate barn find” turned up at the International Motorcycle Show in Stafford, England, after being consigned to auction by its owners, who live just outside New York. An 1894 Hildebrand & Wolfmüller, rarer than hen’s teeth, was sold in its original unrestored condition by Bonhams Auctioneers for £77,000 ($121,371).

The Hildebrand & Wolfmüller was the first powered two-wheeler to enter series production and indeed the first ever to be called a “motorcycle.” It was also the first motorcycle (or motorrad if you wish to be pedantic) that had pneumatic tires, although in this case long gone before the machine was sold at auction. The machine in question certainly looked as if it had been found in a barn, but in actuality, it hadn’t.

Again, not an “ultimate barn find,” the consignors, who’d had the bike in their family since 1930, clearly felt a connection to the Hildebrand & Wolfmüller or they wouldn’t have traveled across the pond to see it being sold. In addition a “find” is something discovered; it’s not the same as “kept.”

On Feb. 18th in Bristol, England, there will be another Bonhams auction of “barn finds,” at the British Classic Motorcycle Show. Up for auction are 50 beautiful classic (mainly British) bikes, yet none of them was found in a barn. Almost all are being sold by the sons of deceased fathers.

For whatever reason these families have asked Bonhams to handle the sale of these machines isn’t for me to say, but even a small amount of research into the lots, i.e., reading the catalog notes, reveals that most of these machines were loved by their owners. We know this because the vendors – the sons and daughters of the deceased – informed Bonhams that a deceased parent derived enormous pleasure hurtling over Box Hill on their 1928 Ariel 550cc Model B DeLuxe, say. This indicates that they, too, have an emotional attachment to the bikes.

To refer to someone’s source of joy as a “barn find” isn’t doing the deceased, the family, or indeed the machine, justice. Put it this way, I don’t think my dad would be impressed if his Panther (that’s a British bike, folks; he’s not a zoo keeper) suddenly went from being his garage pride to a “barn find,” based purely on the fact that he was not longer around to polish the tank. If I were to sell it via an auction house, I’d be furious if said bike were reduced to the lowly status of a “barn find.” It’s a perfectly preserved slice of history, he loves that bike, and it wasn’t found in a barn!

Genuine barn finds usually have a sad, even sinister, history. They could be machines that are the victims of a person with obsessive-compulsive behavior issues. People with these sorts of problems squirrel things away for reasons best known to themselves and leave the objects to rot in their own juices in a way that goes beyond plain carelessness, usually to be revealed through some dark circumstance.

But the etymology of the original phrase (when a something of value would quite literally be found in a barn) almost certainly derivates from something a little more depressing. Before going off to fight in world wars, young men would furtively hide or bury their bikes in barns or sheds (even wall them into buildings) in the hope that when they returned from conflict, their treasured possessions would still be around to enjoy. Of course, many didn’t come home, which is why old, ownerless bikes have been discovered in barns, garages, sheds, years after they were concealed.

These sorts of barn finds are rather upsetting, and I’m pleased to say I’ve not come across one in recent years. I have, however, come across dozens of bikes described as “barn finds,” such as the lots included in the forthcoming auction in the West of England. One wonders why anyone would want to be associated with either interpretation of the phrase. As we’ve established, it’s a quick way of inferring bargain-basement investment, which is, at best, disrespectful and, at worst, a lie.

The British Classic Motorcycle Show auction looks excellent, I hasten to add. There are at least a dozen lots I’d gladly own, yet the way they’re presented to me leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Owning a classic machine is a privilege. One is duty-bound to treat them with care, affection, even. They’re not quick-buck tokens offered for public sale because somebody else didn’t care.

Click below for a virtual joyride aboard an 1896 Hildebrand & Wolfmuller, courtesy of You Tube:

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About Jamie Dwelly:

UK-based James “Jamie” Dwelly has been riding bikes since he was eight, started out on an 80cc Yamaha converted by his biker dad for off-road usage. When his mother realized his passion wasn't just a passing “kid fad,” Jamie got a second hand yz1000e Yam, which he happily rode for another three years before retiring at the grand of age of 12 when an accident left him with a perforated disc in his back. At 18, Jamie bought a Yamaha RD200 and has never been without a bike since. After a succession of fast, beautiful bikes, he currently owns a 1976 Triumph Bonneville and is eyeing up another ludicrously nippy crotch rocket to sate his lust for speed. E-mail Jamie at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .