Stealerships
Why would the titular slur be hurled so often at the places where we buy our motorcycles, get them serviced, and load up with gear and accessories? Those are supposed to be good events, right? Certainly, there are many dealerships that treat their customers well. It’s a pleasure doing business with them and we enjoy sharing such referrals with other riders. However, every motorcyclist I know can recount horror stories wherein they were ripped off, neglected, misled and generally disrespected by the very operations that ought to be courting them with impeccable behavior. Those outfits stay in business not by earning a positive reputation, but by preying on customers who don’t/can’t recognize their own exploitation, either because they lack information about products and services or because they’ve never received any better treatment elsewhere; maybe there isn’t even any local competition. Such “stealerships” forfeit return business in favor of making a quick buck (or many thousands of quick bucks) off easy marks, the supply of which may be plentiful in a large enough market or one with few enough options.
I’ve rarely encountered a motorcycle shop that was just mediocre. Mostly, they either create an exciting positive vibe (you instantly recognize the staff as knowledgeable, experienced riders with a genuine passion for sharing the joy) or a sickening negative one (you quickly discern the staff knows/cares little about motorcycling and are there only to get paid). Ironically, I’ve found the latter type of dealership is most likely bedazzled with much vibrant signage proclaiming their utmost devotion to superlative customer service, whereas the former needs no such PR campaign—their commitment to quality care is obvious in their actions. Which do you prefer? A synthetic experience designed by generic business managers, marketing consultants and accountants, or a warmly sincere environment reflecting the natural camaraderie between fellow enthusiasts? Which do you suppose inspired this longwinded essay?
The term “apoplectic” denotes either extreme anger or the paralysis associated with a stroke. In some instances, both definitions apply simultaneously, as when something is so outrageous our mental processing locks up in response. This was my experience at the dealership service desk when recently presented with a $400 bill for what was essentially a glorified oil change—for which I had supplied my own oil and filter! The only reason I had the dealer perform this menial task instead of doing it myself was the note in my new motorcycle’s factory warranty stating coverage would be voided if service was not rendered and recorded by an outpost of the marque. I’m no lawyer, but I believe such a stipulation may violate the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act and/or the Motor Vehicle Owner’s Right to Repair Act, which limit a manufacturer’s ability to disqualify warranty claims if appropriate parts and labor are sourced elsewhere. Nevertheless, I figured it’d cost less to have the dealer perform this bike’s very simple initial break-in service than to hire legal representation if I had to fight a warranty claim denial. As lofty as shop labor rates are these days, they’re still a fraction of attorney fees.
This initial service was extremely basic, involving nothing more than changing the oil and filter (which required no bodywork removal or other complications), visually inspecting fluid levels, brakes, final drive components and tire condition, scanning for leaks, checking torque on some key fasteners, adjusting (if needed) drive chain tension, control lever free play, steering head bearing tightness and tire inflation, and checking electrical components (lights, switchgear, etc.). Moving parts (e.g., levers, kickstand, chain) were to be lubricated, and any fault codes read by the dealer’s proprietary diagnostic equipment. Finally, the next service interval was to be set in the bike’s computer and a record entered in the manufacturer’s database.
While the sheer number of line items on this list may seem large, the vast majority of these tasks require only seconds to execute. There are credible videos online of professional mechanics running through these operations carefully and efficiently in well under an hour. For a new bike with a savvy and conscientious owner (who’d routinely look for obvious problems and keep adjustments within spec), there should be almost nothing to do beyond an oil change and confirming all the other things are in order with a quick and simple examination. The only “special” service is whatever gets done with the electronic diagnostic tool—certainly not a time-consuming operation, especially in the absence of any fault codes.
I should add this bike has oil screens attached to its two drain plugs. The owner’s manual specifies these should be cleaned during oil changes but the manufacturer sells an “oil service kit” that contains a new cartridge filter and two new plug/screen replacements, with the latter adding almost $80 to the price of the filter alone. The dealer insisted on this kit’s necessity and would have charged me another $100 for it if I hadn’t supplied my own, and they’d have charged me $90 for the three liters of oil required. I bought premium brand, full-synthetic oil with all the necessary specifications, along with the manufacturer’s oil service kit, for about half those prices online (where the supplying vendors undoubtedly still made a profit). While it seemed preposterous to me to replace those plug/screen units after just 620 miles, I didn’t want any question later about this service being done properly and completely; those extra parts would be cheaper than battling a denied warranty claim.
I’d called other dealerships in my area that sold my new motorcycle to get their prices for the same initial service. The dealership two hours away quoted $295, while the one 90 minutes away wanted $350, both including parts and labor. The dealer I used was much closer at just 30 minutes away, but quoted a whopping $450 for everything. When I got my bill, I realized they would have actually charged me close to $600, given the fact they wanted $400 for the labor alone. I knew their parts pricing would be exorbitant, which is why I brought my own. I assumed this would save me around $200 off the $450 phone quote. While this nearest dealer was the most expensive, the savings in travel seemed worth the extra money I’d pay for labor there. I knew the service didn’t take much time and their shop rate was $115/hour, so I couldn’t imagine being charged more than maybe $230, since that $450 quote had included tax, along with about $200 for the oil, filter and plug/screens.
Less than 1.5 hours passed from the time they took my bike into the shop to the time they wheeled it back out. A full 1.5 hours ought to yield a labor charge of $173 at $115/hour. When I was presented with a bill for more than twice that, and nearly what I was quoted for parts and labor together, I was certain there must be a mistake. The guy at the counter assured me the bottom line was correct, explaining they went by the flat rate specified for this service by the manufacturer, which supposedly indicated it should take nearly three hours of a mechanic’s time. There was also a $26 charge for “shop supplies,” though no specifics were available for this—a squirt of chain lube, a little WD-40 and a few paper towels, maybe?
When I regained the ability to speak, I argued they’d had the bike for less than 1.5 hours—how could they justify charging me for twice that much time? The service rep told me a full three hours’ worth of work had been completed in half that time because of the mechanic’s extraordinary skill; I should be grateful for how this reduced my wait! I objected again, asserting the only real service performed was a very simple oil change, easily accomplished in ten minutes. He told me I just didn’t understand the flat rate principle. I replied that I completely understood how they were employing this concept, and that’s exactly what made it completely unacceptable to me. If I’d come in requesting an oil change and superficial inspection of my bike, they’d have charged me for 1.5 hours of labor, but because we’d called this my bike’s “initial service” the very same operations cost twice as much.
The rep then changed tactics, adding insult to injury by “educating” me about the many vitally important evaluations that were part of this first service, starting with the in-depth assessment of both my front and rear brake fluid levels, as though the obvious safety value of such an inspection reflected some arduous and time-intensive activity by the mechanic. This motorcycle has clear plastic reservoirs for both front and rear brakes. Both can be clearly observed to contain the appropriate amount of fluid from a single vantagepoint on the right side of the bike, moving only ones eyeballs, in less than five seconds. A check’s high level of importance does not necessarily translate into a large amount of work or skill, but the rep went on and on with a well-practiced script of similarly absurd assertions, talking over me when I pointed out the ease and speed with which each task could be performed.
I’m not prone to making a scene, but the combination of being dramatically overcharged and treated like an absolute fool provoked me to raise my voice in an unprecedented public display of fury. Some higher up—whom I assume was the service manager, though he never identified himself—had been watching from the corner; he approached and asked me what I thought I should pay. I listed the prices I’d been given from the other dealerships, reiterating that I’d brought my own parts and had indisputably received less than 1.5 hours in actual labor. He essentially said I must be lying about the lower quotes, repeated the flat rate policy, and told me the oil service kit alone cost $100 (demonstrating he hadn’t listened to what I’d just said). When I reminded him I’d supplied the parts, maintained my position the charge was ridiculously high, and exclaimed loudly they could kiss my… future business goodbye, he asked again what I thought I should pay. I said $200 would be a very generous offer. Sneering with disgust, he told the rep to ring me up for that amount and walked away.
You might think I’d feel victorious about a transaction wherein I got to name my price. Instead, I felt an additional layer of anger. To me, that willingness to cut the original fee in half betrayed a clear awareness it had been grossly inflated. Even the final amount was more than fair. This was like having my home robbed, catching the thief at my property line, and having him drop the goods and run off. The fact I ultimately didn’t lose anything wouldn’t erase my sense of violation. Of course, I’d have been even madder if I’d had to pay $400 to leave with my motorcycle, but I don’t think there’d be any difference in my resulting mistrust and contempt for this dealership. When I got home, I realized they’d reset my next service alert to light up at 3,000 miles or six months down the road. My owner’s manual clearly states the next service is not due until 9,000 miles or another 12 months. Unbelievable!
The Ride Inside with Mark Barnes is brought to you by the MOA Foundation. You can join the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America quickly and easily to better take advantage of the Paul B Grant and Clark Luster programs mentioned in this episode.
I must admit I had reason to expect this place would gouge me—again. I’d had several bad experiences there in the distant past, even ranting about them in columns I wrote long ago for Motorcycle Consumer News. I would have never bought another new bike there, except this one was advertised at a steep 25% discount. During the purchase process, I learned $1,000 of that was a factory rebate, available anywhere the bike was sold, and most of what remained was negated by an insanely high fee for freight and dealer prep—a charge three times what other dealers quoted me. After giving up on any meaningful debate about their laughable justifications for this charge, I finally just made an out-the-door offer and they got close enough to seal the deal. During the paperwork completion, I had to endure an unctuous half-hour of persuasive efforts to sell me an extended warranty, a maintenance contract, and special insurance policies for theft, battery, tire and wheel replacement, all at sky-high prices and with precious few coverage details. When I declined, they offered these “value-added” packages again at significantly lower prices, but still more than the risk/reward ratios would support. I’d passed the Total Idiot test and advanced to the Merely Ignorant round of this game. I felt like I’d been tricked into one of those time-share sales events disguised as a free cocktail party.
Experiences like these are why dealerships routinely get such a bad rap. They leave knowledgeable customers in need of a shower afterward to wash off the slime, and they establish a suspicious, adversarial relationship going forward. Those other two dealerships I mentioned get lots of business that leaves the one closest to me and it’s easy to see why. However, even though many customers decide it’s better to drive further to get better treatment, there must be even more people who blindly accept the inflated pricing and nonsensical justifications this dealership tried to foist on me. And, even if the dealer eventually backs down, they’re still only dropping to something close to reasonable, not a deal that inspires gratitude and loyalty. I wish this business model didn’t work, but apparently it does, at least enough to keep such an operation running.
Unfortunately, dealerships with genuinely well-informed staff who treat customers fairly and respectfully seem to be a small minority. I commonly know more—much more—about the motorcycle on the showroom floor than the salesperson trying to convince me to buy it. Parts staff often know little, if anything, about what they’re selling, and complain that too many customers get what they need online. Who wouldn’t, given how much more the dealership charges for the very same thing that still must be ordered and waited on? I’d much prefer to buy locally, even at a somewhat higher cost, if I could run down to the shop and get what I’m after. A price premium for keeping inventory on hand and hiring/training staff with some real expertise makes sense, but not otherwise.
In sharp contrast to the dealer complained about here, I’ve been to others that left me feeling great about our interactions. I’ve bought bikes at far away stores that had no hope of me ever returning, yet were completely sensible and straightforward in dealing with me. Some folks on the sales floor, or behind the parts or service counters, have impressed me with their encyclopedic knowledge of whatever topic I brought up, along with their generosity in sharing it. When questioned about a price, part or procedure, they supplied meaningfully detailed and compellingly legitimate explanations. As consumers, we have a duty to ourselves and the larger motorcycling community to vote with our wallets for dealerships that provide quality customer service and reasonable pricing.
Sadly, there will always be a big chunk of the population who don’t know enough or care enough to expect decent treatment. They won’t travel the extra miles required to support dealerships that “go the extra mile” for their customers. I’m now ashamed to have been just such an indiscriminate consumer myself in this case. I let proximity be the deciding factor, when I should have given my money to a well-behaved dealership further away, like I usually do. This experience was yet another painful reminder we must be vigilant and diligent, even when tempted by convenience and marketing ploys, or we’ll reward those who exploit us and deny business to others with integrity who truly earn their keep.
Mark Barnes is a clinical psychologist and motojournalist. To read more of his writings, check out his book Why We Ride: A Psychologist Explains the Motorcyclist’s Mind and the Love Affair Between Rider, Bike and Road, currently available in paperback through Amazon and other retailers.
