Automotive Blog

Finally, the appointment for my Salvage and Anti-Theft Inspection came for my 2002 Honda Magna 750. I was to report to the nearest examination facility on September 16th, approximately 31 miles from my house. If I was more than 30 minutes late, my appointment would be canceled - and I was not to hold my breath about getting another one.

Because the motorcycle was neither registered nor inspected, I couldn't ride it to my appointment. That meant loading it back on the trailer and securing it for transport down the same type of roads I had carried it over the first time. I'm not sure which scenario I feared the most: having the bike fall over on the way down (resulting in a sure failure), or having it pass and then having it fall down on the way home before I could actually drive it.

The Anti-Theft and Salvage Facility

When I arrived at the facility in Colonie, New York (the urban outskirts of Albany), I found there weren't many parking spots since a large part of the smallish lot was filled with what I had always thought of as "salvaged cars". Some were missing front ends or tires. Others showed obvious fire damage. I wasn't the only one with a trailer either; I was forced to park uphill. It was clearly marked that parking in front of the garage doors was a no-no.

I entered the only human-sized door available and found myself walking down a dreary, state office-esque, cream-colored hallway. The end of the hall opened into a small waiting area with four chairs and an opaque window. I pressed a buzzer. A worker opened the window, took my paperwork, and told me to have a seat. (I was fifteen minutes early, despite having some trouble finding the place). About twenty minutes later, my name was called over a PA system and I was told to come through the only other door into the garage.

I met briefly with the inspector, who was surprisingly personable. He asked me to ride the bike into the garage. After concluding that backing the bike down the ramp of the trailer and down a steep decline was a good way to break both my neck and the bike, I repositioned my truck, practically parking in the road, and rolled up into the garage, where the inspector asked me to park. After a quick conversation, I handed him the handwritten receipts for the parts that had been fixed on the bike (the odometer and the two turn signals). He then told me to return to the waiting room and wait to be called.

Waiting is the Theme of This Process

Another 20 minutes went by. To pass the time, I texted anyone I could think of who might be taking the day off. Finally, my name was called. The news wasn't all that good, however. Everything checked in terms of the bike not being stolen or non-operational, but there was a problem with the receipt. I need to track down, from the former owners in South Dayton, original receipts for the parts that they used to fix the bike. Of course, that meant that I would be in limbo until I could get them faxed to me.

Furiously, I dialed the former owners. I was informed that they didn't have the receipts anymore, and that they never had this issue when registering salvaged bikes themselves.

Determinedly, I strode back to the inspector both with this information and with the former owner's offer to speak with him via phone, personally. The inspector said he would need to speak to his supervisor. I knew that was probably a really bad sign. After six weeks of waiting, if I had to do more waiting and then take another day off from work, I was going to lose it.

Sweating It Out

The Unit Supervisor arrived and asked me a few questions about the bike. He wanted me to explain how I came into possession of it, and why it was totaled over such trivial damage. I reiterated what I was told by the previous owner about the Texas insurance company not wanting to deal with damaged motorcycles. He looked at the bike for a few seconds, and then at me for a few.

"Pass it. Enjoy your ride."

Ten minutes later, I was reloading the bike and heading out the parking lot. Now, I would have to wait for the new title to come in the mail. Then I could register and ride. While that could have taken up to six weeks, I lucked out. Two weeks later, I had the new title in my hand.

Up Next: The Final Installment – My First Real Ride on the Salvaged Bike

Related Readings:

Part 1 - The Salvaged Motorcycle Odyssey
Part 2 - Good Economics or a Midlife Crisis?
Part 3 - Taking the Plunge is Not for Everyone
Part 4 - On the Road
Part 5 - Show Me the Money
Part 6 - Series in Review
Part 8 - The Final Odyssey