The Vincent in the Widow’s Basement

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J. Shia with the 1951 Vincent Black Shadow she found in Ruthie’s basement. (Gretchen Devine/)

Someone once told me that the ultimate dream is to one day meet a widow with a Vincent in her basement. I dismissed it, never imagining it would happen to me.

As the owner of Madhouse Motors, a motorcycle shop in the heart of Boston, I have an amazing team of mechanics and a great manager holding down the shop on the maintenance side, so I can focus on custom builds, antique restorations, and art commissions.

Five months ago I walked into a new client’s garage that held over a dozen rare and valuable bikes. Ruthie is an incredibly sweet older woman whose late husband Bill had clearly phenomenal taste in motorcycles. His collection included many amazing machines: a Velocette Thruxton, a Velocette KTS, a few 1954 Ariel Square Fours, a 1951 Scott Flying Squirrel, a beautiful 1926 Rudge with original paint, a Panther 120, a BMW R50/5, and more.

Ruthie and Anker, her husband’s lifelong best friend, wanted some advice and assistance with selling the collection she had inherited. Anker was just as sweet as Ruthie, and a fellow enthusiast of all things mechanical. I agreed to help them, and started by documenting all the motorcycles in the garage, taking photos, checking compression, scribing all the VIN numbers on every frame and engine, and doing an overall inspection of each bike.

The Black Shadow as it was found in the basement, its gas tank upstairs hiding under a T-shirt. (Gretchen Devine/)

On my second visit to the house I went with Ruthie to the garage, which was packed with a dozen bikes, a few cars, and quite a lot of parts. A handful of the bikes were disassembled, their various parts scattered around, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a familiar shape on a shelf, covered with an old T-shirt. I walked over, lifted up the shirt, and saw none other than the iconic black and yellow Vincent ribbon on a dusty black tank. I stared at it for a moment, then turned and asked Ruthie if she knew how or why that tank was there. She shrugged and admitted that she wasn’t sure, but that maybe it was for one of the junk bikes Bill had in the basement.

I paused. This could change the whole game. I had thus far only been taking inventory of the bikes in the garage, but down the cellar steps we went. Ruthie flicked on the light. And there, jammed in the corner, was one of the most fabled motorcycles in the world, a Vincent Black Shadow.

I read the VIN numbers, from the neck to the engine to the subframe, even those on both the cases. All matched up properly with Vincent’s quirky VIN patterns. A Vincent Black Shadow with matching numbers—this was a remarkable find. Definitely in need of work, but it was Vincent, specifically a 1951 Series C.

As soon as I regained my composure, I explained the bike’s potential value to the family. I hadn’t taken it into account with my other estimates, so we agreed to leave it to deal with once all the other motorcycles had sold.

The Black Shadow was found complete with all matching parts, but that’s not to say it doesn’t need a fair amount of work before it’s running and rideable. (Gretchen Devine/)

A few weeks later, after deciphering all the manufacturing numbers, I came back with spreadsheets that showed each motorcycle’s current as-is value in the US and UK. These included a few comparable recent sales from various auction houses, the amount of financial investment needed to get each one running and bring it to peak value, the time frame for such restoration work and other relevant details. There were a lot of bikes and a lot of angles to consider in what would clearly be a big decision for the family.

Over the next few months I sold the other bikes one at a time, restoring some and selling others as they were. I worked closely with Ruthie and Anker, talking on the phone with them weekly and exchanging dozens of emails. We met in person every couple of weeks and enjoyed some great meals together with our families. I even bought Ruthie’s antique car, a beautiful 1941 Dodge Luxury Liner. And I never once left her house without a package of fresh-baked pumpkin bread for my mechanics or cookies for my son.

Leaving Ruthie’s house, J’s passenger seat holds an Ariel Square Four gas tank, some old jars of nuts and bolts, and some homemade pumpkin bread and cookies. (Gretchen Devine/)

A few weeks ago I closed out the last sale of the bikes from the garage and Ruthie invited me over for dinner to celebrate. She cooked a huge, delicious meal you could smell as you walked up the driveway. It almost felt like a second Thanksgiving in her cozy dining room. And at that dinner, Ruthie and her family gave me the gift of a lifetime—the Vincent Black Shadow.

Stunned,I looked around the table and asked Anker and the others if they were aware of the value of their offer. They all nodded. I turned and saw my girlfriend with tears in her eyes. We all laughed, then, at how a machine could make us so emotional.

Looking up the bike’s numbers revealed that it is a 1951 Black Shadow Series-C. (Gretchen Devine/)

Gently, Ruthie and Anker explained that they believed this is what Bill would have wanted, for someone to love the bike and bring it back to life. And that is what I pledged to do, slowly but surely. Still a little wobbly and teary-eyed, I stood up and hugged everyone around the table.

I’m not sure I’ll ever have the words to express how grateful I am to Ruthie and her family for their trust in me. For now, let me just say that I am so humbled and honored to own this magnificent machine.

Now I am going to rebuild the bike to get it safe and roadworthy. There are a lot of people in my life who really want to ride it, so I would love to have it available for them to experience. Not enough people have been able to ride a Vincent, and being able to share that is a great way to honor Ruthie’s gift.

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[RAYK47]

Would love a Vincent so much.  Being a Stevenage resident, i want one to have a piece of history from my town. Far too pricey for me though.