Opinions

One-man Fairbanks motorcycle shop became legendary with BMW 'airheads'

FAIRBANKS — At Trail's End BMW, which became legendary among long-distance motorcyclists over the course of 47 years, the customer was not always right.

Those who showed up at George W. Rahn's house/showroom with a dirty motorcycle hoping to get it repaired. Those who asked dumb questions. And those who tried to pay with plastic, learned just how wrong they could be.

"He earned a reputation as being a bit irascible because he would sometimes greet intruders at his log cabin dealership with a quick, 'I haven't got any damn T-shirts,'" a friend of his recalled.

There were plenty of places to buy T-shirts in Fairbanks. But there was only one Trail's End BMW and and one George W. Rahn.

Those who managed to make it past the gruff exterior discovered a compassionate soul who loved animals, old people and trusted his customers. Only once did someone leave him with a bad check.

Travelers from Outside who didn't have cash would leave with an invoice and instructions to "pay me when you get back home," said Scooter Welch, a longtime Fairbanks motorcyclist and friend of Rahn's who witnessed such transactions.

Welch said he once asked Rahn about whether he had ever been stiffed. "They always paid," Rahn told him.

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True, those who wandered in and demonstrated poor judgement by their comments would feel the wrath of Rahn when he told them to exit the premises pronto. He would refuse to sell motorcycles to those who didn't meet his standards or didn't know how to handle a bike.

On Saturday, at the Outpost motorcycle and four-wheeler emporium on the west edge of town, a procession of 57 motorcycle riders joined about 100 others to mark Rahn's passing.

He died July 24 of a stroke, after 81 years of an active life in which he developed unmatched expertise in riding and repairing motorcycles and yes, even in customer service. These people loved his independence and his commitment.

"He was the most honest man I ever knew," said Arthur "Woody" Wood, a long-time Fairbanks truck driver and mechanic who bought the first BMW from Rahn in the early 1960s.

"You got that right," a man in the crowd shouted.

Wood was tending bar more than 50 years ago when Rahn mentioned that he planned to go Outside and become an Alaska dealer for BMW. Rahn had grown up with motorcycles in eastern Pennsylvania, racing them and repairing them from an early age.

After serving in the Army, he migrated to Alaska and held a series of jobs before hooking up with BMW. Early on, Rahn developed attitudes that would forever puzzle some people.

He sold that first motorcycle to Wood at cost and financed it with no interest. He didn't know the meaning of a full retail price, clear proof he was  in business for something other than money.

He kept close track of motorcycles he sold and maintained, and could identify those that originated somewhere else. It's true that some of his admirers would refer to him privately as the "Fuhrer," but he was a compassionate soul who won a loyal and dedicated group of friends, with lasting relationships that extended far beyond the bounds of commerce.

He was an expert who knew how to repair anything and handle whatever he found on the road. In 1965, BMW mentioned one of his exploits in a national ad: "Ask George Rahn about his trouble-free 4,800-mile mid-winter trip from College, Alaska to New York City. On the BMW R-27 in eleven days."

Rahn held many jobs over the years, as selling motorcycles is a seasonal occupation, but he could be found riding his bike almost any time of the year. He had a sidecar on which his dog Josey would ride in good weather.

He was a "professor of all things 'Airhead' and then some," said Justin Kleiter, referring to the air-cooled bikes BMW stopped making 20 years ago.

Rahn began using his first name, George, early in his business career, though his relatives and a lot of people who knew him in the 1960s always called him Bill, which was his middle name.

Over the decades, the corporate people at BMW pressured Rahn to get a showroom with all the trappings, instead of running the business out of his cluttered shop.

He preferred to do things his way, however, and when BMW asked he put up a sign, he deposited it at the end of his driveway.

In 1966, Steve Drapeau went motorcycle shopping in Fairbanks and ended up stuck in Rahn's driveway late on a Saturday afternoon in April.

"What the hell are you idiots doing here?" the proprietor said by way of a greeting when he returned home from a day of cutting wood.

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"It wasn't really a nice meeting," Drapeau said.

But Rahn helped them get unstuck and then invited Drapeau and his friend in for coffee. An hour later, Drapeau had made his decision—he ordered a R-50 motorcycle.

"I hadn't even looked at one yet, but this guy he blew my mind. And I've been riding a BMW ever since," Drapeau told the crowd gathered at the Outpost in Rahn's honor.

Drapeau later warned a friend who wanted a BMW, Paul Quist, that dealing with Rahn was not a typical commercial transaction.

"You've got to go through an interrogation first before he sells you that bike," Drapeau told Quist.

Quist said he found himself thinking during the hourlong interrogation, "Hey, I'm not trying to marry your only daughter. I just want to buy that motorcycle.'"

"But until I acknowledged that BMW was the best motorcycle on the market, that BMW made the best motorcycles in history and will make the best motorcycles forever, he wouldn't sell me the bike," Quist said.

BMW riders, at least in those days, were a bit eccentric and Quist said, "Apparently I passed the criteria."

It was appropriate the Outpost in Fairbanks, which now houses the Trail's End dealership, was chosen as the place to recognize Rahn, he said.

"Bill Rahn had a heckuva ride and along the way he made the ride better for countless people," Quist said. "We'll miss him."

Columnist Dermot Cole lives in Fairbanks. Contact him at dermot@alaskadispatch.com.  The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@alaskadispatch.com or click here to submit via any web browser.

Dermot Cole

Former ADN columnist Dermot Cole is a longtime reporter, editor and author.

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