Just Him and a Motor
A Miami University professor’s lifetime passion for motorcycles
Henri Robbins
Print photography by Henri Robbins
Professor J. E. Elliott rides his motorcycle into the art building parking lot, taps the kickstand with his toe and swings a leg over the side of the bike before standing and taking off his helmet. His motorcycle — an MV Agusta F3 with a brilliant red and silver paint job — sits in the lot while he teaches, waiting patiently to rip down highways and backroads once again.
This is Elliott’s daily routine. He rides his motorcycle as often as possible until the winter months rear their head and force him to commute in his Alfa Romeo 164, an Italian sedan from a company with a racing pedigree rivaling MV Agusta. But if he could ride the MV Agusta into Oxford, Ohio, every single day, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
“When you’re riding on a bike, your synapses are firing,” Elliott said. “You’ve got to be alert and ready to respond to anything. Because I’m officially in an elderly decade, the bike and teaching a studio class both help to keep me feeling more alert and energized than I would be otherwise.”
MV Agusta is an Italian motorcycle manufacturer specializing in small-production, high-end sports bikes. The company initially built airplanes for Italy during World War I and World War II and later moved into motorcycle racing. In 1947, Franco Bertoni began the company's racing legacy when he rode an MV 98 to victory on a racetrack near Milan.
Elliott’s motorcycle was not made by the same MV Agusta of racing history — the MV Agusta name was purchased by Cagiva, a large conglomerate motorcycle company, in 1991. Cagiva still follows much of the earlier bikes’ legacy, though. They have similar design motifs and color schemes. They share the famous three-cylinder, four-stroke engine layout that helped Giacomo Agostini win seven consecutive 500cc world championships on the MV Agusta 500 Three.
“You know, I was always an admirer of Giacomo Agostini,” Elliott said. “He raced [MV Agustas] and gave them a whole bunch of world championships, and they were meant for that. Count Agusta just wanted to race bikes, and he sold bikes to support the racing.”
For Elliott, this legacy of performance and the experience that comes from it makes MV Agusta’s bikes worth riding.
“I don't feel like I'm sitting in an easy chair and leisurely cruising the roads,” Elliott said. “I feel integrated into the bike. It's built to integrate you. Every movement you make, the bike responds to in some way or another. When you move, it’s almost telepathic. You feel connected to it.”
The MV is far from Elliott’s first bike. Before the MV, before his Thruxton and before his Ducati and Moto Guzzi, Elliott bought his first motorcycle: a well-worn Suzuki all-terrain bike that didn’t exceed 60 horsepower from a local rental store when he was in high school.
“I rode it to school and everywhere else,” Elliott said. “It seized on me probably twice, and that’s how I learned to work on stuff, by taking it apart since it was so simple to fix.”
The Suzuki was slow, small and easy to ride. It was the perfect starting point for a teen who, as Elliott admitted, would’ve definitely hurt themselves on anything with a larger engine. His later bikes, however, all had a bit more force behind them.
During a partnership program, while studying at Miami University, Elliott spent a year at the Architectural Association School of Architecture in London. Before leaving for the program, he saved up a couple thousand dollars to buy a British motorcycle that he would later bring back to the USA.
“That was how I was going to travel, in lieu of spending money on passes and tours. I got a Norton Commando, and it was great. I loved it.”
The Norton Commando was a 746cc British bike that cost him around $1,449 new in 1970. The bike had a parallel-twin engine, meaning the machine consisted of two cylinders, which sat next to each other and made 58 horsepower. It had a maximum speed of 115 MPH.
It was stolen from him within a month.
“I had to wait five weeks to get my money from the insurance because they wanted to make sure it didn’t turn up,” Elliott said. “Talking to the police, they said, ‘No, if you don’t find it in the first day or two, then it’s already on the continent in pieces, being sold.’”
While this was a pretty heavy setback for Elliott, he was still determined to have a bike during his year in London. He searched and eventually found another bike at a famous shop that used to sell Velocettes.
“I didn’t want a used bike, so I got another Norton,” Elliot said.
This time, his bike was stolen within a week.
At the time, Britain was issuing different license plates to any new motor vehicles purchased by foreigners to export them back to their home country. These plates were black and white with a yellow rim instead of the usual yellow with black lettering. Because these plates stood out easily and foreigners often could not pursue these thefts, bikes with these plates became popular targets for criminals.
After waiting another five weeks, Elliott had the cash in hand for another new bike, and he already had one in mind: a used Velocette Thruxton. Since the Velocette would be purchased used, it wouldn’t have export plates.
Elliott described the Velocette Thruxton as “basically a detuned racer.” The bike was named after the Thruxton 500, an endurance race for production motorcycles covering 500 miles of roads in nine hours. As a result, the bike was fast, light and fairly unwieldy for everyday use. Despite all of this, Elliott thought the Thruxton was fantastic.
Once he had the Velocette and was fairly confident that it wouldn’t be stolen, he began to explore Europe. While it wasn’t the most comfortable nor the safest way to get around, he was able to see things and meet people that he wouldn’t have had he traveled by more conventional means: the twisting roads of the British countryside, cruises along the French coast and long rides all across Europe.
“Fifty years ago this past summer, I’d gone down to France as a student,” Elliott said. “I was touring around. I went to Le Mans, and coming back down on the Mediterranean coast all of a sudden the bike was running really raggedy. I’d genuinely thought I’d burnt a valve or had some other mechanical issue, so I wasn’t going to try to ride it back all the way to London.”
As Elliott limped his bike to a train station in Lyon, he had almost no money with him. With no credit cards and no way to contact anyone else, he could only afford tickets to get to Calais — not all the way back to London.
Sitting in the baggage car, the bike was completely vulnerable to any sudden movements. With only the kickstand to keep it up and luggage scattered about, damage to the bike wasn’t just a risk; it was practically a guarantee.
“I got onto the train with my helmet and leather jacket, and a young conductor saw me with the helmet and said, ‘Is that your motorcycle?’ and I said, ‘Yeah.’ He said, ‘Wait right here.’”
Elliot only spoke a bit of French, and the conductor knew some English. However, he could tell that the conductor — who Elliott figured was younger than he was at the time — had an appreciation for motorcycles. The conductor led Elliot to the baggage car to look at the bike.
“I told him I was concerned about it falling over, so we rolled it in, put the nose in the corner, and then packed everyone else’s suitcases around it,” Elliot said. “Then, he took me to a compartment — and, like I said, I had the cheapest ticket — he took me to a compartment all to myself, just because I had a bike.”
With the bike packed in for the journey, Elliott made it to Calais. From there, he jumped between trains and boats, dodging conductors and ticket fees on a path toward London. Once he got back, he checked the bike only to discover that the engine was still in great condition and that bad fuel had caused it to misfire.
Eventually, Elliott and the Thruxton made their way back to Miami. Currently, the half-century-old bike sits in his garage, having piled on enough miles that he says it needs a restoration; the perpetually unfinished project bike is a mainstay in countless motorcycle garages, and Elliott’s is not an exception to this rule.
Today, Elliott’s rips down country roads are just as much his morning routine as a cup of coffee and a hot shower. He says that experiences like that on a bike keep him awake and alert — much more than he would be if he simply took a car to work every day.
“It's therapy,” Elliott said. “To me, it genuinely is therapy. Whenever I’m riding, I just feel great. My attention is focused. I’m not a person who focuses. I have trouble paying attention to anything. But on the bike, I can.”
The most important part of riding bikes, to Elliott, is the connections: connections to people, to the bike itself and connections across synapses as he twists down once-quiet country roads.
“There’s something real essential about it — just you and a motor.”
