I had heard of people bringing their motorcycle inside over the winter, or installing it as a decorative mantelpiece. I even seem to recall reading about someone assembling a motorcycle in their living room, then having to heave it down the stairs to set off traveling on it; though right now I can’t quite recall who that was. In all those cases, allowances were made to permit the motorcycle into the home, usually temporarily. But our case is different: the living space is the garage, and vice versa. And no, I don’t mean a sofa and a fridge sitting in the corner of the bike shed.

Let me explain: My partner and I reside in a live-work art studio at the industrial end of East Vancouver, Canada. (Yes, in my other life I’m an artist.) Unlike most such properties, our building is classed as commercial, not residential, meaning the use of heavy machinery, including table saws, angle grinders, welding equipment, you name it, is permitted inside the studios. And that includes vehicles. Each studio consists of a large singular room that houses the kitchen, bed, sofa, workshop and garage all at once. Only the bathroom is a separate little room with a door. So our two motorcycles are parked in the very room where we create, cook, eat, sleep, and generally live.

To some, that might sound totally crazy, but to me, it’s a dream come true! As I’m sitting on the couch in my PJs, slurping my morning coffee, I look over the bike and ponder the next maintenance. I don’t even have to change out of my pajamas to get started, if I don’t want to, and I can pop to the kitchen for more coffee without losing that ‘in the zone’ feeling I usually get when focusing on the mechanical work. Or I can leave the project, with everything open and in pieces, without worrying that things will get dirty or go missing. And it never gets so cold, that every slipped spanner causes agonizing pain. In short, it’s the true essence of the phrase “in the comfort of your own home”.

The bike and all the tools are always right there, and I find that means I get a lot more done. In Vancouver, unless you can afford an entire single family home, properties with garages are rare, and in apartment blocks, underground car parking spaces (if you are lucky enough to have one) don’t always lend themselves to major mechanics, as they are usually dark and dingy, and it isn’t safe to leave your things lying around. So then you have to rent a space where the landlord hopefully allows you to tinker, which might end up quite far from home, and a simple oil change can turn into a half-day mission, which you first have to persuade yourself to go on. Even when our bikes were in the shed at our next door neighbour’s, that initial inertia to going over there and getting started took some overcoming. But now, with the bike sleeping right next to me, all that falls away. Although I probably should make the effort to change out of my pajamas into something more grease-monkeying-friendly.

There are a couple of downsides to this set-up of course. The concrete structure building is considered fire safe with industrial standard measures and extensive sprinkler systems. The neighbors should get away fairly unscathed if things go wrong when working with sparks and gasoline. But it still wouldn’t be much fun to accidentally blow up our home, so there are a few jobs we can only really do in the car park outside. And we don’t run the bikes inside the building, since we don’t have an exhaust extraction system installed, although we would probably be allowed to.

Of course we make sure the space is well ventilated, opening all the windows. Despite that, a faint smell of rubber, gasoline and oil linger. Strangely, I actually quite like that. Probably because I associate it with fun times and riding-freedom. Luckily, so far the tempting smells of my partner’s gourmet cuisine have trumped any lingering whiff of WD40, and not even our less than moto-obsessed friends have turned down our dinner invitations. In fact many have commented how bright and comfy the space is; not something we expected, living in what is primarily intended as a workshop, which happens to come with permission to sleep here. 

To my mind, the only real downside to not having a separate garage is missing out on being able to turn it into a weekend hangout for moto-nuts. Sure, we can invite people up to our studio, but it’s not quite the same vibe if it’s also our bedroom. Unaffordable for now, such a moto meet-up garage remains a possibility for the future. Until then, we are living the dream of sharing our space with our motos and all the tools. And I suspect I might miss it, if we ever had a separate garage; a bit like you would miss your cat, who over time has taken to sleeping in your bed, if you then told it to return to its basket on the floor.

Mad as it sounds, we did in fact end up choosing this lifestyle for a second time. Having been away for over two years to ride from Canada to Argentina, we’d had to give up the original studio. A week ago, we finally moved back, and there is still a lot of setting up to do, but we’re over the moon to be roomies with our bikes again!

Photos by Aidan Walsh & Maria Schumacher

Author: Maria Schumacher

Inspired at a book signing at a motorcycle show in London, Maria Schumacher and her partner Aidan Walsh decided to ride around the world by motorbike, even though they had never sat on one before. Since then, they have led a life of motorcycle travel across Europe, India, Australia and the Americas. Based in Vancouver, Canada, Maria writes articles and provides photos of their journeys and experiences for several international magazines and blogs. She also contributed a chapter to Sam Manicom’s collection of motorcycle travel short stories – The Moment Collectors ASIA.