GARAGE404

I'm tired of the internet.

Not tired of what it used to be. Back when every website felt like somebody's actual bedroom — you could tell what kind of person built it just by the font they picked and the weird thing they decided to write about on a Tuesday night. You browsed. You got lost. You found something you weren't looking for.

Now you scroll. Same feed. Same format. The algorithm decides what you see, when you see it, and how long you look at it.

So we built this instead.

Nothing here gets explained to you. There's no onboarding. You poke around and find things, or you don't. There's a chatroom. A photo vault that needs your old Honda pictures. Games. Easter eggs that some of you will find and most of you won't.

That's the point.

Honda of Lafayette has been here since before any of this. We'll be here after it too.

Social media is exhausting. You already know that.

So here's something different. No spec sheets. No sales pitch. Just four books that have sat on my shelf long enough to earn their spot.

Hell's Angels — Hunter S. Thompson spent a year riding with them in the mid-60s. This isn't really about bikers. It's about how a society defines itself by what it's afraid of. It's also why Honda had to run the "nicest people" campaign — to prove that a motorcycle didn't have to mean mayhem. Uncomfortable read. Worth every page.

Proficient Motorcycling — David Hough wrote this because he was tired of watching riders die from mistakes that didn't have to happen. I hand this one to every new rider who walks through our doors. It respects physics more than ego. Real mastery isn't top speed — it's never being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance — 121 publishers rejected it. Then it became a classic. Pirsig's point is simple: the machine reflects your mind. Sloppy, frustrated, unfocused — the bike stays broken. We don't just fix bikes. We fix ourselves.

And the honorable mention: Ghost Rider by Neil Peart. He lost his daughter and his wife in the same year. He didn't pick up his drumsticks. He got on his BMW and rode 55,000 miles. Sometimes the only way through is the road itself.

Put the phone down. Go for a ride. These'll be here when you get back.

There's a specific kind of nostalgia that only hits when you grow up in a family business. For me it smells like exhaust fumes and grilled hot dogs.

Saturdays on University Avenue used to mean Honda Dogs. Not just a snack, a ritual. You loaded up the truck, came to the shop, talked bikes while your kids ran circles around the showroom floor. Then it faded. Fifteen years went by without them.

I wanted to bring them back. But to get the Big Boss on board, I needed more than a gut feeling. So I put it to Lafayette: 500 likes and I'd have my proof.

What came back wasn't just likes. It was stories. Turns out a lot of the kids who grew up here on Saturdays are adults now with kids of their own, kids who've heard about Honda Dogs but never had one. There were names in the comments of people we've lost over the years. Regulars. Family. People who made those Saturdays what they were.

We blew past 500. Lafayette hadn't forgotten.

We're starting monthly. First one is May 23rd. Slow start, because after fifteen years you ease back into it. Bike shows, meetups, the whole thing eventually. But first, just the dogs.

Same address: 1708 N University Ave. The bikes are faster and the world is a lot noisier, but the dogs are exactly how you remember them.

The average dealership makes 3.9% on the vehicle itself. Where they actually make money is the back office — the finance room where a manager spends two hours selling you GAP insurance, paint protection, and marked-up interest rates. The car is just bait to get you in the chair.

That's the industry standard. We don't do it.

If you've bought a bike from us, you noticed something missing. There's no finance room. No mysterious manager. Your salesman — Kelly, Kinney, or Robert — runs your credit application right at their desk. I prepare the paperwork myself. You stay with the same person, at the same desk, from the moment you pick your bike to the moment you sign the title.

The price is the same whether you're paying cash or financing. We don't bait you with a low number that only applies if you take a bad loan. We use Honda Financial because they're straightforward. For subprime buyers we work with Octane. If your credit union has a better rate, use them — we'll help you coordinate it.

We've watched aggressive auto tactics creep into powersports lately. Hidden accessory costs, out-of-state tax disclaimers, prices that get made up for in the back. Volume sellers can afford to play that game because you drove four hours and they'll never see you again.

We live here. We work here. If you leave feeling like you got a bad deal, you don't come back for parts or service. And service is what keeps a local shop alive.

We're not interested in the back-end trap. Just sell you a good machine and see you back in for your first service with a smile on your face.