Your Bike Rides Flat, Upright, Untouched.

Titusville, FL

Riders Get Their Own Kind of Truck.

Titusville is riding country, and the roads that make it worth the trip are the same ones that leave a bike sitting. US-1 runs the river the whole way through town, wide and open and easy to enjoy until a chain lets go. The A. Max Brewer bridge carries a steady stream of bikes out toward Playalinda every weekend. Groups stage in town before the loop through the wildlife refuge, and in March the through-traffic headed for Daytona thickens up every light on the strip. Somewhere in all of that, a bike is going to need a ride home.

That is our call. We are about forty-five minutes up from the Palm Bay yard, so when you reach dispatch at (321) 728-1869 you get a real arrival window rather than a guess, plus the price over the phone before anybody drives anywhere. Tell the dispatcher what you ride, where it is sitting, and what happened. Those three answers decide which truck comes and what goes on the deck with it.

Why a bike never touches a wheel-lift

A wheel-lift is built to cradle a car axle and drag the vehicle along on its own back tires. A motorcycle has nothing to offer that setup. There is no axle to hook without loading the swingarm sideways, no second pair of wheels to carry the weight, and nothing at all to catch the bike if it leans. Every bike we move goes on a flat deck, upright, front tire seated in a chock. That is not a preference, it is the only way to get a two-wheeled machine down the road without gambling with it.

Loading is where most of the damage happens on a bad tow, so we do it slowly. Soft loops go around the lower fork legs or a solid frame point, and the ratchet pulls against the loop instead of against your paint, your bars, or your controls. Cranking a strap over the handlebars puts every pound of tension straight into the fork seals, and a tank held down by a bare hook picks up a dent that was not there before the truck showed up. The suspension gets compressed a few inches so it cannot bounce the straps loose over the bridge joints, and the rear gets tied so the tail cannot walk. Then the driver photographs the bike on the deck, because you deserve a record and so do we.

Fairings, low pipes, baggers, trikes

Plastic is expensive and it sits exactly where a careless hand grabs. A sport bike wearing full fairings has almost no honest place to touch, so the driver works off the frame and the forks and keeps the ramp angle shallow enough that the belly pan clears. Low pipes and a slammed tail need the same care coming up the ramp, and sometimes boards under the tires to buy an inch. If you have already scraped a chin fairing on a driveway apron, say so when you call, and we will plan the approach around it.

Weight matters just as much. A dressed bagger runs heavy and wide, tall enough to catch wind on the deck and long enough that the tie-down points move. A trike will not sit in a standard chock at all and needs its own strapping plan. Both are routine work for us, but only when dispatch knows they are coming. A rider who says “motorcycle” and means a full-dress touring machine gets a longer wait while the right truck comes back around, and nobody wants that on the side of US-1.

Storms, sand, and the shoulder

Summer afternoons here turn fast. A ride that started clear can end with a rider parked under an overpass watching the river disappear behind rain, and a soaked bike that will not fire is a normal Titusville call for us, not an unusual one. Get somewhere covered, keep your gear on, and call. The truck comes to the bike. Standing next to a motorcycle on a shoulder in a downpour is the worst place you can be, and we would rather you were dry when we pull up.

The other local hazard is quieter. The shoulders along a lot of these river roads are soft sand that packs hard and then gives all at once, and a street tire finds the edge of it easily. If your bike is already in the sand, leave it there. Dragging a loaded motorcycle back onto pavement through soft ground twists the front end and scars the pipes worse than the original tip-over did. Our driver rights it, gets boards or the deck under it, and loads from ground that will hold. Same answer for the grassy drop-offs out toward the refuge, where the ditch is deeper than it looks from the saddle.

Where it ends up

Most Titusville bikes land in one of three places. Your shop or dealer if it needs parts and hands, your own garage if you plan to fix it yourself, or our secured yard if it is waiting on an insurance call and you would rather not have it sitting in the driveway. Tell dispatch the drop address while you are booking so the route gets planned once. Handoffs to a closed shop work too, and the driver will confirm how the bike should be left before he pulls away. If the bike is going home and you are not there to meet it, say where in the driveway you want it and whether anybody has a key for the garage. Small details like that keep a delivery from turning into a second phone call an hour later.

If it turns out the bike does not need a truck at all, we will say so. A dead battery in a Titusville parking lot is often a roadside call instead, which costs you less and gets you riding the same afternoon. If a crash is involved and the scene needs clearing fast, that is the emergency side of the fleet. The Titusville page covers everything else we run up here, and the gallery shows the trucks themselves. When you are ready, call (321) 728-1869 or send dispatch the details and we will call you back.