The Super Tech Connection
*This post lacks photos because there was a no photo policy at the convention. May the words provide sufficient visuals.
Jim was forced to lean in so I could hear him above the roar of heckling at the closing ceremonies. “Yeesh. These guys are so loud, you’d think they’re all deaf from riding motorcycles or something.” He wasn’t wrong. The raffle draw held in the final hour of the event had created a buzz among the crowd of over 60 people who had spent the last few days in a get to know you state. Now we were about to part ways, and the chance to exit with a souvenir seemed to ease the pain of separation.
Hosted by the Pennsylvania Chapter of the Airhead Beemer Club, we were gathered at the Boyertown Museum of Historic Vehicles for Super Tech 2026. Filled with gleaming antique floor models, it was an appropriate venue for an event honoring the BMW boxer engine, a classic design from the 1920’s which endures today because of its fan club. To keep these machines running takes a community, and the meet-up was a way of promoting not only the bikes but the camaraderie of riders who care for them.
At home in New Brunswick, we enjoy working on and riding these bikes as a hobby of seclusion. Our main social event happens every few months where we crash the local vintage motorcycle breakfast club we don’t officially belong to. Accustomed to the isolation, we were hesitant to connect with other bikers but thought a meet-up would be a good way to shake the winter doldrums. We also figured since we can’t ride, why hide, so we made our way to the nearest US border. Informing the agent that the purpose of our trip was to attend a vintage motorcycle workshop didn’t set off any alarms, and we eased past customs and settled down for a two-day drive. We ate our way through gas station snacks and chewed up four states of highway before landing in Pennsylvania. The only downside was that we weren’t on bikes, but neither was anyone else, so we had no one to scowl at.
We arrived at the conference on Friday evening and were immediately welcomed with open arms; gifted with a goodie bag and christened with a name tag. Prompted to keep things moving, we were ushered into the main room for a meet and greet featuring dwindling towers of pizza. I finished the carbs on my plate and moved on to the Bing carbs displayed at the table of cutaways. Everything we were getting into this weekend would focus on these bike parts, which were exposed like an autopsy for public review. On the other side of the room stood a cutaway of an R75/6, and with the help of another set of hands you could turn the crank shaft, pull in the clutch, and watch the gears engage. It was hard to resist playing with and we found ourselves going back to it all weekend. An auction style run down on safety capped off the evening and we left the museum, ready for a rest after a long day of driving.
A bad decision and last-minute reservation landed us at a seedy Motel away from the rest of the attendees, but we’ll call this one a lesson learned. Entertainment was provided by an aggressive pair of dogs battling it out for hallway territory while their owner struggled to gain control. Though we’re certain she didn’t use their proper names when she yelled, we couldn’t help but think if they had name tags like ours, it would have helped her remember them. The dogs settled down around 10 p.m. and as we examined our room, we noticed it came with a few surprise amenities. Attached to the bathroom doorframe was a bottle opener, painted over like a chameleon to match its surroundings. We weren’t sure if it was there to open your beer when you entered the room or put there to help you celebrate when you exited. Cigarette stains on the peach bathtub were a unique feature which matched the bedroom décor. We slept soundly wrapped in blankets we brought from home and made certain our bare feet never touched the floor.
Early the next morning we checked out of that character-building room ready to tackle anything life threw our way. The seminars began at 9:45 a.m. and when we couldn’t agree on which one to attend, the decision was made with a coin toss. After each one we shuffled from room to room, with a break offered in between for coffee, washrooms, or general meandering.
We cut our teeth on a carb class and learned early on to show up on time for the next session. The room was packed, and whoever couldn’t find a seat was left standing at the back or propped up on a table. We pushed against the wall and pressed in for a listen. Although this was a presentation, the audience didn’t hesitate to speak up and offer advice. If you weren’t sure what was going on, there was always someone around who could explain things to you, even if you didn’t ask. Bike parts passed through the crowd for inspection, and we took our time thoroughly comparing them to what we had at home. We followed this seminar with one on electronics, where we picked up a few tips but wish we could have had more time.
At lunch we worked our way through the buffet line and sat at one of the round tables to make new friends. We tried to spread ourselves out as much as possible and not group with the same people, so we joined a table of strangers to share a meal. When you don’t know someone at these events, a great opener is to ask what bike they ride. Through my line of questioning, it has been revealed that most Airhead owners don’t ride just one bike, they ride a collection of them.
After lunch we went on to digest a session on wheel bearings, it was informative, but heads were beginning to nod. Coffee fueled us through the afternoon, and the museum staff shared the official number of cups consumed was at 300 and counting. The final session of the day rolled around, and we had a hard time picking out just one of the transmission seminars, so we split up. Completely out of my league I rifled off a few questions but couldn’t wrap my head around the system, so I went back to the R75/6 cutaway and like a Magic 8 Ball it revealed some insight.
We spent our last night at the same hotel everyone else had been wise enough to book and emerged that morning as self-proclaimed heroes, all because we rescued a pillow someone had left behind. It was now Sunday, and with one seminar to go we had no trouble deciding which one to attend. We showed up to support the guy we felt the most connected to throughout the weekend. Sure, we heckled him from the back of the room but that’s how we show our love.
Leaving the shelter of our house for a weekend away has changed the way we look at the motorcycle world and the clubs that inhabit it. Airhead enthusiasts are a finely tuned mix of caretakers and craftsmen who uphold slow vintage values in an a fast-paced world. They’re also a tight knit group who know how to have fun and help people out. The Pennsylvania Club rolled out the welcome mat for a seamless production and top-notch seminars and we’re grateful we got to experience it. Opening ourselves up to meet new people was a decision we don’t regret, and we look forward to catching up with our new friends at future events.
