Well, now I know...

I was Jonesing for BMW motorcycle dealership fix today and, since the weather was good and I had nothing else pressing on my agenda, I decided to ride to Memphis to check out BMW Motorcycles of Memphis.
Riding down U.S. 63 in bright sunshine and a stiff southeasterly crosswind, I pictured a pleasant oasis of BMW motorcycle kultur where riders like myself pass the hours regaling each other with trip stories or discussing plans for summer rides. Something like the late, lamented Revard BMW Motorcycles in Indianapolis where everyone who walked through the door was a friend, whether you'd met them before or not.
I also envisioned a spacious, elegant showroom with all of the latest BMW models and a wall full of BMW riding apparel - maybe something like Foothills BMW in suburban Denver, which was the last BMW dealership I've been in (and that was last August).
So I rolled down I-55 to I-40 and followed it across the Mississippi (which is back within its banks after the spring floods), through downtown Memphis and on to Exit 10. A quick jog up Covington Pike and a right onto Pleasant Valley Road and I started searching for the BMW roundel. I finally spotted it up ahead on the left, playing second fiddle to a Yamaha sign on a tall post in front of a squat nondescript building with the tiniest of parking strips out front. Multi-brand dealerships where the other brand has top billing are usually bad news when it comes to BMW shops, and this was no exception. I noticed a "No Loitering" sign prominently displayed in the front window (see red circle in photo) and wondered if it meant this is a rough neighborhood or if the management is actively trying to discourage customers from socializing in the parking lot. Not a good business model for a BMW shop where the ambiance should promote socializing.
My heart sank when I walked inside. Aside from five or six new BMWs arrayed across the front of the store, it was wall-to-wall Japanese bikes. Searching the shelves of lubricants and other chemicals, I finally found the 10W50 BMW motor oil and grabbed a quart. The only BMW apparel in evidence was a new style of baseball cap. I bought a cap and the oil and headed for the door. Now I understand what Charlie meant when he said all of the BMW riders in Northeast Arkansas go to the dealer in Little Rock or, in the case of airheads, up to Grass Roots BMW at Cape Girardeau, Mo.
I can't imagine ever going back to the Memphis shop.
But I got a nice day ride out of it and averaged 36.094 mpg.