You know that feeling when you park your bike for the last ride of the season? That little pat on the tank like, “See you soon, buddy.” But then life happens. Winter gets long. And “soon” turns into five months of you ignoring the thing in the garage while it silently gets gummed up, flat-spotted, and lonely.
I’ve been there. I’ve also been the guy kicking a dead battery at 8 a.m. on the first sunny Saturday in April, swearing at a carburetor clogged with old gas. Not fun.
So here’s what I tell my buddies when they ask how to store their bike. It’s not complicated, but you gotta think like you’re preserving something, not just parking it.
First: Where are you putting it?
If you say “outside under a tarp,” we need to have a different conversation. That’s not storage, that’s abandonment. Rain will find a way. Wind will scrape that tarp against your paint like sandpaper. Squirrels will treat your wiring like a chew toy.
Even inside your garage isn’t perfect. Is it heated? Is it dry? Or is it sharing space with lawnmower gas, wet boots, and a freezer that hums and drips? That environment is full of moisture and smells that settle into your bike. You need a space that’s boring. Nothing happens there. No temperature swings, no damp, no critter traffic. That’s the goal.
Honestly, this is why I got into the storage business. I wanted a place that was just…a clean, dry room with a lock. No fumes, no leaks, no nonsense. At New Burton Storage, that’s what we offer. It’s not glamorous. It’s a concrete floor and four walls. But for your bike? It’s a sanctuary.
Now, the bike itself. Let’s get it ready for its nap
1. Gas is your friend and your enemy
Don’t leave the tank half-empty. That air space collects moisture like a dehumidifier, and you’ll get rust inside your tank. Top it off—all the way—with fresh gas. Then add a stabilizer. I use Stabil. Run the bike for five minutes so that treated gas gets into the carbs or fuel injectors. This keeps the gas from turning into varnish. Varnish is what clogs tiny passages and makes you want to sell the bike for parts come spring.
2. The battery. Just take it out
I’m serious. Disconnect it, pull it out, bring it inside your house. Put it on a wooden board in a closet, not on concrete. Hook it to a battery tender—the kind that trickle charges. A dead battery doesn’t just die; it sulfates. It’s a brick. A $25 tender saves you a $100 battery. Do it.
3. Tires matter
Inflate them to the proper PSI. If you can, get the weight off them. I use cheap stands—front and rear—but even just putting a piece of plywood under each tire helps. If you can’t, roll the bike a foot forward once a month so it’s not sitting on the same spot. Flat spots are real, and they feel terrible when you start riding again.
4. Make it smell weird
Mice hate strong smells. I put dryer sheets in the seat compartment, in the airbox, and around the wheels. Some guys use mothballs, but then your bike smells like your grandma’s attic. Also, plug the exhaust pipe with steel wool or a rag. Critters think it’s a perfect bedroom. Just remember to pull it out before you start it. Tie a bright ribbon to the handlebars to remind yourself. Trust me.
5. Give it a hug before you go
Wash it. Dry it completely. Wax the paint and chrome. Lube the chain. It’s not just cleaning; it’s putting a protective layer between your bike and the world. Then cover it with a breathable motorcycle cover—not a plastic tarp. You want it to breathe.
Here’s the real test:
When spring comes, you should be able to walk into your storage space, pop the battery in, check the tires, and start it. Maybe it’ll crank a few extra times, but it’ll fire up. No drama. That’s the goal.
Storing a motorcycle isn’t about a manual. It’s about giving a damn. You’re not just parking metal; you’re preserving joy. And putting it somewhere clean, dry, and secure—like one of our spots at New Burton Storage—is the simplest way to make sure that joy is waiting for you, intact, on the other side of winter.
Now go put her away. And then go drink a beer. You’ve earned it.
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