For four years cuddly old irons, especially BMW two-valve, and transform them into motion that become Sumisura. Until a few months ago it was simply a way to cultivate my greatest passion, but now has become in effect a profession.
I create exclusive motorcycle with a soul, for the lucky owners who like to dream in the company of a two-wheeler built specifically for them. BMW due out from my box will have been transformed and personalized with love and dedication, as if it were mine, petted and painstakingly enhancing every single feature. A design work, design, restoration and lots of heart.
MY SHORT STORY
I do it since I was six years old. In other words, I have always built motorcycles.
• First: as a child ... blond, long hair, tangled, never still, skinned knees ... I rode a small fireball, sfrecciavo on that number 8 realizing my dream. I turned, I turned, I turned. Sometimes I was winning. Indeed, always I was winning, because to me it was enough to grab the little knob and gas the handful. When I was six my bike was the most beautiful and the fastest in the world.
• Then, we put the hands with the adolescent need to be the center of attention. I returned from soccer practice, and (finally) I entered the garage. To be honest I do not ever come out: with the ball between his feet, in fact, I held in my hands a key in the eye and the piston that grippava. The girls liked to be in motion with me. Less when I went there in kilts. Ridiculous follies of cake with a two-wheels.
• Now: ... now my first bike became the first bike of my son. He is six years old. I painted green and I finished silver. All with my hands. The handlebar coating: I padded leather as they used to years ago. I refurbishing bit by bit: I revived. The number 8 is always there before. This summer there will rise in the saddle for the first time. We will be two happy children.
Well ... I bike to measure. I am a kind of two-wheeler tailor. A nice play on words, yes, but it's true. I take rags and transform them into evening wear. I admit it is not always that way. As time has changed the spirit of my disassemble, inspect, clean, adjust and refit. And there was a moment in which I was ashamed. In the garage I was three BMW. Outside the workers of the company near my house came and went from the layoffs. I sold. From that was born my consciousness: there are around amazing motorcycles, but are covered with a layer of old age and neglect. For two years, those bikes, have become the rags with which I realize the evening dresses: I find these scrap iron and cuddle them up to make custom-made motorcycle. As I did with the number 8
|Via Gorizia Turin, Italy|