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Powersports Business • November 2026 • 17

FROM THE EDITOR

I started working on my bicycle when I was pretty young. My parents bought me a brand-new five-speed Stingraystyle bike with a gearshift in the center. It was awesome. I rode it around the neighborhood for a while, but eventually decided I needed to soup it up.

I figured I could make it better,

BRENDAN BAKER so naturally, I took it apart. All of it. Unfortunately, I hadn’ t given much thought to how I was going to put it back together. Before long, my beautiful new bicycle was a collection of parts, and I had no idea where most of them went.

My parents ended up taking it to the local bike shop to have it reassembled. We delivered it in a box. I’ m sure the mechanic appreciated that.

Around the same time, I started racing quarter midgets. My dad had traded some dune buggy parts for one complete race car and several others that came in boxes. To me, this was a dream come true. I’ d grown up watching my dad work on his race cars, including a Formula 5000 car he’ d purchased in buckets. Having my own race car in boxes seemed perfectly normal.

Of course, I didn’ t appreciate the skill involved in building one. I was just a snot-nosed kid who loved race cars but didn’ t know much about working on them. I followed my dad and his racing buddies around like a dog, watching everything they did, even if I didn’ t understand half of it.

But that bicycle taught me something. I learned to pay attention to how things came apart, where the bolts went and how everything fit together. Pretty basic stuff, but it was the beginning of figuring things out for myself.

Eventually, I built one of those quarter midgets that had arrived in a box. I qualified on the pole in its first race. That was a pretty good feeling.

When I was 20, I moved to Canada to pursue my dream of becoming a race car driver. The catch was that I also had to become a racing mechanic’ s apprentice. I packed everything I owned, which wasn’ t much, into my Ford Fiesta and headed north.

That experience took my mechanical knowledge to another level. Before the racing season, I built my first real race car, a Reynard F2000. As it turned out, my mechanical ability was progressing faster than my driving ability.

It was a tough year, but I learned things that would serve me well throughout my career. One highlight was that my car finished third in the championship. The car, mind you, not the driver. I still have the trophy, which my buddy Sean welded together using a third-gear set and a wheel bearing.

After Canada, I moved to another racing school in New England, where I developed as both a driver and crew chief. That eventually opened the door to working on an Indycar team.

I still work on just about all of my own vehicles today. Even after all these years, there are plenty of jobs that don’ t go as planned. Sometimes the best thing I can do is walk away, look at the problem from another angle and reset my thinking. It’ s not always the fastest approach, but it usually works for me.

Which brings me to something I’ ve been thinking about lately.

Where are the next generation of mechanics going to come from?

Powersports vehicles, much like their automotive counterparts, have become increasingly complex. Computers, sensors, electronic controls and sophisticated diagnostic systems are everywhere. A good technician today needs to understand much more than how to rebuild an engine or adjust a carburetor.

I wonder how many kids today are getting the same opportunities I had to learn by taking things apart, making mistakes and putting them back together. Not every kid has that opportunity. And with today’ s complicated machines, learning by trial and error can become an expensive proposition.

That’ s why our industry needs to do a better job of encouraging young people to pursue careers as powersports technicians.

We spend tremendous resources trying to attract new riders and customers. OEMs introduce exciting models, while dealers and manufacturers invest in advertising and growing participation.

But how much effort are we putting into attracting the people who will keep those machines running? More importantly, are we giving them a reason to stay?

Working on motorcycles, ATVs and side-by-sides sounds like a pretty cool job, especially if you’ re an enthusiast. But passion doesn’ t pay the mortgage.