About Tim Remus

Who is Tim Remus?

I've been fascinated with anything mechanical from the time I was a little kid. Long before I had a driver's license I hung around with the older kids who did. My job was to place the right combination wrench in the greasy hand that emerged from under Marlo's old shoebox Ford. At about the same time I began acquiring things like broken lawn mowers - just to take them apart and see how they work. Following high school I attended Dunwoody Industrial Institute and despite a sometimes bad attitude managed to graduate with an Auto General certificate.

After graduating from Dunwoody I worked my way through a variety of small shops and gas stations. I also started taking classes part-time at the University of Minnesota. Twelve years later I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree and a strong interest in writing and photography. Rather than go out and get a new job I simply kept the job I already had: working as a mechanic at the big foreign car dealership on the west side of Minneapolis.

It wasn't until 1984 that I took the plunge. A nagging back injury combined with boredom prompted me to lay down my wrenches and try full-time writing and photography. A partner, Mike Urseth, and I began publishing a small motorcycle magazine a few years earlier in 1981. We published the magazine quarterly, in addition to working our regular jobs. Midwest Rider was really just a fancy newsletter that went out to members of the Minnesota Motorcycle Riders Association. In 1984 I decided to focus my energies on the expansion of Midwest Rider and freelance journalism.

A few years later Mike and I took on another partner, Steve Hendrickson, and started another small magazine, Midwest Rod & Machine. We didn't know you couldn't start a magazine from scratch without any money - and struggled along with our mini publishing empire until 1989 when a bigger company bought us out. Life was fat until the new combined corporation hit a cash crunch one year later. The reorganization left me out on the street looking for work.

When I started working on stories for Midwest Rider, I did the photos and Mikey handled all the writing. We hired a wild and crazy commercial artist named Joe Adams to do the layout. The three of us often worked on the magazine in Joe's studio -- with the stereo blasting - until 3:00 AM. Accustomed to working with "real" photographers, Joe had this bad habit of criticizing my photographs. He made me go back and re-print anything he considered too soft. It pissed me off at the time but ultimately made me a much better photographer (I think of Joe whenever I drag out my trademark big-ugly tripod during a photo shoot). As my photographic skills improved, I also learned that it was much easier to sell freelance work if I could do both the photography and the writing. My efforts to sell freelance work eventually led me to Motorbooks International in nearby Osceola, Wisconsin.

My first book, Arlen Ness - Master Harley Customizer, was published in 1989 before "the crash of 1990." When I found myself on the outside looking in, my first instinct was write up a series of new-book proposals for Motorbooks. Luckily they were in an expansion mode at the time and said yes to most of my ideas. That's when I started writing two and three books a year. At about the same time I met Buzz Kanter, owner of American Iron Magazine, in Sturgis. I called Buzz after Sturgis to try and sell him a story and instead began contributing a monthly column. That was the same year that Arlen Ness introduced me to some of his friends, men with names like Dave Perewitz and Don Hotop.

Wolfgang Publications is the small company Mary and I formed in 1985 when I started to actually sell a few freelance articles. Named after our German shepherd (now deceased), the company has evolved from the sale of freelance articles to the sale of complete books. Those first years were pretty lean and without the additional income from Mary Lanz, (my lovely and talented wife), our little company never would have made it this far.

My mechanical inclinations and experience mean that I can ask reasonably intelligent questions about whatever it is I'm photographing. Being a died-in-the wool motorhead means I'm never happier than when I'm in a shop. I don't claim to have all the answers, I only claim to know the people who do. My job is to be the go-between, the interpreter. Someone who takes the information from an expert like Arlen Ness, Dave Perewitz, Donnie Smith, Ron Covell or Jon Kosmoski, and makes it available to men and women with a hankerin' to learn more about building bikes, assembling engines or painting their hot rod.

Eight or nine years ago we started publishing the books I write. Which means we do the layout, pay the printer, do all the marketing and hope at the end to make a profit. The early Ultimate V-Twin series, the Jon Kosmoski Advanced Custom Painting book, the new Cheap Chopper and Bagger books, these are all our own publications. Most of our books are distributed to the retail book stores by Motorbooks, though we do sell direct through the magazines and (obviously) through this web site. Recently we produced our first hardcover coffee-table book, Triumph Motorcycles. Based on ten years of photos taken for the annual Classic Triumph Calendar, the new book is available for $29.95 (plus S&H).

In closing, I have to say it's been one hell of a ride. Someone asked me recently about my dreams in high school. Well, I didn't really have any. I never aspired to be the President, or a firefighter. I didn't plan to be a doctor or a lawyer. I did make a vow to myself to never live a boring adult life - like so many of the lives I saw around me.

And so far I've kept my vow.