Where does the time go?
It is hard to believe but 2011 is the 50th year Diamond Motor Sports has been in business. If you could call Warren Price’s humble beginnings a business. It was more about getting the parts he and his buddies needed to keep their assortment of junk motorcycles running.
To hear Warren describe it is really comical, “the parts department was under my bed. When someone needed something I would pull out the boxes and see if I had something that would work, never mind the exact part they needed. One thing led to another and I somehow ended up with a BSA franchise. Once that happened we had to clean out the shed because my mother wasn’t about to let me keep them in my room.”
His success in the motorcycle business led Warren...
...into the automobile business and the rest is history. Even today, owning 6 dealerships with 11 franchises, he can’t stay out of the business. Most every day he can be found in one of his dealerships fine tuning the details.
...into the automobile business and the rest is history. Even today, owning 6 dealerships with 11 franchises, he can’t stay out of the business. Most every day he can be found in one of his dealerships fine tuning the details.
I get asked a lot how long have I been here and I am happy to say this marks my 30th year. When people comment I say, “I still haven’t decided what I want to do when I grow up” and smile.
As a kid living on North Fairfield Drive near Moores Lake in Dover, all I wanted to do was ride my red Honda SL70. My friends and I would mostly ride in what was called at the time the Pizzadili Pits behind the Pizzadili Restaurant/Deli (it is full of houses now). The Lord only knows how many gallons of gas we burned riding laps in that sand pit. When we would get bored we would cut through a couple of yards, push down a few roads (riding while dragging a foot), cut through the apple orchard (now Old Mill Acres) and go to 2 other sand pits (one of which is now Tidbury Park).
When we really felt adventurous (often) we rode down to RT13, crossed it, and pushed (riding while dragging a foot again) through Rodney Village, cut across a field and hit the railroad tracks. I am sure my parents never would have guessed, on those evenings as we sat and ate dinner, I had been to Harrington, 3 towns away, that day on my little SL70.
Its memories like that and the umpteen others involving motorcycles since that keep me in this business and smiling most days.
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