http://www.superbikeplanet.com/2010/Feb/100215redmenace.htm
In the early 1990's, the pre-TPG ownership days, being a Ducati owner wasn't easy. It was something you earned. New bikes trickled into the US and sold immediately. Purchasing a Ducati often involved deciphering the unique eccentricities of a given dealer, and enduring endless broken promises about when your bike would be delivered. Among the more "allegedly notorious" was Ghost Motorcycles, who had been selling Ducatis from a ramshackle garage in Port Washington for decades. Ghost had really rare Ducatis, bevel-drive Hailwoods, 750 F1A's and B's, 851 SP's just stuffed into this tiny shop, bar to bar. The place reeked of spilled oil and gas. The staff wore a standard- issue uniform of soiled mechanic overalls, with an unfiltered cigarette in one hand and a paper cup full of cheap coffee in the other. I wanted a 907 I.E. badly, so I went to Ghost with $1000 in cash in my wallet, hoping they'd have one in stock.
Young men have many naive beliefs about the world that are harshly shed via life experience, but for me, this maxim is as true now as it was then: Ducatis should be red (preferably with white trellis frames). Unfortunately, Ghost only had a black 907 I.E., and had no idea when they'd be getting a red Paso in stock. "We do have a new 93 900SS in the crate that's a little cheaper, and that one is red," the salesman said. I asked for a test ride. "No way, kid." he stated flatly. So I opened my wallet and showed him ten crisp $100 bills. He exhaled a big puff of Camel smoke into my face, mumbled "lemme check the back," and moments later, wheeled out a plated 1992 900SS. The bike had reverse megaphones, when he fired it up, a puff of smoke and flames shot out of the pipes, the devil's breath. I had never heard a Ducati up close, and in the confines of the small garage, it was the nearest thing I had ever had to a religious experience. As I put my helmet on, he shot me a stern look and said, "Don't crash it." That day, I bought the red 93 900SS. Sometime later, I found out that they had let me test ride a customer's bike, which was in for service; surely the owner never knew about it. Classic Ghost story.
As for my personal experience (mid '80's to mid 90's), I loved dropping into the shop at least once or twice a year. It was better than almost any museum...
I never bought anything there, I heard at least half a dozen nightmare stories about the place from personal friends, and many more from friends of friends.
Anybody else remember their booth at the NY Int, Motorcycle Show at the Javits Center? I don't know why they even bothered...
Maybe they treated their friends great there (as some have testified to in this thread), but if you were an anonymous Joe off the street, you were treated like yesterday's newspaper. That last part I know for sure...