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• Drinks
  Hennessy Paradis Extra
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  Be the Boxer
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  Of Cars and Cigars
• Celebrities
  The Unmaking of a Dynasty
• Good Life Guide
  Breitling Emergency
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The Indian Rides Again

Defunct for decades, one of America's earliest motorcycles roars back to life

Phil Scott
From the Print Edition:
Edgar Bronfman Jr., Mar/Apr 03

Sacco lets me sit on all styles of the Indian to feel how well balanced the machines are. And, yes, they come finely balanced, with foot stands as well. Unlike Japanese bikes, you won't need to hire a football team to stand it back upright.

After a long trip through the dealership's showroom/museum, I'm aching for a ride on one of these legends. Sacco can sense this and fires up the engine of one of his own bikes; it rumbles like the stomach of a hungry tiger. "It's a Powerplus 100 for purist appeal," he says. "It's a true Indian motor." Indian itself manufactures the engine, but for now it only equips the Chiefs. The motors for the other models use hand-assembled 88-inch S&S Superstock V-twin engines, built to Indian's exacting specifications by Viola, Wisconsinñbased S&S Cycle. The motor is connected directly to the frame, but being finely balanced and hand-assembled, the tolerance of all parts is at a minimum. Every motorcycle comes hand-inspected and then hand-assembled at the Indian factory in California. If it doesn't pass muster, it doesn't roll out the factory door.

Then comes the moment of truth. Sacco slaps a black trooper-style helmet on my head and tells me to get on the bike and ride it around the block a few times. I put on my sunglasses for eye protection and mount the huge machine. On board for the first time I get a sense of its great weight, though it's a much easier ride than my own smaller motorcycle. I take it outside for the ride.

I start slowly and turn left, past Sacco. Then I open up the throttle a little bit. She's a smooth ride, besides having great pickup. After two more lefts, I slow the Chief down and roll her carefully past Sacco. He motions for me to go around again. So I slowly make the left turn and go out of his sight, then open her up full throttle briefly. I feel like running down a couple of men emptying the trash on the opposite side of the block just to watch them scatter, but think better of it. I do blast between two buses and slow it way down before passing Sacco again. He waves me again for another go-around, and I turn slowly and disappear.

At top speed the Indian clings to the road as if it's a magnet, despite my splashing through mud puddles and loose gravel. It's the smoothest, best motorcycle I've ever ridden. If I hadn't left a car in the parking lot and a wife back home, I swear I would have ridden it to California.

Phil Scott is a freelance writer based in Manhattan.

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