Read stories from Indian Riders across the country with an unmatched passion and commitment for America’s first motorcycle company.
Here in Huntington Beach – My local voting place in inside a retirement community. So I rumble up to my parking spot – Go inside and wait in line for my turn to pick the lesser of all the evils.
I come out to find the usual crowd surrounding my ’03 Chief – Except this time it’s different…
There are two old timer community residents – Stan and Gus – Arguing over the year of my Indian. Stan says it’s a ‘48 and Gus demands it’s a ’51. They both owned one “exactly” like it…The debate is getting heated now – With the families trying to keep these 80 yrs young scrappers from taking the fight to the ground.Gus’s oldest son Mike leans over and whispers “Isn’t that one of the new ones?”…I step into the crowd and settle it in a second by simply saying “You are both right. It’s a ’48 with a ’51 front end.” Mike smiles and nods approvingly. They congratulate each other on being right, shake hands, and then take turns for the next hour telling adventure stories you couldn’t even dream up. Breaking down at midnight - Sneaking into a farmers field to borrow a few parts off an abandoned tractor to get your Scout back running – And seeing a shadow in the shape of a bull behind you… Jumping out a second story window when her father came home and then dodging rock salt blasts while trying to kick start the Chief…(Gus has a tendency to say “Pardon my French” and then cussing for a few sentences anyway…)
At the end of our time together – It brought a tear to my eye watching Stan say goodbye to the Chief – As he slowly patted the saddlebag and his voice cracked “Now you take good care of this young man…”
Three years later – I still can’t bring myself to wash that saddlebag………
Submitted by Danny Flucke
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