The call came in while I was at my desk, engaged in my daily
wage slavery. Victor wanted to know if I would like to ride the
new Indian Chief test bike for a day. Laughing, I said "Good
one, Victor. Now, what do you REALLY want?" There was a moment
of confused silence, and then he came back with "No really, I
want you to ride this thing and give us the café racer's
perspective. It might just broaden your horizons a bit." This
provoked flashbacks to my bad old days as a Helmetless Harley
Hooligan in Southern California. A wannabe outlaw prospecting
for a club which will remain nameless, I did all the usual
stupid biker tricks and ended up in the slammer for my troubles.
Yeah, I really wanted to revisit THOSE days...
Besides that, I fretted about my current wardrobe. The modern
cruiser genre is all about looking the part and I don't have
the tiniest bit of fringe on my black leather jacket. My gloves
have fingers and padding in them, and I insist on wearing a
helmet, er, I mean "skid lid", wherever I ride. I voiced my
concerns to Victor and he basically told me to "just ride the
damn bike." Okay, I could do that. It is, after all, only a
motorcycle. I think.
So I rode Quasi Moto over to the Big Chief's house to meet the
new Indian Chief. Parked beside this hulking silver behemoth my
café scrambler looked like a toy! Topping 700 lbs curb weight,
it is almost twice as heavy as my daily mount. To be fair, it
uses almost four times the engine capacity to move this weight
around, and most of that mass is centered down low. Chrome was
everywhere and that which was not chrome was painted an elegant
silver. No need to worry about being noticed on this parade
float.
Ah, but this is supposed to be a riding impression, so let's go
riding…
First, let's examine the tillers. I can't call them handlebars,
because in my experience handlebars are not four feet from grip
to grip. These are more reminiscent of the way they steered
automobiles before they devised the steering wheel, except that
there are two of them. They stretch waaaay back from that
gorgeous front end to splay your arms out wide. This places you
in perfect position to "…take the world in a love embrace." &endash;in
the immortal words of Steppenwolf. Unfortunately, they really
hinder low-speed handling. For instance, if you need to turn
sharp left, to full steering lock, you have to heave the
tillers over to the right which drapes your body over the tank
to the right side and is entirely the wrong posture for this
maneuver. The footboards are no help, mounted far up in front
to complete what we in the profession like to call the "P P",
or "Parachute Position". You can't use body english to control
this bike because you can't put any weight on your feet. Then
there's the air cleaner cover. Chrome, of course, which
intrudes into the space my left knee would like to occupy.
Extremities accounted for, my ass rests in the deep hollow of a
luxurious leather saddle, clearly intended for an ass more
expansive than mine.
Starting the beast required me to get acquainted with the
switch gear. The Indian Motorcycle Company does not even
pretend that they want you to kick-start this 100 cubic-inch
powerhouse. Big, rounded, ergonomically pleasing switches
reside in big, beautiful chrome housings. I had several
arguments with the "push once for on, and once for off" turn
signal switches, because it seemed that the signal would
self-cancel after a certain period, and my second stab at the
button would start them up again! The only way I could tell if
they were working was to take my eyes off the road long enough
to see if the little yellow LED on the tank-mounted dash was
flashing. Other than that one little niggle, I found the
switchgear wonderfully functional and straightforward. Why
don't the Japanese and German manufacturers get this?
I also loved the brake and clutch levers. These are sculpted in
alloy and shaped to the human hand in a very organic fashion. I
want a pair for every bike I own, but I'm afraid nobody makes
them for sporting motorcycles. Must be that weight thang...
So I pushed the starter button. Have you ever watched one of
those old war flicks where they start the big radial engines on
carrier-based fighter planes just before attacking the Japanese
fleet? (Ahh, ironic symbolism…) That's what I was reminded of
when this big twin dynamo exploded into it's powerful
lumpity-lump idle. The stock pipes produced a very pleasant
rumble, louder than the EPA allows on any sportbike I've ever
ridden. I wonder how they get away with that? Never mind... I
like it! I left it on the choke for awhile as I sat there
absorbing the substantial vibrations.
This engine is solidly mounted and the whole bike shudders as
if in anticipation of the ride ahead. The heel-toe shifter was
a new experience for me so I only used the toe part. Clutch
pull was modest, but shifting into first gear was like cycling
the breech on a Howitzer. Ker-CHUNK! Giving it very little gas
I let the clutch out and eased into the street. Then I twisted
the throttle... Holy Torque-o-rama Batman! I could feel every
combustion stroke propelling us forward as if the machine were
fueled by gunpowder rather than gasoline. I could sense right
away we needed to shift into second. Ker-CHUNK! The next round
was chambered and we shot forward again. Highway speed was
achieved in two loud and violent chili-farts. Power-Plus indeed!
Now, let me tell you about the most beautiful front end I've
ever seen on a motorcycle. Yeah, that's right. It's not the
shark-nosed snout of a GSXR, and it's not the sexy Italian
cat's eyes of the Ducati 916. It's not even the
tacho-behind-flyscreen on the business end of a Manx Norton. No,
these pale in comparison to what I saw from the saddle of the
new Indian Chief. From the rider's perspective, a large chrome
locomotive stretches off into the distance, reflecting the sky
on the open road and a cathedral of trees down certain country
lanes. This is the sublime headlight nacelle of the Indian
Chief: A front end I would follow anywhere. There is a ridge
running down the center which distinguishes it from, say, an
FLH. The view from the front of the motorcycle reveals the
distinctive teardrop shape of this same nacelle. It is truly a
work of dynamic sculpture.
That brings to mind other things I really liked about this
motorcycle. The whole valanced fender, art-deco thing has found
an admirer here. Evocative of the late 1940's, with intuitive
streamlining over solid structural members, this is a real
tribute to the days when our bikes were designed on a drawing
board, by living, breathing human beings. Of course, the fact
that it was actually CAD-drawn on computers just makes the
finished product all the more impressive for its artistic
integrity. This is a visually stunning motorcycle, powered by a
patriotic pushrod V-Twin, a formula which has worked on
American motorcycles for almost 100 years.
While I'm on the subject of this enormous lump of an engine,
let me be the first to dub it: "The Jarhead Motor". I mean,
look at those valve covers… It appears as though you could just
grab hold and twist them off like the lid of an old mason jar.
In the tradition of the flathead, knucklehead, panhead, and
shovelhead progression, I think it's a natural! Of course, any
affiliation with the U.S. Marine Corps is purely coincidental.
Now, the bad news. That solid motor-mount scheme induced
vibrations which shook loose two fasteners during the day I was
riding this bike. Both were located in brackets on the frame,
which secured a large plastic cosmetic cover which hides some
of the messy wiring and other components under the seat. Those
same vibrations broke the filaments in both spotlights during
the short time we had this motorcycle under test. The
distinctive Indian Chief figurehead on the front fender also
shook loose before I even rode the bike, causing the Chief's
lighted face to flicker on and off from the intermittent
electrical ground. Victor kindly tightened that up for me
before my stint on the bike. I was also surprised to discover
that the dash assembly was also made of plastic. I guess I had
expected such an exercise in retro-style to religiously employ
metals in every aspect of its construction. But who knows? If
space-age polymers had been available in 1947, maybe the
original Indian Chief would have been an entirely different
motorcycle.
Riding revealed a few undesirable characteristics as well. By
the time we had covered about 50 miles, my throttle hand began
to go numb from the vibration. The parachute riding position
permits very little variation, causing my back, tailbone, and
neck to hurt after about 100 miles. The only variation I was
able to manage was turning my feet through 90 degrees from
straight up to straight out. That was it. I don't think I would
want to tour on this motorcycle.
Semi-spirited riding through mild curves revealed another
common cruiser flaw: ground clearance. Maintaining the 55-60
mph speed limit through curves posted at 30-35 mph caused me to
grind the footboards into the pavement in order to hold my line.
Since these are rigidly mounted to the frame by anodized billet
brackets, there was no "give" except for the sacrificial
abrasion of these nice, chromed footboards. It might be better
to mount these on hinges, although I suppose that would expose
more vital and expensive components to the voracious pavement.
I suppose the intended solution is to slow down in the twisties,
or avoid them altogether. I HATE that!
But above all, I'm afraid the Indian Motorcycle Company has
missed the demographic target. The folks who can afford this
bike are going to come whining back to the dealership with
warrantee claims as soon as something vibrates off or a bulb
burns out. They're going to whine about the vibration and the
riding position if they put on any real miles. Of course, these
are the same people who trailer their bikes to Sturgis, so
maybe I'm overestimating the exposure.
On the other hand, the "Real Bikers™" who would appreciate this
bike for what it is will not be able to afford it unless they
open up a meth lab or something. These are the guys who bought
AMF Harleys, took them completely apart, re-worked the parts
until they fit together properly, lock-tited all fasteners, and
then rode the bloody things until they sprouted new oil leaks
and then repeated the process. They would know exactly what to
do with a bike like this: finish the development process.
Unfortunately, I think that is exactly what the new Indian
Motorcycle Company has failed to do. It will be interesting to
see how they fare in the marketplace with this unrefined
offering.
But buying a cruiser is often an emotional and irrational
decision. Ultimately you either pony up the cash to buy the
bike that speaks to your soul, or you settle for something less
and ride that around always yearning for something better. If I
had the necessary cash and desire to own a cruiser, I believe I
would be sorely tempted by this somewhat rustic but charismatic
brute. Harleys have become almost too refined, and are common
as dirt these days. They don't appeal to me at all. The metric
cruisers have no real history behind them, and too many design
compromises aimed at a price point so I would have to pass on
them too. That leaves only quirky euro-cruisers or the upstart
Polaris Victory and I haven't looked at either of them closely
enough to form an opinion yet. But I have formed an opinion of
the new Indian Chief: An absolutely gorgeous prototype, waiting
for the buying public to finish the development cycle.
Source motorbyte.com
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