INDIAN PROJECT

Rick cracks out his feathery head-dress to pow-wow with another Indian – a Scout

‘IT SMOKED WORSE THAN A PEACE PIPE WITH WET LEAVES’

Barn find’ is a term future English-speakers may find hard to define; already on internet auctions it could mean anything from a derelict moped to a pair of rusty pliers so, for posterity, here’s the origin – when obsolete vehicles were cheap, few people had space to store them, except farmers, who seldom dispose of anything. But it’s a well-trodden path and true discoveries in farmer’s barns are rare today. A surprising number of survivors appear in ‘deceased estate’ sales; bought for a restoration that never happened, they remain as they were in the barn. Until relatively recently, they could anticipate being torn to pieces, machinegunned with grit, immersed in skin-eating chemicals and pushed face-first against abrasive wheels, satisfying somebody’s desire to restore to ‘original’. Nowadays, thankfully, true originality is valued more highly and preservation has become popular. My friend Robert Dean bought this unrestored Indian Scout on behalf of a customer. Knowing my Indian history and fondness for unrestored bikes, he offered to bring it over ‘to show me... and maybe get a bit of advice on starting’. Well, you can guess how that turned out. After stripping the Schebler carb, we got it running – but it smoked worse than a peace pipe loaded with wet leaves. Being a sucker for the novelty of a new bike to tinker with, I found myself suggesting he leave it with me. The 1927 600cc Scout spent its former life in Germany. Indians sold well there in the 1920s; so well that there was even a locally-made copy, the Mabeco. Indian had a problem with this, but cleverly resolved the situation by allowing the impostor to assemble real Indians in Germany under licence, thus neatly avoiding import duties. This Scout is believed to be one such. I’d guess it came from the East – a few similarly well-preserved Indians turned up there, having spent decades hidden away from the Russians. But was this bike almost too good to be true? The original paint has been preserved with a coat of varnish, but... surely that tank script is hand-painted, not a transfer, and isn’t the lining on the mudguards different to how I remember? “Who cares if it’s original?” you say. Well, very few care when bikes are in production; customising started when the first rider grasped his handlebars and felt he’d like them a little closer to the ground. But with obsolete machines, ‘original paint’ suggests a bike that hasn’t been abused; it’s unspoilt, a ‘virgin bride’ – the only thing certain about a bike ‘restored to original’ is that it isn’t original; it may have been a wreck before and restored beauty can be only skin deep. That may be why unrestored bikes now command a premium – great from the preservation angle, but it can promote fakery. What if Rob’s Indian is not what it seems? Don’t be daft! Original paint may be a clue that a bike has done little work – but everything on this bike proves it. Unbruised original fasteners, perfect engine cases, no broken fins, the brake pedal and kickstarter don’t wobble on their shafts... I’ve seen plenty of worn out bikes in original paint – after all, they got wheeled into that barn for a reason – but this is one of the least worn Indians I’ve ever seen. Closer inspection revealed the answer. The tank is new; soldered tanks of this period often corrode badly and the downpipes have been replaced for the same reason. But instead of using this as an excuse to restore the whole bike, the owner has done what I’d do and ‘patinated’ replacements to match the rest, a ‘sympathetic restoration’. But there were a few aspects that I was less happy with and I wanted to sort them for Rob before returning the bike. Read all about it over the page.