Gypsy's Leisure: Indian Reborn

Friday, January 9, 2009

Indian Reborn

Indian Motorcycle has announced the opening of it's first seven dealerships. The 2009 Indian Chief will be produced as a limited production model. A grand total of 750 motorcycles will roll off the line this year. The company promises the expansion of it's dealership network in it's press release by July 2009. The company will also produce a line of apparel to include jackets, pants and jeans, footwear, and a line of accessories.

The new Chief will be powered by a 105 cubic inch air-cooled engine, the Power Plus, complete with fuel-injection. The drive train will consist of a six-speed gear box and a belt final drive. The bike weighs in at just under 800 pounds. The Chief line includes four variations, the Standard, Deluxe, Roadmaster, and Vintage. I'm partial to the Vintage. With it's sloping, classic fenders, chrome guards and grab rails, leather fringed seat, and white-wall tires, undoubtably, it is a rolling work of art. An expensive work of art, the bike cashes in at a little over $35,000 according to the brochure on the company's website. While I admire the machine's lines and timeless detail, I'm afraid with a price tag like the one listed above, I'll only be admiring from afar.

2 comments:

Baron's Life said...: This is very good news. Thanks for sharing it. I too would be partial to the vintage; January 11, 2009 at 8:05 AM
Derek said...: I'm not too far from the Paducah, KY dealership. When the weather warms up a little, I might pay them a visit.; January 12, 2009 at 6:48 AM

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Overpass Blues

Every garage houses a collection of spare parts. Odds, ends, bits and pieces stashed away and gathering dust. While cleaning beneath the work bench we might liberate from the cobwebs a broken clutch cable, and the shredded wire reminds us of that time in the rain and dark beneath the overpass on Route 138. While puzzling over how to stitch together the frayed ends, we breathe deep the scent of wet asphalt and cooling tar. Perhaps while waiting for the glimmer of a brother's headlight to swim out of the night, we close our eyes and listen to the shush of rain on corn.

Sporty's Last Ride

I wake before dawn on July 3, 2005 and can't force myself back to sleep. While I wait for a fresh pot of coffee to brew, I push my 95 1200 Sportster out of the garage and gear up in the chilly pre-dawn. I kiss my wife goodbye and inform her that I'm riding an early loop around the county before the holiday traffic rolls through. I seal my fresh java into a thermos with the plan to find a quiet, isolated spot on the road somewhere to enjoy it.

I turn east on Rt. 136 which twists its way through a portion of McLean County, KY toward the Ohio County line. The corn waves in the fields, its sweet smell pushed along by the cool breeze. Still early in the season, the stalks have not yet reached their heights that always give me the impression of riding through a corridor. Ahead of me, the orange light creeps over the treetops and the last stars wink out as their velvet backdrop burns away.

I roll onto a farm access road choked with weeds and shut it down. As the Sporty's engine tumbles to standstill, I hear the belching of frogs from beneath the nearby bridge. A tractor, trailing a plume of diesel smoke, lumbers along the far edge of an adjacent field. The scent of tilled earth ebbs as the machine maneuvers behind a stand of trees.

I crack open the thermos and wait for the sun to climb. Had I known what awaits me just a few days away in the middle of a sultry July afternoon, I'd stay by the side of the road just a few moments more. I would sip my coffee slowly and allow its earthy vapors to warm my face. I'd welcome the light spilling over the nearby ridge, cascading over polished chrome. I'd spread my leathers over the drying grass to soak up the first rays of fine summer sun. I'd stand tall, not shut my eyes against the dawn.