I never thought I would become a biker.
I went into the restoration of Minty, my dad’s Indian Scout from 1941, head first, with zero mechanical knowledge and no clue what I was doing. There were ups and downs. The lows were pretty low. There was fear that my dad and I wouldn’t manage to make it to roar again. There were plenty of doubts which were forcefully met with huge amounts of determination. Failure wasn’t an option considering the project started as a way to help my father to cope with the loss of my mom.
By giving his most priced possession a youth cure, I had the silly hope that it would trickle on him. By restoring his 80 years old motorcycle, the one he bought when he was still a young man, I hoped to bring him happiness. Not sure the plan entirely worked, but it sure kept him busy!
The restoration of Minty had several side effect. For a start, it created an endless list of topics to discuss between the 2 of us.
There were many conversations on the overall restoration process, on the parts needed, on the work to be done. Planning and organizing our work, our steps. There were also many opportunities and needs, to go into the detailed functioning of specific engine parts. How the carburetor does his thing. In which order the valves open and close and what it does. The importance of the oil pump, how to check its proper functioning… All sorts of things, I never thought I would ever discussed in my life!
Those conversations often took place at lunch or dinner but also late at night, while we were roasting chestnuts on a bonfire, drinking wine, in my dad’s field.
The renovation also became a major topic discussion for my dad with his friends, with neighbors, with family. The words got out quickly that we were renovating his motorcycle!
At first, such project was often met with great skepticism. No one ever said to our faces “you’ll never manage“. But you could see in most people’s eyes that they didn’t really believe it would be whole again, let alone function properly! Others probably thought we weren’t doing a serious restoration, maybe just cosmetic, just for fun, or something like that.
To be fair, I had doubts myself that it would end up working and I’m guessing my dad had too, although he never said anything.
But to be honest, I didn’t think about it too much at first. I just handled tasks one after the other. Without thinking of the big picture. That came later… with very specific fears about the finishing line!
Meanwhile and as the work progressed and although the bike was in a thousand pieces and doubts were probably still on their minds, lots of people started saying things like “what a great adventure” or “what an amazing intergenerational experience“ and even “what a great way to strengthen the bond between father and daughter“.
It had never came to my mind at first but as more and more people tend to say one or the other, I pondered.
As it turned out, I never really managed to keep my mind from thinking that they had no clue! They had an idealized view of what was going on in the garage and no idea of how much we were struggling and fighting, how many tears were shed secretly, how much easier and peaceful it would have been to not do it. The great experience they thought this was, was miles away from what I was experiencing, how I was living through this intergenerational experience.
Don’t get me wrong, there were victories too, which led to shared joyful and cheerful moments. There were plenty of amazement, lots of struggles that were overcome together… But overall, a lot of tasks were handled while wholeheartedly disagreeing, on how to handle them.
In a mechanical disagreement, there is often only one correct way to put a part and thereafter, amongst the parties arguing, only one is right and the other is wrong. This could lead to a little burst of happiness and pride, for the person who is right, but it isn’t the case when the other party is your dad. It isn’t the case, when you don’t want to be right or wrong, you just want to agree and ultimately get it done. When all you want is to make the other happy.
Therefore and although I tried to see the great intergenerational experience people seemed to view in this renovation, I failed to see it for the longest time.
But in truth, I failed to see a lot of things during such renovation!
Now, it may sound implausible but for most of the renovation, which lasted a year and a half or so, I failed to realize that I was going to become a biker! Ok, maybe just a bike owner. Time should tell.
There were plenty of hints that should have lead me to such realization! In fact, It was indeed obvious from the start!
This whole thing started when my brother told my dad he didn’t want the bike. It crushed my dad to hear this. His oldest son didn’t want to inherit his most priced possession. In a crazy attempt to make things better, I spontaneously said: “Then I’ll take it! … but we have to renovate it entirely and you need to teach me everything there is to know in the process.” Yeah, this was a pretty big hint that I was going to own a motorcycle!
At that stage it was not a well thought plan, to say the least. It was mostly an emotional response done with no clue of the consequences!
A little later, I handled the paper work and made my dad and brothers sign an official donation agreement.
I had, at that point, a very high level of trust that we would succeed. This was solely linked to my total lack of knowledge of what the renovation was going to be like! But I wasn’t going to spend money and time renovating the Indian, with the risks that my brothers would change their minds once done and claim it.
Needless to say that having the signed donation paper, should have been another big hint that I was going to own a motorcycle!
At this point, you can think I’m pretty stupid! I would argue that, at that point, I was owning a motorcycle in kit at best. Some would say scrap metal parts that once used to be a motorcycle.
Time went by and further small events slowly made me realize what was going on.
When I got the first chromed part back, I was in awn. Damn, this thing is going to shine! Well, eventually, maybe one day…
When I came back one weekend and looked at all the parts I had already painted, it hit me again. Little did I know that a lot of them were still to be painted! As indeed, parts seemed to reappear, from nowhere, all the time. Nether-the-less, that day, I was impressed.
Most importantly, when we came back from our mechanic with the engine almost completely rebuilt in the trunk of the car, a part of me freaked out.
A couple weeks before finding a professional mechanic who specialized in old Indian renovations, we were stuck in a rut. Unable to handle the replacement of the valves’ guides, we didn’t know what to do. My dad would have probably left them as they were. I was not going to let him.
Miraculously, I found someone and he agreed to take us as apprentices, together with the engine. We spend 2 long days in his garage where the magic happened.
The engine was rebuilt. We still had to put the clutch back but that was nothing scary. The frame was ready. This was going to happen…
This is probably when it started to sink in. Maybe it was when we first attached the rear fork to the frame, and the front one, and put the wheels on. It started to look real. And I really freaked out when we mounted the engine back on the frame. Things speed up after that.
Yes, when all these little hints pilled up and became a mountain or a bike, it hit me. I was going to own a motorcycle and become a biker. I had no clue what it meant. Simultaneously, I was dreaming of the days I would ride it. Then I was coming back to Earth, thinking there was still a lot to do before it could happen.
I felt truly stupid for just starting to realize and wonder what I would do next with it!
What if we manage? If Minty works? What if I get to ride it?!
The excitement I felt was met with an equivalent level of fear and doubts as I realized how much Minty didn’t fit in my World. How it didn’t even fit in my garage.
We continued the rebuilt anyway. I kept freaking out often, mostly in silence. I didn’t want to share my fear with my dad. We kept fighting and that felt like a relief from all the doubts.
Right after the end of the first lockdown, I went to get my first driving lesson. It was nerve wreaking but also exhilarating.
“Wait, what? You didn’t even have a motorcycle driving license???”
No! I didn’t. But shortly after I got it! And that should have been a major sign that I was going to become a biker.
Minty was finally almost whole shortly after, on my Birthday. It had not been so, without an extra dose of struggle. We pushed through!
Indeed, crossing the finish line wasn’t with its own troubles. These were not all mechanical.
My dad was becoming reluctant. We were getting close to finishing and yet he was dragging his feet. He was making things linger rather than handling them quickly. Everything was a major problem we couldn’t sort, we had lost this or that… None of these things were true and I believe these hid something else. I believe he feared the end of it and was making it last.
At that point I was getting annoyed. I was also fearing the end of it but mostly for what it meant for me. I was getting really scared of driving! What if I can’t manage? What if I’m never good at it? And what if I fall?
Maybe he feared we would have nothing to do together, he may have even feared that I would come less often. But I had fears as well! I feared for my life and it felt mostly justified! It felt more important and real. Yet after a while, I realized that his fears were just as valid. So I started talking about the things I’ll do differently when we start the renovation of his second bike (yes, there is a second bike!) and after a while this seemed to help.
Once the engine was mounted back on the frame, the clutch was handled, the generator installed. I rushed to finish painting the tanks and when these were installed, it was time to do some wiring because we had in place everything needed to finally try to start the engine!
We discussed and agreed to do just the basic wiring, just what is needed to start the engine. But as often, when we agreed on something, my dad went to do something different. Either we have a very different understanding of things, either he just doesn’t give a damn! I think it’s a bit of both.
We discussed again, I drew the required wires, I insisted the wiring will be clean, no split wires, no mess… This was non negotiable. He shut down for it seemed that he didn’t know how to handle anymore.
Soon after, I understood that his silence mostly meant that the way the instrument panel operated was not his forte, so we took it appart, tested all the positions, came up with a plan… But my dad was still lost and although the discussions seemed to have helped a bit, this time he shut down completely.
I was stupidly upset. He was standing there, ready to cut a wire or pass me a screwdriver, but I was left alone. It was 100% on me to make this happen. I was pissed too.
Obviously once done, the engine didn’t start. Not at first, at least.
And he seemed to be mildly happy to be right. Right because he kept on saying it wouldn’t work, right because maybe he thought we would have to do it his way. Not sure, really! Why he would be happy because it didn’t work is beyond me.
The truth is that the main issue was that the battery had died! It was not because of the wiring! With a new battery in place, the engine roared once more with ease!
We installed the foot boards, the fenders, the lights… I directed the electrical operations with resentment. I’m no mechanic and I’m no electrician either! The horn switch created a court-circuit, the headlight switch almost caught on fire. I installed a fuse… Minty was almost whole again, but all the tasks were handled in a not so blissful atmosphere. I felt my dad’s behavior was unfair to me. Unfair to all the work we had already accomplished… I’ll never understand what went through his head but clearly, the intergenerational experience was nothing like what people had in mind.
But it work! Minty was eventually whole again and ready to go on the road. No, we didn’t have spare parts lying around as everybody joked about.
There she was, gloriously beautiful, shiny and looking like new with just little hints here and there, that she was indeed an old lady. Her engine was starting just like if she had come out the factory the day before. Minty was ready… I wasn’t!
Yet I had to! I had to take it on a test drive and so I did. It was exhilarating and nerve wrecking. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sweating like crazy and all the neighbors were already by the side of the road waiting for the spectacle. More were to appear on the next rounds.
There were plenty of staling, some back firing, some carburetor further adjustments required, a little too much pushing. Yet, I had painfully managed. Loosing my mind often, grinning stupidly most of the time anyway.
My dad seemed to be mostly happy but not impressed with my poor performance though!
Nothing could stop me from grinning! The most incredible & crazy thing I had ever started in my life, had worked out. It wasn’t perfect, but it was far better than what I could have ever imagined.
It was time to get home once more and while driving back in my car, a lot of fears and doubts took over once more. On my 5 hours drive back home, I had all the time in the World to go back and forth on the joy and the pain of this renovation, what it could possibly meant for my future, my life and everything in between.
Am I a biker yet? I drove 2.5 miles, it can’t be enough to consider myself a biker.
What does it even mean? Why does it even matter?
Am I going to kill myself on this machine? (psss, the answer is most likely: if it’s not that one, it will be with the next one!)
What the hell am I doing? What am I going to do with Minty?
I want to go on a road trip. I need a new tent where it fits.
Do I have to go to bikers’ meet-up? I’m soooo not ready!
When shall we start the renovation of the second one?
My jacket doesn’t match. Where can I find one that looks cool?
Wait, what am I doing? I can barely drive it. My feet barely touch the ground. It’s so heavy… I’m going to kill myself!
No, I’ll learn and I’ll become an old lady riding an old Indian!
I needed to scream, my head was spiraling in circles between it’s all going to be ok, even maybe amazing and I’m going to die!
In the middle of all this was the definite realization that I truly owned a motorcycle. There had been plenty of hints that this was going to happen! Enough struggles to make it a well deserved consequence. Yes, I deserved Minty and somehow this was going to be life changing. I sensed that the journey that got me there, was just the beginning of the journey to come.
Nothing in my previous years prepared me for this. Then again maybe, everything led me to this.
Minty isn’t a regular motorcycle. Not just because she is an 80 years old Indian! Minty is a gloriously in all its imperfections. It is the coolest bike I could have ever hoped for. She is hard headed like me and has its own will. We’re getting along perfectly and will get to understand each others better with time. Like 2 old girlfriends.
So, am I a biker yet?
Hell knows! And I don’t care anymore for such label has little importance to me compare to the new journey I am starting. I just can’t wait to see where it is taking me.
Thanks dad! Let’s redo the 2nd one even better!
You can get Minty as a puzzle! How cool is that?! Or read all the specific stories here. That’s cool too!
