One may ask how does a “girl” become interested in old motorcycles? Well, I was surrounded by Indian parts from quite a young age; there were “paths” created in our barn, the workshop, and eventually, our basement, because of my father’s collection of vintage iron. There never seemed to be a complete motorcycle anywhere, except occasionally we’d hear an engine fire up from a stand in the basement where Dad was tinkering.
At that time, some of my friends were riding shiny, newer bikes, and one day, I asked Dad, “Why can’t we have a nice red Honda (that runs)?” That’s when Honda had coined the phrase, “You meet the nicest people on a Honda!” Dad scoffed and replied, “You don’t know what you’ve got out there! Here’s the parts manual, there’s a frame and an engine; get busy putting one together!” So busy we became we (I was maybe 10 and my brother was 9) …Dad helped get it running after we had parts bolted here and there. “It” was an older Scout; I cannot recall what exact year it was.