Right: Gene, then 85 years old, shows his 4-year-old great-grandson and namesake, Parker Eugene Trow, around the old Chief. Below: Eric and his son with the Chief today.
in our family for more than 70 years. A mere 100 miles or so have been added since those initial miles were logged by Gene in the 1950s.
Today, the Roadmaster remains unmolested and unchanged from the day Gene parked it. It is not perfect, but it is all original and has never been apart. New spark plugs and wires were installed a few years back( we have the original set), and a shinier OEM header from Gene’ s shop was swapped out about 30 years ago to replace the rusty one( again, we have the original). It still wears its original- equipment Dunlop Gold Cup tires that hold air faithfully.
The Chief is a time capsule – even down to the items in the saddlebags. Inside the right bag, where Gene left them when he last rode it, are a fresh set of points, a condenser, a pair of spark plugs, a new distributor cap, and a couple chain links. Most are in their original packaging or wrapped in newspaper( The Springfield Union, no less). A leather helmet, aviation goggles, a petrified canvas rainsuit, and period road maps live in the left bag. The complete toolkit, in its cloth bag, still lives in the toolbox, along with the original owners’ manual. The shop decal adorns the toolbox lid, and the ignition key is attached to a leather key fob promoting Gene’ s Indian agency.
The only significant wear and tear is found on the kick pedal and on the right edge of the solo seat. Although it has very few miles, the bike has experienced more than seven decades of kicking the starter lever to churn the oil as part of its regular maintenance routine. Oh, and the bottom of the low- slung muffler is well ground thanks to Gene’ s assertive cornering technique back in the day.
As has always been the case, upon adding fluids and connecting a battery, the bike is eager to start. With the ignition switched off, give it two kicks of the lever to prime the carburetor, turn the ignition on, then give it a good kick. Even after years of dormancy, the Indian never fails to come to life on the second or third kick. Never more( in true Indian fashion, according to Gene).
When we hauled the tangerine Chief back to the New Salem shop
to shoot photos for this story, it was its first time back there since 1998. I paused to stare at the bike in front of the long- quiet building. I thought about how so much of its life – and mine – was spent in this place. It struck me that the way this oddball Chief arrived at this moment could be traced back to an old rotary phone that rang 70 years earlier, just beyond that well- weathered front door. That single call began the story of one of the final Indian motorcycles ever produced by the Springfield factory. As Gene might have called it, the last of the Mohicans.*
* As the native American motorcycle company, its founders called their bike“ Indian,” an homage to America’ s native people. Coincidentally, just as the Indian Motocycle Company’ s roots were in the heart of New England, the Mohicans were also native to the area. Gene Townsend, in addition to being an Indian motorcycle expert, was also a student of Native American history. I find it fitting that this story about the last of the Indian motorcycles is respectfully titled,“ The Last of the Mohicans” in honor of both.
Eric Trow is a life- long motorcyclist, columnist, and motorcycling proficiency expert. He served on the Board of Directors of the Antique Motorcycle Foundation and maintains a small fleet of vintage motorcycles and memorabilia, including items from his grandfather’ s old shop in southwestern Pennsylvania. He can be contacted at etrow @ stayinsafe. com.
AMERICANRIDER. COM | OCTOBER / NOVEMBER 2025 | 25