The trials and tribulations of owning a 1925 Indian Scout by Bill Phelps
(Click the photos to see them in full size then use the back button to return)

Someone said that it would be nice to read about someone’s restoration efforts, well this story is not so much about a restoration but about commissioning a bike that should have been right from the start.

So, first catch your bike. Easier said than done when looking for an Indian. I found a few on the continent and at one point did talk to a Dutch firm who had two for sale. A 1926 black one for a fairly high 14,000 euros and a 1927 red one at 19,500 euros (ok, you work it out). I crossed the 1927 bike off my list as being just too expensive, although it did have all the ancillaries, whilst the black one had none, no lights, horn, speedo, etc. I became half interested in the black 1926 model, and decided to see if I could part ex my 1904 Givaudan. Several emails later and after a derisory offer of 3000 euros had been made for the Givaudan, I crossed the 1926 bike off my list. After all, it was black and was no doubt the correct colour, but all Indians should be red, shouldn’t they? Plus the bike had wired on tyres and a front brake, both changes that didn’t come in until 1928 – I’d been doing my homework, you see.

A friend in Belgium, called Ronnie Bracke put me on to a small dealer in The Hague who had a 1925 Scout for sale. The bike looked good from the photos and I had a pile more emailed to me, plus the engine number – Indians didn’t number their frames until 1931. Everything looked to be right and it had a dynamo fitted as well as a rear light. No headlamp or switchbox. So, the bike was put on my short list. Meanwhile I was put onto a 1930 Scout which was about to come on to the market in the UK. It was the actual machine that Titch Allen had road tested in his sixth Vintage Road Test Journal. Things looked promising but in the end the seller’s wife told him that he ought to keep it as he wouldn’t get another anywhere near as good. So, now I was left with only the 1925 Scout in The Hague, but what a way to go just to have a look.

During August 2007 we planned to ride in the Oude Klepper Parade in Belgium with the 1908 Triumph and then we intended to move on to Hengelo in Holland for an event on the following weekend. It seemed an ideal opportunity to run the 75 miles to The Hague and have a look at the bike.

We did that and easily found the small shop in Delft where the guy promptly wheeled the bike out into his back yard. I spent some time having a good look and all seemed fine. “Is there a headlamp?” I asked. “No, sorry“ came the reply. Making a mental note that I’d needed a headlamp and switchbox, plus a horn and a complete speedo and assembly, we set about starting the bike. The motor was soon running and I listened for any rattles and clanks – all sounded good as he blipped the throttle. There was some oil leakage here and there, which I just ticked off as a couple of small jobs to be done when I got the bike home. I offered what I thought was a fair price and after checking the exchange rate the guy agreed and we shook hands – I had my bike, well, nearly. The transfer of the money took some sorting out and Josie came to the rescue as she was used to it. I agreed that after the money was with the dealer the following day that we would collect the bike on the way home after the following weekend at Hengelo.

I had on my trailer my 1908 Triumph and sidecar and my 1936 Nimbus so had to make room for the Indian. The sidecar was removed from the Triumph and it was completely dismantled and ‘flat-packed’ in the back of the car with Terry taking the basket in his camper, whoops, sorry, motor-home.

On the way to The Hague to collect the Indian the engine of my car decide to let go in a big way when out in the third lane on the motorway around Arnhem, but all that’s another story. We dumped the car, caught a flight back to Cardiff from Schipol, near Amsterdam and the following day, after borrowing our sons Volvo estate, we were back in Arnhem to collect the trailer and all our belongings –plus, of course, the Indian.

The bike was loaded up and the dealer invited us back into his shop for a coffee, before we set off. Would you believe it, there on the floor were as set of boxes and laid out on top of them was a headlamp, switchbox and complete speedo set-up – just what I wanted. I asked if they were for sale and was told – “not really, I bought them for my wall-of-death bike”. He then said that he could perhaps let them go and started talking of £1600, Jean shook her head, so I apologised and said that I’d get back to him. On the way home I asked myself the question – who the hell would put lights, horn and a speedo on a wall-of-death bike, after all, I’d ridden one on the wall in Brighton back in the 1960’s. At least my girl could see that I was being tucked up.

Anyway, it was great to get home and push all the bikes into the garage – all I had to do now was a bit of fiddling and register the bike. Hmmm, that’s what I thought.

First thing was to inflate the tyres a bit harder than they were. Beaded edge tyres need a much higher pressure than the modern wired on types – ask me if you want to know why. Pump up the tyres – how? I found that the inner tubes had pedal cycle valves. First thing to do then was to get a ‘proper’ set of motorcycle inner tubes - they were ordered and delivered – out came the wheels and in went the new tubes. I could at least pump the tyres up without resorting to a bicycle pump. However, all was not that easy, read on.

To remove the rear wheel I had to undo the brake anchor, like you do. It consisted of a plated metal strap around a frame tube and was I glad that I decided to do this job. The brake anchor strap was cracked where it had become too thin by the plater polishing the pitting out of it. Gee, if I’d have ridden the bike like that and put the brake on!!! The mind boggles. After making a new anchor strap and re-fitting the brake rod the correct way round, I turned my attention to the front end. For some reason or other it didn’t look right and the problem soon became obvious, the suspension was stuck in the down position and wouldn’t rebound back up. I found that the front pivot bolt on the end of the spring was seized solid in the eye of the spring. To get it out I had to resort to using my eight ton press to get some movement. That sorted, and new tube installed I thought that I’d grease the front suspension bushes – could I? - like hell. A close inspection and I found that when the rocker arms were plated the grease nipples were left in and they were plated over as well. New nipples fitted and after re-assembly I had a suspension that was greased properly and worked - oh, and I was able to pump the tyres up.

Checking further around the bike, I found that one of the rear chain adjusters was missing and it was an oddball thread of ¼ x 24, which meant screw cutting one in the lathe. Another job done. Next I found that one of the bolts in the top of the gearbox, the very one used to bolt up the chainguard, had as stripped thread in the box itself. I managed to tap the hole out a slightly larger size and fitted a nice new stainless polished bolt. Now I turned my attention to the exhaust system as it sure didn’t seem to fit properly and the flange nuts kept slipping on their threads. That was an easy one, gently squeeze the nuts on each hexagon in the vice and the nuts then would lock up nicely. The exhaust itself did take some tweaking to get it to fit properly and after that job I was feeling quite pleased with myself. Continuing the inspection I fitted a split pin to the mag advance cable as well as two split pins to the rear wheel nuts. Next thing was to re-solder the cone back onto the oil pipe that comes from the tank hand pump as it was seeping oil. Another little job done – hooray, soon be finished, so I thought. Mind you I did find that the hand oil pump was fitted with just a plain leather washer and that it wouldn't suck or pump oil - all a case of someone not understanding that the washer needs to be two, not one, and that they also need to be cup washers. These things are easy to make out of leather and by the following day I had them fitted in the pump so that it would do its job properly.

I removed the battery for charging as it wasn’t needed just yet due to there being no headlamp or switchbox. I also removed the stop light switch that had been fitted – Indians didn’t have those in 1925. Next job – strip, clean and readjust the clutch as there was slip when trying to kick the bike over. So, to cheer myself up - let’s hear her run!!

Problem, I couldn’t flood the carb – ‘what’s wrong with that’ I thought. Off it came and after having a good look I found that the float chamber body was on the wrong way round and that when I held it up to the light the float chamber was not locked up against the carb body – I could see daylight between the body and the float chamber. At this time I also had to make a new locking nut for the top of the butterfly to lock the operating arm up tight. There was also a need to adjust the air valve to get it to seat properly – don’t ask – there isn’t enough room here to talk about the intricacies of a Schebler carb. Suffice to say that I even had to make a new float needle to replace the well-worn one so as to get the float to shut off the fuel in the horizontal position. So, start the bike I did and it sounded nice, must say – but!!! Oil leaked out of the head gaskets and out of two cracks in each of the two cylinders.

Off came the heads and I found that all six head bolt holes in each cylinder had been helicoiled. Bloody hell, why? Ok, let’s see what we can do. I tried various things, PTFE tape on the bolts, then JB weld, to try and seal the cracks in the cylinders. All to no avail as when the heads were tightened down the bolts tried to pull the helicoils out of the cylinders and – hey presto – the cracks opened up.

Bob J very kindly took the cylinders and welded them up for me. After a lot of fettling of the bores I refitted them and with fingers crossed started the motor, whereupon the cracks just opened up again. Nothing for it but to get the job done properly and the cylinders were sent off for a proper repair. Basically the cylinders had the cracks all ground out into a vee and were then put into an oven to get them cherry red so that they could be built up with good cast iron rods. Not an easy job and certainly not a cheap one.

When I got the cylinders back I had the job of re-facing the tops and machining the bores to remove the excess weld. The photo shows the cylinder mounted on a spigot in the lathe and ready for the bore to be machined. You can see the welding inside the bore whilst the head face has been machined.Then drill and tap the two offending bolt holes in each cylinder. Looking at the job I was busy cursing the prat who had put all the helicoils in and, in a fit of annoyance, decided that they all had to go. 

It was a mistake to remove all the helicoils and I didn’t realise until after I’d ripped them all out that I would need to make over sized studs and that instead of 3/8 x 24, I was left with 7/16 x 24 threaded holes – and there’s no such thing as a 7/16 x 24 thread die to make the studs. What I did was to make a set of shouldered studs and screw cut the 7/16 x 24 threads in the lathe and then the other ends 3/8 x 24 to take nuts – all to replace the bolts, which were incorrect anyway.

Next job was to machine the excess weld from the head face and the bores. I managed to do that – very carefully – ask me if you really want to know how I did it. Final job was to get the cylinders re-nickled and I took them up to South Wales Metal Finishers in Treorchy. What a smashing firm. “Give me a ring an two days and they should be done” I was told, so, two days later I rang and was told “yes” come and get them. What a refreshing change, to have a firm actually do what they said they’d do and not fob me off with an excuse.

I had to run a glaze buster down the bores to clean out the nickel as they had to plate the whole things. Blow me down; they’d done the job properly as the glaze buster took most of the nickel out and then the copper plate. The ‘proper’ way of plating an item is copper first, then nickel and finally chrome, if that’s the finish wanted.

Back to the bike and all was assembled and the motor fired up – what ho, no cylinder wall leaks. I was so chuffed that every time some one visited I had to demonstrate the bike – until Stewart’s turn came round – “listen to this engine then mate” I said as I kicked the motor over.

Down went my foot, just a bit too quickly as the kick-start snapped off, lousy welding, for sure. So, I had another job, repair the kick-start and make a proper job of it.

While the cylinder saga was ongoing I turned my attention to the lights – everything that I needed could be bought in Holland, but by this time I had an aversion to giving the Dutch any more of my money. A good Belgian pal of mine said to me once “If a Dutchman hasn’t cheated you, then it’s only because he’s forgotten to”. I needed a headlamp and sourced a period lamp from John Ellis.

The brackets were easily made and I then turned my attention to the switchbox. It sits on the top tube and has an ammeter set into it with a light switch on the rear end. From Holland they are 325euros – even at 1.4 to the pound that’s over £232. I sourced a suitable new ammeter from Richfield-Speedograph, got Bob Derrick of Classic Transfers to produce some small Indian script transfers, one of which I applied to the face of the ammeter. Next job was to make the box itself which should be aluminium, but I made mine in steel as it was easier to fabricate with brazing. The box was then painted silver to represent alloy.

I mutilated a new Miller headlamp switch that I had and set it in a piece of tufnol that screwed to the back of the box – job done – and all it cost was £18 for the ammeter and £5 for the transfers. Very satisfying indeed.

The dynamo was already fitted but I had to get a belt and a pulley to make it run. The belt cost just over £2.50 off the Internet and the pulley I obtained from Alan Forbes the Indian Guru in Scotland. At the same time as ordering the pulley I also ordered a saddle pan as I needed to fit a pillion for my girl to ride on. The seats went to Dave Dalton, Mr Natural, for recovering and after six months he did produce a good job. So I had the pan saddle – all I now needed was a pile of flat bar to make a replica Meisinger pillion seat frame.

I was lucky enough to have taken a pile of photos of an original one in a museum in Holland and emailed the curator who, very promptly, provided me with the cross section of each piece. Believe it or not but there’s three different sizes of bar involved. The seat was made and pan fitted – and so far Jean hasn’t fallen off the bike.

The bike came with a battery, but it wouldn’t fit in the battery box and was installed in the toolbox – problem was that I couldn’t get the top off the ‘proper’ battery box without unbolting the whole lot from the frame - well, I wanted somewhere to put a few spanners etc. So, it was a case of repositioning, not by much, the whole tool and battery box assembly. That done and I could then get into the battery box. The battery seemed to be new and carried a charge ok; the only problem was that the first run must have shaken its inside to bits as it just wouldn’t charge afterwards. So I now have a gel battery installed in the correct battery box and carry the tools in the tool box – easy, isn’t it.

Another small job was on the right hand footboard – it looked as if a 30 stone guy had trod on it as it didn’t sit straight any more. I removed it and added a couple of blobs of weld to get the board to sit in the horizontal position.

Next thing was a horn. You know, one of those things that you have to have for an MOT but never ever use. The Indian should have an electric one – pretty unobtainable I reckoned, unless I buy one from Holland at a cost of £125, plus a button at £20. Not wishing to give the Dutch any more of my money, I ordered a button from our local Classic Bike Dealer, but gave up waiting for that after a year, despite several reminders and no apologies. What I did have, on the shelf so to speak, was a hand operated Klaxon and on inspection I found that the maker’s plate came from New York. Ideal – so, a quick strip down, grease, adjust and repaint and my problem was sorted. Not a proper electric horn but a period one that would do.

Things were now looking good and I was just about ready for an MOT, however when running the engine I had quite a bit of oil being pumped out of the timing chest mag drive hole. Maybe the oil seal was no good or missing I thought as I stripped the timing chest out. To cut a long story short I found out that there should have been a breather valve in the bottom of the timing chest and, guess what, it was missing. The photo shows the outline of where the valve should be and it seems to be a square flat disc valve of sorts with four breather slots.

Basically it screws to the crankcase with two small screws and allows the crankcase to breathe, so without one, the motor, when the pistons were on the down-stroke just pumped oil into the timing chest and it had to come out somewhere. That was what was pushing oil out of the mag drive hole. Now, where do I get a crankcase breather valve for a 1925 Indian – if I just knew what it looked like I could make one? I was in contact with Steve Slocombe who runs the AMCA European Chapter and as I’d joined the AMCA sent him a note. Steve is a Harley specialist but as it happened he put me on to Robin Oakley in Kent who specialised in Indians. “I’ll have a look through my old stock for you” he said. Two days later I was able to uncross my fingers when Robin rang to say that one was on its way and could I send him a tenner. The item consisted of a disc valve, held in place by two small screws – fitted – and I had no more oil pumping out of the mag drive hole.

Please, dear reader, don’t think that we’ve finished just yet. My next problem was when I found that when running the motor it would stop after a while. The petrol tap is one of the types that consists of a rod that screws down through the tank in order to cut the fuel off. What was happening was that the thread in the bottom of the tank was worn out and as soon as the tap was unscrewed the vibration of the engine just shook it back down into its seat, thus cutting off the petrol. There was only one thing for it I had to make a new threaded seat and solder it into the tank. So, out came the tank and I drained it of oil and petrol as best I could. Next came the job of purging the tank of petrol fumes so that I could use a naked flame on the bottom to get the old fuel tap seat out. I did that as I have always done – easy really – remove the tank filler cap, open the petrol tap in the bottom of the tank and turn it upside down. Pass a naked flame over the petrol tap and you’ll get a big bang as the fumes inside ignite and blast downwards out of the largest hole – the tank filler one. I’ve had tanks lift 12 inches up off the bench when doing this. Afterwards a naked flame can be used on the tank quite safely. Out came the tap from the bottom of the tank – gee – what a shambles. Whoever had made it had no idea of how it should work and I’m certain that it wasn’t original. I turned up a new one in the form of a top hat, threaded it and soldered it back into the tank. As you might guess, it ruined the paintwork, but at least it was on the underside of the tank so wouldn’t be noticed, plus the tap worked correctly for the first time.

One thing that I found was that when running the motor, it was getting far too much oil from the oil pump. The bike has a total loss oiling system so the pump has to deliver just the right amount and too much was going through. I adjusted the pump down as far as it would go to try and reduce the oil supply, all to no avail. Anyway, time was marching on and I, with loads of confidence, had entered the bike in the Saundersfoot run for 2008. After all, I’d had it for a year and hadn’t had a ride yet.

Next job was an MOT – no problem at all. We did have a laugh over the lights though and as the tester set up his board at the end of the workshops about 15 feet away, he asked me to turn the lights on. My comment was “don’t be daft; the light won’t get that far”. I was right and we had to turn the whole workshop lights off to be able to see the glow. Luckily, there is no specification for the brightness of a headlight, just a requirement for it not to dazzle any on-coming vehicle. I had my MOT, hooray.

Armed with my new MOT, insurance certificate and dating certificate I set off for the DVLA office in Llanishen only to be seen by a young ‘jobs worth’. “Have you got the bike with you?” he asked, “No”, I replied. “Oh, but I have to see it” he said. I remonstrated with him that that had not been the case in the past when applying for an age related number. “It’s always been the case” said jobs worth. So, off I set on a 30 mile round trip to collect the bike and trailer. Arriving back at the DVLA offices I was served by an older guy with a beard. He, checked all my paperwork and said ”That’s fine, I’ll allocate a number”. “Don’t you want to see the bike?” I asked, as politely as I could. “No need for that” he said. OOOh, that was the wrong thing for him to say to me and I retorted “Oh yes, you will inspect it, as that lad over there has just sent me on a 30 mile round trip to get it”. Reluctantly he inspected the bike and allocated me a reg number and issued an amended MOT certificate. At last I could take the bike for a ride.

Number plate fitted and the following day I was ready – gosh, there’s something quite exhilarating about the first ride on a new bike. The foot clutch was something new for me as I wobbled off down the road. Anyway, so far so good and on each ride I went a bit further afield. I soon found out that I had a problem – right foot needed for the only brake, left foot needed for the clutch, how the hell was I expected to take off on a hill!! I need another leg.

September soon arrived and we were entered on the 1908 Triumph outfit to ride in the Isle of Wight September Scurry. I decided to take the Indian and then during one of the evenings could have some more short rides on it so that I could become more familiar with how it went. On the Island it soon became obvious that the single speed Triumph just couldn’t cope with the terrain so the Indian was pressed into service. I decided that the best thing to do with the oiling was to run the bike and not use the mechanical oil pump. Instead I’d rely on the good old fashioned hand pump giving a shot every five miles or so. That’s how we ran and as it happened the bike got along very nicely – at last I was enjoying it. It would woof up all the hills in top gear even though there seemed to be a need to rev the motor quite highly in order to get along at a decent speed on the flat. The following weekend we had the Saundersfoot run and I was now confident that we could ride that ok, despite the mechanical oil pump delivering too much oil. I had two days before we set off for the Saundersfoot event and decided to have a good look at the oil pump as it should work ok. I completely stripped the pump on the bench and found a small non return valve on the outlet. I could blow and suck through it – ‘that’s not right’ I thought. I stripped the ball valve assembly and found all ok, then as I re-assembled it I found that the seat for the ball was just not screwed home properly. Job done – with any luck it would now work properly. Saundersfoot arrived and we set off on the 80 mile run – relying on the mechanical oil pump to do its job – fingers crossed and all. Would you believe it – the pump worked as it should even though it provided just a touch too much oil. That was easily adjusted afterwards.

One thing that I found was that my left leg muscles were giving me hell after the ride. The foot clutch was causing the problems, but it soon became clear as to why – I had been wearing my usual motorcycle boots and the ankles are just not designed to be flexible.

During the winter 2008/09 I decided to have another go at curing the oil seepage that was coming from the head gaskets on both cylinders. In removing the heads the gaskets decided that they had had enough and decided to delaminate. Not a problem, I thought and I soon had some new gaskets made from some Lion Brand jointing that I had. All seemed ok now.

Next outing was in May at the South West Coast Run near Bristol and, despite the rain, we set off on the run, full of confidence. Five miles or so down the road the front head gasket decided to blow a chunk out – that was quickly followed by a piece of the rear head gasket. Not a good day and there was no backup to rescue us, but I did get a lift back to the start and soon recovered the bike.

Back at home I decided that copper head gaskets would be the answer, so cut two out of some copper plate. They needed quite a bit of heat to anneal them but I did manage it and they were soon fitted and the heads tightened down. However there was still some seepage of oil, which is more annoying than anything else. Son, Richard, who works for Honda came to the rescue and he gave me a tube of grey paste – “Try this stuff dad, Honda don’t use gaskets on their engines any more, just this paste”. Gee what magic stuff it is, just a smear on each side of the copper head gaskets and the problem has gone. The next weekend we completed the Seaside Run with no problems apart from finishing with a rather oily engine, but at least it wasn’t coming from the heads any more.

The next event for the Indian was the Banbury run – we were to ride the B route of 55 miles which included Sunrising hill. For some reason or other I had entered at a speed of 20mph instead of the optional 24mph, which would have been better. The bike managed the route with no problems and probably would have climbed Sunrising in top if it were not for the fact that the hill had a large number of spectators watching the bikes. I changed into second and the bike just romped up the hill with Jean and I on board. Back at the finish and I parked the bike and went off to see Terry and Dilys. An hour or so later we returned to the bike to find that there was not a drip of oil under it – no leaks, hooray. But I thought about it, surely the reason that the bike had not leaked was that we were not running the engine at high revs – a light lit up in my brain, it does sometimes!! What if the bike has sidecar gear ratios - that would make sense, as I have found that I don’t need bottom gear and that the bike takes off easily in second.

Back at home I got my 1925 Indian handbook out and checked out the gear ratios. As the motor has a gear primary drive, ratios are altered by changing the gearbox sprocket. 20 teeth for solo, 18 teeth for sidecar and 17 teeth for heavy sidecar. Now to check what I have on the bike. The sprocket is hidden inside the chainguard and is difficult to see, anyway, a chalk mark on one of the teeth was all that was needed as I counted the teeth and turned the back wheel. Would you believe, not 20 teeth, or 18 or even 17 – I had a 14 tooth sprocket. Just wish that I knew the Dutchman who’d built the bike as I could post him the 14t sprocket to shove where the monkey puts his nuts. I got onto Robin Oakley again and after a chat we decided that an 18 tooth sprocket would be best, as it would make the bike more ‘user friendly’ in the UK. We just don’t have the long straight roads of the USA, so the need for ‘long legs’ just isn’t there. Robin supplied me with a nice new sprocket and luckily the chain still went on with the rear wheel in its foremost position.

Is that it? Do I now have a usable Indian? Not quite as I found that the front two tank mounting bolts had decided to spring leaks. One under the oil tank and the other under the petrol part of the tank. Off came the tank again and I soon re-soldered the fittings, only to find that the petrol one did not seal properly. The fittings were small top hat types that were just soft soldered into the bottom of the tank. Obviously different to the proper fittings at the rear of the tank – no doubt, another Dutch bodge. I turned up some new brass fittings with a much bigger area for soldering and they were soon fitted. Watch this space as the saying goes, but so far all road tests have shown no further problems and what a nice bike it is to ride.
Progress on the speedo setup is coming along well. I was lucky to find a Corbin body in my garage. The drive ring came from Ebay, the gearbox is a British one and will do for now, whilst the stainless drive cable is from a shower unit and cost £1,99. I had to use Photoshop to produce a face for the head and also had to make a needle. I fully expect it to be totally inaccurate when it's fitted, but it will look good.

August 2009