(One man’s wonderful account of how the enthusiam for motorcycles brought him and his father closer together. Thanks for sharing Larry. – Editor)

Donald Barnes on his 1929 Indian Scout 101. The bike would weave its way in and out of the Barnes family over the next eight decades. (Larry Barnes Collection)

Like so many other motorcyclists, my Dad was directly responsible for getting me involved in motorcycling. But the sport gave us much more than just the fun of sharing a hobby…it gave us the opportunity to become “best friends.”

My father, Donald W. Barnes, was born in 1920 and grew up during the depression. His father (my grandfather) operated small bicycle repair shop out his garage trying to make ends meet, so I guess you could say my father got his introduction to two-wheeled transportation from his father, which makes this a three generation story. But my Dad, like most boys do these days, quickly developed the urge for something with a motor.

He worked several jobs, like delivering newspapers in the morning and helping local farmers after school, to earn money to buy his first motorcycle. With some help from his parents, he got a worn out 1929 Harley-Davidson JD for his 16th birthday, which began a 60 year passion for riding, racing and collecting motorcycles that continued until his death in 1996.

Donald Barnes and his beloved Indian Scout were apart for 35 years, but thanks to his wonderful wife Dorothy, she tracked down the machine and bought it back for her husband. It needed a lot of work, but here's Donald sitting on the restored machine. (Larry Barnes Collection)

When he was about 20 Dad started racing dirt track and TT with his brother (my uncle) Clifford Barnes, as his tuner. His favorite racing mount was a modified 1929 Indian 101 Scout. My uncle had changed the cylinders and heads to later Sport Scout cylinders and heads for more performance and also mounted a larger front wheel to keep the frame from digging in while cornering. Pretty advanced stuff for those days. They bent the hand shifter in such a way that Dad could shift gears with his knee (don’t ask me how) and not let go of the handlebars.

Unfortunately, World War II temporarily halted his (and so many others) racing career. He served in an antitank unit in Europe. When he came back his best years of racing were 1946-1949. He became a state-ranked TT expert in 1947 winning about 35 local and regional races.

Then his wife Dorothy became pregnant (with me). Dorothy had lost her first husband as a bomber pilot in the war and Dad decided it was time settle down and raise a family (me and three other kids).

But Don hadn’t lost his enthusiasm for motorcycles. Together he and Dorothy opened an Indian dealership in Wooster, Ohio, across the street from his father’s old bicycle repair shop. They ran that until Indian went out of business. Dad sold off his remaining stock, and finally his beloved Indian 101 Scout race bike in 1959. I still remember it going out the driveway in the back of a pickup truck. I guess Dad figured he’d never need it again or maybe we needed something for the house that the $50 he got for it would buy. (Big mistake.)

For the next 35 years Dad regretted that decision. Especially when I started my own racing career in the 70’s and my Dad became my mechanic and number one supporter. Although I was a pretty fair amateur dirt track rider in the mid 70’s, I never achieved the professional successes of my Dad. But we kept following the dirt track scene and Dad kept wishing he had never sold his old Scout.

Donald Barnes was losing his battle to cancer, but he still found time to point out a place on the old Indian to his son Larry that needed attention. "and I knew he was reminding me to take care of the bike when he was gone," Larry said. This is Larry sitting on the bike. (Larry Barnes Collection)

I guess Mom finally heard enough about it and without telling any of us tracked down the guy who Don had sold the Scout to some 35 years earlier. Unbelievably, he still had it. Well, most of it anyway. Apparently the guy’s son was good at taking things apart but not good at putting them back together. Dad’s Scout had been completely disassembled in a dirt floor basement and left 20 years to rust. But Mom bought the priceless pile of rusty parts for $500 and gave it back to Dad for their 40th anniversary. And so began a restoration process for us that took another five years until Dad’s 1929 Indian Scout 101 dirt tracker was restored to its original factory street condition, except for keeping the performance improved Sport Scout cylinders, of course. When it came time for him to ride it for the first time, he jumped aboard and took off like no time had passed at all.

Dad, Mom, and the whole family really enjoyed having the Scout back as a member of the family. Dad would ride it in community parades and we’d all go on outings with the All-American Indian Motorcycle Club. It meant the world to him…and no visit of mine was complete until we went to the shop and discussed what needed to be changed, fixed or shined. And of course, kick-start the bike.

Unfortunately, Dad got to enjoy Scout for only a few years before he was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor. The motorcycle then became his reason to live. “If only he could just get well enough that he could ride again…” But it wasn’t meant to be. The last time he was able to be outside the house, I rolled his wheelchair out to the shop to see his beloved Scout. We helped him onto the seat and we could see through our tears that he was reliving a ride (or maybe a race) that he had experienced perhaps 50 years before. I’ll never forget the moment when he feebly pointed at a spot of impending corrosion, and I knew he was reminding me to take care of the bike when he was gone.

Dad died in 1996 and Mom in 2004. The Scout is mine now. It will never leave the Barnes family again. For those of you who have a son or daughter who rides, be sure you keep your favorite motorcycle and give it to them when it’s your time.

(Click here for a beautiful full detailed photograph of the Barnes Indian Scout)