Customer Reviews

Rebuilding the Indian

5 star:		(24)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

The author's midlife crisis is solved by rebuilding a motorcycle and having a new baby. Starting over at 50. Some of the writing is a little simplistic, but the images are pretty clear. He does a good job of developing the several sides of Chaz, his mentor and nemesis. I found it strange that in the pictures there wasn't one of Chaz. Did they finally go their separate ways? I also got the feeling that the author was leading two lives, that of a wannabe English professor who attended the college parties and that of a biker. The biker life was only to rebuild the Indian and I admire him very much for that. I think he enjoyed the biker life better. He also did a good job praising the knowledge of the older Indian restorers, Ken and Magoo. This is a good book and an easy read. Makes me want to go out and restore an old Triumph like I had 30 years ago.

Haefele's book is beautiful and eminently readable. It came in the mail at 9:30 in the morning and twelve hours later I closed it, having read it cover-to-cover. I can't remember the last time I did that. It seems to be about not just a motorcycle rebuild, although it most certainly is about that, but about America and Americans. Haefele, a man running from consumerism and the artificiality of the modern world, finds himself in a community of stragglers all orbiting about the pursuit of the art of the motorcycle. It is a touching and insightful tale, mostly because of Haefele's artistry and honesty. I highly recommend it.

Is he a frustrated English Major out to write a book no matterwhat? That's one explanation. Or perhaps been assigned a writingproject to augment counseling to deal with his end-to-end relationaltroubles with his son-from-first-failed-marriage as well as his ownfather-now-married-again-to-someone-not-the-author's-Mom? That wouldbe another explanation. Or is he the tree surgeon overspending on anexpensive hobby he can't really afford? Yes, yes, and yes. Thosewould be some author-centric comments, to which must be joined someexplanation of the motorcycle subject (the old Indian) and thedramatic sideshow issues (the types of people whom he encounters alongthe way to rebuilding the old motorcycle, and how commenting on themreveals the author's own story).

Here's what strikes me: Just whenyou think Fred has careened down the path of absorbing somelowest-common denominator biker behavior, he mentions having a Latt'ewith someone. Or having a dinner party at his house for poets andwriters. Then, from the other end, when he gets into a critique ofhis first failed marriage to a comparatively more-uptight academicwoman, he swings up into the trees with references to his preferencefor hanging out with marginal law-breakers who drink, cuss, and felltrees for a living. So in the interstices of all of that, he cleverlycatches readers who may be located anywhere within this spectrum ofmotorcycle enthusiasts.

For it is the motorcycle person who reallyloves this book. Anyone who has ever taken apart a lawnmover or amini bike will instinctively identify with the drama of getting theold Indian together and running, along the way meeting the types ofartisans so admired by Robert Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art ofMotorcycle Maintenance.

Fred actually contracts-out a lot of thefabrication and procure ment of the rebuilding work, and this gets himinto the narration of the personality types involved in the process.It's a little like East of Eden as we see the human frailties ondisplay, from low-down ripoff artists, to wannabe aritsans who may bebetter than Fred, but not as good as iconic perfectionists whom Fredalso meets, or hears about.

I can't adequately capture his grasp ofpeople, because his language skills far outstrip mine. I especiallylike the use of the word "brio" to describe the way one guykick-starts his bike. What he does accomplish very well is anarration of how he fits into his own future, compared to how otherpeople are doing, and how he reconciles himself with his past, andartifacts from it (like his two kids from his first marriage). Theway he succeeds with the Indian then becomes incidental to the way hesucceeds, or finds some hope of succeeding, in reconciling his pastand building his future. So it's a better ending than thelater-edition of "Zen," in which Pirsig has to inform usthat his own son was stabbed to death in San Francisco--cutting shortthe father-son theme that Fred also covers. I hope Fred and Kyle getmore time together.

It's Kierkegaardian, because it's so intenselyintrospective. But it's not, because Fred avoids the preachiness andperfectionism with which Kierkegaard tortures himself and his readers.Where is Fred headed beyond himself? We're not sure. Is he moreprepared for the road ahead as a result of his Inidan project? Itseems so.

Favorite scene: Fred deciding to finish mowing the lawnwith a busted mower that has just spit out half of the inner bladehousing, as the mover gyrates wildly and the neighbors look on. Proofof the non-perfectionist streak that could have wrecked this book, ifFred had just given us a non-stop lecture about how perfect hisrestoration of the Indian had gone.

I flew through this book in aday. Then gave it to a friend. He read 60 pages on his way to theairport and sitting on the runway on the way out of town, calling mefrom the plane to discuss it. But then he also has a bike.

Error:Fred describes the same rider in two places as wearing first,motocross pants; and second, riding breeches. But don't let this stopyou from getting the book...

This is a short book, but the author manages to cram lots of information and exposition into a small package. This is really a journal of a middle-aged man's attempt to restore a classic motorcycle, and the friendships and hardships the restoration engenders. Being a motorcycle enthusiast and owner of at least 25 bikes over the last 30 years, I liked the technical details and the wheeling and dealing involved in restoring an old machine in Montana. As an avid reader, I liked the flow and the atmosphere the author generated.

Rebuilding the Indian is a joy to read. A smart, funny, and informative adventure that revolves around starting a new family at fifty and (as if that wasn't enough) rebuilding a classic Indian motorcycle from, well, a "basket case" -- that is, a couple of boxes of gunked up parts that could belong to just about anything except a Honda. I love this book.

Being a person who has started many a "project" I can truly appreciate the pride and satisfaction found in completion. This book demonstrates the value of lessons learned from the little things in life. So often I forget that life is a journey and not a destination. This book reminded me of that reality.

The book's descriptions are honest and accurate regarding the frustrations of dealing with the relationships of both human and machine. It is somewhat simplistic in its language, but then again so is life in the "real" west.

I enjoyed this book and I highly recommend this book for the man who is seeking his "claim" in life and (due to its short length) doesn't want to spend a lifetime finding it.

If you look at my profile here on Amazon you'll see a photo of my father on his 1940's era Indian. He and his brother raced Indians and Harleys in the 1930s and 1940s. Once I was born in 1948, my mother made him stop racing but he kept riding - along with my mother - until his death - in bed, not a bike crash!
My brother, 12 years younger than me, got the bike bug and has at least one Harley and is a certified motorcycle riding safety instructor. Never the reader - neither was our father - this is the first book I ever saw my brother pick up and read cover to cover.
Fred Haefele has written a fascinating book. You know a lot of the characters if you ever bought anything at a flea market or had to get your vehicle repaired in some little passed through town any where in the west or mid west. This is a story about an obsession. You may not understand it but you and experience the thrills and remorse of tapping out your credit card, yet again, for a barely functional set of forks and a cherry front skirt.
This book has to get five stars - my brother read it!

I very much enjoyed and identified with this book. After a difficult divorce, I turned to motorcycling as a new way to enjoy being alone and found it to infect me with enthusiasm about the new life I had to adapt to. Rebulding the Indian talks not only about the author's restoration of a vintage motorcycle, but how the journey gave him new perspective on his life as well.

Clear-sighted, affecting and funny, Haefele's memoir is written with an elegant, high-horsepower prose that kept me turning the pages. I envied him the Indian, but I envied even more the nifty balance he's achieved here: a poignant, witty, and informative book that touches on some of life's bigger questions (parenthood, commitment, craftsmanship, the meaning of success) without becoming self-important, cynical or maudlin. I knew, from the get-go, I was in good hands, and with each page the ride just got sweeter.

The preceeding, somewhat slighting, Kirkus Review of "Rebuilding the Indian: A Memoir" seems rather elite and out of touch with the clear vision of the author. Fortunately nonfiction reveals many of the foibles, inconsistencies, and unfathomable decisions of humans. If you are looking for everything to be neat and consistent, read fiction.

Fred Haefele has written a giant of a work. He draws the reader into the archane world of motorcycle restorers and the more archane world of Indian Motorcycle enthusiasts. We begin with him the unfocused search for an Indian Motorcycle (a basket-case) and follow the step-by-step restoration process. Each component of the bike has a story: Engine, fork, wheels, generator, tires, paint and fuel tanks. The assembly process is a wild hyperactivity of searches and discovery of parts. Often these parts are in the custody of ecentric motorcycle people that are more focused on maintaining the connection to the past glory of ancient motorcycles than on any business or profit motive. Haefele buys his basketcase for $5,000 and then spends by his accounting $13,000 or more to complete his restoration of his Indian Chief motorcycle. The gratis labor and undercosted restoration services make the rebirth of this Indian Chief a product of huge personal and monetary investment by a man with limited resources. There are a number of pages of excellent photos detailing the restoration in haunting black and white. These photos seem to speak of another time and era, when men of adventure took to the highways on these huge beasts.

The author comes to grips with these vibrant childhood dreams, and memories that many middle-aged men carry in their private corners. The times when everything seems exciting and possible, versus the mundane frustrations and humdrum existence of adulthood.

Here is a man, and a rapidly widening pack of Montana rowdy friends that gather to bring his and their collective dream to reality. On a parallel course, Haefele comes to g! rips with divorce, remarriage, lost children (first marriage), and the hope and responsibilities of a new life, child and wife. Throw in an all-consuming obsession to bring his Indian Chief to life and you have a great read. I found the compromises between a "perfect restoration" and realities of parts that don't fit, improvisation and the drive toward getting the thundering Chief on the road to be a perfect metaphor for the author's life decisions. Here is a man that got on with it all, regardless of the risk and found and learned more about himself. This is a story of Haefele's restoration as well.

I could not put it down. I bet you won't either. We ask for more books from this most talented and human author.