You got to understand the passion going in and the passion going out to feel the power here.
The word profound also somehow comes up short.
Do you know what it is like to walk into a room with a beautiful woman on your arm?
I'm not talking MaryAnn beautiful. I'm talking Ginger beautiful.
A barn burner, a show stopper.
A woman not afraid to wear a little too much make up AND false eyelashes when she teases her hair.
A woman who knows what men like.
A woman who dresses for you and not her girlfriends.....she probably doesn't even have any girlfriends.
The conversations in the room stop and every head turns to look at her.
Every man envies you and every woman hates her.
If you don't know this feeling or ever felt it....you will, when you take an Indian out on the road.
Instant celebrity status.
Everyone shows genuine interest...even hard core Harley guys.
People will actually stop their cars and walk across the street just to look at it.
I was eating at a little joint the other day. Sitting near the window, just so I could look at her while I was eating.
Three separate couples strolling by had to stop and take pictures.
Amazing brand appeal.
And those too young to recognize the brand will always start out "Is that a Harley"? or "Who makes that"?
I work with several guys who ride Harleys.
One guy caught the fever just last summer. He got bit pretty hard too.
Spent $28,000 out the door on a new anniversary edition with all the bells and whistles.
THEN he went to work "fixing it" the way he wanted it.
Over $10,000 later and the chrome switch housings for his handlebars are the next thing on his list to do.
Get the picture? Ya know a guy like this?
The day I rolled into work on my new Indian.....whoa.
He comes over and I watch his face as he asks the questions....the important questions.
"Did it come like that?"
of course, I got to toy with him......what cha mean?
"Ya know man, with all that chrome"?
Yeah....it's a stock bike.
"If ya don't mind me asking, how much it set ya back"?
The look on his face was like an actual physical kick in the nuts.
I felt bad for him....genuinely.
He stood there silently looking at the Indian as the cold hard facts washed over him.
Eyes locked on her beauty, unable to turn away.
In just one split second his whole life changed from a proud Harley owner to a victim.
He knew it and he knew I knew it.
I could stand there and actually see the gears turning in his head, smell his nose hairs burning.
That was a couple of weeks ago and he probably hasn't said 10 words to me since.
So that's a little about what owning an Indian is like.
I don't know if anyone is reading this or not.....can I get an AMEN around here?
Because I ain't even started telling ya how the bike performs and handles.
And that's really the best part.
let me leave ya with a little magic music.....Indian Red has a very powerful gris gris in New Orleans....ya might not have known that.
