motorcycles

The 1980s were a time of great change and great motorcycles.

For decades, the American motorcycle story has been told like a one-horse race—Harley-Davidson thundering down the highway while everyone else eats dust. But that version skips a crucial chapter. Long before Harley became the name in heavyweight cruisers, another American brand wasn’t just competing—it was trying to outsell them outright. That brand was Indian Motorcycle, and its rise, fall, and resurrection is one of the strangest, boldest sagas in motorcycling history.

Before motorcycles meant chrome, leather, and midlife crises, the very first one looked like it escaped from a medieval woodworking class. Built almost entirely of wood, awkwardly balanced, and powered by an engine that barely behaved itself, the world’s first motorcycle was less Easy Rider and more experimental fire hazard. And yet, this strange contraption quietly kicked off the motorized world we now take for granted.

Long before motorcycles became symbols of rebellion, leisure, or weekend therapy, Route 66 quietly taught America how to dream on two wheels. Stretching from Chicago to the Pacific, the Mother Road wasn’t just a transportation route—it was a promise. For riders, it suggested that freedom wasn’t abstract. It was paved, numbered, and waiting.

In 1953, a leather-jacketed Marlon Brando, sunglasses on, atop a rumbling British motorcycle, cemented an image so iconic it outlived the film itself. That motorcycle—a Triumph Thunderbird 6T—didn’t just carry his character, Johnny Strabler, across the dusty streets of The Wild One; it became a cultural emblem of rebellion, individuality, and biker cool.

Imagine Britain in the 1950s, with streets still marked by wartime austerity, but youth hungry for speed, freedom, and identity. Into that world rolled a new kind of motorcycle culture. They called them “café racers,” and though the term started local, the vibe spread worldwide.