The Bikes that Bind

A collection of vintage Indian Motorcycles reunites a filmmaker and his long lost cousin.

Distant relatives are easily dismissed when you’re young. You see them every few years to hear the same tired stories recycled over and again. But take the time to listen — really dig in, and you’ll find depth, value, and heritage in those tales. It was late fall of 2022; my grandmother had passed away the winter prior and I was back in Upstate New York for her memorial services.
I grew up in New Hampshire, but my family has occupied the Capitol Region of New York as far back as any of us can remember. It was here, at my grandmother’s funeral, that I reconnected with my mom’s cousin, Tom Hope.

For the next year, I thought often of Tom and his collection of Indian Motorcycles. What were they? Did any of them run? He was sort of a mythical character in our family — an eclectic who liked old machines and spent a lot of time alone with them. “His house is like a museum,” my mom would say. And so, on Memorial Day weekend in 2023, I booked the cheapest Airbnb I could find in Chatham, New York, and drove through the back roads of Vermont to a corner of the Hudson Valley few have ever seen, aiming to make a film and tell the story of “My Cousin Tom.” Tom and his wife Lynne live in an 1872 Gothic Revival home with authentic wallpaper, antique furniture, and World War II-era black-out blinds.

He heats the home with coal and most of the furniture and artwork in the house are either his collectibles or his own artwork. The house also has an attic like that seen in so many movies, the kind where they find the artifact that opens a pathway into the fourth dimension, or what have you. Out back, beyond his apple orchard, is the barn.
As I pulled up to the property, Tom greeted my crew and me outside. He slid open the barn door to a showcase of seven Indian motorcycles sitting crooked across the old barn board floors. One bike was pulled over next to his workbench with a few wrenches lying around the tires.
“This is my ‘51,” Tom said proudly. Before us sat a 1951 Indian Chief, a machine so unique it was quite possibly a two-wheeled manifestation of Tom himself — and a bike that surely carried just as many stories. Tom wheeled the bike out to get it started.

We spent the morning filming Tom in his art studio, which sits on the top floor of his home. He told stories of a series of paintings he had been working on for the past 20 years. As a filmmaker, I like to think of myself as creative, but when I saw Tom’s artwork and the sheer size of some of these pieces, I began to think of myself as more of a tradesman. His work varies in color, mood, and spacing, but one common thread is Tom’s visionary artistic style.
“I go to a place where I sort of leave my body,” he said.

“It’s like someone else is taking control. The spirituality when I was doing my series — that was my church I was going to, I knew I was doing something bigger than me.” Tom showed us his collections for a while, and we watched and filmed as he finished up some touch-ups on one of his favorite pieces. In between shooting, we chatted about life and family. He is incredibly proud of his Welsh background and his heritage in the Hudson River Valley. He knows almost everything about the area’s history and is a remarkable person to engage in conversation. Tom’s connection to the place he lives goes far deeper than even he may understand. “I was having dreams about the future, and I saw this house in my dreams,” he said. “I sort of walked around in here like a ghost, just admiring my art and the house.” The house is truly a character in itself; there are ancient artifacts, whimsical decor, and interesting items around every corner. Tom’s bike collection is equally as impressive as his art, and is perfectly hand-picked. Each bike represents something meaningful to him. Besides his 1951 Chief, Tom owns a 1936 Jr. Scout, a 1940 Jr. Scout Military 741 bored out to 675cc, and a 1947 Chief. The latest addition is his 1941 Indian Scout, which is perhaps the most sentimental of his collection.
“An Indian Motorcycle was something my father wanted forever,” he said. “Just before he went into the war, a friend of his bought a brand new Indian Scout. My father said it was just absolutely beautiful. He really wanted a motorcycle but he was giving his money to his family to support them.”
“I was never really into Indian Motorcycles,” Tom recalled. “But then one day back in 1968, I had an opportunity to buy a used one. And the guy I bought it from said, ‘Get on the back, kid,’ and he rode me home on it. I’ve been an Indian Motorcycle fanatic ever since.”
“And I bought this last Indian — the ’41 Scout — I bought it for my father. When I’m riding my bike, I’m riding with him.
“They are just gorgeous bikes, man. They look like they are going 100 miles per hour down the road sitting still.”
Over the next few months, my team and I went to see Tom two more times. I never could have foreseen this project evolving the way it has. My original goal was to make a short film about a family member who shared an interest in vintage motorcycles. But this project has helped me form a deeper, more meaningful connection with a family member whom I barely knew, and from that came a legacy-worthy piece that can be shared for generations to come.

Words by Josh Bogardus - photography Josh Bogardus & George Watts