I met George in the early ‘80s and when I started Kiwi Indian Motorcycles in 1988 he and I had many conversations about engine and transmission parts, metals, metallurgy and heat treatment. He knew a lot but he was also one of those rare guys that would also lend an ear to a younger rider who had something to contribute, too. If I learned new things he was open to those findings.
I clearly remember him respecting my views on new metals and methods. During those early days the politics were touchy in the vintage Indian community; some people gave me a difficult time and tried to keep me out of the business. George was never one of those; he treated me with the highest respect. I will always be grateful to him for that as he was a lone wolf at the time in associating with me. He encouraged me to keep moving forward.
I remember a ‘46 Chief that had been in a wreck coming into his shop for repair. I got a call from George and Tim saying, "Kiwi, we are shipping the chassis to you. Do your magic and ship us back the rolling chassis so we can just drop the engine in." Wow! What an honor to be asked to do work for the best in the business! He even took the time to call back after receiving the roller to say the work was first class and a job well done.
We are all thankful that George recorded his knowledge in a book on 101 Scout mechanicals and idiosyncrasies many years ago, otherwise this valuable information would have been lost forever. He inspired me to be a leader and write my Kiwi technical catalogs as well as my next 5 upcoming books.
The Indian community has lost a valuable member who will surely be missed. George, may you rest in peace with Ross.
Respect
Mike Kiwi Tomas
President, Kiwi Indian Motorcycles Inc.
The following article was written by Bud Wilkinson for the Republican-American of Waterbury, CT, in September 2008.
http://www.rep-am.com/articles/2007/09/18/lifestyle/281470.txt
RIDE-CT: George Yarocki, Indian Expert
Like almost anyone who rides, George Yarocki has never forgotten his first motorcycle – a 1928 Indian 101 Scout. The year was 1941 and he was a 14-year-old sophomore at Torrington High School. "I rode my bicycle by the Indian dealer every day going to and from school," he said earlier this week, recalling that the roar of the motorcycles and the scent of exhaust fumes beckoned him from his late grammar school years into high school. Their lure proved so irresistible that he eventually introduced himself to the dealership's owner and ended up with a non-paying job washing parts. A short time later, Yarocki noticed the dealer adding a headlight, taillights and street fenders to his personal race bike and learned that it was being converted for street use and would be sold for $90. "I had $26 to my name at that point," said the 80-year-old Yarocki. "I asked my dad if I could borrow the difference." Predictably, the answer was no, but his father did agree to help him haul hardwood slabs from a lumber mill in East Hartland, so he could split and sell them for firewood. "Sometime in the spring, I had my $90." The bike that he desired – the 1928 Indian 101 Scout – was still available. Yarocki went to the dealership to buy it, only to be told after handing over his cash that he couldn't take it home until one of his parents signed the bill of sale. "The next day, I pushed it home on the sidewalk." So began Yarocki's life-long love affair with legendary Indian motorcycles, which were manufactured in Springfield, Mass. from 1902 through 1953. It is an affair that has taken Yarocki from being a mere Indian enthusiast to his status today as an Indian restoration expert with a worldwide following. Want proof? Take a tour of his operation, as RIDE-CT did earlier this week, and you'll be amazed by his knowledge. He can instantly recount brand minutia, such as the fact that wheels on 1916 and 1917 Indians had 36 spokes, while those made in 1918 and later had 40 spokes. Indian owners from Connecticut to as far away as South Africa come to Torrington and rely on Yarocki to put their now-classic machines back into tiptop condition. The morning of the day that RIDE-CT visited what was once the Torrington Creamery on Riverside Avenue, Yarocki received a call from an Indian owner in London looking for a rare part. He had it and immediately shipped it out. Last weekend, the publisher and editor-in-chief of Stamford-based "American Iron" and "RoadBike" magazines, Buzz Kanter, came in to claim his 1931 Indian 101 Scout that had been in for work to make it more roadworthy. Unlike most Indians owners who seek out Yarocki's expertise, Kanter wasn't able to be on hand during the fix-up process.
"The way I work is unique. I work with the owner," explained Yarocki. "Ninety-five percent of the work is done with the owner present. It gives the owner insight into his motorcycle he wouldn't have if he wasn't there throughout the entire process." To make such a collaborative effort possible, Yarocki has built a small apartment – a bedroom with kitchenette – inside the warren-like facility for his guests to use. "I don't have 'customers.' I have 'owners.' It's two enthusiasts working on a motorcycle," he said. Coordinating schedules can be challenging. "Working one day a week, it takes 13 months to complete a bike. That's a huge investment of an owner's time. It's no longer just an acquisition. It's a part of you." It took a bit of time, too, for Yarocki's initial interest in Indians to turn into a passion. Perhaps that was because of his mother, who voiced her concerns upon his purchase of that first bike. "I couldn't ride it very much because my mom laid down the law," he said, recalling that she only allowed him to ride the bike on the sidewalk and on a neighbor's property. Yarocki finally registered the Scout when he turned 16, but unexpectedly determined it to be unsuitable for his street-riding needs. "It ran erratically. I rode it for a few weeks and sold it for a Harley," he said. He would own two Harleys and a 1938 Indian Chief before acquiring another 1928 Indian 101 Scout in the fall of 1944, which he and friend Warner Squires took on a memorable trip the following spring. Riding two-up, they covered 4,005 miles to Florida and back. In Kentucky, while on the way home, one cylinder failed. They coaxed the bike along on one lung and rolled into an Indian dealership in Louisville in search of parts. However, being wartime when parts were scarce, the dealer refused to sell them what they needed outright. "He wanted to fix the bike, but he wanted a lot of money," Yarocki said. Ignoring the dealer's warning that they'd never make it, the duo hit the road to Cincinnati where they found another Indian dealer who was willing to sell them parts, but he wouldn't allow them to do the repairs on-site. So, they found an alley. "We did it with just the tools we had in the saddlebags," he said. The trip lasted 23 days. They departed with $600 between them and arrived back in Torrington with $6. "That was our rite of passage you might say," said Yarocki, who still has the frame to that bike, although the motor now resides in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. In December 1945, Yarocki entered the Army. During an extended posting at Camp
Hood in Texas in 1946, Yarocki had his parents crate of his other bike, a 1941 Harley-Davidson, and ship it to him. He was the only man among 10,000 GIs who had a bike, which resulted in him being singled out when a tank driver instructor was needed within 48 hours at Fort Knox in Kentucky. He was ordered to ride his motorcycle. In 1948, Yarocki sold the Scout as well as the Harley and began building a business, Torrington Metal Products. "For 22 years, I never sat on a motorcycle," he said. Then, in 1971, he had the chance to buy back the Scout that had taken him on his pre-war tour. He paid $600 for the bike that he had sold two decades earlier for $100. "It was all in boxes. Some of the parts were missing," he said. Yarocki reassembled he bike and rode it, but eventually parted it out, which is why he only has the frame today. But reacquiring the bike helped turn up the pilot light on his interest in Indians. He began collecting Indian literature, everything from brochures to repair manuals, and started a sideline selling copies to Indian owners in need to technical help. In 1980, he published his first catalog containing all of the literature he had compiled. Since then, there have been two more editions of the catalog. He has sold 1.5 million pages of info and gone through five copiers. During this time, he also began acquiring Indian parts, moving "little by little" into restoration and repair. "I always wanted to build motorcycles as my retirement project," he said. Between 1972 and 1992, Yarocki stockpiled enough parts to build 28 Indian 101 Scouts, which were only built between 1928 and 1931. When he sold his manufacturing business in 2000, his retirement plan was fully realized. To date, he has rebuilt 14 vintage Indian 101 Scouts. The finished product doesn't come cheap. A "rider" capable of road use costs $12,000-$16,000 while a pristine show bike can cost as much as $32,000. "That's just cost. There's no profit in there," Yarocki said, reporting that he only charges $30 an hour for his work to defray plant costs. "It has never been a business. It has always been a hobby." Yarocki's 4,000-square-foot operation occupies two buildings. One building has a welding shop – complete with frame fabricating apparatus and a bead-blasting machine – on the ground floor and a machine shop in the second floor. The main building has his office, the guest quarters, parts storage and an assembly room. The walls in many of the rooms are covered with photos, newspaper clippings and other pictures of Indians. "There's something about an Indian that's romantic," said Yarocki, whose "hobby" has taken him around the world, including to South Africa in 2001 to accompany one his "owners" on The Nedbank DJ Motorcycle Run from Durban to Johannesburg.
After 66 years of riding, fixing and restoring Indians, and becoming perhaps the world's leading authority on the Indian 101 Scout, Yarocki has come to one conclusion about motorcycle owners worldwide. "Motorcyclists are unique people – very likable," he said. And he certainly fits that description, too.
