Indian Larry

[Ironhead]

We can't have a HERD forum without an Indian Larry thread

[Drum Dog]

"Indian Larry The Final Moments"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIk9Xo8dH6A

[xlcruser]

RIP Indian Larry

[Paladin]

Good call! RIP Larry!

Rocker- Who's Larry tat is that? Very nice!

[ruby4me]

RIP Larry!!

[Dixiecrat]

I wish I could have met him !

[Ironhead]

not sure who's it is, and I am not 100% sure who did the work, but IF I remember right, I think RIchie Pan did it, dark star tattoos

Richie is a stand up guy himself, never have met him, but I plan to one day, he's a heck of a bike builder himself, built the David Mann tribute bike that got trashed ina wreck with barely 100 miles on it, then rebuilt it again.

BaBs knows him. He also does some write-ups and some artwork for the HORSE magazine

[gruss]

great thread josh....

[jirvin]

RIP Larry

[95sportychick]

RIP Indian Larry

[Ironhead]

come on folks, lets not let this thread die

[Paladin]

Sorry Josh, here you go.........

[SofaPilot]

Brooklyn Is Old School By Chris Ward, Indian Larry's friend and biographer

Brooklyn is old school. Where Manhattan is a melting pot of be’s and wannabees. Where Queens is desperately seeking suburbia, Staten Island seeking to leave, and the Bronx longing to rename itself “Yankeesburg”, Kings County sits alone in the city as the keeper of old New York. As such it made perfect sense that Indian Larry; “King of Customized Bikes” would set up his amazing shop in Williamsburg.

The Brooklyn terrain mirrored Larry’s life in an exquisite way. At his hipster coolest and most creative, finally living a bit large on the overnight success it took 40 years to get, he rode the “L train” every morning, in sweat pants and flip flops surrounded by the unsmiling 20-somethings with their manicured messiness who already marched to the beat of their own inner celebrity. They had no idea who he was, a reassuring response for Larry since he didn’t know who he was either. “I don’t know anything. I’m just a buffoon. That’s why my logo is a question mark, ‘cause I don’t know.”

He may not have known anything but Brooklyn knew where he had been. Brooklyn was there when he was a homeless junkie living on the streets and eating out of dumpsters somehow finding himself time and time again sleeping on a bed at the Bedford-Atlantic men’s shelter surrounded by crack-heads and the unforgettable stench of homelessness.

And Coney Island knew Larry. Coney Island was Larry. Coney Island, the broken down former amusement center of the universe that was a magnet for the lost arts and lost souls looking for God on a creaky wooden boardwalk, drew Larry to it in a spiritual way. To most of the world, Coney Island had died in a fire long ago. And to most of the world Larry had died too, engulfed in the flames of selfdestruction, for a long time he appeared a ghost of what was, and dead to the idea of what could be.

But Coney Island never did really die. And that lifeblood of creativity and spontaneity mixed with the death defying thrills and cyclone like spills never left. In Coney Island, Larry laid on a bed of nails and had blocks of ice broken on his chest with sledgehammers by beautiful girls. In Coney Island, he got out of strait jackets and into a marriage. A marriage to the luscious Bambi, The Mermaid. A Brooklyn marriage sealed by law, but more importantly sealed with a kiss at the top of the Wonder Wheel while the cheering throngs of assorted and distorted humanity looked on with a love that could only happen in Brooklyn.

Someone said, “Everything old is new again” and they must have been talking about Larry and Brooklyn. Because whether it’s an old school borough or one of Larry’s old school bikes, everything truly is, new again.

Chris Ward is currently writing a biography entitled “GREASE MONKEY, The Amazing Life of Indian Larry.”

[pro50]

long live indian larry!!!

[B-Man]

awsum tatt, J!!