Indian Scout FTR750 Factory Racer Experience

From café racers to superbikes, I've been a little busy with Cycle World lately enjoying saddle time on a range of motorcycles. It's been a blast getting to test new bikes coming down the pipeline. My background is street freestyle, but I also train regularly in different two-wheel disciplines, including cycling, motocross, Supermoto, and flat-track. So when the opportunity came for a behind-the-scenes weekend to learn more about the Indian Scout FTR750 race program, I'd already said yes before the question was even finished. Not only would I get to see the detailed working of the factory Indian team, but I would also be able to ride the FTR750!

I've been following the development of the Indian Racing Program since the first rumors started making their way around the flat-track pits near the end of 2015. Originally, I was under the impression that Indian was developing a race motorcycle around the OEM Scout motor. There was a lot of mystery surrounding the possibilities of what Indian could bring to the table and just as many questions as to when something like this could happen. When Kevin Cameron's article on the Indian engine package came out last summer (Indian's New FTR750 Dirt-Track Race Engine), I knew that Indian had clearly done its homework and could be developing a motorcycle that one day would lead the pack.

A few months later, Indian fielded test rider Joe Kopp at the Santa Rosa Mile and he was instantly the fastest on the time sheets. At that point the question was not how the bike was going to do but how many races the FTR would win in 2017.

After watching the American Flat Track race program at the Oklahoma City (OKC) Mile where Brad Baker, Jared Mees, and Bryan Smith sent it harder than the postman, the excitement level to ride the FTR could get no higher. The motor­cycle had achieved the perfect score for the weekend every single time it was on the track. At this point, it was clear that Indian had secured the best riders to work with the most technical crew aboard the best motorcycles in the field; they were executing perfectly.

The next morning, we grabbed coffee in the hotel, and all we saw out the window was passing rain. I’d spent the entire trip looking forward to this morning, and although the rain was not creating ideal riding conditions, my outlook was still wide open and hopeful. Arriving at the gates of the Red Dirt Raceway, we rolled past the Indian factory hauler and two RSD Super Hooligan Scouts sitting alongside a perfectly prepped red-clay, banked quarter-mile racetrack. Mother Nature throwing curveballs in the form of thunderstorms and the track had already seen an inch of rain.

Knowing I was the chosen guinea pig of the group to see if the track was in riding shape, I was excited to gear up to take the first lap. Worst case, I get my new leathers dirty. Best case, I ride the baddest machine that flat-track racing has ever seen and go home with a cramping smile. On the first outing we decided to take out the Super Hooligan Scout to test the rideability of the track. As I pulled out I knew it was no time to be going whiskey on the throttle; even on idle the rear tire would break loose causing unintended wheelspin on the muddy clay.

I made my way around the track, and by the first corner the front end was locked rigid as the tire became packed solid with mud from the triples. I gave the throttle a quick whack to break that first load of mud loose and started putt-putting around the racetrack. Cutting less than 10 laps at a tour-guide’s pace with both feet flying off the pegs, I knew that this track would need some time and prep before we summoned the FTR. There were fewer FTRs in existence than Fabergé eggs, so crashing was not an option.

We took an early lunch and picked the brains of the factory team without the time restraints of the race from the day before. The FTR was shimmering more by the minute. Lunch was done and the track showed its first sign of life. It was time to wake up the FTR. A bet was made the previous day between Smith and Baker: Whoever was last to the line between the two in the main would be volunteering his race machine for the next day’s ride. With Baker placing second and Smith third, we would be riding Smith’s bike that day. That worked out great for Baker but not so much for this tall guy slated to ride it the next day. This was not just some detuned media machine but Smith’s race-winning FTR.

The FTR uses a remote starter, which is common in the world of flat-track. It’s typically a clunky lump of an electric motor with a pair of jumper cables and a car battery somewhere nearby. But in Ricky Howerton’s camp there is no such sloppiness. Howerton’s external starter is in a finely CNC-machined aluminum body that also contains the lithium-powered, high-output starter motor all in a tight little package that cranks over the FTR with authority. Instantly sounding off with an original idle sound like I’ve never heard before, the engine was smooth and had a sewing machine-like rev characteristic that progressively struck a tune of anger as it climbed up the rev range. The intake noise overwhelms you; it’s almost equal in volume to the throaty exhaust. That fact is thanks to the air inlet being located on top of the carbon-fiber fuel-cell cover, where it emits a jet-like vacuum sound as if it were going to suck your melon right through the engine.

Swinging a leg over the FTR, my 6-foot-2 body felt cramped because the cockpit and controls on the #1 bike are designed around the 5-foot-5 Smith. Not a complaint, but only to point out that each of the FTRs in the field use variable mounting positions for all the controls to fit the rider’s needs. Clicking the bike into first and rolling onto the racetrack, I noticed there was plenty of ice-like clay on the way up onto the track, but, once rolling, the track’s groove had seemed to set in over lunch. As I shifted positively into second, the FTR’s intake noise was already incredibly visceral and seemed to engulf me. I took a sighting lap to feel out the surface and started getting on the throttle. From the first turn the FTR already had a much different feel than the production Scout Tracker. Swiftly making the bumps in front of it softer with 450cc-like nimbleness, it was an absolute knife, able to turn and move around the track with the lightest inputs.

I didn’t know where the usable rpm range was at this point, but I was nowhere near it. Exiting turns two and four, the FTR came out of the corner like an absolute missile, putting its power to the ground and climbing fluidly through the revs. Still, I was nowhere close to the 10,000- to 11,000-rpm redline in second, and the thing was already pulling my arms off. Every lap got smoother and more rideable the faster I pushed it. It was time to come in while I was still feeling fresh and give the bike some thought before another session.

After a short break and debrief with Baker, Smith, and Howerton, they confirmed my thoughts. The FTR had barely stretched its legs. Their feedback confirmed that I did right by the motorcycle. I wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the big-boy speed that this steed was designed to be ridden. The second session had more of a serious tone because I wanted to put down some good, clean laps to be able to feel the motorcycle working in its element. It was also time for me to start adding more corner-entry speed. I was gaining trust in the bike as traction started to pick up while trailing the rear brake into the corner entries. It was stepping out more and more every lap, and the FTR was starting to feel right at home. Power delivery was incredible; it was designed to come in smoothly as possible off the bottom while transitioning to a wide and predictable powerband. I set my best pace for 15 laps and started feeling like a hero. The FTR had more than done its job in helping me get there.

I was hungry for more saddle time when I left the racetrack. As I said, this was my first ride on the FTR, and if it were to be the last, I would still leave a happy man. The FTR was a piece of unobtanium when it took American Flat Track by storm this year with almost unbelievable dominance. But unlike most factory machines, the Indian Scout FTR750 is now available to non-factory racers. Pricing ranges from $44,900 for bona fide race teams to $49,900 for those simply looking to add to their collection. Even at that price, my wheels are turning and burning.