Sick Means Adventure Reading, & BMW Rescuers Of The More Mature Kind

We made it back from Newfoundland on Thursday, whereas I fell into a coma like sleep and woke up 24 hours later, but that sleep must have been a sign of something more devastating to come, as presently I alternate between sounding like a pubescent boy and Stevie Nicks after a particularly hard drug binge.  But there is a light at the end of this tunnel:  a guilt free day of drinking tea and alternating between Lois On The Loose and Vollgas: Eine Frau, ein Motorrad, 20.000 Meilen Abenteuer, which you may or may not have figured out is the same book in German.  (In English I get the jokes whereas in German it's just facts!) 

As someone who rides what makes a great motorcycle book great for me is when I read it and I nod along and chuckle because I get it.  And I had to share this snippet:

"There's nothing like the shared experience of getting cold, wet and dicing with death amongst negligence car drivers to bring folks together.  Or as one retired BMW-riding gent, who came to my assistance when I broke down on the M40 one cold dark night put it: 'Motorcycling's a great thing.  We'd never be having a chat if it wasn't for bikes, I'm twice your age and you'd probably think I was a dirty old man!"

Which made me remember my retired BMW riding rescuer.  When I began to learn to ride I started in Newfoundland but ended up actually going for my license here in Germany.  The problem with Newfoundland was that though I was allowed to ride with a permit I lacked a bike to practice with, and in Germany I had bought my bike, but you are not allowed on the road as a learner.  So Patrick being the problem solver in this partnership (I merely cursed the narrow mindedness of my adopted land that refused to allow unlicensed riders to terrorize the streets and threatened to go straight back to Newfoundland where you were given a smile and nod and a request "not to hurt yourself now") came up with the idea to buy an old DDR Simson Schwalbe as it had gear shift and I could practice getting use to the road rules in Germany while simultaneously trying not to stall out.

My 2 babies:

Learning how not to stall:

This appeared to be a brilliant idea.  And I did so love The Black Devil.  However it was a moped over 40 years old and had the tendency to just stall.....and never come back again.  And this happened one day while I was on the way to work.  On the way to a company that was not known for its sense of humour and generally disliked by all the trainers sent there.  (In fairness to them they liked us about as much as we liked them, but I digress).  The same company that I got lost trying to find on my first day of class, which was a mere 3 weeks before.  At a time when I honestly thought The Black Devil was fixed for good. 

And I stalled on a middle of nowhere forest path, where the few car drivers there were just drove past the girl who was running around in circles screaming and stopping only long enough to jump on her upturned (from my kick) moped before she would jump off and run around in circles again.

Cue retired BMW riding gent.  Who to his credit showed no fear, quickly determined my spark plug had vibrated off, and reattached it for me.

This old man however then insisted he had earned a kiss on his cheek for his work.

Dude you were brave I will give you that!  And I am forever thankful for you!

Me the very first day riding The Black Devil, Patrick made the video, and I grinded gears.

 

 

 

 

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