Stopping for motorcyclists with a breakdown is no longer of this time. There is often not much to tinker with on the verge of modern motorcycles. But what if you see a man in full motorcycle outfit walking next to a Honda VT500 in the blazing sun? Then you are heartless if you don't stop for a moment. Apparently the man was happy to make a stopover on the false plateau towards Velp.
The oil lamp
His oil lamp had started to flicker. He only drove a few times a year, knew nothing about his oil level. So that was first checked. There was not enough oil in the block. As a classic driver you always have half a liter of extra oil with you. I told the pusher at rest that it was a different oil than his Hondaatje usually drank, but that with a splash of 2W50 in the veins he would easily get home. Then he had to drain the oil at home, replace the filter and install fresh oil of the correct thickness. He lived in Velp, RoadrunnerMotoren is located in Velp. And there they have oil in all flavors.
Fear from ignorance
The man was kind of characteristic of many motorcyclists today. Changing the oil was just as unfamiliar to him as checking the oil level. And pouring 'weird' oil into the engine did not seem like a good idea to him. We said goodbye. And he pushed on. The phenomenon reminded me of the BWM driver and his partner who had their tour mastodon repatriated from France because he didn't start. The engine turned out not to be in neutral, the recovery company concluded. So it is now the case that many motorcyclists really do not know what they are doing at all. Or that they think they know enough. To that extent they have just become motorists.
It's a matter of necessity and interest. Motorcycles are now so good that repairs on the road are almost never necessary. But it still seems like a loss if you do not know at all where you are traveling. Fortunately, there are possibilities to gain basic knowledge of the technology in a pleasant way. Various motorcycle or brand clubs provide training courses and there are also various people who take up the case in a more or less professional manner, such as Ms. Davidson (yes, for that brand) and Erik van Lent.
Old school rules!
I find that this training is not necessary within the circle of acquaintances as heartwarming and endearing. We do drive with a mobile phone and some even with a WegenWacht membership. But what if something goes wrong? If the throttle cable breaks on a CB 750? They have thought about that in Japan. The Honda has a pulling and a pushing cable. You move the pusher and you can drive again. It takes some getting used to having to accelerate by turning the handle away from you, but after a hundred kilometers that feels quite logical. And if your classic suddenly starts smoking a lot but continues to run for the time being? Then you just make fuel stops in the style of 'checking the fuel level and filling up with oil'. It is funny that after 350 kilometers you have burned almost four liters of oil. Just as funny as the blue cloud of smoke you draw and that no one wants to drive behind you. If in the context of 'with age come the flaws' and the cylinder breaks off at the base. Then you call some friends and after two hours of quietly sitting in the shade someone will automatically arrive with an unbroken cylinder and a handful of gaskets.
The block had cooled down in the meantime. So work could be done immediately. After more than half an hour, the side valve was satisfied again. The next stop was also forced. Because the rider of the revived side valve and his buddy thought it was time for a beer or something after all the efforts.
On the long line
In another case, we dragged an unrepairable classic on a rope to the terrace. That was a bit of a shock for the motorist who wanted to insert between the tractor and the towed engine. The tow rope was therefore quite long. But we got a terrace and called the ANWB Wegenwacht. The lady on the phone didn't believe our diagnosis. She didn't want to send a recovery vehicle, but an ordinary Road Guard. When it came he turned out to have been a great-grandchild of the stranded classic. When he saw the bike, his response was, "What the hell is that?" While inspecting the damage in astonishment, he said with a sigh: “I can't do anything with that. I take care of storage. ”
He drove off. We returned to our terrace and ordered pancakes. The driver of the recovery truck was endeared. He also drove classically himself. The rider of the fallen motorcycle followed one of the survivors of the group. You can't make everything yourself along the way. But in case of a breakdown, you can at least make a pleasant delay.
If you have any tips for emergency repairs along the way, we ask you to report them.
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