The first ride of 2017. It fell early this year

ER Classics Desktop 2022

The first ride of 2017. It fell early this year. And when we left from Gelderland, there was still snow ... Every journey is made by the grace of its stops. With enough stops you can do the ride inside 'Dieren-Vilvoorde'. So the first 'almost spring trip' too.

Just over the border we stopped at a Flemish catering establishment. My love came out of the sidecar beneath her bear skins, my unique Husky winter overall was put on guard in the corner and we happily walked onto the gas-fired terrace. After a drive through the Flemish Plains it was time for something warm and the blackboard shouted loudly that the Chef had created his locally world-famous onion soup with baguette and cheese. Because it is not so important in Flanders, we ordered two glasses of warm beer as a start before warming up. That is a funny local imperfection in which, among other things, half a liter of beer, six egg yolks and a quarter liter of rum go into it. Plus an ounce or some sugar.

Lunch time

In the meantime it was against one and the hut was full of plump Flemish people. We were all among the natives. A unique 'Experience'. Every body style magazine would love it. Then came the onion soup. Each received a generous container containing an amount of golden-brown material that was just damp enough to move lazily when the container was shaken. Floated on that beauty, no, there was still a large slice of white bread. Everything was loosely sprinkled with cheese shavings and then kept for some time in an apparently very hot atomic oven to melt the cheese. My love was gracefully presented with its trough. The waiter put my portion neatly in front of me on the authentic pleated Neo Brabants checkered tablecloth that stood bravely and stiffly over the edge of the table. The rather stiff rug collapsed under the container of onion lava. That container tilted and the regional top dish ended up full in my lap. The idea of ​​'Hot Pants' was given new dimensions. I screamed in pain and knew enough of burns to worry about my family jewels.

I jumped up, knocked over two tables and ran into the ladies' room. That was the closest thing. In the meantime I had already unbuttoned my pants and at the sink I pulled down the still-steaming jeans and my briefs to scoop cold water into my crotch with two hands. Behind me there was a scream of an innocent Flemish man who was confronted with a hairy face with two round cheeks but no nose. It is always funny to see how open-minded, smiling Flemish respond to disaster. And it helps more than a little when the victim is an 'Ollander. But it's all out of kindness. The powder room was full with the actual target group. A resolutely bleached curly ball grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me - let's say, face to the audience. They were appropriately impressed. With the sweetest smile in the world, the lady who had just presented me to her fellow villagers said: “Amaa, it looks like that little one has burned his head there. Looks anyway! Completely red! I will give him a kiss against the pain! "" AUW! "


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