Closing date July issue -> May 19
Greetings and stopping – column
“No. I’m just saying hello to other Harley-Davidson riders.” ‘Harley – Davidson’ was pronounced in such a way that you could even hear the hyphen (which American marketers are so attached to). It was one of those remarks in a pleasantly superficial, yet pointless conversation during a chance meeting…
Well, yes: that greeting knows what, you hear! Once 'we' did it because we were a small number of somewhat poor oddballs on unreliable vehicles. You recognized and acknowledged each other as cheerful to gloomy marginal figures. You greeted each other out of brotherhood and the fact that you needed each other in case of breakdown on the road.
Because it was the time when there were no guarantees of mobility, but there was still at least basic technical knowledge. And how difficult were two-strokes or pushrod four-strokes? The highest technical ingenuity was still in the contact points. And you always had a set of them with you. Together with a fresh condenser, stored waterproof under the buddy.
But breakdowns on the road are not that common anymore these days. People often want to run the tank empty because they drive so little. But that is not bad luck. Greetings, on the other hand, are in the air. If I look at it over the last ten years, I have been greeted very often. And because motorcycling is a lifestyle thing these days, on nice days it is very busy with motorcyclists who all ride more or less the same recognized beautiful routes. If they are oncoming traffic, they greet. If they overtake you, they often make that kicking gesture with their right foot, a gratitude ritual that has been adopted from France. The French give that 'kick' as a thank you to motorists who were so kind to let them pass. ANWB fundamentalists have often told home in shock after French holidays about the aggressive French 'motards': "They overtook us and kicked us!". This is how misunderstandings are introduced.
Motorcyclists greet each other. In fact, there is a movement that sees motorcyclists as a 'brotherhood'. All that positivity could make you very happy. In the past ten years, I have had three breakdowns on the road. Once with a Suzuki XV800 (or is it a VX 800? Doesn't matter. The thing had a cardan and was a service bike) due to a flat battery because of a broken dynamo. My old fat Guzzi got a flat tire on Oudenrijn. And on an ex-Russian three-wheeler the cardan shaft spun out of its splines because the cardan shaft and the driver were not made of steel, but of filled cookie dough.
All three times I was convincingly passed countless times by 'brothers' on 'bikes'. Not one stopped. In two cases they did stop. By motorists who 'used to' ride motorcycles. Unfortunately they could not help me.
The Suzuki was started by connecting the battery to the double-muscled charger of the WegenWachter. The battery had sweat on its flanks from the charging amperage, but there was enough juice in it to reach the home base with the whole story. On the way home I was greeted by motorcyclists.
At Oudenrijn the Roadside Assistance wanted nothing to do with the flat rear tire because we were standing too dangerously. He called for a recovery vehicle. After another hour of waiting (passing motorcyclists greeted me jovially while I was standing behind the crash barrier) a recovery vehicle arrived. The Guzzi was loaded and unloaded at a support point. I was dropped off at a bus stop. The next day I quickly arranged for another wheel. Went back to the Roadside Assistance crèche for lost motorcycles with that wheel by public transport. The wheel with the flat tire went home with me on the upper deck. I was not greeted on the way home. It was a weekday. It was raining. There were no brothers on the way.
The fact that no one dares to stop at a broken down Ural is cold feet. I rang the doorbell at a house on the route that is so pleasant for motor tourists and asked if they had a drill. They had one. After an explanation, I was allowed to borrow it, with a 20-metre extension cord. The sleeve of the driver and the cardan shaft were given an 8 mm piercing. I put an M8 bolt through that hole. A nut was placed on the bolt. Return the stuff. Get coffee. Thank the drill lending family. Hop! And off we go again!
In the meantime, quite a few trouble-free kilometers have been made. And I have been greeted very often again. But greeting other motorcyclists (back)? I only do that outside the season. Or when they are calmly riding a classic. Simply because waving can also be too overwhelming.
But if I see one with bad luck? Then I stop
Even if it's just to ask if the unlucky person has called for help yet.
I stop for stranded motorists, at least if they don't turn away help with a happy smile and a thumbs up saying 'it's already been taken care of' or if the roadside assistance is already there.
Recently there was a stranded mini Toyota at the shopping centre, the starter motor of which only said 'krrrrr'. The battery was bottomlessly empty. While my wife went into the supermarket alone, I went back to the very nice gentleman with the Toyota and asked him if I could help him by restarting it. His face went from 'help, what now?' to 'happy'. When asked, it turned out that he drove very little, after which the battery (now that it is winter) had become very deeply discharged. Our Ford with a purring power source, jumper cables attached, let it be for a minute and the Toyota started. It started immediately. With my advice in his pocket to connect the battery to the charger for a full day, he drove home after having promised to follow the advice in a trusting manner and after a word of thanks.
Three years ago, a boy with an Aprillia 79T racer was completely stationary on the A2. Without hazard lights, that was a dangerous situation at that spot. I parked my R1150R behind the stranded Italian top athlete and turned on the hazard lights. The boy's story gave a clear picture. The ignition booster had simply given up. Now that it had been stationary for 20 minutes, there was a real chance that the thing would be able to 'boil' again and so we came up with the plan to seek peace and quiet at the next exit and arrange 'repatriation' to its home town. With the 1150 as a rear guard behind it, the sweet-smelling 2-stroke was successfully brought back to life. We also made it to the exit just in time because downhill, away from the highway on the exit, the spark factory stopped working again as expected. Although it could not be repaired, it was still a good deed.
As for that greeting. Oh well, I play along nicely if the other party is nice too. However, if I come across another Harley rider with a Stahlhelm on, a shawl over mouth and nose and cum laude in a 'training course in looking angry' while he has a greeting back that internationally means 'fuck you man', my thumb and fingers are reflexively folded in my waving hand immediately except for the middle finger. With that I immediately communicate on a level with the other party. There we go again.
I only wave in the winter when it's freezing or when it's pouring rain (and then also in the summer). I don't stop anymore, you can't repair that modern stuff. If it's an old corpse, yes then I still stop.
And then something else, if you are dropped off at Motoport Rotterdam by the ANWB with a flat tire, you will NOT be helped by them, even though they had the inner tube in stock. They were allowed to keep their bb, I had repair kit with me….
Suddenly the fuel tap had three positions: closed, closed and not open.
not made of steel, but of filled cookie dough.
I wish I was that creative with words, lovely piece to read.
And well, waving.
Unfortunately, I don't ride motorcycles enough anymore to have any experience with it.
I do notice that when I ride a moped tour, the motorcycle riders greet me in a friendly manner, they like it.
Cyclists, on the other hand, tend to pinch their noses etc. after the 3rd 2-stroke stroke, even if the wind is blowing in the completely opposite direction, so they certainly don't notice any of those enjoyments.
(I have an air horn on my moped especially for them, long live 12v voltage on the moped 🙂 )
An inner tube, a throttle cable and a clutch cable. Always handy!
I always stop, even for stranded motorists..
Even if all I can do for them is make a phone call, at least I'll have earned my 'Good Deed' badge for the day.
Most motorcyclists ride modern, and modern technology can be quite scary for someone who only knows how to use a hammer and screwdriver.
This is also the reason why many modern motorcyclists can no longer tinker and obediently hand over their wallets to a garage if something has been tampered with on their vehicle.
Stopping makes little sense for these waving brothers, because they can't do much more than find the fuel or start button.
That's called evolution.
Smiling sheepishly as you adjust the contact points, but feeling annoyed that they don't understand what you're actually doing.
Well ..
We remain amazed. But satisfied
VX800, I also had it.
The E seemed Italian..
Thing was the successor to the old Z1000.
Just climb up the dike in the backyard and go for it.
The first time you take a corner, wait for the car to react so you know where the limit is.
All iron to the ground, there was clearly an evolution in frame building between a 90's VX800 and a 1977 Z1000.
That Z1000 had a frame made of cooked spaghetti compared to the VX800.
Had a lot of fun with the thing..
Times have changed. And not always for the better
Very recognizable Dolf, once years ago on the way back from a motorcycle holiday on a Honda CB 750 K6 one of the throttle cables broke. I pulled the motorcycle over and started with the tank off (I had spare cables with me) and replaced the cables. Many motorcyclists passed by, all waving but they wouldn't stop. I do stop when a motorcycle has broken down or one that I think has broken down. And as far as that waving is concerned, you sometimes get a sore arm from it, but I'll keep doing that.