Image and maintenance

ER Classics Desktop 2022

Picked up some things in Arnhem. I am coming. There are two tattooed beards who are just as old together as I am alone with my - yet classic - work ass. They take photos and are very excited.

Because I am not dressed as a motorcyclist or biker, I can walk to them unnoticed. They are almost lyrical. I hear things like "Deeply lived through", "This machine has a soul. A pained soul. " "He is industrially plagued and lived through".

It goes on and on. It is time to bring the groceries home. I walk closer to my Guzzi, kindly greet the tattooed beards and start stuffing some things into the suitcases.

The beards almost stumble over their words in their enthusiasm. One suggests 'Alledgedly immortal' as the name for my workhorse. Does not seem to me. The thing already has a name. His name is Moto Guzzi. We talk a little. The two do something quick in media, platforms and things. They are younger than they seem. Happy puppies. With beards and tattoos. Sweet.

She is endearing with the fact that much of my work is for 'printed matter'. My work translated into their world suddenly makes me an 'influencer'. That is nice. Sounds better than 'freelancer'.

If I can influence someone to go their own way, that's great. I don't have much more ambition. But I recently had an active 'follower' who pointed out to me at a traffic light that my brake light was not working. That was beautiful again.

I put on my helmet, greet, start and drive away. What a fuss because my Guzzi has missed his annual wash ... He is no longer the youngest. But he still has to work hard 'for little' for a living. Just like his owner. And that as a 30-year-old he sleeps outside every night? That is because there are even older motorcycles in the garage. Recovery: even more classic motorcycles.

Since Zen and the Art of Motorcycle, maintenance has been more my thing than Zen. But still ... I have the greatest admiration for fellow classic riders who always run around on immaculate motorcycles.

Somewhere a little voice whines in my head then "Willikkook!" But it was not given to me. I'm also so jealous of my friend Gerhard. He dismantles, repairs and reconstructs his BMW while his garage remains the model of clarity. A Moldovan OR is a pigsty compared to it. After an evening of serious work, he only has a few dirty finger tips. And a perfect BMW.

If I have a key, my workbench and lift will look like Raqqa after five minutes after the last IS fighters were bombed out. And I always get dirty right up to my elbows.

Tinkering is a kind of yoga

It is a form of meditation. With everything on top, it takes a while. You have to start calmly. But then you get in a flow. Only neighbor Gert hooks up for a chat. Regular maintenance requires attention.

But figuring out the 'why ?!' of a failure requires a deep, calm systematic approach in a clean environment. It is important to bring the operating area in order. Every activity goes wrong if you start from chaos. Is that Zen again?

And then you put a day of work into replacing the clutch plates to notice when the entire stuff is reassembled that the whole problem was actually due to a smooth-running clutch lever. Well… Shot WD40 over it. Also resolved. And a fresh link is never gone.








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  1. Again a beauty of a story!
    Special writing style that I very much appreciate and envy.
    A subscription is too high for me with my monthly government allowance,
    let alone motorcycling, although it doesn't have to be that pricey….
    The suit and helmet are there, I ride a lot of kilometers with it, unless it is
    in high summer, I let the wind blow through my hair.
    That couple got lost, they are rich in my legs, the millimeter on my head
    are always safely covered.
    Previously left the A-proof for what it was, out of respect for my fellow road users and alive
    furniture along the road ……

  2. Is actually staring at that torn off boxer cylinder with utter amazement… how do you do that; weren't the posts just a little too close together?

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