On the inland roads: The man with a slit hat and a ball-neck
Where: In the outside area. On rustic routes between villages and provincial towns such as Doetinchem and Dokkum. Mostly on Sundays.
It is a dying breed: First owners riding in older, larger middle classes. The so-called 'church cars. Think: 'wine red Audi 100 from 1983' or a brown-red Opel Senator from about the same time.
It is always about local traffic.
The father of the driver's father drove the same route by horse and carriage. The current driver has the imperturbability of his age and the calm tranquility of a genetic rural resident. In unguarded moments he shouts “ Hooo !! ” during braking and pulls on the handlebars as if it were a set of reins. The speed of a motorcycle falls outside its comprehension. His sight is limited by the smoke of the cigar sitting firmly in the corner of his mouth and the edge of his hat.
He sees the grain on the land of an old classmate of his state and is satisfied. If a gray lady with a blue rinse sits next to him, that increases the risk for motorcyclists. For decades he has been used to the idea that 'communicating' is a matter of talking and listening. She talks. He listens. But if his wife gives him a spontaneous command like "Stop, I see a nice little shop there!" He is already on the brake with 'stop'. Left and right commands are just as immediately obeyed.
The slit hat carrier is not aggressive.
After all, a falling hundred-year-old oak does not attack either. The slit hat carrier 'is'. But the result can be disastrous.
Take action: adapt. The man enjoys his surroundings peacefully. Just forget about the nice curves and drive after him and you will find roads that your GPS does not even know. If you get to talk to him on a ferry, he will tell you that his great-grandfather also ran a motorcycle. An Indian. His father rode Harley. He once drove a BMW with a sidecar. But after the third child it was put away.
“Put away? Where did you put it away? "" Ah, just in the back of the barn. On our farm. He is still there. Because it was a nice thing after all. "" Oh yes, when did you put it away? "" That was somewhere in the late 1960s. " "Gosh, I would like to see such an old engine ..." We will go home anyway. Then you also get a glass of soda. Because you must be hot in that suit. In the past we did not have that kind of suits. "
And then you suddenly look very differently at such an old motorist….
You will realize that dancing dynamically through the curves is not that much more fun than having a quiet conversation. And that the just as slow drive to the farm only makes that ride more exciting.
The kind of lesson from this story?
Don't worry about the traffic. And imagine how you ride when you are eighty-five. In your classic metallic red Audi Q7 SUV. But stay alert. In England, there are already signs that warn behind traffic about the driving behavior of really elderly drivers ...
