Search classics in 'Russia'

In what was once the CCCP, nowadays there are also classic fairs. The invitation for something so interesting came from Vyacheslav Sheyanov, the owner of 'Motorworld / motos of war in Samara.

Some trips are too long to do with the motorcycle.

At least if you are not a wandering knight who wants to go out for a year or so to clean up too little and get completely new diseases. So you go by plane to the former CCCP.

First with a price fighter with too many passengers in too little plane to Sheremetyevo. Then with an old Yakovlev to Chelyabinsk-Bala Airport. The plane had to be pushed and no one put on their belts for the local flight. The drink bottles came from the luggage. There was smoking.

After the landing it was only 170 km to Irbit where obscure people apparently launder mafia money in the classic car and motorcycle trade. The trip has been arranged for us and our bus driver is surprisingly called Iwan. He held a carton with “OLDCARS” on it in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. There were still a few seats left in our senior Mercedes van, so Iwan leaves us and looks for more passengers. Free enterprise has been discovered.

On the way to our destination, he got rid of the road.

A big new Volvo A Dutch tank truck stopped. The driver met us. The man looked like the textbook example of a Russian farmer. A cheerfully dug in pleasant red veined face. Watchful but water blue eyes under blond bushy eyebrows. A fifties haircut with a crest. An impressive belly and an equally impressive Wibra outfit with a faded dust coat over it.

He chews on something and looks incredibly relaxed and turns out to be called Harm. We have since decided that our accidental bus is not our problem. Driver Iwan is not bothered either. He fell asleep above his wheel and snores and roars happily. Our Harm tells us that he was driving to Russia from before the fall of communism. "Never had any problems?" We asked because we had already heard a lot of Indians stories from Russia about robberies and such.

"No," Harm reported quietly. “It's just a matter of looking like a Russian and smelling like a Russian. We didn't notice any alcohol smoke, but vodka doesn't smell. Against that and we were hanging against a massive garlic wall. Harm proudly but calmly stated that it was also one of his secret weapons. In the morning, he chewed two cloves of garlic. He did that again in the afternoon. And of course he spoke Russian in Russia and meanwhile he knew everyone he needed.

In the meantime, a few traveling companions had called the exhibition organization. He promised to send a sober driver. In the meantime, we had already seen our first Lada's, Volgas and Urals in the wild. Nice!

The fresh driver was delivered.

We said goodbye to Harm and got his e-mail address for the photos we had taken. His mail address? “Euroknof@xxx.nl.

The trade fair visit was not bad either. There were a few beautiful classics that were possibly very missed by their owners in the Netherlands and Germany. There were some Lada's, a Volga, a GAZ ... But most of the offer was 'western'. Also in terms of motorcycles. But the 20W50 sausages were unique. Especially when they were quenched with vodka. And the Russian hospitality was overwhelming.

For people who do not want to travel that far, there is also the https://www.russischeklassiekerclub.nl/