I drive my classic motorcycle as daily transport. And sometimes I do quite a few miles. That led to my trusty old Moto Guzzi having some deferred maintenance. And actually a bit tired.
Thick two tons is not nothing
I decided to take it easy once in a while, so I was looking for temporary replacement transport. A phone call to Goos Bos from Motoport Hengelo brought true. Goos turned out to be a friend in need. When asked if he had anything that was unsaleable and cheap, he said he had a Yamaha 600 Diversion for € 600. That red rabbit was adopted.
Now it is true that parking with my Moto Guzzi is a party. You arrive, stop, blindly kick the long jiffy and let the thing fall to the left. You can drop it immediately after the 'KLONK'.
For my first shopping expedition I pack a backpack. The Yamaha has no cases. On Callunaplein I drive onto the sidewalk, kick out the jiffy, hear the “KLONK” and drop the slender four-cylinder. The next moment I am lying under the Diversion and I hear a child ask: “Mommy, what is this gentleman doing?” The gentleman is lying for a moment wondering what happened. I caught the bike nicely on my leg and only the mirror got a knock. I scramble to my feet and put the Yamaha in its jiffy position. Go shopping. Suppress the event.
A week later I am again under the Yamaha
Next to me, the ball that is supposed to live at the end of the clutch lever bounces musically over the tiles. I think "Tjemig!" Or something like that. And wonder if I am not ready for euthanasia by now. Repetitive falling over is a shame. Except after half a bottle of Bourbon. That's why you just have to stay put.
A not unkind younger lady asks concerned if I am not injured. “Just my ego” I inform her. She smiles broadly: “Yes, that's your weak point. Your egos! Funnily enough, I usually only see guys your age on really big motorcycles. BMWs, Harleys and GoldWings…” She is a wise young woman. She has an eye for motorcycles. And men. At home I decide to test responsibly under laboratory conditions. I sit down and kick out the jiffy over and over. The problem becomes clear.
Every once in a while the jiffy “KLONK” folds out and folds back.
In all silence.
Because then he falls on a rubber.
The problem is solved.
I can live on for a while. It's on the motorcycle. No matter how good the thing is. I can't wait until the Moto Guzzi is ready again. Because you have to be able to rely on a "KLONK".