In this second part of the series “The memories of” Rolf Wassens switches to a German Zündapp, a moped that takes him not only through the Netherlands, but also abroad. Together with his friends he experiences an adventurous journey through Germany, Switzerland, and Eastern Europe, where homesickness and military border guards put their nerves to the test.
Our local bike shop Van Treeck convinced me to buy something solid German, a gold-coloured Zündapp. That was indeed a great thing. I rode it a lot. With four boys we drove to Italy to watch girls on the beach, at least that was the intention. I with the Zündapp, Bart with the Casal, Hans and Rutger with Hondas. Great, when we entered Germany we were sent from the cycle path onto the motorway! We felt like motorcyclists :). In Switzerland we got stuck with that, because you had to drive at least 70 through the Gotthard tunnel. We were then guided by the ADAC with flashing lights in front and behind us. They thought we were funny. Less funny was that I got a wasp under my helmet at the Czech border and crossed the road in panic. The boys thought I would be hit by the oncoming lorry, which had to slam on the brakes and could only just avoid me. I reached the other side and threw the moped into the grass and myself into the ditch to drown the wasp.
It was not funny at all that one of us got homesick and that became very bad when we crossed the Hungarian border – that meant looking into guns, seeing machine guns pointed at us from watchtowers, mean shepherds everywhere and very unfriendly customs personnel. Not exactly like that Irish customs officer a few years ago: “How are you, welcome to my country and have a nice time.” Our friend’s homesickness was unbearable and unstoppable. We had to go back, but first we had to eat something in a village. There we got a lot of attention, the whole village came out to look at our mopeds.
To shoot
We went back to the border post, but that didn't happen. In those days you had to have an entry and exit visa, and we had to go through the border post that was on the exit and no other. We then deviated from our route without a good map to take a shortcut and unintentionally came through a military area at night. Suddenly lights and guns were pointed at us - surrounded by a group of soldiers. Fortunately we were able to make it clear where we had to go; our innocent appearance must have done us good. They let us through, but friend Heimwee trembled with fear, his Honda was shaking. They let us go and we went on. Now it so happened that I had already suffered from a slowly vibrating exhaust, and that thing suddenly shot loose just after we had driven away from the soldiers while I was driving behind friend Heimwee, in the middle of the otherwise quiet night. As if we were being shot at, and friend Heimwee flattened his frightened body on the Honda and drove off. I tied the exhaust a bit and rode behind the boys. We reached the border with Yugoslavia, and friend Heimwee dropped to the ground after crossing the border and cried: “Free, finally free.” We had to go back, at every phone booth or hotel he called his mother, who was constantly on the phone at home in Kampen.
Smoke in the mountains
To get back we had to go through the mountains again. Quite a climb. Bart had a Casal, which was tuned up to 90 km per hour. Because we were driving slower, he drove with less than half throttle, sometimes he triumphantly passed us to loosen things up a bit. He knew that there was a risk of carbonization with such a poorly loaded two-stroke. And that happened; the fast and superior Bart with his Casal could not keep up with us uphill! We had to stop him, because he wanted to throw his Spanish thoroughbred horse into a ravine. Comrade Rutger had a brother at home who 'tinkered' a lot with mopeds; Rutger had learned a lot from that himself. We removed the exhaust from the Casal, and it was indeed completely carbonized. How did we get that stuff out? Rutger started picking dry grass, pushed it into the exhaust, to Bart's anger, and lit the grass with the gas lighter of smoker Bart. A big black smoke was the result, and the exhaust burned clean. Bart happy.
Read more in part 3, where Rolf's next adventures in moped culture and his travels continue.
Sometimes a temporary change is a kind of improvement. However, I think it should always be possible to undo it
When I turned 16 I bought a Honda Amigo, the automatic with the tank under the luggage rack.
With a few friends (SS50, C50 and a PC50) to Terschelling in the summer.
At the age of 18, I had a CD50 by then, to (then) Czechoslovakia, because according to the bar stories Pilsen was 'the place to be'..
Then motorcycle license, exit CD enter CB350F…
Now, years later, a PC50 and a C310s are back with the big stuff.
Blood is thicker than water.
Well, nice stories. I wish I was still 18……I’m 71.
In the story about Zündapp and Casal it is mentioned that Casal is Spanish, which is unfortunately not true!
The Zündapp hardware was purchased by China, while the Software (Personnel) was developed through the efforts and cooperation of the
Fa. HUVO (HUberts and VOskamp) ended up at Casal in Portugal.
A book was recently published by Henk van Kessel (Life between Start and Finish) in which this is discussed.
I was also involved in this through my friendship with Jaap Vooskamp (Van Veen Kreidler and OCR1000 time).
m.vr.Gr. Harald
Great things those Zündapps!
I am a farmer's son so as a "real farmer" you actually had the choice between Kreidler or Zündapp. May '73 I got my golden Zündapp, one of the first with the rods between the steering head and the bottom of the engine block.
Party every day, 3 km to the Secondary Agricultural School in Emmeloord and 20 km back every school day for 20 years.
The Zündapp went (later regretted of course) at the end of 1977, I had a job in 3 shifts and a car had to come before winter...
Cars were a necessary evil, I got my A driving license and found a nice and not too expensive motorcycle at Gebben when the new store opened around Christmas/New Year 1978.
A bright yellow Yamaha XS500, so something yellow on two wheels again!
Then again a Yamaha XS650, but not for long… steered like a rag. Then almost 40 years Laverda 1000 driven, the real 3-cylinder with 180 degree crankshaft. Now… Italian again, a lot lighter, red, 2-cylinders and Desmo!
Just like a Zündapp but a bit bigger and faster!
Hear nothing about Zundapp sport, with big tank and that you had to kick start in second gear. They were also available with smaller tank. Silver grey with red piping.