An acquaintance of mine is a real motorcyclist 2.0. He has an electric motorcycle and drives it as if it were a real one. And let's be honest: in terms of performance, such a Duracell GT looks quite good on that. He was even with it in Switzerland. There he bravely steered and overlooked a small built-up bowl. Speeding in expensive in Switzerland. Speeding much more expensive. Much more expensive. Driving too fast in built-up areas? He was allowed to leave his motorcycle and was fined 5.000 Swiss Francs at home as a ransom for his motorcycle.
Of course that was all my own stupid fault
But when you think back, you become a bit sad. The police were still driving in Porsches on the almost unlimited motorways here. I had just found my Great Love in Woerden: a Ducati 860 prepared by Biggelaar, which consisted mainly of a huge strangely curved polyester Tank, very thick Dell'Orto's and almost open Conti dampers. Oh yes: he was sprayed in a coarse blue metal flake. I had seen the machine. And was lost. Had paid hand money and needed two weeks to gather the rest of the money. After that I lived on macaroni and ham for months and drank tea. I also visited my parents around dinner time. By bike.
After two weeks I went to get my pride
I met Rob Noorlander while he swept the completely empty industrial hall with a broom. "Where is my bike!?!" Rob had had a clash with De Belasting. That was already buzzing around. But after his master move to avoid De Belasting, I met him: He had smuggled all his business supplies including toilet paper and all motorcycles to Luxembourg in one night, where he remained a Ducati and Harley dealer for many years. My motorcycle appeared to have been in consignment with Rob. I could pick it up from the owner. In the north of Holland.
The journey to almost the polar circle was long
The bus driver let his only guest out. I had to walk another mile or two. There I found my Ducati plus the likely reason it went on sale. At least that's what I think. Talking was almost impossible due to a constantly screeching baby. There was no mother in the picture at the time. The visit was therefore short. And only now did I notice what an impossible sitting position my dazzling blue beauty had. Fortunately, I was even better foldable then than now. I hit the road and noticed that looking beautiful was no guarantee for pleasant touring abilities. Pretty soon my lower legs started to invent their own circulatory system. The Tomaselli clip-ons provided better stretch and stretching in the back and shoulders. But the debauched - and beautiful - intake and exhaust note was beyond fantastic.
At the height of Amsterdam I had a good feeling for the elongated trotter
And after Amsterdam I headed with a calm 160 on the counter, it was an Italian counter, so it would have been 140 km / h further south. I was overtaken by the White Mice, the Porsche driving highway police. When the officer saw that he had my attention, he made a mark with his gloved hand. I followed. And the Porsche went faster and faster. With the counter of the Duc above 220 km / h, my jet helmet moved like an angry pilot on a line that was too short above my head. I thought it was going fast enough. The Porsche slowed down and entered the right lane. We stopped. We gave each other a hand. I didn't know what would happen. The driver said: “We were behind you. The thing sounds very beautiful. We wanted to know how hard he could do it. " After five minutes of chatting we said goodbye. “Do you pay attention to your speed? Nice color, by the way! ”
Such a meeting lets you shine for a week.
And that not only was it reasonably pleasant in the past, but that it is still possible now? In the context of free classical thinking, a BMW with a Ford V4 engine is being developed. At the moment that the work was ready to drive, a test flight was made. And where we had not seen the police in years, there was now an alcohol trap at 11.30. There was no need to blow. but two officers were overly interested in the BMW V4. “If you get that thing through the RDW, then I would like to ride it once. But shall we agree that we have not seen you and never want to see you again? ”
Good people there with the police