The current one AutoMotorKlassiek is completely worth it again. There is even a message about Russian motorcycles from our car-loving correspondent who often stays in England. He came in contact with a man who specialized in classic Russian engines and parts for them. England was once - together with the Dutch Vink Motoren - a forerunner in the field of importing - then still new - Russian engines and unique advertising texts. Nobody takes that piece of history from us anymore!
Driving a Russian?
I have been doing that 25 for years. But with the Brexit in sight, I am happy that I am not dependent on British parts suppliers. Do you want to buy items in the countries of origin? You can do that during a vacation. Mail order from Ukrainian, Latvian or any other Eastern block sites falls under the laws on gambling. Ordering in Germany is an option. But it is not necessary, since there have been two Russians specialists in their own country for many years. Their activities are not that great that they have advertising rates. But they are no less enthusiastic about that. Richard Busweiler from Genemuiden and Jan Wassenaar from Marsum supply sidecar combinations and Russian parts and components respectively. Funnily enough, much of their trade goes abroad.
And in the meantime, it's a beautiful fall. On a sidecar combination, fallen leaf on the road is not dangerous and Russian sidecar combinations are utensils. And then you get something like this:
Transporting a three-meter-high tree in a sidecar? The seat out of the box, the lump on the ground and just drive quietly. The tree had to go to a sheltered house on the edge of the forest. There are three disabled parking spaces there, and the spot on the corner was right where I had to deliver the tree was free. I parked the combination, got off and took off my helmet. The Great Leader of the group of Nordic Zwalkers had meanwhile turned right and was steaming towards me. In a high tone he asked what I was doing.
“You know, Mr, that it will cost you 370 euros if I call the police to report that you are illegally at a place of invalidity. "Legal", I had not heard that for a while. A few followers nodded carefully. A few others looked neutral. The dragonder stepped forward in a bubbling of old testosterone and entered my private domain. So I put my index finger on his nose and told him he was unlucky that he was born twenty years late. That he could otherwise have enjoyed betraying people in hiding. But that he didn't do it badly for what it was now.
His face got the high red color that connoisseurs of a good glass of Burgundy so appreciate. Two of his group had meanwhile taken physical distance. The Great Leidsman reported that it was enough. He would call the police. He started immediately. From my own experience I know that when a child reports something as stupid as violence, it usually does not show up until the suspect has his first gray hair. That is not due to the agents, but to the protocols and the closure of neighborhood offices.
The great thing about service homes is that the residents usually spend more time in their time. So we got more and more audience. Also some dog walkers joined our popular rally. De Grote Voerman now received comments from various quarters and became increasingly angry. In between his attempts to report me to the police, he now also had several discussions with the rest of those present. Multitasking was not his forte.
He became confused in his reproaches. People who knew me and other motorcyclists increasingly disagreed with him. In the meantime, his flock had left him, which was somewhat separate from the group, discussing and calling.
It had taken me long enough. Together with two members from the audience, I took the tree from the sidecar and carried it to the already dug hole where the new owner of the tree could receive her acquisition. She had looked at the case from a distance. She had witnessed the war and was not so impressed by the confrontations.
Our hostess saw it mildly: "Well, men often cannot take it so well later in life that they can no longer be in charge. Maybe that gentleman was director or something. And now he has too much time and he is unhappy. " I wandered back to my tricycle. If you keep driving a tricycle, you will never grow up. That seemed like a good approach.
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Because of all these stories about sidecars and because of my dealer who also distributes Ural, I start to seriously think about selling my Harley and buying an Ural sidecar. The only real problem is that I can't put it in my motorcycle loft (there are 6 other bikes ...).
Real Russians don't mind sleeping outside!
Under the motto: "The older, the crazier," one can categorize the story of the fulminating, pre-programmed, age-old legal know-how.
I have experienced something similar and now I wonder why people sometimes worry so much about literally nothing. A long time ago a movie appeared:
"It's a mad, mad, mad world." It must be.
Glad the tree reached its new caretaker safely thanks to you and the very serviceable Russian sidecar. Top story!
Nice story again.
The motorcycle shop referred to in the article was called "Motorhome Henk Vink" Maasland and Vlaardingen-Oost. This Henk Vink was the father of Henk Vink jr Kawasaki importer and the "big man" on the Big Spender.
A Dnepr with the same color and sidecar was used some years ago 25 in the commercial with Mr Mancini (I don't say a bomb yet)! Including counterfeit cow.
The device has been on a rise for years at the firm Dankers in Heesch along the A59. I don't know if it is still there!
is still there with the cow in the tank
There are a few made of them and there is another one
Dolf Peeters, I already knew this column from you. By the way, one of your best!
@Peter: Congratulations on your good memory and thank you. It is also in “Men, Motorcycles and (what) girls” I thought. But I may have used it once before. But it now fit nicely into the story. So I shortened it a bit.