If it was snowing, really snowing, we would call each other. And so there were three sidecars again on the Posbank. The Posbank for which we will tell you about 5 years that there was one and a half and two meters of snow. The BMW GS with Heelerspan stood arrogantly with frugally raised fenders above the studded tires next to the Ural and the Dnepr.
The two Russians overwhelmed their technical datedness with Real Nail Tires that had been scored on an unclear stock exchange in Poland for the driven wheels. The Dnepr with its driven sidecar wheel made a hell of a noise over the road surface. The owner was happy to say that he finally no longer heard his valves. We bravely trotted through the purest Anton Pieck landscapes. The BMW combination had to be pulled out of the road twice and once out of a ditch. The orange polypropylene towing cables contrasted nicely with the snow. During the pulling action, the nails popped out of the rubber and furiously buzzed away. The oil leaking steadily from the sidecar wheel drive also contrasted.
Heir dogs barked kindly at the passing tricycles. Bipeds pioneering through the fresh snow waved impressed by our endearing heroism.
The sidecar wheel drive broke and was disconnected. Frozen fingers are less painful than cold hands. Because of the cold on the bladder, we now know the answer to the question "Is there yellow snow?" Incredibly how long it takes before you have lured your smallest friend from behind all clothing layers. Tidying the cold-startled gem was also quite a job.
After a stop in the almost completely disappeared glacier Bronckhorst we wavered full of hot chocolate and double bouncers. There a clear Grandma / Grandpa couple just put their grandchild on the Dnepr. Teenagers and adolescents who do so without permission are being punished. Grandchildren get away with it. The Grandma also turned out to be Russian from home. Ukrainian. She knew Urals and Dneprs from the past. “You are also from Russia. That's nice. Do you know Andrey Ruban from Cherkassy? ”Drinking a lot of chocolate milk makes something corny. Andrey - Andrew - is an old acquaintance. He collects classic Russian motorcycles. He brings his son to the station with a loaded gun in his jacket pocket. He has been acting since the collapse of communism in former military state secrets. Andrew is doing well. He is nice. Google him.
The Grandma put her hands together in front of her impressive bosom. She spoke with the accent of a girl who had to play a Russian spy in a James Bond film. “Yes, of course I know Andrey, he is the youngest son of my oldest sister! He also has a Dnepr! And a real Harley-Davidson. He lives thirty kilometers away from my sister. "
And then you get the hang of it there in Bronckhorst. Thirty kilometers is not much when you take a gamble on such a scale. We just went back inside. Catch up with our new Grandma. And once we are around Oma Irina's sister, we have a place to sleep. No problem.