We can go again! – column

While walking the dog, I hear the birds chirping and singing again instead of coughing. Spring is coming. And in a week or two everyone will have forgotten that corona thing and then we can go wild again. In a quality newspaper – which is becoming increasingly erratic due to a lack of deliverers – I read: “I can start living again! Party all night and just go wild with a handful of pills behind my uvula. They stole two years of my life. I'm going to go hard on the catch-up position.”

Age or Generation

It must be an age thing, but I thought I'd take things a little easier. However, it is not a generational thing. Because when I still thought I had eternal life, there was also a party. There were also all kinds of intoxicants and it was not even very unusual to just get back on the bike with ten lagers 'behind the uvula'. And there were pills too. After a very nice party, the people who didn't feel too lame dropped off. At those last laps was Mario, who put on his helmet on dead reckoning and with a head full of dreams and started his GT380. That thing had three Reimo expansion outlets, so the local residents got a clear indication that the party was over at about four o'clock.

So kangaroos..

A few days later most of the chemical fumes had dissipated and it turned out that our regular party co-party Mario was out of the picture. The case was seriously investigated and from the squat, which was Mario's home, the word came that our friend was in the hospital. We went on a sick visit and met a Mario who did a good imitation of The Mummy. He didn't speak too clearly because of his broken jaw. But we got the story out. On the way home, Mario started seeing kangaroos. For reasons unknown, those creatures annoyed him more and more until he reached his chemical boiling point. Mario decided to kill such a fucking beast. A real kangaroo might not have survived. But for GT380, the innocent Ford Transit that was mistaken for a kangaroo was just a size too big. The murderous motorcyclist hit the oncoming vehicle in the middle between the headlights. And came to consciousness in the hospital. Eventually, and after a lot of rehab, Mario might have gotten a little ragged, but physically he was in better shape than he'd been in years. And that had to be celebrated!

We didn't have techno, trance or whatever

But the 'crossing out' was no stranger to us either. At the end of October it was such wet and cold weather in central Italy that the five of us decided to blow home in one go. That became a matter of filling the tank, full throttle to the next filling station and so on to the Central Netherlands. At the time, protective clothing only did its best to keep out rain and cold. At least about 1600 kilometers away we were brain dead and we had no butts and necks left. I myself walked around with an annoying whistle in my left ear for two days after arrival. And since then I have only been warm in the sauna.

But in all reasonableness it will now be a pleasant and corona-free spring

I won't tell anyone that two years of my life have been stolen from me. Because I have already saved my time. After all, I could have killed myself 500 years ago during the last XNUMX kilometers of our trip from Rome. Let's not complain. Let's live!

Also read:
– How you can subscribe to Auto Motor Klassiek and how we appreciate that
- Lake columns
- More stories about classic motorcycles