Winter time. Also nice. –column

We are a motorcycle club. When the weather becomes increasingly gray, we gather. We are waiting for snow! Then we'll become a motorcycle club. To keep things on track, we drive a sidecar. A club of about two or three people, which will be expanded to a maximum of four members when we come near Enumatil. Wessel organized the Honda Black Bomber Meeting there some time ago. A massive ride with easily about eight participants, two of which on Honda CB 450 K1s and someone on a Moto Guzzi and someone on a BMW. But four Black Bombers is quite a lot.

Northeast Groningen is located right next to the Arctic border, but also has many beautiful roads. And a surprising number of motorcycle shops. At Van Houten in Marum (you know it from the list: New York, Tokyo, London, Paris, Marum) they have a whole shed full of free-range stuff where you can always score something. Even if it is not a BMW project or restoration job. But in this weather Marum is a bit far. It is now nice and quiet in our own Dutch Ardennes, on the Posbank. The herds of trotters and cyclists are all now hibernating. The IJsseldijken are more adventurous than the Dakar due to the beet campaign and other activities. Of course we don't ride in jeans and a T-shirt. Good motorcycle clothing is important this season. Simply: to stay warm.

Because if something goes wrong with our strolling pace, we get off and wait until it's over. So we are well dressed in terms of comfort. Helly – offshore – Hansen makes perfectly insulating thermal clothing. Bering's electrically heated gloves also come from the Atlantic fishery. The company certainly does. In the cold, going inland to Emmerich to drink mulled wine and eat Currywurst is always great. The alcohol has evaporated from the mulled wine. At least; we assume that.

The typical German delicacy Currywurst has the consistency of crushed condoms. The – sort of – dish is greasy and hot. So good. We sit behind glass and watch the rain, some wet flakes of snow. To shipping on the Rhine. We feel cool and satisfied. As the men 1.0 that we are. We'll get on again. Outside, a grandmotherly lady places what is apparently a grandchild, but in any case a small child, on one of the spans. Usually that doesn't make us very happy.

But this grandmother knows what she's putting her grandson on. She comes from Ukraine herself, where Russian three-wheelers were a fairly accepted means of transport before everyone started riding around in armored vehicles and other military equipment. We proudly tell her that our Ural borrowed from Richard Busweiler is almost new, has fuel injection and disc brakes. It turns out that she is not very 'into technology' and her thoughts wander. When talking about her early homeland, big tears flow down her cheeks. Putin will not be her friend.

Finished talking, we put on our gloves. Except Hans. Because Hans had made electrically heated gloves himself with some stuff from Conrad. Something must have gone wrong. They lie smoldering on his buddy seat. And there is a fist-sized burn hole in his buddy's cover. Heated gloves and a heated buddy for one price. Fine. That means calling Boonstra and Woesthoff on Tuesday... For a used buddy. And we need other gloves. It's been a very nice winter again.