Winter time… – column

It is not the case that all winter drivers are tough. Some winter riders are freelancers. The kind of marginals who – just like motorcyclists used to do – cycle because there simply isn't enough money for a car.

As a reminder, a motorcycle was a vehicle for losers with no money for a car. And a trendy thing like a sidecar was for the same kind of suckers, but the kind who had a loved one who was careless with the days on her calendar.

Let alone that motorcycling is much more fun than car debilization. But still… That cold… That cold is manageable to about minus five degrees. Motorcycle clothing has gotten so much better over the last few decades. My Husky thermal overall is like the dream home of every homeless person. And heated gloves seem to be even better than heated grips. But the electric glove importer I spoke to was so arrogant that I started thinking about an electric chair. My boots have received Thermo inserts from the Action. In practice, driving up to -5 is therefore doable.

If the distances don't get too long. And only with double-muscled lighting and anabolic horns. After 65 miles at that -5, I have the responsiveness of a recently deceased. As in, "What happened?" instead of, "What's going to happen?" I know from experience how confusing those kinds of conversations can get when the question is asked to a paramedic who is hovering over you with concern. But still: Winters are not too bad. Snow too. And when you grab the tricycle to get a breath of fresh air? Party!

When it snows, really snows, we call each other. And so there were again four sidecars ready to go on the Veluwe, of which we will tell you in 5 years that there was one and a half, two meters of snow. A Guzzi with Hollandia bucket. The BMW GS with Heelerspan stood arrogantly with raised fenders above the studded tires next to the Ural and the Dnepr. Those Russians overcame their datedness with Real Studded Tires that were scored in Poland on an unclear exchange. The Dnepr with its powered sidecar wheel made a hell of a noise over the road surface. The owner happily reported that he finally stopped hearing his valves.

We trotted bravely through the purest Disney landscapes. The BMW combination had to be pulled from the verge twice and once from a ditch. The orange polypropylene tow rope contrasted nicely against the snow. During the pull, the nails popped angrily from the rubber and buzzed angrily away. The oil steadily leaking from the sidecar wheel drive was also a nice contrast. Yard dogs barked friendly. Pioneer bipeds waved through the fresh snow in awe of our endearing heroism. The sidecar wheel drive broke down and was disconnected.

Frozen fingers turned out to be less painful than cold hands. Because of the cold on the bladder, we now know the answer to the question "Does yellow snow exist?". It's unbelievable how long it takes you to lure your smallest friend behind all the layers of clothing, by the way. After a stop in Garderen, which has almost completely disappeared under glaciers, we staggered out full of hot chocolate and double croques.

There, a clear Oma/Opa couple just put a grandchild on the Dnepr. Teenagers and adolescents who do so are disciplined. Grandkids get away with it. The Grandma turned out to be Russian as well. Ukrainians. “Oh, you are also from Russia. That's nice. Do you know Andrey Ruban from Cherkassy?” Drinking a lot of chocolate milk makes it a bit faint. Andrew – Andrew – is an old acquaintance. He's been dealing in former state secrets since the collapse of communism. Google him. The Granny clasped 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 movie.

“Yes, of course I know Andrey, he is the youngest son of my eldest sister! He also has motorcycles! He lives thirty kilometers from my sister.” And then your mouth falls loose there in Garderen. Thirty miles isn't much when you're betting on such a scale. We just went back in. Catching up with our new Grandma. And if we're ever near Grandma Irina's sister, we'll have a place to sleep. No problem. But let's wait and see how the war goes first.