In the morning it was time to hit that dusty trail. Hans, Craig, their friend Robert, Wayne and I took off into the wild frontier of Norway. We went south about 5 miles and turned left for the highway that took us up and over a frozen mountaintop. On the other side and at the bottom we turned right and started south. About a mile later my Stroker quit running just like that. The whole gang stopped and I took the points cover off and found that one of the advance weight springs had broken and I was fucked. The other guys said see ya later and took off south. It was OK they left. I had tools and a running bike for a parts run. Wayne unloaded his bike and I got ready to ride it back over the frozen mountaintop to Vinstra. Wayne gave me a pair of his gloves and I told him I’d be back as soon as I could. I needed an ignition advance unit. He asked if he could have some of the reefer I was carrying. I said it was in my gear. I launched for Vinstra. Back up and over that frozen mountaintop again for 30 miles.

     I got to the rally site and was shocked when I found the 'ignition advance unit' I needed as quick as I did. Less than a half hour later I was headed back to the broke down bike and Wayne waiting for my return. Back up and over that frozen mountaintop for the 3^rd time. When I got back to the bike it was there but Wayne wasn’t in sight. I hung out for ½ hour shouting out for him to wake up, lets go, the bike is fixed. He didn’t show up. What the fuck is going on. He left my bike out here in the Norway wilderness and took off. I rode the stroker bitch down the highway about 20 miles to see if maybe Wayne went for help or whatever. I stopped a car passing by and asked a few questions about Wayne. I decided to ride back to the FLH and get the bikes to Vinstra. Wayne had left some of his junk at the roadside table. I threw it away.  I rode the Stroker bitch back over the frozen mountaintop to Vinstra. Parked it at the Rally site and walked out to the highway to try to hitchhike a ride back to the FLH. A couple kids in a car were hanging out near the store and I walked up and asked “Do you speak English” one of them answered yes and I knew I was gonna make the trip OK. I offered a tank of gas if they would take me back over the frozen mountaintop to my other bike. No problem they said and off we went to the gas station. On the way over the frozen mountaintop we talked about a lot of things and smoke was one of them. We indulged in riding the elevator to the roof when we got back to the FLH. All was OK so far and now I had to ride a bike back over that frozen mountaintop. For the 5^th time. My hands were still frozen from the first time. Up and over I went.

      With both bikes at the rally site and everybody else gone I was at home.  A little help was in store also and I didn’t know where it was gonna come from yet. Asking anybody I could find if they spoke English got tiring but it worked as I found a guy and he took me to somebody else that had a cell phone and after a couple calls help was on the way. Rolf rolf@aulie.org, was the help. He took me to the club house in Vinstra of a group of guys that had it all.

      Living the lives of bikers in central Norway had to be a hit. What with a clubhouse, friends and motorcycles they only had one enemy. The Government. Rolf spoke English so we got alone fine. He understood the situation I was in and put it all together for me. Offered me more than I needed. His club had a big green army tent set up for the rally and since everyone was gone it was the only tent left on the site. He told me I could stay there and he would be back in the morning. After dropping me off I made myself at home by covering the bikes and setting up my stuff so whatever I needed I could get to easily. It didn’t get dark until about midnight and it was only 6pm at the time.  There were some stragglers still on the site and 2 of them were just a 100 yards away from “my“ tent. One of those stragglers was a tall, short dark haired girl walking around in panties and long sleeve shirt.

     She made her way over to “my” tent and I asked her the question, “Do you speak English” she answered “yes a little bit” so we were gonna get along just fine. During our conversation I asked her what the deal was with the guy she was with. She told me he was a traveling companion. Yea Right. Then she explained that hitchhiking was dangerous by yourself and hooked up with him to be safer while traveling around the continent. Well, that told me one thing that just maybe there was some digging to be done between her legs.

     It was getting on to midnight and I was worn out from all the shit I’d been thru since this morning and I was gonna do some diggin’. I set up the air mattress and invited her to sleep “comfortably tonight” on the air mattress. Her friend can sleep in his tent out side. I had her start the fire in the army stove that came with the tent and there was plenty of firewood in 2 store bought bags. It was toasty in there soon and I persuaded her to get comfortable and she took the hint without any problems. I had a flash light and had it set up for a little light so I could see what I was diggin’ into.

      She was nice. A Polish broad with muscles all over the place and tits that didn’t need any type of support except by my face and hands. For the next 2 hours I had my face between her legs eating that pussy while she slurped the dick that I had hanging in her face as we were in the 69 position with me on top. Then it was her on top so I could play with those hanging tits while I slurped on that set of pussy lips hanging in my face. A couple times I got into position for the fuck action but she wouldn’t have any part of that and I realized that was OK. She had all ready swallowed one load of cum and I wanted her to swallow some more. That feels so good when you can feel them swallow while the dick is still in their mouth. I was finger fucking her pussy and her asshole at the same time she was swallowing my cum while her tits were getting a good workout. When I was done I told her to get out so I could sleep. In the morning it was coffee and a blow job. I actually jacked the load of cum into her cup of tea, she doesn’t drink coffee. But she did like cream in her tea. Her friend was still sleeping. My new friend Rolf showed up about 20 minutes later to get me outa there.

      The Purple Bitch had a half major problem. The Swingarm bearings were history. I needed a mechanic and Rolf knew where one was. In Lillehammer. 50 miles south. We put the Purple Bitch in the back and I followed him on the Black Bitch to Lillehammer. Mike was at home and rolled the bike into his shop and started to work on it immediately. Saw some other problems too. The starter was just hanging there and the brakes needed some more work. I told Mike what I wanted done said my goodbyes to all and gave Rolf 20 euros  for gas and his time getting’ me south to Lillehammer.

      My stuff was loaded on the Black Bitch and I was ready to go. I told Mike I would be back in a couple weeks to pay-up and pick-up the Purple Bitch. Then it was at speed and south bound for me. I beat tracks passed cars like they were on a “watch the grass grow tour” and kept busy pounding pavement.

      On my way thru Oslo I thought I’d stop at the Harley Davidson dealership and get a T-Shirt. Shit howdy and shit happens, it’s after 5 and the place is closed. The local HOG chapter was open for a meeting and I needed spark plugs so I knocked on the door and was invited in for a coffee. www.lazyboyz.no. The boyz were OK and gave me a set of brand new H-D plugs. I signed the guest book and went out to put the plugs in. By the time I was done they were into their meeting so I hit the dusty trail. I had a buncha miles to knock down. Before I realized it I was at Malmo, Sweden about to go over and under the water to Denmark. I got lost for a few minutes south of Copenhagen then got smart and asked a couple cops. They were surprised I was from Florida on a Harley but gave the info I needed and I was like they were, gone. It was getting late and the ferry was up there about an hour and a half. I stopped for a break at a rest area and when it was time to go the bitch didn’t wanna start. I kicked that whore for an hour. An American car party showed up and left as I was kickin’. They were there for a half hour. Mustangs all over the place. Even a Boss 302 Pace car. When the shit started to hit the fan She decided to start and we were off again. The ferry was there and I was paid up and ridin’ onto it. Ready for the 90 minutes of slow down. When I got off the ferry I needed gas bad. The nearest station is just up there. I can almost see it. But I ran out anyway. On the longest straight stretch of lonely highway I could find. Holy shit now what am I gonna do. Cars going by at 936 miles and hour and nobody is gonna stop for a guy that looks like me. Sure enough a moped comes ridin’ passed me. I jumped out in front of him and he stopped. The guy spoke English too. After a lot of talking and hemming and hawing he gave me a ride to the station 3 klix ahead. He turned his scooter thing off while I filled up 3 bottles of gas. His scooter wouldn’t start after that so I went across the street and stuck my thumb out and no sooner than that a van full of German tourists stopped and gave me a ride to the bike.

     Got the gas in and now it was time for another good bike kickin’. Believe it or not it started on the 32 kick. I counted. I rode to the station filled up and headed to the World Famous Rider’s Café in Lubeck. When I got there, without any trouble, Hans, Craig, my friend from Florida and Hans friend were there drinkin’ a beer. I was shocked and amazed. We partied that night and they left in the mornin’. I ended up hanging out for 4 days fixin’ the bike for the ride to Berlin. The World Famous Rider’s Café was the place to be. For me anyway as there was a shop with tools and Harley dealership nearby for parts and transportation to and from. 

      The World Famous Rider’s Café, www.riders-café.de, has been here for 20 years. Has had more top bands play there than most people can remember. Sonny Barger was here to sign his book for the masses. Some European bands got their start here and went on to bigger things. Kai-Uwe Meyer is the owner and I can tell ya from personal experience that he will do whatever he can to help ya if ya ride a bike. Especially if it’s a Harley. There’s a bunk house out back and band stage inside, lights show and plenty of booze. The Tattoo shop was closed for a while but should be back open soon. Kai took me to a brothel in Lubeck, www.club-hotel-luebeck.de,  bitchin’, those house girls cost too much for me.

      His friend Ulli helped me fix the bike. I got the parts that I needed from the local Harley Davidson dealer, Viking Cycles, www.vikingcycles.de, advance unit replacement, headlights repaired or replaced, spark plug wires custom made and a few other things were straightened up on the ol’ gurl. Like all good things they have to come to an end, and my stay there was just that, over. Kai let me slid on the 150 euros and I’ll send it to him soon. That is if I don’t take it to him in person. Back on the road to Berlin and in 5 hours I was there. Camped out on the stone driveway area of the Hoffman Spandau shop.

       It was Saturday night. I knew nobody would be here until Monday. The last time I was here it was with Wayne. Wayne’s completely out of the picture and if anything he owes me about $2000 USD. This is a guy I’ve known for 15 years. We rode together on a few trips and I trusted him. I let him ride my 1980 FLH and didn’t charge him anything. I had him come over here, to Europe, to run second camera for Parallax Global Video Production. He gets here and in the first 3 weeks he was asleep more than he was awake. When we did get to location he was asleep instead of takin’ care of business. Couldn’t even keep up on charging batteries. Was unsociable and didn’t do what he was supposed to do. Then to top it all off he abandoned my bike with all my gear on it on a highway 40 miles from anything. Didn’t even leave a note. I gave him more of a chance than any other employer would have. He’s gone and good riddance.  I was havin’ trouble traveling with somebody else anyway. Too much to have to deal with. Especially an idiot.

     I spent the first 2 nights on the stones and then the gang showed up for work and Ollie let me stay in the shop. First night in the old Nazi mechanized division maintenance building I slept up stairs. It was to hot up there so the next 4 nights I slept downstairs on my air mattress surrounded by American Made Iron. I was low on cash and my credit cards wouldn’t work over here so I hung out around the shops and conserved resources.  That’s when The Black Bitch oil pump took a shit. What else could possibly happen. I have 2 bikes in Europe and both are broke down. Ollie told me about Climax Custom Cycles. We made arrangements to get the bike to the shop and they got right on it. For the next 4 days I was without transplantation and didn’t have the money to pay for the repairs. I got on the phone to my Florida banks and made arrangements for money to be  transferred to Germany but that turned into a headache. The Patriot act in the USA wouldn’t allow wire transfers to Europe so I had to figure out another way to get money over here. I had oil pump problems on the Black Bitch and needed some help. Well, I was in a jam-up with the wire transfer thing so I begged the owner, Tina, to let me ride the bike until I got the money over here. I was given the opportunity to do just that. At the same time I met Achim, the parts counter guy, he actually speaks English pretty good and we got alone fine.   

      Over the next 10 dayz, on the phone and Emails, talking to banks I finally got money over here. It was so nice to have money in the pocket that wasn’t barrowed. I paid all the people back that loaned me cash and felt even better. Now all I needed was the motorhome, now 5 weeks late. I called the shipper in Amsterdam and was notified it was ready to be picked up but would cost 175 euros to get it outa the pier area. The dock people also told me I needed Green Card Insurance. Whatever that is. The day before I was to start the journey to Amsterdam I got on the Internet with my new friend Volker and spent an hour to find out nothing. I freaked out but made finale arrangements to go to Amsterdam to get the motorhome. The night before leaving I was gonna sleep outside the Climax shop but Michael, one of the wrenches invited me to stay at his place and he would drop me off at the airport on the way to work in the morning. An airplane ride to Amsterdam airport then a train to downtown then a bus to the port, the driver dropped me off 3 miles away, then a walk and a hitchhike to the dock office. I paid the dock fees and the Green Card Insurance that they sold right there. All that freakin’ out about Green Card Insurance was for nothing. I saw the Rig parked strangely over in the yard.

      I wondered why the motorhome was parked at an angle when in fact those dock areas need all the room they can get. As I walked up to the Rig I noticed the basement doors were hanging open on the right side. Walking around the front I saw the front bumper was bent in the corners were gone and the grille was pushed back. The battery was hanging out in front of the bumper and held up by a blue 2” cargo tie down strap. The right side windshield was cracked and the drivers door had some damage and the glass was cracked too. What the fuck is all this shit? Looking down the drivers side I see the doors to the basement storage compartments were open too. I walked around and looked into each compartment to see what might be missing. To my amassment nothing was gone. Next I headed in the midship door to the interior. I see that things had been moved around and the place was in disarray then I started noticing stuff missing. Walking to the back I see my worst nightmare. Everything had been trashed and thrown around.

      Cardboard boxes were torn open and stuff was all over the place. The box the Dell laptop was in was in pieces and the laptop was gone. I saw immediately that wardrobe T-shirts were gone along with many other things. I shouted to the dock worker that was leaving to come back and see for himself what it looked like. He did and I shot video of the exterior and naturally forgot, due to the shock, to shoot the interior. I was pissed off.

      I went to start the Rig and it wouldn’t start. Back to the dock office I looked for the dock man but couldn’t find him. I saw what I needed, A jump start trailer. I pulled this single axle huge battery trailer over to the front of the motorhome. Connected the cables, turned the selector to 12 volts and went in to start the motor. It took about 20 minutes but got it running. As it warmed up I walked around the inside and made mental notes of what was missing. I drove to the security gate and asked the guard if he knew or saw anything. He told me that he had seen “them” use a fork lift to move the motorhome. I drove out and parked on the street and ran to the building to talk to anybody in the office but they were all gone. It was after 5pm.

       I wanted to get the hell outa there before something else happened so I drove to the highway and headed east to Hanover. I decided to take a short trip to drive passed the Central Train Station to show off my Rig. From red light to red light block by block I finally made it there. It only took about 50 minutes. It was no problem driving the city streets as trucks do the same thing all day long. I looked forward to seeing Gerry my new Internet friend that was awaiting my arrival. At a traffic light I asked the people next to me “ Do you speak English” they answered yes so I asked them how to get to the Autobahn. With a few missed turns I got on the right track.

      Shit happens and it happens to me. On the way I stopped to get rid of the trash I didn’t need anymore. Like Wayne’s stuff. While on the side of the Autobahn throwing stuff out the door a Police car with 2 cops stopped to tell me I can’t do that so I pick all the stuff up and then they tell me I can’t drive a vehicle with the battery hanging like that and that I need to follow them off the highway. I do and they lead me to a fast food place with no exit. Idiot cops. I fixed the hanging battery and had to back out about 100 feet. Ding dong cops with no sense of reality. Did they not see the size of this Rig. Why did they lead me into a no exit parking lot. Absolutely stupid non thinking idiot cops, as usual. I find out right outa the gate they’re over here too. Couldn’t find their way out of the out of doors if they tried. They’d hav’ta be told or shown.

      I headed to Hanover a few hours away at speed. When I get near I’ll stop at a rest area turnout and see if I can barrow a phone. I don’t have a cell phone but thought I’d wait until somebody stopped and tried to talk to me. I noticed a small caravan parked at the beginning of the rest area and walked to it. I beautiful girl was sitting in there. With nothing much on. I’m an idiot too of course and I talk to her like an idiot. Then I ask her to use her cell phone. She has no problem with that and dials the number I supplied. No answer. I walk back to my Rig. I think about the video thing and grab the camera and  I walk back to the girl in the caravan. I ask her if I can take a couple shots of her for the website but she says no. She tries the number again and gets no answer. Back at my Rig again I find another reason to approach her. The next thing I know I asking her what she does for work and she tells me that she works the rest areas around Hanover. I’m stunned for a moment trying to figure out what she means. Then she tells me that in the USA it’s against the law what she does but the police in the Hanover area look the other way. Then it dons on me what the hell is happening. She’s a Hooker. I ask her ”your place or mine?” She tells me my place cuz she’s never been in a caravan that size. I head over to the Rig and to set the camera up. The fucking battery is dead. God Damit.

      She came into the Rig and was amazed at the size and room inside. I showed her to the back where the bedroom is and being as there ain’t a lot of room for 2 people to stand I had my hands on all over that beautiful body of hers. Stella removed her shoes and shirt and the tits she had weren’t large but they were stout with perfect nipples for me. Ya gotta understand it was broad daylight traffic was zipping by just 30 feet away and I was horny as a 9 dick monkey. It had been a few dayz since I par-took of the female persuasion human being pussy, tits or blow jobs. I asked her how much and she spouted off with 30 euro for straight fuck and suck and 50 for different positions. It sounded like she had said that many many times. She laid back on my blue sheets and I stood there looking at this goddess with long black hair, motorhome bedroom black eyes with legs spread just far enough apart to see she had shaved pussy. There ain’t no hair on this steak dinner. Problem is there ain’t no eating this steak dinner. I climbed onto the bed and moved up to her and she immediately had a rubber in hand ready to install it on the dick. That’s OK with me, I thought. This whole thing was way to much for me right now but I got closer to her and she rolled that rubber down the dick shaft and jacked me alittle then slid down far enough to get it to her mouth. She sucked my dick for about 3 minutes while I played with her tits and pussy with my free hands. Then she moved back up and spread those sugar thighs. God Damnit I was headed into what it must have been like to fuck Cleopatra. That’s what she looked like.
     From above her I was watching my cock sliding in and outa her shaved pussy looking into her face and playing with her tits and forgot what I was doing and before I knew it I was filling that fucking rubber up with a buncha cum. Son of a fuckin’ bitch. How long was that 3 maybe 4 minutes. God Damnit son of a fuckin’ bitch and son of a fuckin’ bitch god Damnit. I was done. I was horny and ready to cum in a heartbeat anyway. I shoulda jacked off first. Don’t forget to Jack Off  before ya buy a hooker. She was NICE. Stella.

       If I’m ever in the Hanover area I know who to call for a good time. The 30 euro was nothing. I’ve saved much much more than that denying myself a lot of things.

      She even called Gerry for me again and I connected with him. We made arrangements to meet so I got into the rig and headed that way. 30 miles of narrow winding roads thru even narrower city streets and the motorhome stopped running so I had to roll/ coast pull over to the side of this narrow 2 lane road. Here I am ½ on and ½ off the road. The next 5 hours is a nightmare that turned out OK.

      I had just passed thru a small village and I looked for a gas station but didn’t see one so I headed for the next town for gas. Not a 1000 miters out is where the motorhome came to rest. Tilting to the right on this crowned road. I know I may need gas but wasn’t sure. The gauge doesn’t work so I was guessing at where it might be as far as the level in the tank. The tank sounded empty, Shit and Howdy. I looked around thought I saw a gas station and started walking to it. Wasn’t a station so I walked over to a business, steel fabrication, and told the story to the owner. He gave me one of his men to take me for gas. 15 minutes and 20 liters later I was ready to fire the bitch up. Wouldn’t start. Ran the battery down too. The guy that got me the gas had to leave so I was back on my own. I got the jumper cables out and got into position for a jump start. About 20 minutes later a blue van pulled up in front as if to jump start the motorhome. That didn’t work either. I know what the problem was, the motorhome was at an angle and the pickup tube was not under the level of gas. I needed more gas. The German guy that stopped to help didn’t understand and we went to his house for coffee. Slow Down he kept motioning me. He got some help together and now the 3 of us headed back to the motorhome to pull it to another location.

      With another and bigger truck and a punk ass chain that broke I got my snatch strap out and we gave that I try. The holes in the side of the road from the truck tires prevented him from snatching the motorhome and one strap broke. That’s when I told them I needed gas, benzene, so we went back to his house for coffee. Slow Down he motioned me more. Here I am pumped up on coffee my motorhome is half blocking traffic and I need to slow down OK. More than a few traffic jams have occurred already. I need to move that now I think to myself out loud. They don’t understand any English. We get  one 20 liter can and barrow another. I fill them up and we head to the motorhome again. The motorhome is at such an angle that the gas can’t flow up hill and takes awhile to get into the tank. This all the while I’m under the Rig with a 10 ton jack trying to get the tank on a level plane so the pickup will pickup the gas. I broke all my good 2’ x 12” x 18” boards for leveling the Rig and it was just a bitch to get under and in the right place to set the jack. With 40 more liters of gas in the tank and the jack doing it’s job and the van in front with the jumper cables connected I gave it a shot with the starter spray and key. It fired up and in 17 seconds I had jumped out got the jack out, they got the cables off and I was driving the Rig to the station for a true fill up. I followed them to the station and blocked half the station with my giant  Rig for 30 minutes getting gas. Half the town came to see the monster  Rig that was new in town. I had talked to Gerry on somebody’s cell phone and he was on his way to my location. As I started to put gas in it was spilling onto the ground for some reason and I had to stop the fill up process. The gas pipe to the tank from the fill up hole was loose and I had to fix it first.

      With plenty of tools I accomplished that in record time and continued pumping gas. Gerry showed up and I was shocked again. He had the bitchin’ist Shovelhead I’d seen in a decade or more. When all my business was done there we talked about the route to where we were going. I followed him to the town his girlfriend lives and parked 100 miters from a lake, I was in heaven again. Here I will spend the second night in my Winnebago in Europe. Yahooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

      My second bike was still awaiting my return to Lillehammer. I didn’t know it yet but it would be a couple dayz before I could continue this journey to get there. Gerry is a Brother of the Wild Hatchets MC. He also is the creator of, www.shovel-head.com, a site,  for Harley enthusiasts that prefer Real Motorcycles instead of Jap and German designed Assembled in the USA cloned bikes, on the Internet. For the next couple dayz I ran around with him, in a car, and he showed me the sights and sounds of the area. I stayed there 2 nights and was anxious to get on the road. That had to wait, I hadn’t seen enough. The Clubhouse was in store, we went to a giant amusement park a castle, no video cameras allowed in the castle, and a few other local hangouts. Gerry is some of what this whole adventure is all about. I met him on the Internet months ago and corresponded a few times by Email. I mentioned to him in one of those that I was moving to Europe and Germany was gonna be a major stop for me. I would indeed get with him to get his take on the motorcycling in Germany. He rolled out the Red Carpet for me and I felt strange as I usually take care of my own problems, Yea Right. Here I am in Germany broke down in a way and I didn’t need any help. He was a, to coin a phrase, Harley riders godsend. He lined it up for me to store my Rig at his job property for a few dayz. I coulda stayed in the Rig but I couldn’t turn down the invite to hang at the clubhouse. We spent that night at the Clubhouse and went sightseeing the next day.

      That night at the Clubhouse was an early one to sleep as the morning would come soon enough for my train ride to Hamburg. After the train it was an airplane to Oslo then another train to Lillehammer. I hate this tourist travel bullshit. Lines and tickets and waiting for shit to happen. I make shit happen but not here or now. I felt it was kinda dangerous too. The diseases and germs that these people are passing around in the train stations. When ya live the biker life at least those diseases and germs are covered over with a layer of Harley blood, dirt, grease and grime. It is with the people I run with. No offense.

     I finally got to Lillehammer and walked the short distance to Mikes house, by way of the local 7/11, to get the FLH. He and his wife weren’t home. Shit Howdy and Shit Happens. How long would I hav’ta wait? I opened the door of the building he lives in after ringing the doorbell and a girl from upstairs came to the upper level in a bath towel and naked underneath. I asked her first “Do you speak English?” she answered yes  so I asked her where “they” were and if she knew when they would be back. She told me they went to a biker party and will be back in a couple hours. Luckily, it was Sunday evening. If I’d ‘a got there yesterday I would’ve had to wait a full day. Didn’t plan that.

      I went back to the 7/11 and met a guy that has it goin’ on in Lillehammer

      They showed up and I got busy looking for my camera battery I thought I’d left there and did get the remote for the camera. He told me and showed me the parts he claimed to have replaced. Primary chain. rear brake pads, points, plugs and condenser bla, bla, bla in a cardboard box. OK, I need to get the hell outa here now. We walked down to a storage building and got the bike out. Had to jump start it to get it going. Paid him 400 euros and headed for the gas station at the bottom of the hill. Everything was on track now.

     For 45 minutes I made my way to Oslo. Blasting southbound on the E6 was fun too. Passing cars, trucks and caravans, motor homes and travel trailer,  like they were standing still. Mus’ta been 2 thousand of them. At one point I saw my worst nightmare happening in my rear view mirror. “The cops were after my Hot Rod Lincoln”, to coin a phrase, actually lyrics from a song I like. I got off at the next exit and got ready for the worst.

      The cops spoke English and they told me some people called them and complained about my driving. Well, the first thing the cops said was that they couldn’t do anything to me unless they saw me driving like a mad man. I told them I was driving like anybody else would as far as passing cars and they proceeded to check out the bike paperwork and numbers on the bike. They all checked out and we talked about Super Rally and some other stuff then they said I could continue on my journey. I asked the cops what the law was about talking on a cell phone while driving at the same time and they told me it was illegal. I made mention that I wanted the people that ratted me off checked out to see if they broke the cell phone/ driving law but then I just smiled at the cops and got on my bike to leave. I fired the bitch up blasted my pipes at the cops, they smiled and I hit the entrance ramp with a sigh of relief.

      Got up to speed in about a heartbeat and continued what I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted.  Making my way thru the traffic to the toll road where I snuck on behind a truck and made my way to the exit where the ferries load. Ya can’t miss’um cuz the signs are all over the place. I went to the front of the line but was told I had to get a ticket. Went back to the booth got the ticket and went back to the front of the line. That took about 50 seconds. It started to sprinkle and there was a tunnel thru the building so I jumped the line and weasel dicked my way between the 2 rows of cars and got to the front of the next line. I was still under the overhang when the guy directing the loading of the ferry directed the cars to move onto the ramp. I blasted the pipes and dumped the clutch and got in front of the cars. I saw where the bikes park so I rode over there. After tying the bike down I went up stairs to the main deck got my room assignment looked outside and saw it was raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock. I made it just in time. The World football championship was on the TV on the smoking deck so I went up and made myself at home at a table where a guy was watching the game. There were 2 seats open and I made a motion to sit and he nodded OK.

      The next thing I knew we were speaking English and getting along just fine. He bought me a couple beers and then the game was over. Of course real time was about an hour. The place cleared out fast after the game as it was about 11pm.  A thought came to mind, I should have gotten gas. I walked around the different decks and listened to the different languages being spoken. None were English. It was time for the rack for me after that 2 hours of hair raising ridin’ thru the traffic and all.

      In the morning I was awakened by the central wakeup call on the PA system. I got my shit together and headed for the auto deck I was parked on. I knew I was gonna hav’ta kick start the Purple Bitch as the battery was not doing its job. The other bikes had already left and the cars were unloading. I was kickin’ the bitch. Got it started and pulled forward just in time for the upper deck ramp to get lowered so the cars up there could leave. I had to sit there warming up the bike waiting for the deck hand to raise the ramp. Yahoooooo I was free from the confines of the ferry.

      Now all I had to do was make the next 400 miles to Hanover in the next 2 ½ hours. That’s not gonna happen but I’m gonna give it a try. Food was on the agenda along with gas. Mc Donald’s was there but the gas station wasn’t. After eating and ridin’ for another 20 minutes I hit reserve. Now I needed gas bad. Paradise was at the next exit. I got off and all I could see was diesel signs and dispensers. Upon closer examination there was gas too. I’m an Idiot of course and didn’t see the pay by cash machine at the end of the island. This particular gas station didn’t have a human attendant to take the case. I had actually paid a guy cash to pump gas into the bike on his credit card before I realized I could put cash in the slot and get a receipt for what I didn’t pump by going into the restaurant for the cash refund. WOW, what a way to do business. No attendant. With a tank and belly full I headed south again. Still had a long way to go.

      The German border passed me by, I was cruising at a speed  I was comfortable with. The cars were blasting by me like I was standing still. That’s right, I’m on the German Autobahn. This is where ya gotta be careful that ya don’t get a BMW up yer ass or a Fiat down yer throat. I wood’a said VW but they go by me at about 120 miles an hour. People over here are either going way to fast or way to slow. The truck traffic on the other hand is governed to 60 miles an hour, that’s like 100 klix per hour. They line up in the outside lane and create a train that sometimes is 2 klix long. You do the math. Let’s get back to the cars. Mercedes, BMW, Audi and Jap cars going by so fast that I don’t have a chance to see the plate. 2 or 3 seconds latter and they’re gone from sight. I look down at the Speedo that doesn’t work and imagine I’m doing about 75 or 80. So then I try to ta calculate their speed and it comes out at about 125-130 miles per hour. A sign goes by that reads Hanover 100 kilometers and I think to my self “that guy is gonna be there in about ……oh shit here’s there now.”

       On the Autobahn there is rarely anything to look at off to the side of it. When there is something to see they post signs that it’s there and ya get off the Autobahn to go see it. The view of a lot of the scenic areas along the Autobahn is blocked by trees and plant life that is there to obscure the view. Driving is serious business and if ya can’t tell by the cars going by ya at 120 mph then ya need  to ride the bus or train and get the hell off the fuckin’ Autobahn. There’s even signs that read FAIR PLAY ON THE AUTOBAHN  with the golf course scene in the back ground. I haven’t seen many golf courses during my travels but I guess they’re out there. Somewhere.

     Hanover came and was now in my rear view mirror. Happy Trails to me. It wasn’t hard to get thru that mess. Mainly cuz I stopped and looked at the map about 10 miles the other side of it. Now I was on these 2 lane narrow country highways the are really no more than wide tractor paths with asphalt covering. Well, sometimes concrete. Other times stones. Those are the roads that’ll kick yer ass and break your bike. That is unless you’re a ….. well, I don’t wanna hurt anybody’s feelings so I’ll leave it to your interpretation. The signage all over this area and most of Germany is very good if ya know what to look for, and how to follow the god damed things. It took me along time to figure out what the hell they meant. I mean really 20 minutes is along time for me to be outa touch with my surroundings. If yer gonna do this ya gotta know what’s happening all the time. That’s why I don’t drink and ride, I smoke and fly.

      My bikes have been modified to be totally manually controlled. I want complete control of my bikes. Right down to the brake lights. I have a button on the bars, actually it’s the start button, that I push when I think it’s necessary to show vehicles behind me that I’m slowing down. I can also signal anybody that’s back there, which is usually everybody, cuz I’m always in front. If I can’t get in front then I turn and go another way so I am in front. That’s how I get to where I end up alot of times.

     Finally, I get to Hameln and needed to stop in town to call Gerry before I try to find my own way to the Winnebago. This would be the only time I get lost, when I’m trying to get to my Rig. I’m gonna give the public pay phone system in Germany a try. It will be my first experience. Pulling all the change from my pocket and looking at the phone box I think I have enough money. Gerry’s number in hand, the money drops like gold into the kings hands, I dial the number and nothing happens. I hang up and see this guy walking towards me and I ask him “Do you speak English?” He answers yes I do. Showing him the number on the paper I ask him how do you use this fancy contraption. He answers with “ just a moment please” Well, I never ….I thought.  I’ve had so many people be nice to me, come-on really I’m getting alittle tired of all this being nice to a total stranger thing. Everywhere I go and anything I ask for it’s be nice to this total stranger thing coming back at me. Now don’t get me wrong I don’t mind …..Aw who am I kidding?…… I’m nice to everyone and I expect the same in return. Shit Howdy and Shit Happens, I pass around nice to everybody and everything I come in contact with. Most of the time when I tell people to ‘shut the fuck up’ they don’t understand what I saying so what’s the harm. You’ll do the same thing if ya ever grow the balls to do what I’m doing.

      I was worn out from the ride south thru Norway,  Denmark and Germany so when Gerry met me at the motorhome, still parked at his job, I said my good nights, he had a side job to go to anyway, and I fell down for the night. Sleep is not one of my favorite things as I realize that I can’t get anything done when I’m sleeping. To me it’s a waste of time and I really only sleep good when I don’t need it. I don’t know when that is but it sounded good. Anyway, in the morning I was up early had the Rig fired and warming up for the move outa the parking lot I was in. Within a few minutes I had the bike in position about 200 yards away ready to load onto the Rig. I had to kick start the bitch so I left it running while I ran back to get the motorhome. There was no place to turn the Rig around so I had to back it up into the right position for an easy, first time in years, loading. I didn’t wanna make a mistake and run off the end of the platform. With the bike on the back and everything going just right I drove to the parking lot where Gerry works. He showed up a few minutes later and I told him what the plan was. We looked at the map and he told me the best way to get to the Autobahn. 40 miles of narrow 2 lane country roads.

      Now ya gotta remember I haven’t driven this Rig, except from Orlando to Jacksonville, in 5 years. Then I was on the Autobahn from Amsterdam now I’m on 2 lane country roads in Germany. Thankfully the drivers in Germany are all excellent drivers. Unlike the complete IDIOT drivers in the USA. And I mean 99 % of the drivers in the USA are IDIOTS. No offence if you’re one of them but over here everybody knows exactly what they’re doing. They give and take spaces. I dought very seriously if there has ever been a case of road rage over here. That’s because these are thinking drivers. They know where and what they’re doing all the time. When ya see somebody that’s acting like an IDIOT they’re probably a tourist from the USA. I’ve ridden 24,000 miles over here and ridden like a madman and nobody has beep their horn at me or thrown their IQ finger at me. That’s because they understand what’s really happening. Motorcycles rule.
      On the Autobahn now I was at speed and making my way to Berlin. Naturally something had to go wrong because everything else has fucked up so far and what would make this part of the journey any different. The power steering/ water pump belt got tired of working and decided to take a shit. I didn’t know it until I saw the temperature gauge going up. So I stopped at the next rest area got under the front end and saw the belt was twisted and had been worn but could be put back on and used for a short time if at all. I have spare belts and started to look for them. At least I knew I had some spare belts but the question is where are they. What with all the stuff I had packed in here it was a crap shoot where they were. I found them and gave myself a pat on the back. I’ll be on the road shortly, Wrong. After checking them all out I didn’t have the one I needed. Son of a bitch and mutha-fucker too. Then I realized, Shit Howdy and Shit Happens. If Shit didn’t Happen than Shit Howdy. If I didn’t have any bad luck I would probably have nothing buy no luck at all. I put the old belt back on as best I could and hit the road at a speed and RPM that I hoped would make the installation last as long as I needed it to. It did. I made it to another exit that had a truck sales store there and went in to ask where I could get a belt. They didn’t have any parts at all but the German dude did let me know that just 2 miles away was a shop that has parts. OK, so I drove over there and parked where I wouldn’t have to move the Rig again. A crowd of mechanics came out to see the Rig with the bike on the back and I asked “Does anybody speak English?” Of course one of them did and he was the Boss. I happened onto a Scania truck service center. I told him what  was up and the problem I had. He got down underneath the front of the Winnebago and saw the belt. I told him I can take it off, he told me we can match it with the ones he has in stock. After a minute and 56 seconds I had it off.  I showed him the belt and brought it with me. Up a flight of stairs to the belts hanging on the wall and there was a perfect match. I thought. I took it down and installed it on the Rig and it fit. After starting the engine and revving it up a couple times and seeing that it would be OK I went back in to get another for a backup. That took 1 hour and 17 minutes and it only cost me 30.00 euros.

      There are many rest areas and turnouts along the way so I stopped a few times to check the bike and look over the Rig. On one of these I saw the bike was starting to shift on the platform. I proceeded to loosen the tie downs to straighten it up when the bike slowly falls over and part way off the back of the platform. I had tried to stop it but it just came on down. Now I’m fucked again. I walked around to see if there was a strong back to help me. There was a guy in an England transport truck and he came over to  help me get the bitch back up. We talked a few minutes then he was gone. Had to make a delivery in Berlin. Nice guy and he even locked his truck before he came over.
      To shorten the story about the “boring” drive to Spandau let’s just say I got to the Hoffman shop after they were closed and I had the place to myself till tomorrow. I was still worn out from the ride south from Norway, the running outa gas thing and the drive to Berlin with the belt problem stuff so I slept in late and woke to a no big deal thing until the gang saw I was up and movin’ around. Then it was a big deal. They lined up for a tour and could not believe how big the Rig is and they all told me it was too big for Germany. When I told them it was a gas engine each and everyone of them would fall outa their shoes with wonder how they could afford it. I would tell them that it’s a hotel room, restaurant and work zone. That’s when they would start to understand how they  could afford it. I don’t have to pay for a hotel and I don’t eat at restaurants. I eat my kinda food and sleep with MY PILLOW in MY BED. The Winnebago is 44 feet long, 11 feet high, 8 feet wide and has more than most peoples houses have. Even an automatic ice maker. I won’t mention the safety equipment and devices. Let me tell ya, I’ve opened the door of my house on wheels to the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, Yellowstone National Park, Monument Valley, the Rocky Mountains, Death Valley, Gulf of Mexico and many places in between. Junk yards, Wal-Mart, vacant fields, rivers, lakes, office buildings. Sometimes nothing at all. What a sight that is. Ya’no what I mean, opening your door to nothing at all. Now I’ve opened the door to Amsterdam, Hanover, Berlin and now Spandau Germany. Where the door will open next has yet to be seen. Do I have to mention that 2 bikes fit on the platform on the back. The basement model that it is has room for tools to keep it running and storage for everything that my heart desires.
      Let’s get back to the journey, the Hoffman shop parking lot is only a temporary place for me to stay and I need another place fast. I told everyone about my needs and my friend Lars came thru with a friend of his that owns a metal fabrication shop in Spandau about 4 klix from the Hoffman shop parking lot. The problem that confronted me now was that the day that was arranged to move the Rig was the day I was supposed to leave for a big party south of Berlin. Thursday came, I moved the Rig and then left for 3 dayz.

      Motorcycle Jamboree Altes Lager bei Juterbog, July 20–23 was a major event for the Berlin/ Northern Germany area. Custom Chrome even sent a tractor trailer with 8 bikes in it to put on a display. Climax Custom Cycles was the major show piece and was set up at the main intersection inside the event grounds. I met the Custom Chrome Europe sales rep, Stefen Alpert, stefen-alpert@customchrome.de, www.custom-chrome-europe.com,  and we had some excellent conversations over the 2 ½ dayz. He speaks very good English and can understand a complicated mind.

      I estimate there were about 15,000 people over the weekend. There was good weather, booze, loud music with plenty of fun and game to be had by all. There was a swimming pool in a local town about 10 klix away and I was invited to attend with the members of HDBC m/c based in Spandau. The closed down Russian air base nearby that I saw just had to investigate alittle closer. I rode over found a place to park the bike and jumped the fence to see what the hell was in there. About 15 large buildings and a gymnasium with the usual graffiti on the interior and exterior walls. This is what I do for entertainment. I walked around the place for an hour and then got the hell outa there.

      Back at the event zone which is actually the airfield for the abandoned base they were partying and the biker games were going on. I made it there just in time to see the last of the fun. There’s really nothing else to do except hang out and drink as the place is surrounded by nothing of significance. In other words there’s no reason to go ride cuz there’s nothing out there to go see. Unless you’re like me and I wanna go walk around the abandoned buildings that use to be something to somebody.

     I didn’t get any sleep the whole weekend as I set up camp right next to the Custom Chrome trailer, like I said, was set up at a location and so close to the stage, Ya’no the music, people walking by talking and the beer bottles flying. I wanted to get back to Spandau and my new home. That is, my old home just in a different country. Instead of the Winnebago in Orlando, Florida it’s now in Spandau, Berlin, Germany. I was chomping at the bit for this party to get over and done with so I could leave. As all good things must come to an end and it did. I was loaded and on my way outa there Sunday morning at 8:30.

       I took the scenic route back which took about 1 ½ hour. I had the key to the gate and was comfortable at last. I may never leave the Rig. Ever. Oh shit, that’ll never happen I have 2 Shovelheads here and plenty of new territory to cover. Over the weeks that I’ve  been here Climax Custom Cycles is where I hang out. Achim, the parts counter guy, is my newest best friend here. We have many conversations about a lot of things and frankly I’m shocked sometimes about what comes outa his mouth. He actually speaks like he knows what he’s speaking about. If ya want you can change “speaks” with “talks” and it means the same thing. Get it? Funny guy too. He crakes me up sometimes and I learned something from him. How to open a beer with a ring on your finger. Of course I don’t wear jewelry or drink but the fact is still there. In Germany they don’t have screw off beer bottle tops. Ya gotta use a bottle opener. Ol’ style, I love it.