Jazz Ridez The Globe, Europe 2006
It Starts Here
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

    

Jazz Ridez The Globe

The Adventure continues,

Europe 2006

     **********WARNING**********
 
WARNING: IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 years in age, GET OFF MY WEBSITE.
IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL,  GET OFF MY WEBSITE. This is a book about my travels in Europe that has explicit descriptive accounts of a sexual nature between consenting adults. It also contains language and activities that may offend you. If that's the case GET OFF MY WEBSITE. Go get a real life instead. Then come and visit my website and learn.



 Chapter 1

 Here we go again, another trip only this time it’s for keeps.

      All the arrangements have been made and all the important stuff has been done. Now all I have to do is get on the airplane. Let me take you back for a short short adventure just outside the airport. After dropping off the motorhome I had to wait until tomorrow for the flight. I didn’t wanna waste the money on a hotel/ motel room so I decided to camp out but where. Well, I went for a walk and found the perfect place. Near the terminal building and close to food and water. I also had some smoke to get me thru the night. As a matter of fact a little too much smoke. I hung out at My Spot and huffed and puffed my head off but still didn’t get a good nights sleep cuz’of the anticipation of the up coming dayz. In the morning I huffed and puffed my fucking head off and left the rest of the smoke there at My Spot. Maybe some day somebody will happen upon it and have a great day.

       The next thing I knew was I was on the airplane and headed into the unknown of Europe again. This time with a little more insight of what to expect. Within reason of course. I didn’t expect it to be so easy to get into Italy. Before I knew it I was in there and looking for a train south to Castrovillari. It didn’t happen. Nobody spoke English and I couldn’t make out the signs or schedules, never having ridden trains before, in a foreign country, I had to ride 3 trains to get there. The first was full of young people on their way home from spending time in Rome. Not many spoke English so I was in luck and didn’t have to waste a lot of energy talking and listening tring to figure out what point they were trying to get across to me. The second was the same with more locals trying to get from where they were to somewhere else. And the third was near empty so I had my pick of seats.
       It was a grueling 7 hours south to Cosenza and I was still a couple hours to my destiny. Or destination, which ever you prefer. Didn’t make any difference to me I was headed to get my Purple Bitch. 1980 80cid FLH. After 5 years of storage I wondered what it was gonna be like at the reunion. That didn’t happen for a few dayz and here’s what happened between now and then.

      At the bus station in Castrovillari I lowered myself to walk the distance necessary to arrive at a familiar place and have the shop owner call for help. It arrived in short order and I was on my way to some other place. Franko picked me up and took me to his apartment. That’s where I was to stay for the next few dayz waiting for Aldo to arrive and alert me to what was going on with my bike. In the meantime I was showered with hello’s and ciaos from all my old friends from 5 years before.

      I was chomping at the bit and anxious as hell to find out about the bike. Aldo showed up on the 3rd day. We went to the old place but the bike wasn’t there. I didn’t ask him where it was outa respect and found out later that it was over on the coast in safe keeping. At the end of my 4 dayz in Castrovillari Pasquale took me to the train station, at break neck speed,  I mean I don’t scare easy but he had me wondering whether on not I should worry about the bike at all. About 40 miles away he drops me at the train station and told me to get a ticket to somewhere else. Then it was another train after that to another place. When I got to the last place it was almost midnight and 2 guyz in a small car stopped to pick me up. I got into the car and we drove to a house way out in the sticks of the agricultural area outside of town. It was now about 1am. If this was a movie I would expect to be dead at some point soon. We made small talk in the car on the way, I mean real small, as the English was not the main language in that part of Italy. Near Brindisi. Look on the map. It’s down near the heel of the boot.

      I spent the night on the concrete floor there and was glad the place was way outa town as I needed some sleep. It had been about 30 hours without much at all if any. The house I was in was about 20 feet from the highway and the cars and trucks went by making enough noise, tire and exhaust, so as to keep me awake even though I was really tired  so I tried to go to sleepy land. There were a couple cushions there but I was to worn out to look at the whole picture of the scene. The concrete was OK for that night. Maybe something would be different the next night. Like maybe a camp spot with my bike by my side.

      Patrick, from the night before, was his name, spoke good enough English so we got along fine and he explained to me about the accommodations for my first night in the boot heel of Italy. Farm house turned storage/utility building for the farm. His dads farm. Hard workers all of them. I could see the place from top to bottom. Neat, clean and orderly and everything in its place. We went to town in the morning and had some food and met some of his friends then generally wasted time until it was that time again, for me to go to the farm house for a second night. This time I thought about it and made myself a little more comfortable.    

     I took the 2 cushions from the chairs and made a place to fall down. Well, as it turned out that didn’t work out as I tossed and turned all night wondering about my bike. The next morning Patrick came to get me and we were off and driving around going here and there. I think Patrick was showing off his new American friend. Jazz. That was alright to. I really didn’t mind. I shook more hands and asked “Do you speak English?” more times than you can shake a stick at. Well, anyway I met all the right people and saw many places I wouldn’t have seen had everything gone according to plan. I still hadn’t seen my bike. I didn’t ask again outa respect for the folks that helped me out then and now.

      I know it will happen soon. Soon came sooner than I thought. Without warning or very little warning we went to a house and I was alerted that on the other side of that wall was my bike. I got the camera ready and walked around the corner and low and behold there Purple Bitch was. My 1980 80 cid FLH. Still looked the same as I remembered only it was shinny black instead of purple with red pin stripping on it. Upon closer examination it was in for some work to get it to run and be ridden. The brakes were history and some of the body parts needed to be reinstalled. Fenders needed to be affixed on it, brakes needed to be completely reworked front and rear. New battery was in line also. Over the next 2 dayz my new friend, that stored the bike, with Patrick looking on and I with the limited tools we had worked the bitch over and got it back running and ridden. I did have a long ride to get to the other bike, Black Bitch, in Switzerland. I hope the work was sufficient to get me 500 miles.

      Late in the day that the bike was done I ran into some smoke, a nice sized chunk of hash and relished in the euphoria of the alienation from the normal world. Ohhhhhh how I wondered how anybody could go without this feeling. It should really be a law around the globe that if you don’t smoke you go to jail and they pump the smoke into your cell. That’s another page that I haven’t gotten to yet. The last night on the floor was as bad as the first but that’s the life of an ol’ skool bikr.

     The next morning I was packed, loaded, if ya no what I mean and ready to go. Patrick showed up and greeted me with the usual hallo and told me to follow him to find the way outa there. I did and was finally on the road to parts unknown in the wilds of Europe starting with Italy. It’s a tall state with a lot in the between. I’d seen a lot of it and will see more but for now I was in a jam on time and resources.  I made my way to the Toll road and snake dicked my way passed the auto pay and throttled up to speed.

      I started to remember the troubles I had before and sure enough here they came to haunt me. Voltage regulator. 100 miles later the bike stopped running and I thought I was outa gas but there was plenty under the cap. I smoked a cigarette and kicked the bitch to life and made it about 2 miles. That’s when I figured it out and started to plan an “out.” I fired up a few more times over the next 2 hours, waiting about 30 minutes between runs and made it to the toll plaza. Not a good place to run outa steam. Not 40 feet from the toll booth. I was not only outa battery juice but outa gas too with the toll taker staring at me right over there. Then it started to rain. Then it stopped. There’s an information sign over  there that states a city is just 3 klix. I started walking about 1.5 miles to it.

      Of course it was coming on lunch time and if ya know anything about Italy everything stops for 3 hours. 1 to 4 nothing is open and I mean everything is closed. The gas station guy was to return, according to the sign, at 3 and 3 came and went. Then 4 was close by but passed like 3 did. Then 430 hit home with the return of the gas guy. I had to find,  and I mean find cuz everything gets recycled around here, 4  1.5 litre soda bottles to use as a gas can. Just as I was about to start filling them up a car drives up and the gentleman tells me that he will give me ride back but first he has a stop to make at the auto parts store. As we drove back to the toll plaza I explained what I was doing and the problems that had already occurred. He got a kick outa all the shit I told him and he asked if it was worth it. I told him emphatically yes that I wouldn’t do it any other way because if I did we wouldn’t have met. He agreed with me that it was that way that it was to happen.
      Back at the bike with the gas in I still needed a battery charge or something. The highway maintenance guy that just gave me a ride worked about 200 meters over there and it was raining like hell now. With all the balls of a Idiot redneck asskicking Yankee ding dong, of course I’m from the deep south, I pushed my not running bike thru the toll booth and past the arm the was down and that’s when I saw and heard the toll taker yelling at me something in Italian. Of course I yelled back to “Shut the Fuck up Asshole” and continued to push the bike in the rain the 200 yards to the building over there. On the way the resident watchdog came at me with blood in its eyes. Snarling and barking in a loud tone with the teeth and the drool and biting and everything I kinda slowed to a stop and with my arms outstretched I snarled back and barked louder but it didn’t work. The dog came at me with more zeal. Now it had blood coming out its nose and ears. The same maintenance man called the dog off then  asked what the problem was now. I told him I needed a battery charge so he fixed me up like right now. While it rained I got a charge and a sandwich and met more interesting people.

      I figured about an hour and 20 minutes or the needle at the lowest point on the charger would do just fine and it was raining anyway but not as hard as it was before. Ya meet the nicest people while working on a broken Harley.

      A couple of his work companions came thru the shop and took a really long look at the 1980 FLH loaded to the gills with road gear and the Florida license plate.  One of them got some meat, cheese and bread out and we had a snak with a couple cups of home made wine. I felt at home in the shop watching this guy build his window frames outa junk on company time while I ate with his friends. Fancy window frames too. I was given a gift of a small bottle of his home made wine to take with me. Then the rain stopped and the roads started to dry off.     

      What with the truck traffic and all I shouldn’t hav’ta wait long for the roads to be dry. Sur’nuf it happened. The roads were dryer and the charger was at the 1.5 amp level and wasn’t going any lower. I said my thanks and good byes and hit the road. Without paying the toll. Har Dee Har Har. In my haste to get the hell away from the toll booth I made a wrong turn and ended up about 5 miles outa my way from the Autostrat. The highway did go in the right direction but it was rougher and windier. After stopping for a fill up, if you remember, I did only put 4- 1.5 litre bottles of gas in. I got back on track and was back up to speed and the battery was still not getting charged. I needed a volt pack fast.
     Back in 2001 I stopped at a shop in Riccione so I looked at the map, it’s a long way up there. I’ll never make it today. Termoli is the next town of any size on the map even though the map is incomplete and misleading to say the least. Ya gotta be careful when planning a trip. Until ya get there ya never know what yer gonna find. Well, let me tell ya what I found.

     At 830p I rode into town and made the usual spin around and thru to see what’s up. I stopped near the Centrum and notice the townsfolk doing the evening walk boogie. It’s tradition and so I parked and watched. Next thing I hear is loud rock music coming from a couple blocks away. ‘What the hell is this all about’ I think and I’m gonna find out what’s up. At the town square there is a stage set up and a band tuning up. OK, here I am in Termoli Italy, it’s whatever day this is and the sun has set the folks are doing the walk boogie and there’s loud rock and roll music in the Centrum.  I have to find out who is putting this event on. After parking my bike right in front of the stage and walking to the sound board I introduce myself and ask ‘who’s in charge”? As history will show the sound man never gets the respect he deserves and here is no exception. I can’t remember his name but he tells me the BOSS is Paolo. As I was typing this I remembered the sound mans name, Fabio. So there ya go respect in the form of me remembering your name. Good guy too. Fabio spoke English and did everything he could do to help me out in this time of need. What need? Paolo was a star too. Owns a music store in Termoli, www.nightmarerockshop.com, and was/is a rock star still at 325 years of age. Only a little bit of an exaggeration.

      Well, he’s not really that old but to hear him tell his story you’d think he lived that long to gain all that information and history. Ya wanna talk about a music store in a small town well he’s got it. Paulo has more than 100 drum sets, probably 100 guitars and bass’ s . Check out the pictures of the store.  After advising them both of my situation they offered me the Termoli treatment of a piece of ground to sleep on and a battery charger.  It was already late and after shooting video and some stills of the concert, that got rained out at the ½ way point, I followed them to the New Shop that was under construction and was shown where I could fall down for the night then got the charger started on the battery.

      In the morning Paolo and Fabio pointed out a Jap bike shop near by that could help me with some minor repairs. I do ride a troublehead, I mean a Shovelhead don’t’cha’no. After leaving the bike there I went back to the shop and was treated to the red carpet treatment that only Paolo and Fabio could provide. They took me all around town introducing me to all the right people and taking me to obviously the right places. At one of them, www.fototommaso, I worked with John and his video editing equipment to burn a copy of Paolo’s 17 year old son blasting on the guitar on stage from the night before. This kid has more talent than any other 50 - 17 year old kids and will make the big time in due time. He will have the help from his father, the retired rock star, and music store owner. The bike was fixed up, charged and ready to go but I was invited to spend another night sleeping under the boat in the parking lot at the new shop.  A huge steel rolling locking gate would lock me into the parking lot for the night. That was only after dinner and drinks and the usual yahoooing. I still had the elevator key to the roof too.

      In the morning I was treated to breakfast and as all good things they must come to an end. I said my good byes and hand shakes and launched for Riccione/ Rimini area. A couple hours up the coast would wake me up from the stupor I smoked myself into last night and this mornin’. Ya gotta love that Red Bull can with your favorite smokeable in it. Instead of ridin’ up the coast road I figured I needed to get to the shop for a volt pack so I jumped the toll road again the usual way, behind a car that has the prepaid pass. By the way ya get off the same way ya get on. Suck up behind a car that goes thru the prepaid pass lane and I mean close behind so the arm doesn’t come down on’ya. I jumped off at the exit and made my way to town.

      I was mildly disappointed when I saw the shop was closed and went looking for help in finding another shop. After stopping and asking where a Harley dealership was I proceeded to that area and met Claudio, infradito501@yahoo.it.  He was just coming outa the place and I asked the question, “Do you speak English”?. The answer was yes and we got along just fine. He understood my situation and told me to follow him to a shop about 10 klix south. He had only been there once before and we had a little trouble finding it but did get there without any major trouble. I pulled up to the door of the, Kustom Garage di Tontini Marco & co.,  www.kustom-garage.it,  garage and Claudio started talking to ‘the man’, Marco. He jumped right on my FLH and within an hour had the bitch pumping juice into the battery like it was made to. 75 euros later Claudio and I were north bound and I was in Harley Heaven again. Now all I had to worry about was the rear brakes which I still didn’t have much of. Even after all the work we did back in Leece. Being an experienced rider and all I didn’t really need rear brakes until after it’s too late. That never happened and the ride north to Milano was getting better. The toll road was perfect, smooth with good markings, guard rails and signs. It was getting on to 10 pm Milano was still aways off and I wanted to continue.

      In one of the many small towns I went thru I passed a roadside fast food vendor so I stopped and had some fun with the locals. Including a hooker that was working the other side of the road. Had a sandwich drank a beer that was offered and revved my pipes a couple time as these folks don’t get to hear that music very often. I hit the road again and blasted outa town and left them with the reminder that Shovelheads Rule. I bet they’re still talkin’ bout me. After 20,000 miles in Europe I don’t much think about the cops anymore. This is riders paradise. You can do anything ya want within reason. That’s exactly what I’m doing now. Ridin’ a surface highway way after dark and at a high rate of speed and I can picture people wakin’ up thinkin’ the Russians are coming back into town. 

      I got to Milan at about 1230a and found a major roundabout. There was a bus terminal right there and dozens of people getting’ on and off the bus. As usual I parked and just hung out until I decided to ask somebody if I could use their cell phone. Two guys were walking towards me and I thought this is my chance to connect with Aldo. One of the, they were really just kids, guys had a cell phone and spoke English. I showed him the paper with the phone number on it and he dialed it. No answer. I asked him to dial it again and leave a message. He did and my job was over. In the roundabout was a group of trees so I set up camp there and drank the wine the maintenance guy gave me. Rode the elevator and since I was worn out I woke in the morning to the sounds of Milan waking up. Car and truck traffic making their way around the round a bout.

      Since I didn’t connect with Aldo last night and I was anxious to get to Dachsen I loaded my gear and headed out. The highway to the Alps was a slow steady climb to the Swiss border. Now was the time to get a map of Switzerland so I stopped for gas and stole a map. They wanted 10.00 euro for a lousy map. Hell I’m not paying that much for a fuckin’ map, So I stuck it in my leather jacket and paid for the gas. Got outside and opened the map to see exactly where in the Europe am I. 

      Another 20 miles and I was going thru a long tunnel then busted out into Switzerland. I was still an hour and a half out from Schaffhausen. I did stop a couple times to ride the elevator at the right places where ya didn’t really need anything but the sights and sounds of the Alps to get high. But I did anyway. And then along came Dachsen. I made it to Base Camp Switzerland. It was 1p. Scholi was at work and won’t be here till later. I was outside uncomfortable but here. York arrived a little while later. He lives downstairs and owns the building. He let me in so I  showered and relaxed. I started a load of laundry and settled in for a do nothing afternoon. I actually did do some maintenance on the bike and rode the elevator to the roof and was glad I made the trip OK.

      Scholi showed up and was mildly shocked even though I had Emailed him to expect me but I was a day early on the new schedule but a few dayz late on the old schedule. Naturally the first thing he had to say was there was a party this coming weekend and we were going.

      The Thors MC party was no small time affair. The whole town shut down and was open to bikers only. All the folks in town participated by putting small booths together and joining in on the fun and beer drinking. It rained as usual and dampened the spirits a bit and I was still getting over the first 7 dayz in Europe. The jet lag compounded by trains and about 600 miles of ridin’ and breakdowns and all. I hit the sleeping bag at about 330a and the party went on all night long. Saturday was more of the day before. More beer drinking and music and motorcycles for everybody else. I was on call and shooting video and taking still pictures. If ya wanna get a kick out of  big American horse power cars in Switzerland stop by the shop of Hebi’s Power Garage, www.hebis-power-garage.ch and you may see what you ain’t never seen in the USA. This guy has Corvettes with horse power like ya never seen. Race car, show cars and personal cars with very large engines.

      I’m here to tell ya in Europe bikers know how to throw parties. It’s not just here in Swiss but everywhere I go. You can spend the whole summer just ridin’ from one party to another, state to state, party to party and not have much time for anything else. Unless ya wanna slow down and sightsee some here and there. Meanwhile back at base camp and normal living Scholi goes to lay brick and I work on motorcycles. My motorcycles. We did go get my second bike. 1974 74cid stroker motor FX. Scholi is a unique human being. One of a very few on this planet. He took such good care of my bike that when we went to get it it was just a few minutes to get it started running and ready to ride. New battery, gas and oil check and the usual stuff and then it was alive and breathing again.

      Now at base camp were my 2 bikes and Scholi’s 3 bikes. All Harleys of course. It looked like a fuckin’ bike shop. Yet all it was is a small garage with a bunch of American Iron parked out front.

      The whole plan I had devised was going up in smoke and things had to accelerate some. I contacted Wayne in California and advised him to get ready to fly to Zurich. He did and a couple dayz later I picked him up at the airport on the FLH. The Purple Bitch was more worthy of a lard ass passenger than the Black Bitch. Sur’nuf he had 3 bags full of shit that was completely unnecessary to bring to Europe on a trip like this. I saw the Idiot right off the bat. Or should I say right out of the gate. I missed the exit on the way back to Base Camp and had to back track about 10 miles. That road was to be the first mistake of many to come. Wayne was something that to this day I can’t describe. He slept more than he was awake. I mean it, for the first 3 weeks he was in Europe he was sleeping more than he was awake. We went to the Black Souls party the first weekend he was here and he found a place to fall down and I didn’t see him till we were ready to go the next day. It was a small party but a party none the less. Out of respect you should at least party a little bit. Not him.

      The next weekend we headed to the next party on the schedule. Black Bush throws it every year. It’s not the biggest affair but a party it is indeed. The riders are all close friends and neighbors. Ya hav’ta go each year to get to know them or ride with them on a regular basis. Inside the building was good music they had a pig on the fire and the booze was flowing like the Colorado River in spring. My problem is I don’t speak the language so I just shot some pictures, video and talked to the folks that spoke English. I’ll for sure return someday and I’m sure they will remember me. Scholi knew them all as he is a friend of theirs. They have a website, www.blackbush.ch, and they invite you to visit the site or stop by and have a beer.

      The next party was the Saalbach party. The whole town was shut down for bikers only. This is not a small town. Every business was open and no cars allowed. Wayne was in the hotel sleeping. American flags were flying everywhere and yet not many people spoke English. I had a blast. Meeting new friends and shooting video of stuff  I’ve never seen before. Gathering business cards and making a lot of noise with my 2 bikes up and down main street. The crowds were lovin’ it to. Every time I headed up or down main street the people would make like a throttle twist and want me to rap the pipes. And I did. Maybe a half a tank of gas and many thousands of inches of ware and tear on the motors.

     Ya know a lot of bikers today ride those new fangled things that look like Richard Simmons would be seen riding, well, I’m here to tell ya the guys to visit for the real bikers bikes is Fourty Fucking Five Cycles. Check out their website at www.area45cycles.de and see what they have to offer ya if you’re looking for a REAL Motorcycle

      Wayne is still up in the hotel sleeping. By the way, the reason we were in a hotel was because it was raining and I didn’t really feel like sleeping or even setting up camp in the rain or on wet ground. For 3 dayz it rained off and on and I was glad we were in the hotel. Blumenhotels Spa and Wellness,  www.blumenhotel.at,  was and is the place to stay when you’re in or near Saalbach, Austria. The accommodations were the same as anywhere and the service was the same as anywhere that you would go and expect when you pay $60.00 a night for a room. Breakfast each morning is included and it was a great layout too. I’m not sure if all hotels have that service. As you may or may not know I don’t make it a habit of staying at hotels. I do have a budget even tho some people wouldn’t think so. It rained a little the whole weekend and I was glad we had the hotel room. I’m sure Wayne did to as he was sleeping 99% of the time. He came over here to work shooting video, talking to people and taking still pictures. He didn’t do any of that, he slept instead. Oh Well, that was then and now is now. As all good things must come to an end we loaded up and left in a slight drizzle.

      The drizzle lightened up just in time for my bike to quit running all of a sudden. For the next hour I tried everything I could to get it to run again and finally after taking the module out and putting in some points and changing plugs it was back to snuff again. Then it started to sprinkle, again.  It got worse as we went and before to long it was coming down like bucket fulls. We, Scholi, Wayne and I had to stop at a gas station for a couple hours till it stopped.  There were a few others under the shelter of the station. Mostly Jap bikes as the more seasoned riders on BMW had appropriate rain gear and didn’t have to stop. I was havin’ troubles with both bikes more mine than Wayne’s ride and as I fixed the problem on either one he would just sit back and relax.

      Scholi was on vacation and not into the camping out thing so we tagged along with him and it cost me a small fortune. I can feel it today as I write this. We crossed into Checkland and headed for Budweiser. That’s right folks I spelled it right Budweiser, Checkland. Actually its spelled Budejovice. It’s where the beer was first made. Just after crossing the border Scholi stopped at a money changer business and I pulled in after him. As I slowed down to pull off the road I griped on the front brake a bit too much and the front wheel slipped out from under me and I went down to the ground. Knee went into the asphalt moments before my shoulder did and my right ankle was getting twisted around under the bike.

      After sitting still for about 10 seconds I got up and checked out the bike. Bent bars. Rear brake was broke and pushed back into the front pipe. That was about the extent of the damage. I hobbled and limped to the bike got on and away we went to get a real Bud. I knew I was gonna be hurting tomorrow.

      Found a hotel, Orea Hotel Dvorak Ceske, www.oreahotels.cz, got a room and started to have fun. Had a Bud, some food and Scholi called one of his girl friends. We met up with her at a bar and low and behold she had a couple girl friends with her. We matched up with the chicks and Wayne didn’t like the fat one he got so he went back to the hotel and to sleep. The girls wanted to ride the Harleys so I took mine for a ride and Scholi took his. On his ride he was pulled over by the police and got a ticket for being drunk driving, paid a 30 dollar fine and pushed the bike back to the parking lot. He didn’t even get cuffed up.

      We ended up at the hotel and started to fuck the girls while Wayne was sleeping right over there. Scholi had some Thailand viagra so I did some. The girl Scholi was with was a big girl. I mean big in every sense of the word. Big ass, big tits and big bones.  I would be fucking the girl I was with and sucking the other girls big tits and Scholi was sticking his dick in my girls mouth and the two of them got it on for a while so I took a shower with a hard on and to make a long nights fuckin’ short we fucked and fucked and fucked until I didn’t see the sense in it anymore and got my load off into her mouth, which she swallowed like a amateur, then told her to get out so I could sleep. We did have some kinda fuckin’ fun that night.

      In the morning we had to go get the bikes from the paid parking about 100 yards away and load them up. Breakfast then ride. I was recuperating from the crash yesterday and will get over it in about a week. We didn’t get 20 miles before my bike started to run ruff and lose power. Son of a fuckin’ bitch and it was pouring rain. No cover to get under and Scholi wants’ta get going like at rocket speed. I was frustrated as hell. Wayne was just sitting there. I can’t figure it out. This is about the 10th time this has happened. I just haven’t mentioned it until now cuz I wanted the “pissed off” in me to build up. Wayne just sits on my other bike. At least Scholi gets off his bike and tries to help or at least add his 2 cents worth into the pot. I changed plugs a few times, checked the wires, changed the points and condenser. I’ve done everything to get this bike running and it still won’t. I bought the same gas as they did. I bought new plugs, points and condensers the wires are in good shape the carb has always worked the fuel filter is clean the coils working, shocked the hell outa me anyway. What the hell is it?

      Then all of a sudden it wants to run again. I mean it was built to run like a scalded dog. Now it is. Come-on lets beat down some miles. Some long miles is what we did until we got to Teplice Checkland. Hookers all over the place and more coming outa the woodwork. Scholi decides to get a hotel and we follow suit. We sit around and drink and Scholi and Wayne both buy the local flavor of cunt hole that is in the window for all to see that drive by and paid 50 euro for 30 mins. Nice looking chicks too. As a matter of fact gorgeous to coin a word. I personally am into the side of the road girls that have the balls to park out there and take their chances. It’s more exciting too. Wayne and I walked down the road a ways to check out the other hookers and there was a store down there too. When we got back to the hotel I asked Wayne for the camera and remote control and he found that he had lost the remote somewhere between the hotel and the store. I walked that route 3 times in the rain trying to find it and couldn’t. Wayne was totally out of it and just didn’t care so he tells me he’ll buy another camera for me. That will work for me but it still pissed me off completely and I lost a lot of respect, as a matter of fact, all the respect I had for him. He was on his way out of the picture. I and he didn’t know it YET.

      In the morning my bike battery was dead as I had left the key on when I parked it last night. I tried roll starting it on the little bit of a down hill that was just in the front of the hotel. Didn’t work. I tried again on the next little bit of down hill. Didn’t work. I rolled of the road and down to a coffee shop. I had a battery charger in my saddle bags. I bought it in Schaffhausen. The owner of the coffee shop showed up to open so I asked if I could get some power from him and without a second flashing by he set me up. Wayne was taking things easy over there sitting down. Probably would rather be sleeping. That’s right we just got up. For the next 45 minutes I/ we waited. Scholi was out there looking for us. We saw him go by but he didn’t look down our way. Last I saw him he was headed north. When charging didn’t work I looked for a way outa there. There it was the hill I was parked on top of getting this charge. I walked the route I would take and looked for a way to maximized my downhill speed. After loading everything back on the bike I had Wayne go down to stop traffic if any started to get in my way.

      I rolled down and gained speed to the road that I couldn’t see either way on cuz of the buildings. Wayne was looking somewhere else when I crossed the street and I rolled on gaining speed as I passed a half dozen apartment buildings. I saw the end of the street coming up fast so I pulled the clutch shifted into second gear and stood up on the pegs then dropped my skinny ass into the seat and dumped the clutch. My heart was stopped and the motor was turning over and over and over but not firing. Then it fired and I blasted the throttle with a hard twist and the bitch came to life and I thought the Russians were coming back into town. Glass was breaking 2 blocks away and I had’ta get outa there. Wayne saw what was happening and got on my other bike and we blasted our pipes the hell right outa there and I mean quick. Listen, this is my story and I can have a little fun now and again. You’ll know when I’m bullshiting. Fact is the bike was running and we were on our way outa town to catch up with Scholi.

      Dresden was about 1 ½ hours on the other side of the mountain. I was still havin’ trouble with the bike, the Black Bitch, I needed a Harley shop. I had been to the Dresden H-D shop back in 2001 so we headed there. Scholi will get to where we’re going before we do and have it all set up. Maybe. At any rate of travel we got to where we were headed and that was the Dresden H-D shop and you guessed it, it was closed. But, there was a bike shop there, Big Bike Station, www.big-bike-station.de, and it was independently operated. We, Wayne and I, pulled in and I found out who was in charge real quick. After explaining what I needed and what was happening the crew jumped on my bike like stink on shit. For the next 5 hours guys were on and off my bike doing this and that to fix the front brake lever from the crash, the rear brakes, points and condenser change, tire pressure, oil check and I’m tellin’ya they did a number on the Black Bitch that rivaled any shop, shit any 3 shops I’ve ever been to in the USA. When it was all over I couldn’t believe my ears when he told me the price. I gave a heavy tip.    

      We  were back on the road and at a speed that I can live with and ride comfortable. I don’t care too much for that fast paced hard ridin’. I don’t wanna watch the grass grow but I do wanna see what’s over there. Maybe take a side trip to what’s around that corner.

      We got outa Dresden and headed for Berlin. It was after 7 when we were on the highway, Autobahn, and Berlin will be a rest stop for us and a chance to see the Spandau boys. We got there at 11pm Sunday and I knew nobody would be there until 7 in the morning. We camped out on the stone driveway in front of the shop. It wouldn’t be long before it was time to hit the road to Lubeck and the World Famous Riders Café. By the way did I mention that we were on our way to Super Rally 2006 in Vinstra, Norway. It’s only about 800 miles from Berlin. That’s like 1200 klix.

      Monday morning was an early wake up at 7 and loaded for the trail when Thommas showed up to open Hoffman’s shop. We stayed around long enough for Hoffman to get there and said my hallo’s and introduce Wayne to them. Karsten showed up and it was great that he was there on the day we were there. I hadn’t seen him the last few times I was in Berlin. That was 5 years ago so it was even better cuz it was like a reunion of sorts. We had coffee and said our goodbyes and Karsten told us to follow him and he would show us the way to the Autobahn. Perfect, I didn’t hav’ta look at a map ta get outa town. It was good to get back in the saddle. Especially on a bike that’s running the way it should. At speed we blasted the Autobahn to the place where Karsten told us to go left and sur’nuf I lead the way to the right and we had to back track about 4 miles.

      On the Autobahn I could see the MediaMart sign and that’s where we were supposed to get off for the Rider’s Café. To do things the right way I lead the way into the parking lot and parked. I went into the MediaMart and found another camera and Wayne bought it. I gave him the old camera that he lost the remote to. Next it was ask everybody if they spoke English until we get the right answer then ask if they knew where the Rider’s Café was. We got lucky and a guy with his girl friend riding an old BMW said to follow him. No more than a mile away was the Rider’s Café. I couldn’t believe it, I was at the World Famous Rider’s Café, Lubeck, Germany. I know I know you’re saying to yourself “What’s this World Famous Rider’s Café”. Well, hell, I’ll tell ya all bout it when I get to where I know about it enough to tell ya’bout it. We were there for an hour and then it was time to go. Puttgargen was where we were going to catch the ferry to Denmark.

      Upon arrival at the ferry loading zone I rode right up to the pay booth and this gorgeous brown haired goddess was there to take my money. For the measly sum of $56.00 USD we were on the ferry and at a table ready to eat what I thought was free food. I’ve done this before and the food was free. Well guess what? The food wasn’t free. I started eating some of the selection I chose and was confronted with a waiter that advised me, with a bill that the food was rather expensive. Wayne had sat down and was fine with the whole thing as he always was. Well, I told him to pay for me and got up to leave, he owed me for the price of the ferry ride. A waiter came over and asked if I was gonna pay and I said no that my friend was gonna pay. The idiot waiter pushed me and I wanted to slam his head with my camera bag but decided against that as it would fuck up my new camera. So I just shook his grip off and kept walking. Next thing I knew he was grabbing my arm again and this time I swung at him with my free hand. Missed of course. We had some words and drew a lot of attention. I called for the captain or the security or anybody to get this goon off me. I explained what happened and to make a long story short I went down to get on the bike and get off that ferry boat.

      Bikers are the first to leave the ferries and we made no exception. Back on the trial and an hour later after crossing a major bridge I saw a camp spot over there and headed for it. After riding around and checking it out I found the perfect place where we set up camp.

      Wayne and I set up camp on a river that was about a half mile across with the bridge just over there that we came across. It was windy as all get out and Wayne put a pile of scrape wood together for a fire. I told him to forget it. He said he was cold. Cold? It was no less than 75.  He started the fire anyway and it blew out of control and damn near got the whole place going and us on our way to jail. Fuckin’ idiot. “This shit has got to continue”, I thought. How long will it last? This time of year the sun doesn’t go down till midnight. So here it is 1130p and still broad daylight. The truck traffic was still going strong and even tho the highway is a half mile away the tire noise was gonna give me trouble sleeping.

      In the morning it was lock and load and on the road at 8. We had a long way to travel. The 2 lane highway was a bitch. So many travel trailers and cars afraid to pass each other. Actually it was dangerous to pass on this winding road. Unless you’re on a high powered Harley. Like I was. For the next couple hours I with Wayne following passed a 2368 cars 247 vehicles pulling travel trailers. Wayne dropped back and I had to wait for him a few times. I got pissed off royaly at him as it was easy to just follow me and do what I do. We stopped for food and at one point he told me “ I see Doom”. “You are doom asshole just follow me and do what I do. Let’s get going we have a long way to go”. Was my response to him. About an hour later we were at Vinstra. I told him to wait for me here, at a parking lot, and I went to find where we were going.

      Finally we were in the party zone with press passes flying and all was well. Found a camp spot and set up. Wayne went to sleep. I got busy and started working, walking, taking pictures, video and charging batteries. Wayne was sleeping. Over the next 2  dayz  Wayne was asleep more than he was awake. Batteries were not charged and shit wasn’t being documented. Wayne was asleep.
      Super Rally 2006 was just a beer drinking party. There was so much to see all around the party zone I had to go ridin’ a couple times to check it out. Up on the mountain side looking down was a sight to be seen. This valley was beautiful. Farms and barns here and there. Green like you’ve never seen before unless you’ve been to Switzerland. I was the only one that I could see that was out looking around. Everybody else was at the party drinking beer. I found out later that the beer sponsor was the worst beer you could find in the area. At 6 euro for one that was a might stiff. No doubt more than a few were offered to me and naturally I would decline the offer as I smoke dope not that stupid beer. If I was gonna drink alcohol I’d drink hard liqour like the best you can buy, Yukon Jack or Ezra Brooks. Of course nobody has any class except me. They, you drink Jack Daniels. That shits not good enough to give to my dog. If he drank. If I had a dog. Try Ezra Brooks and or Yukon Jack. You’ll never go back to that other shit. The music was great, loud and plenty of it. Some over here and some over there. Most of the time you’re in it.

     At the tit show I was completely disappointed when there were only 2 girls and they put on a show instead of showing off their stuff. Then 2 guys got up on stage one after the other and did a strip show that I had to leave during mainly cuz I’m not into that kinda shit, AT ALL. Who’s idea was that? I’ll tell ya, somebody in the rally committee set that up. Some people said it was cold and they were on bikes. Guess what folks, If ya ride a motorcycle you gotta put up and except what comes at ya. Cold, what a buncha pussies. This is Norway. It’s real near the North Pole. It’s cold up here all the time. What the fuck are these people thinking when they ride to a place where nobody wants to live that spends time outside. Most of the time ya gotta be indoors if ya live up here. Not out ridin’ a motorcycle.

      It rained a little during the rally and ya gotta be ready for that too. Guess what. Not everybody was ready for rain. What the fuck are they thinkin’ If ya ride a motorcycle ya gotta be ready for anything and everything. Even death. That happens too. Don’cha’no. I’m done knocking the Super Rally in Norway. I just hope that the 2007 rally committee will put on a rally like I could plan.  I won’t get into that now or later.

     I hate to bitch moan and groan but Wayne was supposed to be working. That’s the reason I had him come over here. I was forced to fire him on the 3rd ½ day and pulled his press pass. Told him he could ride the bike to Berlin and he said OK. Most of the rally visitors left on Sunday although the party was to run thru to Monday. 70% were gone and the folks that stayed were the real partiers. I was there and Wayne was asleep.

      On Sunday night at the main building the band was blasting out the tunes, the crowd that stayed for the last night was enjoying the hell outa the whole affair. I decided to give them a show of my own and backed my bike up to the doors and let loose with a symphony of  Harley Horsepower and loud pipes for about 90 seconds. The people were lovin’ it. Yahoooooing and generally letting me know they liked it. There was no doubt they liked it a lot. As I pulled away from that spot the security guards came over and pulled me off my bike just as I got the kick stand down. The 2 of them pulled me over to a place away from the crowd that gathered and made me blow a hand held tester. They told me I was drunk. I had just drank ¾ of a beer and threw the rest away. These were the security guys for the rally. What the fuck is this shit. We’re on private property and at a Major Biker event and these two goons hired by the rally committee were fuckin’ with me when in fact everybody was lovin’ what I was doing. I could go on and on about the plan that was set up by the rally committee but suffice it to say they were asshole and completely wrong. I should have gotten an award for making better music than the band.

      The security guards, pussy asshole punk boys, took me to their office and called the Vinstra Police. Two young cops, they looked like teenagers, that spoke English showed up and loaded me into the small Police truck they were in. I was driven to the Vinstra Police Station. They walked me in and proceeded to have me blow the big machine to determine if I was drunk. I didn’t even have a full beer. I faked the blow test to prove to myself that it could be done and the results were inconclusive. The cops called the prosecutor anyway and he called back about 5 minutes later to say “Let him go”. The cops took me back and dropped me off about 1000 yards from the party. Thanks a lot for making me walk assholes. It’s the game they play with peoples lives. The party continued even tho I wasn’t there. And when I got back it was like nothing happened at all. The best part and a little bit disappointing was no handcuffs were used on me. Damnit.


    


 

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