#BlogMeMaybe: May 22 – May I tell you something about myself?

The old daemon

This post is dedicated to @JenVinci

“What is the one thing you really wanna do that you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t ? And what’s really stopping you…?”

Three motorcycles with a view on the Alps, parked at the rim of an abyss

Photograph from:
the Lazy Motorbike site.

Yes, I must tell you about this… One of the great passions of my youth! I dreamed about it at school, watching with envy those older neighbours who were earning, and thus could buy a… motorcycle… Ahhh the sound of the engines, the symphony of exhaust pipes! During my time in the armed forces – some five years – I read the magazines, talked about it with other guys who were also fanatic. Then it was my turn to earn enough to make a decision. Then, we worked six days a week and 10 hours shifts, in my industry. After a year I could buy my first bike, a second hand 250cc Triumph which was my training steed. A very nice bike, very rigid frame, and a beautiful sound, though it was losing a bit of oil! I learned, frightened myself in occasions. By then I was living in the Rhônes valley – a short distance from the Alps, and some 200km from the Mediterranean coast…

Ahhhhhhhh those rides, in the Spring, over the recently open passes, still littered with snow drifts and ice, the thrill of sharp bends, over those mountains, to reach the Italian plain and then the magic name: Imola, then the temple of two-wheel serious races for big heart bikes, 500cc and above – soon to be dominated by Oriental steeds under the banner of Honda and Suzuki. I indulged in my first new 750cc bike for my 24th birthday – a BMW R75. Parents helped a bit, and then I was earning comfortably, having no other responsibility than for myself. Those were the days: long rides to the coast, Cannes, Nice, the Alps of Hautes Provences. We were camping, drinking, and were, by the standards of the time, rather promiscuous. But then, we were clean, and so were our women. The days before Aids and worse are now long forgotten. Penicillin, then, just worked.

I rode thousands of klicks to Germany and Northern Europe. As a reserve officer, I was then prohibited to go further East, behind the Iron Curtain. But there was plenty to do this side of it! Those nights with Finnish and German Angels – men and women looking as if they were inclined to drink the Bavarian Hydromel and Finnish Vodka in the skulls of their enemies (maybe they did!). I enjoyed the orgies, the dancing and drinking around the huge fires, the worship of the bikes.

And one cool morning far North in Jutland, on an isolated beach, I saw Aphrodite, in all her perfection. She was from Norway, and was bathing nude, as I was, there were only the two of us, and the bike, I still have no idea how she got there. Probably with a group camping nearby. It was a happy encounter, without complication, the sort of thing that I still remember and cherish today, (without kidding) a dozen bikes, and a couple of  hundred other bodies later, and being married, and loyal, to the same very beautiful person, for some twenty years… The bike took me to England and her short circuits, my first encounter with Brands Hatch, at the time one of the fastest circuits for motorcycling competition in Europe (but was England Europe then?) We live nearby now.

I never had any serious incident, broke down a few times, had near misses. Some 120,000 klicks later, I was drawn irresistibly by money and the big city. Traffic scared me. I had other needs. I was working 70hrs a week, no longer in shifts, but a gruelling schedule that left me exhausted every week. I got older, and sold the last bike.

Since then, every few years, it takes me in the guts (no it takes me in the balls): I wanna ride again, I look at the youngsters, and occasional oldies, on their steeds… I get restless. But I am now heavier, married, committed to other activities. So, even when I see bikers winding their ways around the beloved Italian passes, in the clear Alpine air, I told myself to stick to who I am now. So fade old bikers, on their way to Walhalla.

4 thoughts on “#BlogMeMaybe: May 22 – May I tell you something about myself?

Add yours

    1. Was good, went too quickly (with hindsight), but then one has to grow up! Or so they say 🙂 thx for popping in, wishing you plenty of good rides still!


  1. Sounds wonderful! I know a few people in their 60s who will probably never give up riding, but now their bikes are more comfortable, (though still Harleys). They ride with their retired wives to the cottage or do summer road trips, but no more big parties or wild times. Before, their bikes were part of a lifestyle; now they’re a preferred way to travel. In some countries in Asia, motorbikes are the only way to travel for most people.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Up ↑


words and scribble.

the runes of the gatekeeper's daughter

my tales, travels and photography


Ecrits d'une alien-née

Jane Dougherty Writes

About fantastical places and other stuff

Butterfly Sand

Curiosity run amok . . .

Pearl St. Gallery

Capturing Images Of Nature

Reena Saxena

Founder of ReInventions -- Coach, Trainer, Writer and Personal Branding Consultant

Openhearted Rebel

Inspiring a Revolution of Love, Compassion, and Wisdom

Cunning Witch

at Sutton's Rock Shop


Literatur, Philosophie und das ganz normale Leben

PiPP - People in Public Places

© Birgitta Rudenius - xpipp.wordpress.com - xpipp.blogspot.com


I write to figure out what is left

Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung - Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!

Ein OIKOS[TM]-Projekt gegen Antisemitismus, Rassismus, Extremismus und Fremdenfeindlichkeit.

Hector Reban

Blog MH17

Pablo Cuzco

...in My Mind's Eye

Berlin Typography

Text and the City // Buchstaben und die Stadt


The Protocol of Truth


« Je ne plierai pas, je ne m’en irai pas en silence. Je ne me soumettrai pas. Je ne me retournerai pas. Je ne me conformerai pas. Je ne me coucherai pas. Je ne me tairai pas. Le courage, c’est de chercher la vérité et de la dire ; ce n’est pas subir la loi du mensonge triomphant » (Jean Jaurès).

Tallis Steelyard

The jumbled musings of Tallis Steelyard


Exploring Time Travel of Place


a collision of science and comedy

Stift und Schrift

Zeichenkunst, Graphic Novels, Populäre Druckgrafik. Ein Bücherblog.

Words and Worlds

Real and Imagined - by Carl Bystrom

Light Motifs II

now with 27% more woo


Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water

Redhead Reflections

Talking inside my head...

My Art & Me

Scribblings & Doodlings

Up Before Dawn

Kicking butt before the sun comes up!

Places Journal

Sisyphus47's writing blog

Mimo Khair Photography

"art is life, life is art"

Bill Hayes

Writer and Photographer in NYC


collage/mixed media artist

Islamic Methodologies Made Easy

“Have the people not traveled through the land to make their hearts understand and let their ears hear, verily it is not the eyes that go blind but the hearts inside chests.” [The Qur’an (22:46)].

The Last Refuge

Rag Tag Bunch of Conservative Misfits - Contact Info: TheLastRefuge@reagan.com

Opus bay

Pobres putas cuando reina la Santa hipocresía.


A fine WordPress.com site

Kingsjester's Blog

Opinions from a Christian American Conservative


Just a mom on a journey to wellness.


"In the end it's not the dates on the tombstone that matter, it's the dash" - Angriest Man in Brooklyn

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should.

%d bloggers like this: