'Round the World with an Italian Supermodel

Few parting shots of Ace Cafe...







And then I'm off:

flobrandx said:

Ehhh...not that I'm a doctor but how does beans and smash help the immune system? Lol

We need you healthy so we can continue to live your journey! Hope to see you well and back on your journey. As always thanks for sharing it with us.

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Beans are healthy little buggers. I didn't even eat the mash, but it was a nice try at cooking a protein and potatoes meal with only hot water.

You sir, are on the wrong side of the Irish Sea. About halfway across would do!

Looking forward to vicariously enjoying some familiar sights once you get out of London. So much to enjoy!

Where are you headed next? North or South of London? I'd have come down to the Ace Cafe to say hello if I'd known you were going to be there.

Steve B said:

You sir, are on the wrong side of the Irish Sea. About halfway across would do!

Looking forward to vicariously enjoying some familiar sights once you get out of London. So much to enjoy!

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I hear ya! The TT will have to wait for me until next year....or the year after.

BRT: Ride Report is a few countries behind where my body is.

So on another forum I was asked about chicks....For all you guys here with wives or girlfriends at home who are wondering why I'm not taking advantage of more opportunities with women, well....think about this: what stops you from going on a week long trip on your bike? (And by "what", I mean "who!"). Yep. There's your answer: women and long motorcycle trips do not mix.

When I first set out on my Coast to Coast adventure I thought what most single (and I'm sure some married) guys would think: roll into town, roll in the hay, then hit the next town. Cinematic, perfectly cut scenes flashed through my head: camera tracks my bike rolling down a small-town street; barber lifts the blade of his straight razor in response to the involuntary movement of the crotchety old man's face as his eyes and ears track the diabolical, fire-breathing motorcycle heading down Main St. USA. Tumbleweeds blow. A chained dog becomes restless and fearful. Women shield the eyes and ears of their children while images of steamy romance novel scenes flash in rapid succession through their minds. Camera tracks to the out-of-place woman in capris, high heels and a tight fitting sweater clutching her chest as arousal rises and falls nervously with every breath. The motorcycle and its rider pull up onto the sidewalk (how reckless, how daring of he!). Her heart stops.

"Excuse me--yes--you in the capris with the pointy tits holding your breath--where can I find a hotel around here? Over there--sweet. Thanks. Swing by later with a bikini, a bucket and some soap if you would. My bike could use a wash."

Camera zooms in, she blushes and feigns outrage, he grins devilishly. Cut to next scene and said bikini is draped over the dash of her car (a yellow, '57 Chevy with a white vinyl interior, of course). Camera slowly pans out, bike starts, man on motorcycle blazes away as the woman stumbles out of her car, and--standing on shaky now capri-less legs--bites her bottom lip as the Ducati fades into the distance.

All the above sounds good and there are a million variations. But no matter what Scene 1 looks like, after that it's always the same. Scene 2 starts with complaining and ends with heroine in tears, Scene 3 picks up with anger and harassment. Scene 4 ends with regretting ever getting involved in the first place. The lesson is: CHICKS ARE THE ANTITHESIS OF FREEDOM.

I learned this valuable lesson around, oh, it must have been day three. She's attractive, intelligent, funny, successful. We have a fling, a few days of me thinking, 'cool, so this is what my life is going to be like.' The whole time she knows the deal--I'm leaving on an open ended trip. But when I tell her "I'm heading north on Friday, this intelligent, conservative, rational woman loses it right there in the parking lot of a sushi restaurant. First it's "I'm crying because I'm so happy for you," then it's "I'm sorry, it's just that I never thought I'd care about anyone ever again," which quickly degenerates into a monsoon of mascara and tears covering her cheeks in a sheet of ink as she comes to the conclusion, "I will be alone for the rest of my life." Even though the emotional flash flood came on abruptly, without any warning, it seemed to last an eternity (I was ....... hungry, god damn it), and flushed away all the good memories in the process.

I try to calm her down (can't eat with someone in tears) with .... like, "hey, it's not like I'll be on the road forever." Mistake. Her response to consolation was to calculate all the vacation hours she's saved up so she can meet me in all the major cities I stop at along the way. Every 'nice' thing I said became a gateway for her to begin modifying my trip so that it could include her. I of course explained this is a trip for me, solo, alone, a once-in-a-lifetime journey I'd always dreamed about....and it involves no planning, no thought and no other person." She continued to negotiate and didn't recognize the killcourse of doing so. And oh, by the way, we've only had three dates. WTF? I'm not traveling with anyone--and definitely not someone I've only just met.

As she continued to present inventive ways to ruin my trip with her presence, I couldn't help but escape into thought. This woman, who exhibited nothing but cheerful, poetic thoughtfulness, so readily, obstinately, inconsiderately began to terrorize me with plans that made sense only to her. The feeling of total, utter, absolute freedom I'd waited my whole life to enjoy could be gone in an instant if I didn't get the .... out of the situation immediately.

Despite her trying to convince me that we should spend every minute prior to me leaving together, that was the last time I saw her. She kept in touch, though, thoughtfully sending swarms of vicious texts to me at 2am, followed by charms of apologies at 8am, followed by more diatribes followed by more apologies over the course of at least a month.

Now, with a couple exceptions, I'd lived a lifetime oscillating between resisting coercion and submitting to it just to keep a woman happy. Hell, I'd NOT taken motorcycle trips in the past because there was a woman who'd never forgive me for being so selfish (as if not letting someone you love do something he's always dreamed of doing isn't a more evil form of selfishness). But it was crystal clear with this episode of estrogen madness--and nearly every one after (I don't learn)--that chances are, women will only be nice so long as your needs are subjugated to theirs. Their demands come first, second, third and fourth. If you want freedom, you've got to find it in the shadows and make sure she doesn't find out, because your interests are direct threats she'll eliminate immediately. Or you do what I did--eject yourself from the game.

Over time and miles I'd forget about that first experience, meet a girl. Everything would be cool, then the same exact story would repeat itself: woman happy, then woman demanding ...., then woman sad, then an attempt to ruin all sense of freedom with guilt, anger, hostility, sadness or any other instrument of evil at her disposal.

Maybe sex and companionship means more to some guys than me, making all the ........ worth it, but the threat of being ambushed by some novel, unexpected event or occurrence that's somehow hurt a girls feelings, pissed her off or just given her a ruthless way to formulate how disappointed she is ruins the whole point of getting involved in any way, shape or form. Hell, there was even one girl I hadn't seen in years that I met up with (for 20 minutes, in public). No harm there. She's married, has two kids. Was a totally innocuous meet-and-greet. I get back to my Airbnb and get an email from her: "Now my husband thinks we're having an affair and he's really pissed. Can I come stay with you?"

Uh, .... NO! I'm not getting involved with this ....!!!!

Drama aside, there have been some good experiences that didn't involve craziness, but those stories will have to wait for another time.

Alright...so back to me riding a bike and avoiding women....

After London I headed to the tunnel and crossed over the border into France.



Car in front of me almost backed over me, too. Clearly the women driving has a passion for reversing at high speeds. Sexy!



When I crossed from France into England last year, I'd been warned not to bring a folder. So I stole the biggest spoon I could find at the hotel I stayed at, dug a hole on the side of the road, and buried the sucker (wrapped in a bag). There it stayed the entire winter.

I rode to the spot and instead of a knife all I saw was a hole. I'm glad it wasn't my Strider folder, but a disappointment none-the-less. DPx Hest F2, gone for good. Hope some French farmer or road worker is really getting some good use out of it.



And this concludes France. Seriously. I didn't even spend the night--just headed straight to Belgium.

I had a conversation with a guy I met while chugging some water seated on my helmet at a gas station just after I'd arrived in France. The gentleman had been riding his whole life, and, after some preliminary questions for me, went in for the kill and asked the question he really wanted the answer to. Which, of course, was, "how did you untangle yourself enough from everything back home to do this?"

He always wanted to do a ride across the US, but never could work it in with everything else he had going on. My first question for him, was, of course--why the hell would you want to go to the US when you've got such amazing scenery here? (Knowing the 'grass is always greener', this was a bit of a question I wasn't seriously expecting he'd answer.)

The discussion wandered a bit, but I finally hit on the thesis that clearly triggered an incandescent flash of light that went off just above the right side of his head: 'Don't trick yourself into thinking that you're busy. Because doing the same thing you do every day is the equivalent of doing nothing'. I formulated that bit of wisdom while driving through Wales. No dis on Wales--just happened to be where I was at the time--but it struck me that, though everyone seemed busy, if you came back in 10 years everything would be the same. Hence, doing the same thing ever day--though it's not really doing nothing--is the equivalent of doing nothing if what you're looking for is progress.

It was also around this time that I realized I, too, was doing the same thing every day and I began to suspect that if I also didn't change something, I'd be doing the same thing in 10 years if I didn't switch .... up soon. Like death, truth spares no one.

And then...East.

By the time I arrived at this point in the story, I was simply beat to the core and running a slight fever. I pulled over to take a leak and, while taking a couple pictures (of my bike, not the leak), noticed my chain, which I'd adjusted just a few days ago, was loose again.







Unlike the other day, this time I'd stopped where many, many hammers had been laid out as if waiting for me to arrive.



Chain adjustment on a Ducati is super easy, requiring limited tools--I carry just an allen key and a screwdriver. But something heavy is a definite requirement. Fortunately the world is filled with items from the stone age that still work the same way they did hundreds of thousands of years ago.



(Unfortunately mud, too, still works the same way it has since the dawn of time.)

Got everything nice and tight....for now at least.

It had rained on and off during the day. I was lucky to get a break long enough to get my chain adjusted, etc., but hadn't had any luck finding a hotel. When I did find something close, it was either booked or outrageously expensive. By this point it was just after 4pm. I'd been on the road (which included the tunnel crossing) since early morning. I was f'in tired and hungry and not having a lot of fun. Finally found a place that was a bit out of the way, but I'd been going all day, and it beat 300 Euros or setting up camp in a soggy field, so I was off....

It really started pouring, though. And then I ran into numerous road closures, leading me (and a long line of cars moving at single digit speeds) in some cases onto unpaved roads that looked suspiciously like driveways heading out to farms. My phone kept ringing, though, which was odd....and once back on the motorway I pulled over under an overpass to see what the hell the emergency was all about. I decided recording the event in real-time might be better than just trying to describe it all.

youtu.be/iZGYKgyiALY

(I was frustrated, but still humored by the whole situation.) The video also gives y'all a sneak peak into the other side of living on your bike. It's not always pleasant. You're faced with stresses and adversity far more challenging than what you face in real life. Imagine that every day, after work, you go home to an apartment or house that's in a different place, sometimes it doesn't even have an address. You have to get gas on the way home, but your US credit cards don't work and there's no attendant. You only have a $50 and the machine doesn't give change. You go to the ATM machine down the street, but it's out of order. So you then have to find a place to break the $50 and explain to the cashier who doesn't speak English what you're doing by waving $50 in front of her and chopping it up with your hand. Then once you get back out on the road it starts raining, so you have to stop and put your rain gear on. You finally make it back to the station, fill up, and continue to search for your house. You find it, but your garage is now missing and you're in a high crime area. Though it's now 7pm and you've been on the road since 9am (carrying ~50lbs of gear on your back), you're hungry and have to head back out to find a place to buy groceries. But everything's closed, so you head back, open the emergency can of tuna you carry with you, then spark up your laptop to upload photos, but discover the WiFi isn't working....

I'll skip the rest of Belgium because I didn't do or see much worth reporting on.

Made it to Holland again.


Only this time it didn't look like Holland. Instead of water: SAND!








This was within a park that houses the Kröller-Müller Museum. With 91 paintings and over 180 drawings, the museum has the second-largest Van Gogh collection in the world. Because it's kind of in the middle of nowhere, there was only one tourist in the building and people (mostly school kids on a field trip) stared at him wherever he went. I guess full leathers and rain gear isn't exactly considered common museum attire.



Whereas I stood out, unintentionally, this guy apparently put a lot of planning into camouflaging himself. Too funny.



And this guy was so still I thought he might be the artwork on display:



Truly unbelievable number of priceless works. I have to thank the hero of this episode (thanks, Ken!) for sending me a link to the museum I didn't even know existed.

While in Holland, I also visited the Arnhem Oosterbeek War Cemetery, otherwise known as the Airborne Cemetery. I read about the history of the cemetery prior to visiting, and prior to visiting Europe I intended to seek out more WWII destinations. Finding most of them fairly commercialized, I changed my mind and decided my memories of WWII via all the Time-Life books I read in elementary school probably preserved the reality better than modern tourism-industry tainted sites. But small, out-of-the-way, nearly private cemeteries such as Oosterbeek were altogether a different story.





The background, from Wiki:

In September 1944 the Allies launched Operation Market Garden, an attempt by the British 2nd Army to bypass the Siegfried Line and advance into the Ruhr, Germany's industrial heartland. The operation required the 1st Airborne Corps to seize several bridges over rivers and canals in the Netherlands, allowing ground forces to advance rapidly through the Netherlands and cross the River Rhine.



The British 1st Airborne Division was tasked with securing the most distant objectives; bridges over the Lower Rhine at Arnhem. The division dropped onto the area on 17 September and a small force was able to secure the Arnhem road bridge. However the unexpected presence of SS Panzer troops of the II SS Panzerkorps meant the Allies were never able to fully secure their objectives and so after nine days without sufficient reinforcement by the advancing ground forces, the division was withdrawn on 25 September.

In the 9 days of battle almost 2000 Allied soldiers were killed (some of whom died of their wounds or in captivity after the battle). These included over 1174 men of the British 1st Airborne Division, 219 men of the Glider Pilot Regiment, 92 men of the Polish 1st Independent Parachute Brigade, 368 men of the RAF, 79 re-supply dispatchers of the RASC, 25 men of XXX Corps and 27 men of US IX Troop Carrier Command. The exact number of German dead is unknown, but is believed to be at least 1300. Additionally it is believed 453 Dutch civilians were killed during the battle.



Cemetery
Owing to the Allied withdrawal, the vast majority of their dead had to be left on the battlefield. Here they were buried in simple field graves (some little more than their own slit trenches) or in small mass graves dug by the Germans. Kate Ter Horst, whose house was used as a first aid post during the battle, found the graves of 57 men in her garden when she returned after the war. After Arnhem was liberated in April 1945, Grave Registration Units of the British 2nd Army moved into the area and began to locate the Allied dead.[10] A small field north of Oosterbeek was offered on perpetual loan by the Netherlands government to the Imperial War Graves Commission (now Commonwealth War Graves Commission) in June 1945 and the dead were reburied there.

It really hasn't been that long since WWII. If there was any time in the history of Earth I could travel back to, it would undoubtedly be Europe during WWII, even at the risk of losing my life at 18 or 20. No nobler war has ever been fought, no clearer has a battle of good vs. evil ever been waged.

Please. Write. A book. Now (after you're done the trip).

Always a treat to read your stuff Dennis, thanks for posting.

Great as always....

So last time I swept through Germany, TheNetworker and his wonderful wife welcomed me into their home and cooked up an amazing dinner that still makes my mouth water when I think about it.



This time I returned to Germany, but from the west and just happened to be in the neighborhood of my good friends.



Instead of making them spend all evening cooking for me, we headed out to a local restaurant to feast on a seasonal specialty, Albino Asparagus!:



Baden (where we were) is considered German's Asparagus Capital and the roads I was on (or near) were considered Asparagus Routes. We could never grow Spargelzeit in the US. With a gestation period of 3 years, I don't think our farmers have the patience. And it needs to be gently plucked from the soil, not hacked out and flung at 200mph into a stainless steel receptacle by a 200 ton John Deere tractor. It was good, too! Not like your herbaceous, fibrous green variety. Had more of a texture like perfectly cooked carrots, with a light asparagus flavor. Delicious--and I'm sure my body absolutely needed the nutrients.

Unlike restaurants in America that announce their presence from miles away, a lot of the restaurants in Europe blend right in with the landscape, as if they're trying to keep foreigners out.



Another great dinner in Germany, but my dumb ass forgot to get a picture of all of us at the restaurant. Social ineptness on my part, not new.


(Ah yes, Holland isn't the only place with windmills!)

After dinner we headed over to the Ducati dealer for some eye-candy dessert:



First 1299 I've seen:


Service/maint. area--clearly there are a lot more Ducati owners around rural Germany than I expected:



First Icon Scrambler I've seen:


First Urban Enduro (my favorite):


And first MV Agusta Dragsters I've ever seen:




Pretty cool ....!

My visit in N. Germany was short, but it was great to see my German friends again. Though TheNetworker has two sweet Triumphs, I think maybe a Superbike belongs in his garage, too.











Washed my bike for the second time in Europe (last time was in Spain, believe it or not). Then packed up to head out.



And of course, though it was dry all morning, the very moment I got on the bike it started to rain.

pretty rooster back there.

let me know when you're around Stuttgart!

Hey Phl, missed Stuttgart. Reasons why soon to come....

But for now:











Just after this shot, I heard a "clunk" behind me. "Ah ...." I muttered to myself, expecting my helmet to be on the ground. It was, but that wasn't all that had fallen!



After all the riding in the dirt and mud and .... I do, a tipover while on it's sidestand was the last thing I expected! Other than the mirror, the bike was completely unscathed. I now carry an extra hotel key-card to put down in the soft stuff under my sidestand. Live and learn!

Short vid:
https://www.youtube.com/embed/tqrj0kP5-9w