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'Round the World with an Italian Supermodel
- Thread starter AntiHero
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Hope your doing better and all is well...
Simple but prolific!
Would love to break away but many of us of so embedded in the rat race of mundane life that to break away for even a half day is like breaking all the rules of what we have been taught to be successful. I think I will try your idea now and break out the R and go for an aimless ride
Thanks for the encouraging words, always.
Would love to break away but many of us of so embedded in the rat race of mundane life that to break away for even a half day is like breaking all the rules of what we have been taught to be successful. I think I will try your idea now and break out the R and go for an aimless ride
Thanks for the encouraging words, always.
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Hey guys, long overdue on an update, but let us return to Copenhagen:
Basically I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. The aimlessness kind of sums up the entire trip, but Copenhagen was a little different: I had nothing to do and nowhere to go, but I couldn't go anywhere else. As I mentioned before, my chain/sprocket kit were destroying themselves and Ducati dealers couldn't get me in for 1-2 weeks. I hit up the Panigale forum and within hours had a guy in Denmark willing to help. Problem solved....just had to screw around a little bit so he could fit me into his schedule. Not a problem at all. But it was strange....this wandering around on a leash, so to speak.
Basically I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. The aimlessness kind of sums up the entire trip, but Copenhagen was a little different: I had nothing to do and nowhere to go, but I couldn't go anywhere else. As I mentioned before, my chain/sprocket kit were destroying themselves and Ducati dealers couldn't get me in for 1-2 weeks. I hit up the Panigale forum and within hours had a guy in Denmark willing to help. Problem solved....just had to screw around a little bit so he could fit me into his schedule. Not a problem at all. But it was strange....this wandering around on a leash, so to speak.
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Still was running ragged, though. So I didn't last long. Headed back to my hotel room, where my friends--the happiest outlets in the world--awaited my return.
Unable to sit still, I went out for a walk.
As pure as the experience of motorcycling is, I must say that wandering on foot is purer still. Made me think about what it would be like to travel Europe the old, old, old fashioned way....
Unable to sit still, I went out for a walk.
As pure as the experience of motorcycling is, I must say that wandering on foot is purer still. Made me think about what it would be like to travel Europe the old, old, old fashioned way....
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Lovely pics, yep I ponder that and wish I had the time to stop and stare! Would love to have the time to walk round the coast of the UK. If we all won the lottery we could probably do it we could throw away our watches and vehicles and enjoy simple pleasures!
Thanks
Thanks
Hey Bud as always very jealous of your life adventure and your travel pics are amazing, quick question looking to start doing a couple little trips my self. Besides carrying a tire plug repair kit what other handy tools to you carry with you to aid in any repairs.
Cheers in advance and ride safe brother
Luke
Cheers in advance and ride safe brother
Luke
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As pure as the experience of motorcycling is, I must say that wandering on foot is purer still. Made me think about what it would be like to travel Europe the old, old, old fashioned way....[/QUOTE]
Wander the earth like Kane? then you'de be a bum Jules.
I couldn't resist, walking sucks, takes too long and you just can't cover enough ground. Great photos.
Wander the earth like Kane? then you'de be a bum Jules.
I couldn't resist, walking sucks, takes too long and you just can't cover enough ground. Great photos.
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I don't carry a tire plug repair kit. Had one nail in Italy. Slow leak, made it to a tire shop who plugged it. In my FJ I carry tire repair ........just don't have the space on the Panigale and have only had one nail in 200,000 miles of riding.
Tools, however--different story. I carry a small set of open ended wrenches (mostly for clutch and brake bleeds), the multi-screwdriver from the Pani tool kit, allen keys (including one for the rear hub) and a long screwdriver (good weapon, plus using it with a rock or brick is how I adjust the chain).
Simply put: don't need very much unless you're going way off-road.
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Wander the earth like Kane? then you'de be a bum Jules.
I couldn't resist, walking sucks, takes too long and you just can't cover enough ground. Great photos.[/QUOTE]
Agreed--the problem with too much purity is it gets BORING! After a few hours of hoofing it, I'm ready to see the world at 50-100mph again.
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I wish I was rich enough to have the time to walk!
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Soooo...I mentioned before my chain and sprockets were buggered. I posted a message here on the forum and immediately received a reply from Bowhunter. He's a successful endurance racer (racing the Panigale, of course) and offered to help. Unbelievable. Here I was nursing the throttle out in the middle of a country that's farther from 'home' than anywhere I've ever been on a bike and bam....right in my new backyard assistance is offered-both parts AND labor!
The owner of the Ducati dealer in Copenhagen hand delivered the chain/sprocket/carrier kit to Mr. Bowhunter that we were to put on the following afternoon. Looks like my new bud found another great use for it while having a great time, though!
Nursing throttle or not, I blew some more time by riding around helplessly, aimlessly the following morning. Stopped on the shore of a beach to snap some pics and instead of starting my bike up again, I just sat there, feet on the pegs, arms propped up against the tank, watching people enjoy their Saturday (or maybe it was Sunday?).
I rather enjoy these moments--moments lacking reason to be anywhere at all, short durations of time of purposelessness. The only reason I was here was chance and the fact I didn't have to be anywhere else. I took this picture just for myself, just to remember the half-hour or so I sat on the side of the road with nowhere to go, nothing to do.
Sit long enough in one spot, though, and something is bound to happen. A guy and his girlfriend strolled towards me....I could tell from their movements that they were very well aware of me, almost avoidably so. As they got closer I acknowledged 'em with a nod of the head or a glance or something of the sort. And immediately a big smile. They'd been driving by and this was the first Panigale they'd ever seen in real life. A "unicorn" is what he called it. He asked if I'd start the bike. I obliged and asked if he'd like to grab a seat on it.
The reason Panigales are so rare is cost. It's just absurdly expensive. Taxes there make our taxes in the US on vehicles seem like spare change. Super cool dude. He was studying at the university, so whatever is in his future, I hope it comes in red.
The owner of the Ducati dealer in Copenhagen hand delivered the chain/sprocket/carrier kit to Mr. Bowhunter that we were to put on the following afternoon. Looks like my new bud found another great use for it while having a great time, though!
Nursing throttle or not, I blew some more time by riding around helplessly, aimlessly the following morning. Stopped on the shore of a beach to snap some pics and instead of starting my bike up again, I just sat there, feet on the pegs, arms propped up against the tank, watching people enjoy their Saturday (or maybe it was Sunday?).
I rather enjoy these moments--moments lacking reason to be anywhere at all, short durations of time of purposelessness. The only reason I was here was chance and the fact I didn't have to be anywhere else. I took this picture just for myself, just to remember the half-hour or so I sat on the side of the road with nowhere to go, nothing to do.
Sit long enough in one spot, though, and something is bound to happen. A guy and his girlfriend strolled towards me....I could tell from their movements that they were very well aware of me, almost avoidably so. As they got closer I acknowledged 'em with a nod of the head or a glance or something of the sort. And immediately a big smile. They'd been driving by and this was the first Panigale they'd ever seen in real life. A "unicorn" is what he called it. He asked if I'd start the bike. I obliged and asked if he'd like to grab a seat on it.
The reason Panigales are so rare is cost. It's just absurdly expensive. Taxes there make our taxes in the US on vehicles seem like spare change. Super cool dude. He was studying at the university, so whatever is in his future, I hope it comes in red.
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The hero of Chapter Denmark freed up his afternoon to help me get my bike sorted. Found my way to his house and he wasted no time in getting my Pani apart:
Really hate standing around watching someone else work on my bike, but it was a pleasure to watch a master mechanic do his thing. I thought--hmm...this is funny....and kind of part of an unwritten rule: the man with the tools does the wrenching. The name on the pink slip of the car, bike, plane or bicycle doesn't mean anything; ownership of the object of the effort means nothing. So since these were his tools, he did all the work....well, at least the fun stuff.
After the chain and sprocket replacement, we set to work on the mirror.
A drill, a nut and a bolt and viola--I can see what's coming behind me on either side.
Many, many thanks, Bowhunter!!!!
Really hate standing around watching someone else work on my bike, but it was a pleasure to watch a master mechanic do his thing. I thought--hmm...this is funny....and kind of part of an unwritten rule: the man with the tools does the wrenching. The name on the pink slip of the car, bike, plane or bicycle doesn't mean anything; ownership of the object of the effort means nothing. So since these were his tools, he did all the work....well, at least the fun stuff.
After the chain and sprocket replacement, we set to work on the mirror.
A drill, a nut and a bolt and viola--I can see what's coming behind me on either side.
Many, many thanks, Bowhunter!!!!
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Loved getting that new sprocket on. Unbelievable how much power the bike has! (Was skipping teeth at anything over half throttle). Great to have a functioning mirror, too:
Ok, so it's not exactly Søren Kierkegaard Rd., but it's none-the-less a good time to throw it out there:
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
Onward, to Sweden. Maybe there I'll understand more about my experience in Denmark.
Ok, so it's not exactly Søren Kierkegaard Rd., but it's none-the-less a good time to throw it out there:
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
Onward, to Sweden. Maybe there I'll understand more about my experience in Denmark.
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I crossed into Sweden on the Øresund Bridge. Been on a lot of bridges of course, but my experience crossing was nothing short of majestic.
Majestic, in part, because it was desolate. I saw more P3s patrolling over the water than I did vehicles traveling in my direction. Windmills fanning the watery horizon added a strangely surreal element to the crossing. Fever helped complete the hallucinatory magic.
It's easy to mark the point of departure as the obvious beginning, but each moment of my trip, each turn of the wheel, every apex, straightaway, onramp and ausfahrt was merely an extension of the line that began since birth. I was a master of escaping cribs as a toddler--and over the course of my life that impulse, that force inside that perpetuated wandering developed into a proclivity for disappearance. Not sure why. And don't care to figure it out. There are things we do for ourselves, good and bad, that sometimes need no explanation, not even to ourselves. I was on a bridge to nowhere, or so it felt. And I didn't want to be anywhere else.
Majestic, in part, because it was desolate. I saw more P3s patrolling over the water than I did vehicles traveling in my direction. Windmills fanning the watery horizon added a strangely surreal element to the crossing. Fever helped complete the hallucinatory magic.
It's easy to mark the point of departure as the obvious beginning, but each moment of my trip, each turn of the wheel, every apex, straightaway, onramp and ausfahrt was merely an extension of the line that began since birth. I was a master of escaping cribs as a toddler--and over the course of my life that impulse, that force inside that perpetuated wandering developed into a proclivity for disappearance. Not sure why. And don't care to figure it out. There are things we do for ourselves, good and bad, that sometimes need no explanation, not even to ourselves. I was on a bridge to nowhere, or so it felt. And I didn't want to be anywhere else.
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I didn't screw around too much in Sweden. Weather was grim and I simply just wasn't feeling like entertaining myself. But I did take a few off-ramps just to get a feel for what I was riding through.
Found a hotel in Halmstad. Rain had begun to come down and I was beat. I was in a small-ish town, so I wasn't too worried about my bike getting pinched. But the lady at the counter warned me not to leave it out. Apparently several guests woke up in the morning only to discover their bike gone and a hotel amenity they overlooked: proximity to the train station, 'cause that was their only transportation out of town. She buzzed me into a courtyard where residents stored their bicycles. Thanks, lady! Too considerate.
View from room:
I don't recall too much of the night. I passed out crashed out and woke up in time to feast on breakfast and get a glimpse of what gear I'd be wearing before heading out.
Packing up was tough. Just didn't have an ounce of strength in me. Somehow managed, but was sweating shotgun shells by the time I got on the bike. Once en-route, though, I felt a lot better. Cool air, pulsing twin, adrenaline....best medicine I have is riding.
I'd booked an Airbnb in Norway for the night. Stayed on backroads for most the day. Just strange, that area of the world. It kept reminding me of the midwest, but yet it was so different. Perceptible enough to know, but not perceptible enough to classify in any sort of communicable way.
Beautiful, though. Another place I could see myself living.
The farther I rode, the more the roads turned to trails, as you can see in the video below.
https://youtu.be/00qOe26_E0U
The area was quiet. The kind of quietude you get when you're out camping in the middle of the desert with no living thing larger than a beetle within 50 miles. But like a potent Italian cologne, my bike announced our presence from a great distance. When I finally made my way through the forest into the clearing the whole block, it seemed, had come out to see what the ruckus was.
Bike had a nice place to sleep for the night. Not that it really needed to be indoors out here. But I'll take it.
Appetite had gone to .... a while ago, and though I tried to get in what I could, I was losing weight and felt more like a peasant from a Dostoevskian novel than some American fool blazing a trail across a new-to-me continent on a diabolical Italian superbike.
The welcoming young 20-something owners of the place had emigrated from Eastern Europe and seemed to be living the dream, or at least the start of it. Clearly they saw that they had opportunities and procrastination and waiting for good fortune weren't part of their strategy for success. In addition to mortar work they were doing when I arrived, they'd done a lot to make the house hospitable and rentable. Two other couples lived upstairs where I was staying, but I'd have never known. They were as quiet and as reclusive as I was.
View from the balcony out in back:
Crashed out, woke up, took off.
Found a hotel in Halmstad. Rain had begun to come down and I was beat. I was in a small-ish town, so I wasn't too worried about my bike getting pinched. But the lady at the counter warned me not to leave it out. Apparently several guests woke up in the morning only to discover their bike gone and a hotel amenity they overlooked: proximity to the train station, 'cause that was their only transportation out of town. She buzzed me into a courtyard where residents stored their bicycles. Thanks, lady! Too considerate.
View from room:
I don't recall too much of the night. I passed out crashed out and woke up in time to feast on breakfast and get a glimpse of what gear I'd be wearing before heading out.
Packing up was tough. Just didn't have an ounce of strength in me. Somehow managed, but was sweating shotgun shells by the time I got on the bike. Once en-route, though, I felt a lot better. Cool air, pulsing twin, adrenaline....best medicine I have is riding.
I'd booked an Airbnb in Norway for the night. Stayed on backroads for most the day. Just strange, that area of the world. It kept reminding me of the midwest, but yet it was so different. Perceptible enough to know, but not perceptible enough to classify in any sort of communicable way.
Beautiful, though. Another place I could see myself living.
The farther I rode, the more the roads turned to trails, as you can see in the video below.
https://youtu.be/00qOe26_E0U
The area was quiet. The kind of quietude you get when you're out camping in the middle of the desert with no living thing larger than a beetle within 50 miles. But like a potent Italian cologne, my bike announced our presence from a great distance. When I finally made my way through the forest into the clearing the whole block, it seemed, had come out to see what the ruckus was.
Bike had a nice place to sleep for the night. Not that it really needed to be indoors out here. But I'll take it.
Appetite had gone to .... a while ago, and though I tried to get in what I could, I was losing weight and felt more like a peasant from a Dostoevskian novel than some American fool blazing a trail across a new-to-me continent on a diabolical Italian superbike.
The welcoming young 20-something owners of the place had emigrated from Eastern Europe and seemed to be living the dream, or at least the start of it. Clearly they saw that they had opportunities and procrastination and waiting for good fortune weren't part of their strategy for success. In addition to mortar work they were doing when I arrived, they'd done a lot to make the house hospitable and rentable. Two other couples lived upstairs where I was staying, but I'd have never known. They were as quiet and as reclusive as I was.
View from the balcony out in back:
Crashed out, woke up, took off.
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Route from Sweden to Norway:
Now, I'll have to admit--the entire trip I've been looking forward to Norway. Despite having some of the highest traffic fines/strictly policed roads in the world, it's got some of the best. Glaciers carved the country up years ago, which also makes for some of the most breathtaking landscapes in Europe. Didn't exactly take long to experience it first-hand.
It would have been a perfect place to camp if it wasn't so f'in early in the day. I would have given in were it not for wanting to make it as far East as possible (remember, I had a ticking time bomb in my head. How I longed again for the carefree schedule of my Coast to Coast trip).
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Now, I'll have to admit--the entire trip I've been looking forward to Norway. Despite having some of the highest traffic fines/strictly policed roads in the world, it's got some of the best. Glaciers carved the country up years ago, which also makes for some of the most breathtaking landscapes in Europe. Didn't exactly take long to experience it first-hand.
It would have been a perfect place to camp if it wasn't so f'in early in the day. I would have given in were it not for wanting to make it as far East as possible (remember, I had a ticking time bomb in my head. How I longed again for the carefree schedule of my Coast to Coast trip).
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