GREG FRAZIER REPORTS ON EUROPE/EUROPA
Subject: Robo-boxer, pink flesh and stinking fish-Europe
Rotten fish. W.C. Fields said that after three days house guests and dead fish both begin to smell. As I travel, hosts often invite me to stay "as long as you like." I try to travel by the "Rotten Fish Creed" and limit my stays to three days or less, which I did across Europe on this third leg of my global ride.
Europe was wet and cold as I moved around. My motorcycle, a "Monsterkuh" BMW R1100 GS outfitted by the TOURATECH Company, came with heated handgrips. Before this romp across Europe in the cold, I always secretly scoffed at the BMW riders who had heated grips, thinking them wimps. Well, after Europe in the ice, snow and rain, you can count me in the "Wimp Pack." I do not know if I will install heated grips on any of my motorcycles, but I will no longer snicker at those who have them. I might even be inticed into trying one of the new heated codpieces I heard the BMW company is soon to offer anyone who purchases a new BMW motorcycle.
My plan was to cross Europe to Istanbul, dump the bike and catch a flying carpet over to India, thus avoiding having to purchase a Carnet de Passage for Iran, Pakistan and India. The money I would save would pay for the magic carpet ride and I could also avoid the hassle of a visa for Iran.
I did not spend a lot of time doing tourist things as I crossed Germany, the Alps and south into former Yugoslavia. I personally think castles look good at about 200 kilometers per hour as I pass them on the autobahns and are best viewed on video tape or in a coffee table book. The castle builders seemed to like building them on top of mountains, which usally means you have to park your bike (with luggage unattended) and hike to the top for entry. I am a biker, not a hiker, so blew by the casles of Europe.
On one of the German autobahns I did stop for at a MacDonalds. It was probably the most modern MacDonalds I have seen in the world. I stop at a lot of them, not because I like the burgers, but because they always have a clean toilet with a good supply of toilet paper. I like the french fries and the price of a meal is usually cheaper than what I would pay in a resturant. At this particular MacDonalds in Germany, it included not only the usual MacDonalds stuff, but also a bistro-style coffee bar and a wall of computers to connect with the Internet, for $6.00 per hour. What a hoot. While you gobble your Big Mac you can send and receive email, surf or chat. The interesting thing was all the terminals were busy.
One evening I spent with an Indian hobby club. They are several hundred such clubs around Europe. They dress up like Indians, sing Indian songs, and do a variety of Indian activities, such as powows, arts and crafts and tent building. As the night wore on, and the swill went down (yes, they even have the Indian swilling copied fairly well), we got to a point where I was going to have to produce some 'Indian hocus pocus" to bless the evening's greatness of a real Indian being present. Now, back in Montana, when I have an opportunity like this with a group of white-eyes, we can sometimes end up with some female, after being liberated of all her clothing and covered in pink paint, running wildly through the sagebrush carrying a torch or flashlight. Upon her return we bestow an Indian name upon her, something more like a moniker than official "Indian name." Swill twists some of our Indian traditions, and my recent crossing of Europe re-inforced this belief. The name "Eye Lean" now has a home in Germany. She thinks she got it because her doctor told her one leg is 5 mm shorter than the other, but it could well be from the way she stumbled.
Most people spoke English where I traveled in Europe. Thus I was able to hear funny stories, like the one about how a german motorcycle journalist, on a BMW R1100 GS, lost his bike in Mongolia. It seems the bike (provided by BMW of Germany) had a mechanical problem in the desert. The journalist and his buddy decided to leave it, and ride on one bike to the next town and return with a truck. Wisely, they dug a hole for the huge R1100 GS and buried it, throwing a cover over it and smoothing it over with sand. Two days later when they returned, it was gone. Next to the hole were tire tracks. The motorcycle turned up much later and is reported now at the border being stored.
Another sad story I was told was by an traveler who had been robbed. He set his back pack down for a second in the train station and it was gone. In it was everything: passport, ticket for the train, diary, money, camera, credit cards and plane ticket home. I believe if you have a back pack or fanny pack with you while walking around you are saying to the world, "Here is where all my good stuff is if you want to take it." Anyway, this poor guy had gone to the embassy, where they could give him another passport, if he brought back a photograph, but no money to help him out. So there he was, up the muddy creek, with no money to pay for the passport photo, cab to the photo place, or a room until his family/friends could wire him some cash. I have been where he was, not quite as bad, but thought I knew how he felt. I am not sure if he was a hustler or not, but I gave him $100.00. His story was good, he looked pretty sad, and he did not ask me for any money, just where I thought he coukld get some help. When I pulled out the Ben Franklin and gave it to him he asked "How do you know if I will ever pay you back.?" I said "I don't."
I am told these Road Notes end up in some strange places, and you are welcome to use them for that. Friends from Africa tell me they can be found on the BMW web pages at www.bmweb.co.za and someone else wrote they were floating around in hard copy in the Southwest USA. The generic nature of them thus keeps me from using certain descriptive words and confining my comments on Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, Texans and bureaucrats. On this European leg I did have an adventure with a Wolpertinger suitable for inclusion in the next edition of my book, MOTORCYCLE SEX or FREUD WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ME AND MY MOTORCYCLE, but you will have to go over to my website to see that story. You can do that by going to www.horizonsunlimited.com/gregfrazier, then clicking on the" What's New" button at the bottom of the page, then clicking on the November 22 date. There you will also find what I thought of the BMW R1100 GS "Monsterkuh" motorcycle I used to get around Europe, known as a "Robo-Boxer."
The BMW motorcycle on the European continent thus completes the third leg of my ride around the world using motorcycles manufactured on the continent I am crossing. I used an Indian in North America, and an AMAZONAS in South America. Next is Asia, where I plan to use an Enfield 500, manufactured in India. The Indian was 1200 cc's, made in 1947. The AMAZONAS was 1600 cc's and made in the 1980's. The Robo-boxer BMW was 1100 cc's of monster grunt from the 1990's. The Enfield is 500 cc's, manufactured in 2000 with a 1960's design, and pumping out the least horsepower, 22, of all the bikes I will use. It has been an interesting transition from motorcycle to motorcycle, continent to continent. One motorcycle used a foot-operated clutch on the left hand side, whereas the next used a foot operated shifter on the left hand side. The Indian Chief had a left hand gas throttle, whereas the rest have had right-handed throttles.
At night, before I go to sleep, I try to remind myself that in the morning I must remember which hand to use for a shift, which foot to use for a brake, and which hand is for the gas. Then, because I am moving so fast, I must try to remember which continent I am on and in which country. Complications I can see down the road. Next I will be on a continent where the left hand is used to clean the personal exhaust chute and the right one for filling the intake port.
Dr. Gregory Frazier, on the road around the globe, again
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