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Sunday May 5th 2013: biketrip Millingen. The trip is organized twice a year organized by a pub called 't Fuske. I joined in six years ago. |
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I ride every day, even in winter, commuting on the DR. It was more than half a year ago that I'd rode the CBX due to the seemingly never-ending winter of 2012-2013. I used the winter though to perform some maintenance on the CBX. |
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Ennie, one of the regular co-riders, had bought a new GS800, which was obviously admired with lots of oehhs and aahhs. |
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There was another CBX present, with Australian six-into-six Pipemaster exhausts. Spectacular appearance, spectacular sound. The owner was convinced that his bike was louder than mine; there was only one way to find out. Moments later it turned out he was wrong. |
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The green dot indicates the start and end point of the trip. It got us on dikes, through villages, forests, Germany in, Germany out, Germany in, Germany out, and not an inch of highway. The black line, between the bridge near Emmerich and Kranenburg, was a painful part: hefty pace and a very bad road. It makes you aware that you live ... |
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Like always: a ferry, at Pannerden this time. |
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Halfway there was a luxury lunch for the 70 bikers ... |
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... provided by the familiar volunteers. |
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We rode in a familiar group with very different bikes: a Goldwing, a Ténéré allroad, a R1100, the GS800, a Wild Star chopper and the CBX. |
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John was our navigator, as he always is. Every now and then he departed from the route to prevent other groups joining in. You shouldn't have more than half a dozen bikes in a group if you really want to enjoy your ride. Somehow John always knows to find a delicious Italian ice cream parlor, regardless of place or even country. |
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In a moment of narrowing consciousness combined with a little speeding frenzy Ennie, John and I lost the other three fellow riders. John turned, seached and found the lost sons. Ennie used the waiting time to sit on CBX and concluded that she did not want to swap. We agreed on that. |
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The reunion was warm and cordial. |
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A silent (and very dead) witness on my handle bar. As they say: 'He never knew what hit him'. | |||
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After the ride there was a BBQ and the usual smalltalk about Bikes, Life and that Irritating Prius That Wouldn't Move Aside. |
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It were 245 enjoyable steelplated kilometers. |