#transportation

There, I was rocketing across the German countryside on the way from Cologne to Heidelberg with number-one son at my side. With no traffic ahead, my mechanical steed lowered its head and plunged ahead, bit firmly in teeth, rolling along the silky smooth bahn… 240 kph said the digital speedo, 260, 288, 303… yo that’s 188 mph! The telephone poles looked like a picket fence as the countryside flew past. We’d just spent a couple days at the big Intermot motorcycle show, and now were rewarding ourselves with a couple days of European vacation. How could it get any better than this, I asked myself as we sped crazily along? Pinch me.

Many years ago, when I was working at another magazine, the company had a big box van we could use to haul tools, equipment, and most importantly, motorcycles. It was a Ford F450 if I remember correctly, with a V-10 engine and its fair share of miles. The driver’s seat had seen better days by this point, and I think the rear diff was starting to leak a little fluid, too. The “attic” portion of the box was where we kept tools, fluids and miscellaneous pieces, and the main cargo area was set up to fit three motorcycles. Straps were neatly arranged at each station, and when it came time to secure my first motorcycle, I discovered a strange phenomena: there are several ways to strap down a bike, and your way is wrong.