Monday 28 December 2009

The snow must go on

We had Sir Lord Barack Von Obama on the phone early in the morning. We were in a worn out motel in Sherman, Wyoming and hadn’t looked out through the windows yet. Von Obama was calm, though a bit nervous and embarrassed I could hear. And it was guilt in his voice. I knew bad news was coming my way. “The case is, and I’m sorry about it, you will encounter some snow today. You know, I hate to tell you this, but we make plans for the weather long time in advance, and it’s really a hassle to change it. I didn’t know you were coming, you don’t keep your friends too updated either. The snow must go on.”

I told him I didn’t care about the snow anyway, I got enough else troubling me if I shouldn’t bother about insignificances like weather when I’m driving my bike. “Oh, mighty white of you to not get angry with me, I was nervous now. I’ll ship you some lutefisk as compensation, I know Norwegians love it*, and so do we. It’s really good stuff, and my grandma from Bergen always made us this, 10 times per week.”

“Yes of course, you really made my day now” I replied as enthusiastically as I could.

(* Translator's note; As Garrison Keillor pointed out in 'Lake Wobegon Days', Norwegians do indeed consider Lutefik a great delicacy - and adds; "Nevertheless, they only eat it once a year". For the uninitiated, 'Lutfisk' is the Norwegian equivalent of the Scots' 'Haggish', except that 'Haggish' is not covered by any arms treaties.)

Well, Von Obama was right. In the morning we had heavy snow. It was enough to cover the roads, and it cold enough to make the snow freeze in the beard, yet hot enough that the snow made a salty porridge on the road. Perfect condition for getting frostbites and gangrene, you get both wet and cold. However, we just stuffed in more newspapers in our clothes and ignored the entire thing.

In the night time we reached Sturgis, and started the world’s first annual Sturgis Winter Motorcycle Festival, open for all pre-war bikes with flat steel-strip frames, telescopic fork and in-line four cylinder engine. Not too many bikes this year, but those who showed up enjoyed themselves.

The next day we cruised around the Black Hills, in perfect weather. Near Mt Rushmore we got tail, it was some gorilla-patrol that didn’t recognize thirties-style Norwegian license plates. The female one was a bit attacked by PMS, but they were sort of polite anyhow and checked us out of the case quite fast.

Mt Rushmore was nice, and was under upgrading. To symbolize understanding, solidarity and new times they were changing the faces now. During the next two years they would be turned into Hugo Chaves, Fidel Castro, Kim Jong-Il and Robert Mugabe. I’m sure it’ll be nice when they are done.

Back to the starting point in Sturgis we went to the Knuckle Bar and had supper and a pop, it was the only place open. The town is hibernated 50 weeks per year, just woken up by the bike week in the summer (1/2 million bikes; count wheels and divide by 2) and the Sturgis Winter Motorcycle Festival in November (fewer bikes; count wheels and divide by 3).

From Sturgis we actually listened to a piece of advice and took off the I90, and went on the smaller 212 through South Dakota. It was straight ahead through farmlands and an Indian reserve, ending at the edge of the Missouri river. The Indian reserves is not recommended travelled in the night even today, too much firewater, DUI and a police that don’t care too much about if something happens to non-Indians. We made it through before dusk, despite that I almost got stuck in Missouri on a photo session. We slept in a Deliverance town a bit after, and paid way too much for the motel as it was “kill all the birds season”.

Next day we reached Water Town where we met Lee Bruns, one of the Guzzi-Heroes. Lee was one of the real motorcyclists that you don’t meet too often. Not focused on brand, but on riding. Riding a lot, and use what he’s got accessible. He used to invite the local kids to raise interest, and trying to get them interested in bikes in general. Lee donated us an old tire, and have also started sales of our official KCCD T’shirts, see
http://www.network54.com/Forum/13357/message/1261696574/The+T+shirts+are+Here!! With this, KCCD Inc has grown from a Norwegian/Danish company to a real MNC with unpaid employees practically all over the world. Secure yourself one of this extremely sought after items right away by clicking on the link!

From Watertown we cut up North East to St. Claud, Minnesota to drop by a friend from Mongolia, Dave. This day it was getting seriously cold, and progress were slow. We had the address, but the name of the street was existing in the nearest ten counties. After a lot of messing around we got help from a guy outside a Lutheran church. We got asked how we knew this guy, and when we told him we had met him in Mongolia he just looked strange at us. Anyhow, we found the place late in the night and was taken well care of. Funny how you get to know people in Mongolia, and see them again a half year later in the US&A.

Tormod

Vi havde Sir Lord Barack von Obama i røret tidligt i morges. Vi lå i et nedslidt hotel i Sherman, Wyoming, og havde ikke kigget ud af vinduet endnu. Von Obama lød en smule nervøs og pinligt berørt. Jeg kunne fornemme skyldfølelsen i hans stemme, og vidste allerede at der var dårligt nyt på vej. ”Sagen er,” lød det, ”og jeg er virkelig ked af det, I kommer til at opleve snevejr i dag. Ser I,” fortsatte han, ”vi planlægger vejret lang tid forud, og det er noget rigtig bøvl så at skulle ændre på det bagefter. Jeg vidste ikke I først kom så sent, og I holder nu heller ikke rigtig vennerne opdateret. Men 'The Snow Must Go On'!”


Jeg svarede at det med sneen var ligemeget, for jeg havde rigeligt med andre problemer at bekymre mig over, så småting som vejret registrerede næsten ikke. ”Ok, det var virkelig pænt af dig ikke at blive sur på mig over det her; jeg var virkelig bekymret. Jeg sender noget lutfisk som trøst, for jeg ved I nordmænd elsker det. Det gør vi også. Det er gode sager, min bedstemor i Bergen lavede det altid til os, ti gange om ugen.”

”Fedt nok, du har reddet dagen for os,” svarede jeg så entusiastisk som jeg kunne arbejde mig op til.


Well, von Obama havde talt sandt, for sneen lå tykt derude. Nok til at dække vejene og det var koldt nok til at sneen frøs i vore skæg. Og stadig lunt nok til at sneen blev til en saltet grød at køre igennem. Perfekte omstændigheder til at få forfrysninger og koldbrand, for man bliver både kold og varm. Nå, vi stoppede en masse aviser ind under køredragterne og ignorerede sneen.


Det blev nat før vi nåede til Sturgis i South Dakota, og hermed indvi det første årlige Sturgis Vintertræf, med adgang for alle førkrigsmaskiner med fladjernsstel, teleskopforgafler og fire cylindre på langs. Der kom godt nok ikke så mange i år, men dem der kom nød træffet.

Næste dag cruisede vi rundt i nationalparken The Black Hills, i perfekt vejr. Nær Mount Rushmore med de fire præsidenthoveder fik vi følgeskab af en gorilla-patrulje, der ikke lige kunne genkende norske nummerplader. Den kvindelige del af den syntes let ramt af PMS, men de udviste alligevel en slags høflighed og lod os hurtigt køre videre.


Mt. Rushmore var udmærket og p.t. under opgradering. For at symbolisere mellemfolkelig forståelse, solidaritet og de nye tider, blev hovederne ændret så de mere lignede Hugo Chavez, Fidel Castro, Kim Jong-Il & Robert Mugabe. Det kommer sikkert til at se fint ud når de er færdige.

Tilbage hvor vi startede i Sturgis gik vi ind på Knuckle Bar for lidt at æde og drikke. Det var det eneste sted der var åbent, for byen ligger i dvale 50 uger om året, og vågner kun når der er Sturgis Bike Week om sommeren (½ million mc'er; tæl hjulene og del med to) og Sturgis Winter Rally i november (lidt færre; tæl hjulene og del med tre).


Fra Sturgis fulgte vi faktisk et råd om at køre væk fra Rt. 190 og tage den mindre Rt. 212 gennem South Dakota. Det løb meget ligeud gennem landbrugsområder og indianerreservater, og sluttede ved floden Missouri. Det blev os anbefalet ikke at køre gennem indianerreservaterne om natten; for meget ildvand & sprutkørsel, og politi der er ret ligeglad med hvad der sker ikke-indianere. Vi kom igennem før tusmørket faldt, på trods af at jeg nær sad fast i Missouri da der skulle tages billeder. Lidt senere sov vi i en indavlet skodby, hvor vi betalte alt for meget for hotellet, for det var 'dræb alle fuglene sæson'.


Næste dag mødte vi Lee Bruns i byen Watertown, en af Guzzi-heltene. Lee er en af den slags mc-folk man ikke møder så ofte; ikke fokuseret på mærke, men på at køre. Og køre meget, på hvad der nu var at køre på. Han plejede også at invitere de lokale unger over, for at få dem interesseret i motorcykler. Han donerede et gammelt dæk, og gik siden i gang med at sælge vores t-shirts (http://www.network54.com/Forum/13357/message/1261696574/The+T+shirts+are+Here!!). Hermed er KCCD Inc. vokset fra at være et dansk/norsk foretagende til et rigtig 'MCN' (??) med filialer og ubetalte medarbejdere praktisk taget over hele verden. For at sikre dig et af disse samlerobjekter (hvis du samler på den slags, eller bare vil støtte os), så klik på (http://kccd.no/home_dk.html) eller køb t-shirtene hos JC Nimbus.


Fra Watertown skød vi op nordøst mod St. Cloud i Minnesota for at se Dave, en ven fra Mongoliet. Det var seriøst koldt, og det gik kun langsomt fremad. Vi havde navnet på vejen han boede, men den vej havde de i nu også de nærmeste ti kommuner. En fyr udenfor en kirke spurgte til hvordan vi kendte Dave, men da vi sagde vi havde mødt ham i Mongoliet kiggede han underligt på os. Ligemeget, vi fandt ham sent på aftenen og blev taget godt vare på. Spøjst at møde folk i Mongoliet og så se dem igen i USA et halvt år efter.

Tormod


Wyoming could offer really wet and nice snow that froze in the beard.
Wyoming bød på våd sne som frøs i skægget.

After an hour the chest was covered by a centimeter of ice.
Efter en time var brystet dækket af én centimeter is.

Some are more eager truckers than others; this one had modified his Chevy pickup and travelled around, spreading the good word about the good book. And no, I'm not talking about Tragatsch motorcycle-bible.
Nogle er mere trucker-agtige end andre; ham her havde modificeret sin Chevrolet pickup og rejste rundt for at sprede ordet fra Den Gode Bog. Og nej, vi taler ikke om Villy Poulsens 'Nimbus - Danmarks Motorcykle'....

Mt Rushmore was nice as always, go check it out before they see the upgrades through.
Mt Rusmore var smukt, men tag over og se det før ombygningen.

At the banks of Missouri in the Indian reservation. I got stuck on the beach and almost had to leave the bike to the God of the River. But you gotta do what you gotta do to get the pics...
På Missouri-flodens bred i et indianerreservat. Jeg sad fast dernede og havde nær måttet ofre maskinen til flod-guderne. Men hvad gør man ikke for at få nogle ordentlige billeder....

There are often "Runaway truck ramps" in the down hills, I just had to try this and attacked it in 50 miles per hour.
Ned ad bakkerne ser man en del nødramper til lastbiler hvis bremser svigter. Jeg måtte bare prøve det, og angreb en af dem med 80 km/t.

And yes, it certainly worked. Got stuck as duck.
Og jeps, det virkede bare. Jeg sad godt & grundigt fast igen.

The Knuckle Bar in Sturgis hosted the very first Annual Sturgis Winter Rally.
The Knuckle Bar i Sturgis lagde lokale til det første årlige Sturgis Vintertræf.


Hansen Motor has specialized in specially equipped vehicles for people with Hansens Syndrome, which is an increasing problem in the Nimbus community.
Hansen Motor har specialiseret sig i særlige køretøjer for folk med Hansens Syndrom, hvilket er et stigende problem i Nimbuskredse.

Lee Bruns with his sidecar rig, made from bread baking pans. One of too few real motorcyclists.
Lee Bruns med sin sidevognskarosse, der er lavet af bradepander. Én af alt for få ægte mc-folk.


The first thing we noticed in Minnesota was that the cows were different from all other cows we've seen. And we've seen a lot of cows through the years.
Det første vi lagde mærke til i Minnesota var at køerne var ret forskellige fra alle de andre køer vi har set. Og vi har set mange køer gennem årene.

Finally at Daves place in St. Cloud. We got to know Dave in Ulan Bataar in Mongolia, he was doing the Mongol Rally with his sons back then. http://mongolrally.theadventurists.com/
Omsider fremme hos Dave i St. Cloud. Vi mødte ham i Ulan Bator i Mongoliet, da han var til Mongol Træf med sine sønner (tjek linket).

Sunday 27 December 2009

Idaho and Montana

*We’re taking a step back in time now and continue the story from we left Seattle. People keep on asking about what happened, so here it comes even though it might be boring, as it often is in "developed" countries. *

Greg in Seattle had put us up with a guy called ”Mountain-Bob” in Coeur D’Alene, just across the Idaho border. We got started a bit late, as it sometimes happens, and when Pete left us at the Snoqualmie Pass it was already way passed noon.

The first part of the day when we rode with Pete it was quite hot, above 0 and light rain. It was just enough rain to block your vision, but not yet enough to make you wet. Up towards the Snoqualmie, the first critical pass, it was climbing steadily, but nothing dramatic like East Turkey, Mongolia and some places in Norway for that sake. What made the pass remarkable though, was that it was very narrow and steep mountains just at the road side, stretching all the way up to the moon. Perfect conditions for avalanches. We didn’t get taken by the avalanche anyhow, and Pete left us at the top.

From the top and onwards both altitude and temperature went steadily down again, but the rain stopped. And as always when you got a fixed point to reach in the evening it turns out to be longer than expected, in this case it turned out to be close to 500 kilometers. Normally not too long of a leg, but it’s sure enough when you start late in the morning, it’s weeks since you rode a bike and the temperatures are mostly sub-zero and it’s utter darkness.

We stopped in Spokane for refilling gas and caffeine, and thought we were close to the target. We called Bob and learned it was still about 50 km to go. Exactly what we needed when the clock was way passed 10PM, we were chilled as our cousin Frosty. We also met a couple of cops at the gas station that loved the bikes. One of them was severely depressed, he had used to be highway patrol on a bike and loved to chase cars, but now he was forced into an office. They got some stickers, and we got their phone numbers. “Just call us if you need help” was the message.

Bob was a patient fellow, he had almost written us off when we called, but when we rolled up in front of his house closer to midnight he was wide awake, with his wife and niece all awaiting us. They got out their anti freeze, and cooked us some enormous and tasty steaks to make sure we’d get night mares.

Mountain-Bob was a psychiatrist by profession, and had moved up from Louisiana where the alligators grow so grand. He’s sister had been in the same class as Polk Salad Annie. He was very eager and engaged, and immediately volunteered to be our shrink, promoter and fixer. We probably needed most of the first, but surely a promoter and fixer as well.

Maximus-Mountain-Bob set us up with some people to stay with the next night. He called the local newspaper that did a story, http://www.cdapress.com/articles/2009/11/26/news/news04.txt . Finally we got our breakfast and moved on. Bob escorted us the first part. He was mighty impressed by both speed and light equipment, which became a big discussion topic on the Moto Guzzi forum http://wildguzzi.com/forum/index.php?topic=31536.0

The target for the day was Missoula, Montana, where Bob’s friends Nancy and Todd Cochran were located. It was fair riding, not too cold and the roads where dry though the road sides were snow covered. Typically about 0 centigrade, and sometimes a few below. We got in a bit late, but not too late at the place. What met us in Missoula was a friendly couple, that had just retired. Genuinely interested in the travel and highly educated people. They wanted us to stay for Thanksgiving, but as weather was forecasted to be good a few days we had to push on.

The next day of riding offered cold but beautiful weather. Sunshine and minus a few centigrade’s. We drove in mostly flat lands on the Interstate 90, but surrounded by snowy mountains. Thanksgiving was obviously not such a highlight for the animals as for the people. Continuously we met trucks loaded with dead deer, elks and moose. The poor things had probably been running around looking for turkey for supper when they looked in to a stick spitting lead and then it was night time for them. No thanksgiving this year, or the coming years for that sake.

We had a major stop in the old mining town Butte. A beautiful place shaped by a century of mining, http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butte,_Montana , and today a ghost town compared to what it used to be in the heydays. Just after Butte we passed the last part of the Rockies while it was getting dark. No problems at all, I think everybody should do the Rockies in the winter time on a bike. It’s really not an issue if you’re not having too bad luck with the weather.

The night of Thanksgiving was spent in Bozeman, MT. We had no friend there so we had the big meal at a truck stop near the motel. After an enormous burger and a few beers I ordered a major brownie. The waitress said I’d be sick if I mixed burgers, beer and brownies. It was too much with three b’s in a meal. I had to convince her that I was old enough to order what I wanted, so after some arguing I got it. Disappointed I went to bed without feeling sick at all on Thanksgiving night.

Tormod Amlien
tormod.amlien@gmail.com

* Nu hopper vi lige lidt tilbage i tiden og fortsætter historien fra da vi forlod Seattle. Folk bliver ved at spørge om hvad der skete, så her er den; selv om den nok bliver lidt kedelig, som det ofte er tilfældet i 'udviklede' lande *


Greg i Seattle havde skaffet os husly hos en fyr som blev kaldt 'Mountain-Bob' i Coeur d'Alene, lige over grænsen til Idaho. Som det ofte sker kom vi lidt sent af sted, så da Pete forlod os i Snoqualmie passet var det allerede over middag.


Da vi kørte sammen med Pete først på dagen var det ret varmt; over frysepunktet og der var en let regn, lige nok til at forstyrre udsynet men ikke nok til at blive rigtig våd. Op gik det mod Snoqualmie Pass, det første kritiske højdepunkt. Det var stejlt, men ikke nær så dramatisk som det østlige Tyrkiet, Mongoliet eller for den sags skyld enkelte steder i Norge. Bemærkelsesværdigt ved dette pas var de meget smalle og stejle bjerge op til vejen, som syntes at strække sig helt op til Månen. Perfekt for laviner, som vi dog ikke oplevede nogen af.


Fra toppen, hvor Pete som sagt forlod os, gik det nedad igen, også for temperaturens vedkommende, og regnen holdt op. Og som sædvanligt var aftenens fix-punkt længere væk end beregnet, i dette tilfælde omkring 500 km herfra. Normalt ikke for uoverskueligt et stræk, men det er langt når man man først starter op ad formiddagen, det er uger siden man sidst sad på Nimbussen, temperaturerne er under frysepunktet og det er bælgravende mørkt.


Da vi stoppede i Spokane for at tanke og noget koffein, troede vi at målet var tæt på. Vi ringede til Bob og fik at vide der var 50 km endnu. Lige hvad man har brug for at vide når klokken er over 10 om aftenen, og man er kold til marven. Vi mødte også et par strømere som var vilde med Nimbusserne. En af dem havde været mc-betjent, hvor han elskede at jage biler, men nu var han deprimeret over at være tvunget til at arbejde i et kontor. De fik et par af vores klæbemærker, og vi fik deres telefonnumre. ”Bare ring hvis I får problemer”, var beskeden.


Bob var et tålmodig herre, som næsten havde afskrevet os da vi ringede, men han var lysvågen da vi omsider trillede op foran hans hus, hvor også hans kone og niece ventede os. De fandt frostvæsken frem og stegte os et par enorme bøffer, så vi var sikre på at få mareridt af det senere. Manden var psykiater af profession, og var flyttet herop fra Louisiana, hvor de har så store alligatorer. Hans søster havde gået i samme klasse som Polk Salad Annie (?!?). Han var yderst hjælpsom og entusiastisk, og tilbød omgående at være vores hjernevrider, promotor og fixer. Vi havde nok mest brug for det første, men såmænd også lidt af de andre ting.


Maximus-Mountain-Bob arrangerede at vi kunne bo hos nogle andre næste aften, og ringede til en lokal avis som skrev om os (http://www.cdapress.com/articles/2009/11/26/news/news04.txt). Efter morgenmaden eskorterede han os det første stykke vej, og var meget imponeret over både vores hastighed og lyset på 'busserne, hvilket siden blev et stort diskussionsemne på Moto Guzzi forummet (http://wildguzzi.com/forum/index.php?topic=31536.0)


Dagens mål var Missoula i Montana, hvor Bobs venner Nancy & Todd Cochran holdt til. Det var nem kørsel, ikke for koldt og med tørre veje hvor der lå sne langs siderne. Omkring frysepunktet, af og til lidt under. I Missoula blev vi mødt af et venligt par, der lige havde trukket sig tilbage fra arbejdslivet. Oprigtigt interesserede i rejsen og højt uddannede mennesker. De sagde vi burde blive til Thanksgiving, men vejrudsigten havde forudsagt at de næste dage ville blive gode, så vi måtte klø på og komme videre.


Næste dags kørsel foregik i koldt men smukt vejr; solskin og igen lidt under frysepunktet. Vi kørte mest over fladt terræn på I-90, og så på de snedækkede bjerge omkring os. Thanksgiving var tydeligvis ikke så fed en tid for dyrene som for menneskene, for vi blev ved med at se biler læsset med døde hjorte, rensdyr og elge. Staklerne havde sikkert trampet rundt for at lede efter kalkuner til aftensmad, men havde så kigget op i den onde ende af en jagtriffel i stedet. Ingen Thanksgiving for dem i år eller årene fremover.


Vi gjorde et større holdt i den gamle mineby Butte. Et smukt sted formet af et århundredes minedrift (http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butte,_Montana) men i dag en spøgelsesby sammenlignet med hvad den var engang. Kort efter Butte forlod vi den sidste del af Rocky Mountains, just som det var ved at blive mørkt. Jeg tænker alle burde prøve at køre i Rocky Mountains her om vinteren – det er ikke noget problem hvis man ikke kommer ud for dårligt vejr.


Thanksgiving tilbragte vi i Bozeman. Vi havde ingen venner dér, så vi indtog det store måltid på et truck stop nær motellet. Efter en enorm burger og et par øl bestilte jeg så en 'brownie'. Servitricen sagde jeg blive syg hvis jeg blandede burgere, øl (beer) og brownies; for mange b'er i et måltid. Jeg måtte så overbevise hende at jeg var gammel nok til at bestille hvad jeg ville have, så efter nogen diskussion fik jeg min brownie. Senere gik jeg i seng, dybt skuffet over ikke at være det mindste syg denne Thanksgiving aften.



Mountain-Bob in Idaho, one of the countless Guzzi-riders that's been of great help in the US&A. Maybe I should get a Guzzi one day, nice people those who ride 'em.
Bjerg-Bob fra Idaho, én af de utallige Guzzi kørere som har været til stor hjælp her i USA. Måske jeg burde få mig en Guzzi en dag, med alle de flinke folk er kører på dem.
Exiting Idaho, Bob follows closely in the Jeepney but got problems keeping up in the curves, the Nimbus was just too fast and well handling.
På vej ud af Idaho følger Bob os tæt i sin Jeep, men havde problemer med at følge os i kurverne. Nimbussen var bare for hurtig og lå for godt i svingene.



Our great hosts in Missoula, Nancy and Todd.
Nancy & Todd, vores fine værter i Missoula.

Butte, Montana. Hanna Montana lives in excactly this old mine.
Byen Butte i Montana. Hanna Montana bor i netop denne gamle mine.



Typical Montana, it sure is nice up there.

Thursday 24 December 2009

Christmas in Canada - Jul i Canada

Luckily we are free men again. This guy we met on ICQ chat, with the nickname “Homo-sexual serial killer” held us locked up for some time. The police suddenly came a couple of days ago, claim to look for a Hoffa-guy or what they called him, as well as some neighbors that had disappeared. Not sure why they looked here though, but so they did.


Anyhow, they confiscated some rustic meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, some barrels of acid from the basement and brought our friendly host for some State Correctional Christmas party or something like that. When we asked what we should do they said it was no space left in the car and just told us to fuck off, and so we did. All the way to Canada as a matter of fact.


Obviously, we got out again just in time for Christmas. Not sure if I should call it good luck or bad luck. This time of the year that comes and goes every year without me taking much notice of it, except from increasing disgust for selfishness, commercial stunts, a rain of useless gifts given for the sake of just giving something. Despite this, as good Scandinavians we still celebrate as good as we can, with a certain bad consciousness for family left behind.


It’s not easy to do it properly when you’re on the road though. Logistics man, I can tell. I got a bottle of Linje Akevitt ( http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akvavit ) that I brought from Europe, and now we’ve driveled all over it while crossing 5000kms of North America. Before this, it was on the vessel “MV Taronga” crossing Equator a couple of times, so it’s a well travelled bottle that will die on Christmas Eve. This major component for the Christmas meal was secured early.


Scandinavians celebrate Christmas Eve, and not some other awkward day. We normally eat pork, and not some “too-fat-ass-to-fly-bird” that says “gobligobligobli” and is just embarrassing stupid. Oh no, the pork meat gives us back the wits we drink away. To be able to get it Scandinavian style we’ve dug up Mona and Willy in Canada. Willy is one of the old school Canadian hippies that lived in Christiania Freetown, Copenhagen,( http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freetown_Christiania ) in the seventies and still drives Nimbus, and Mona is his Danish girlfriend. Just perfect company and we’re so happy that they invited the two wise men that were supposed to be three. Perfect time and place.

Gifts are part of the celebration as well, like it or dislike it. I do not give away anything that has been advertized for to fight the commercialism of the Christmas. Furthermore, it must be something useful for the person receiving it. For our hosts, we’ve been stealing misc items from motels. Who doesn’t need towels and soap? And besides, at all the places it’s been advertized that it’s not for sale, can it be less commercialized? Probably not.

For Klaus I’ve gotten him a left and second hand plunger, which I also consider both very useful, cheap and design wise good looking. If he ever wants to build a puke-green custom Nimbus called “Copy of the sewerage-masters prototype” it’ll be great décor, or if he experience a dense toilet in Nicaragua he will need it. I actually gave exactly this item to one of my best friends while we were in secondary school, and I’ll never forget how much he appreciated it. In fact, the next year he bought one for each of his family members next Christmas, so this is a bull’s eye.



Even the bikes are decorated for Christmas now. I’ve gotten a pair of original Canadian rein-moose antlers and attached to the bike with cable ties. The bike pretty much looks like Rudolph the Redneck Rein-moose, and riding it is just like riding a moose, only better, more powerful and oil leaking.

And last but not least, we’ve downloaded all the most popular Scandinavian Christmas Carols, like “Drømmere og Drankeres" (“Dreamers and Drunkards”) songs “Bestemor ble drept av et reinsdyr” (“Grandma was killed by a Rein-Deer”), http://www.itunes.apple.com/us/album/bestemor-ble-drept-av-et-reinsdyr/id297992027?i=297992070 , “Julekveld I fengslet” ("Christmas Eve in the Prison”) and the ever popular Eddie Meduza song you can hear at www.youtube.com/watch?v=dobpeXTgjGg


All is now set for a great Christmas celebration with good friends. As a Christmas gift to the readers I’ll get the blog updated so you can get the details on how it is to travel North US of A in the winter time. Happy Christmas everybody, thanks to all of you that’s been supporting us the last year!


And yeah, if there’s somebody which is not all done with the presents and wonder what to buy, a plunger is a great gift and rarely sold out.

Tormod
tormod.amlien@gmail.com



Heldigvis er vi frie mennesker igen nu; fyren vi fandt på ICQ chat, ham med øgenavnet 'Homosexual serial killer' holdt os indespærret en tid. Så mødte politiet pludselig op for at lede efter en fyr der hed Hoffa, samt nogle andre naboer som var forsvundet. Ved ikke hvorfor de ledte her, men det gjorde de altså.

Nå, men de konfiskerede nogle rustikke kødkroge der hang fra lofte, nogle tønder syre fra kælderen og slæbte vores vært med til julefest i et fængsel et sted. Da vi spurgte hvad vi så skulle gøre, bad de os om at skubbe ad H****** til, men vi kørte til Canada i stedet.

Så vi slap ud lige i tide til at fejre jul, men om det var held eller uheld er jeg ikke så sikker på. Den tid på året kommer og går uden at jeg rigtig bemærker det, bortset fra en stigende afsky for selviskhed, kommercielt fis og en flodbølge af gaver som bliver givet bare for at give noget. Men på trods af det, fejrede vi den alligevel som gode skandinaver gør det, med en smule dårlig samvittighed overfor familierne som sad hjemme i Norge uden os.

Det er nu ikke så nemt at gøre det ordentligt når man er på langtur. Bare logistikken, siger jeg. Jeg har en flaske Linje Akvavit (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akvavit) som jeg tog med fra Europa, og nu har vi vrøvlet om den hele vejen tværs over USA. Før dette var den med skibet 'MV Taronga' et par gange over Ækvator, så det er en vidt berejst flaske der skal dø juleaften. Denne vigtige del af julemiddagen var blevet sikret tidligt.

Vi skandinaver fejrer juleaften, og ikke nogen anden fjollet dag, som man fx. gør det i USA. Vi spiser flæskesteg og ikke en groft overvægtig fugl der siger ”gobbbeligobligok” og i øvrigt er hjerteskærende dum. Næ nej, flæskestegen redder de dele af hjernen der ellers er på vej til at blive drikket væk. For at fejre julen i god skandinavisk stil besøgte vi Mona og Willy i Canada. Willy er en god, gammel canadisk hippie, som tilmed boede på Christiania engang i 70'erne, og som stadig kører Nimbus. Og Mona er hans danske kæreste. Perfekt selskab at have, og vi er virkelig glade for at de inviterede os to vise mænd (der selvfølgelig burde have været de TRE vise mænd). Perfekt tid & sted.

Gaver er en del af julen, enten man kan lide det eller ej. Selv nægter jeg at give noget der har været set i en annonce, i min stille kamp mod julekommercialiseringen. Dertil kommer at en gave skal være til nytte for den der får den. Til vores værter, er vi (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***). Men hven kan ikke bruge en (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***)? Og i øvrigt, tager man alle de steder hvor det er annonceret at den ikke er til salg for pålydende, hvordan kan den være mindre kommerciel?

Til Klaus havde jeg købt – eller rettere; stjålet – eller rettere; 'organiseret' en (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***), som jeg selv finder både praktisk, billig og designmæssigt vellykket. Hvis han nogensinde vil (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***) kan den bruges som dekoration, men vil han hellere opleve (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***) i Nicaragua, får han virkelig brug or den. Faktisk gav jeg en mage til til en kammerat da jeg gik i 2. klasse, og jeg glemmer aldrig hvor glad han blev for det. Næste jul købte han endda en til enhver i sin egne familie, så dér ramte jeg plet.

Selv Nimbusserne er blevet pyntet op til julen; min har fået horn fra en rens-elg sat fast med bagagestropper. Nu ligner den Rudolf Med Den Røde Portvinstud, og at køre den er vel ligesom at ride på en rens-elg, men bare bedre, stærkere og med oliedryp.

Sidst, men ikke mindst, har vi downloaded nogle af de mest populære skandinaviske julesange, som 'Drømmere og Drankere', 'Bedstemor blev dræbt af et rensdyr', (http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/bestemor-ble-drept-av-et-reinsdyr/id297992027?i=297992070) 'Juleaften i spjældet' og den mest populære Eddie Meduza sang af alle tider; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dobpeXTgjGg

Nu er alt klar til en fin jul i gode venners lag. Som en gave til læsere af denne blog vil jeg få den opdateret, så I kan læse detaljerne om hvordan det er at køre tværs over USA om vinteren. Glædelig Jul til alle, og tak for støtten I gav i 2009.

Lige en ting til: Hvis nogen af jer ikke er færdige med at købe gaver for i år, og stadig spekulerer hvad man skal købe, så er en (***CENSURERET TIL EFTER JUL***) et fin gave og sjældent udsolgt.

Tormod
tormod.amlien@gmail.com


Willy puts the food on the table for Christmas Dinner

Food lined up
OMFG, I forgot the asparges!
Big family Christmas dinner
"Gee, fag-equipment was the last thing I needed, I'm not even bike-curious"
Klaus with his beautiful wrapped gift I gave him
Excitement increasing

Ahh, what can it be?
"A plunger! That was exactly what I needed!"

"Ah, I'm so touched now. How could Tormod know that this was the only thing I really wanted, besides a steam-organ?"

In addition to all the items stolen from motels Mona and Willy got one of the very few KCCD posters made up by AB; on Norway, http://www.abm.no/

Mona and Willy in Guelph, Canada. Our great hosts for x-mas

Us and the ink-squirter from the local paper Guelph Mercury. An exceptional journalist, he had actually bothered to look up the website and read it before coming. Not often to see that in paper business, makes you appreciate the few times you see it.

Os og en bladsmører fra den lokale avis Guelph Mercury. En exceptionel journalist, som endda havde gjort sig umagen at tjekke vores website før han dukkede op. Det er ikke tit man ser den slags i bladbranchen, så man værdsætter det desto mere når det sker.

Refined x-mas extract

Darren Stomp test drove the Christmas decorated Nimbus, and said "Antlers is the way forward, it gives the bike a new an wild approach, and you feel like a king in the traffic. Not even the OCC guys on Discovery could have done it better".

Darren Stomp testkørte den juledekorerede Nimbus, og mente at "gevirer er vejen frem, det giver motorcyklen en ny og vildere tilgang, som får dig til at føle dig som vejenes hersker. End ikke fyrene fra Orange County Choppers kunne have gjort det bedre."



Race-testing of the Rein-Moose Antler setup. Please don’t note the angle of the front wheel through the curve, the bikes have never appreciated my racing efforts to the degree my soul appreciate it.

Race-test af a gevir-setuppet. Læg venligst ikke mærke til forhjulets vinkel gennem kurven, for motorcyklen har aldrig værdsat mine racerforsøg nær så meget som min sjæl har værdsat dem.

Friday 18 December 2009

Temporary update - Midlertidig opdatering

(Translators edition)
The KCCD boys made it to Minneapolis, and went on from there to Wisconsin to stay with Eric Buell, the hero behind the Buell motorcycles. They made it there just ahead of a snow storm that paralyzed The Midwest. A few days later they went south to Chicago where Nimbusklubben Midwest had them in for a pre-Christmas event of some sort. Wednesday Dec. 16th they left Chicago, presumably going further east.

(Oversætters udgave)
KCCD drengene nåede Minneapolis i Minnesota, og kørte derfra til Wisconsin, hvor de boede et par dage hos Eric Buell, manden bag Buell motorcyklerne. Det var dagen før hele Midvesten blev ramt af det totale sne-kaos. Så kørte de sydpå til Chicago, hvor Nimbusklubben Midwest havde dem med til et et før-jul arrangement. Onsdag d. 16. dec. forlod de atter Chicago, i østlig retning.

*Authors note*
This is made up by Kim to comfort my mum in Norway. Truth is that a we got an email from a guy using "Homosexual serial killer" as a nick name, which invited us to stay in his home in some sort of a small Deliverance Town. We accepted, but it's sort of funny because the doors are locked from the outside too, and he's calling some friends and talk about a great party this weekend all the time but we have seen no stock of beer or party-hats. We're a bit bored as we can't get out, luckily there's wifi from his lonely neighbour that disappeared a few weeks ago.

*Forfatters note*

Det der står øverst er noget Kim har fundet på, bare så min mor hjemme i Norge ikke skal blive nervøs. Fakta er, at vi fik en email fra en fyr med øgenavnet 'Homosexual Serial Killer', som inviterede os til at komme og bo hos ham, et sted i en lille skummel, 'Udflugt med døden'-agtig by. Vi sagde ja, men det er lidt underligt, for dørene er låst udefra, og vi har hørt ham ringe til alle vennerne og invitere dem over til fest, men så nu hverken øl eller partyhatte. Vi keder os lidt nu vi ikke kan komme ud; heldigvis kan vi komme på den trådløse forbindelse der tilhører hans ensomme nabo (som forsvandt for et par uger siden).

Tormod 'Squeal Like A Pig' Amlien

Friday 4 December 2009

Customs and Wild Guzzistas, hitting the I-90 Eastwards - Tolden og de Vilde Guzzister, Interstate 90 østpå

The customs went smooth, really smoooooth. Most likely, the main reason is to be tracked all the way back to Russia. Over there we made an awfully good impression and gained respect through our holligongs and great wisdom regarding everything from Nimbus carburetors to outdated harvesting machines. The result of this was a close and good relationship to Prime Rib Minister Vladimir Putin (or Vova as he keep insisting us to call him) and his assistant Dmitry Medvedev which Vova playfully call Mini-Ass. However, the point is that Putin made us a letter of recommendation and sent to his colleague Barrack Von Obama, which is something like the king in the US.

Barrack Von Obama is from a German Nobel family, and his job title is president. That’s just like the king in Norway, Harald, but Von Obama is even more powerful. While Haralds authority is limited to meet the ministers once a week for a cup of coffee and drink a little more than the average Norwegian when he’s travelling, Obama controls pretty much everything over here. It spans from maintenance planning of sewerage systems, to deciding what weather to bring, who to give mayhem in customs and so forth. Pretty much everything, which is good for us as he knew about us and received the letter from Putin.

Von Obama had instructed the custom officers to “Make the boys feel like home. If their speedometers are ok, just let them in. And for God’s sake, talk about lutefisk (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutefisk ) so they realize we know Norwegian culture and love it.” And so they did.

There were two officers on duty. Both had been down looking at the bikes and Googling Nimbus so they knew what they talked about. Both of them were extremely polite and service minded. One kept on babbling about lutefisk and his Norwegian heritage, the other had some concerns if the bikes were road worthy. The speedometers were missing! We had taken them off for service before shipping, and when we took them out of the hand luggage and showed them everything was fine. They helped us fill in the papers required to get them out of customs area, and gave us a paper with some miscellaneous colored stamps we needed.

After towing my bike around the port a few rounds there were enough power to start it, and then we went back and finished the paperwork with our friends in the customs.
A couple of days before we got the bikes out I had received an email from Greg Field in Seattle, offering us a place to stay and any help we required. Greg did not seem like a serial killer or anything like that, so we happily accepted his offer. The first ride on US soil from customs in Tacoma to Greg in Seattle went well, and it was so dark that we hardly could hear any bad sounds from the bikes.

Greg had Norwegian Akevitt (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akevitt ) waiting for us, so he quickly won our hearts. Besides, he turned out to be a very interesting character; working at a Guzzi shop, author of several impressive motor books with regards to both research, writing and photographing, as well as he had been editing a lot of other historical books on war and tech stuff. And he knew the guys worth knowing in the motorcycle community in the states.

There were some partying during the weekend, and some preparation of the bikes. His neighbor, artist and Guzzist Pete welded our sidecar boxes into one piece again after they had completely fallen apart through Mongolia and Russia, and we replaced quite a few spokes. As the official spokesman of the trip I have now replaced over 40 spokes, gee how I love that shit job.
There was some discussion about where to head from Seattle. Everybody wanted us to head straight south, winter was coming up in the north they said. The more people nagged at me to drop the Midwest the more hell-bent I became to do it. Nobody has ever taken any, or at least not so much, damage by freezing a bit. In worst case you might suffer a bit from hypothermia and gangrene, but that’s just been a part of the proud Norwegian culture through the years. Besides, I had promised my friend Miles in Vermont to drop by, and I had a load of Nimbus spares to deliver to him as well. You really don’t go back on a promise just because the Rocky Mountains are a bit scary to some people.

Tuesday the 24th of November we hit the road eastwards on Interstate 90, in light rain and somewhere about 5 centigrade’s. It was hero or zero time.

Det gik virkelig nemt at få maskinerne gennem tolden, af grunde der kan spores helt tilbage til Rusland. Dér havde vi gjort et godt indtryk pga. vores 'Hålligång' og store viden om alt fra Nimbus karburatorer til gamle mejetærskere. Takket været dette havde vi åfet et varmt og tæt forhold til premiermedister Input og hans assistent Prez Medvedev. Nå, men Input havde ihvertfald sendt en anbefaling af os til Kong Barrack von Obama i USA.


Kong Obama, som bestemmer alt i USA - inklusive kloakvedligeholdelse, vejret og hvem der skal chikaneres i tolden - havde derfor beordret det amerikanske toldvæsen at ”tag godt vare på drengene når de kommer, og slip dem ind hvis deres speedometre er i orden. Og for guds skyld husk at tale pænt om lutfisk ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lutefisk ) så de ved at vi kender og respekterer norsk kultur”. Og det gjorde man så.


Der var to toldere på vagt den dag. Begge havde været nede at se på maskinerne og havde derpå 'googlet' dem, så de vidste hvad det drejede sig om. Den ene rablede løs om lutfisk og hans norske aner, mens den anden var bekymret for om maskinerne nu var trafiksikre, for speedometrene manglede nemlig. Før afskibning fra Sydkorea havde vi pillet dem af til servicering, men tog dem nu op af håndbagagen og så var alt godt igen. Tolderne hjalp os med papirerne for at få maskinerne ud af toldområdet, og gav os et nødvendigt dokument med forskellige farvede mærker på. Efter at have trukket min maskine et par omgange rundt på havnen kom der liv i den, hvorefter vi klarede resten af papirarbejdet.


Et par dage før dette kom en email fra Greg Field, der tilbød os et sted at bo og skrue på maskinerne i Seattle. Han virkede ikke som en typisk seriemorder, så vi slog glade til. Det første stykke på amerikansk jord fra Tahoma til Seattle gik fint; det var så mørkt at vi knap kunne høre nogen slemme lyde fra motorcyklerne.


Greg havde norsk akvavit klar til os, hvilket jo er den bedste måde at tale direkte til vore hjerter. Interessant fyr iøvrigt; han arbejdede på et Moto Guzzi værksted, havde skrevet flere motorbøger og taget billeder til dem, og havde også redigeret nogle bøger om krig og om tekniske ting. Og han kendte tilmed de folk der var værd at kende i amerikanske mc-cirkler.


Der blev festet lidt den weekend, og skruet en smule på maskinerne. Naboen - kunstneren og Guzzisten Pete - svejsede vores aluminium sidekasser sammen igen, efter de var faldet helt fra hinanden gennem Mongoliet og Rusland, og vi skiftede en masse eger. Selv har jeg skiftet 40 eger på denne tur, og hvor jeg altså bare hader det arbejde nu.


Det blev også diskuteret hvilken retning vi burde køre fra Seattle. Alle ville have vi satte kursen sydpå, for vinteren var på vej i nord. Men jo mere folk insisterede på at jeg skulle droppe midtvesten, jo mere opsat blev jeg på at køre den vej. Det værste der kunne ske var at jeg fik lidt kuldechok og koldbrand, men det er bare en del af vores stolte norske kultur gennem årene. I øvrigt havde jeg lovet min ven Miles i Vermont at jeg ville kigge forbi, og jeg havde også en masse Nimbus dele med til ham. Man blæser ikke på sine løfter bare fordi Rocky Mountain skræmmer andre folk en smule.


Tirsdag d. 24. november kørte vi østpå ad motorvejen Interstate 90, i småregn og 5 graders varme. Tid at være en helt eller helt lam i roen.


Tormod
tormod.amlien@gmail.com



Klaus finally got back his iron horse.
Og Klaus fik omsider sin jernhest igen.
In the US everything is big, opposed to in Sweden, with reference to the expression "Swedes have short dicks but long memories".
I modsætning til i Sverige, er alting i USA bare stort (med reference til udtrykket "svenskerne har korte pikke men lang hukommelse".)
Pete and his casted bike. It's not only the dice that is cast.
Peter med sin støbte motorcykel.

Note the shark in the ceiling, in Norway it's more common with badgers.
Bemærk hajen der hænger fra loftet. I Norge plejer det at være grævlinge.
Obama, Rolling Anarchy and King Croesus is what they talk about in the states these days.
Shorts are required to adapt to cold weather faster.
Når man arbejder i korte bukser vænner man sig hurtigere til koldt vejr.
One of the few original Guzzi fork lifts around. The steel right hand side plates is Pete's last sculptur project, going to show 5 stages of making a paper plane (not Piper Cub).
En af de få Guzzi gaffeltrucks der eksisterer. Stålpladerne th. for Pete er hans seneste projekt, nemlig at vise fem trin af hvordan man folder en papirflyver.
I accidentally insulted the crew on M/S Tamesis that brought the bikes to the US, by saying it was a flat-bottomed hopper-barge. The crew started to get harrazed by the other ships in the fleet due to this. I'm very sorry about this and will keep the shipping sticker on the way around the world to please them. By the way, I was later enlightned and told the ship was not a hopper-barge, but actually the ferry "Mengsol 2" crossing Lake Mjøsa in the 80's, which was sold off, widened, lengthened and painted orange.
Greg Field, our helpful host.
Greg Field, vores hjælpsomme vært.
Klaus "Knut Harald" Haral Ulvestad. Photo by Greg F.
Greg's girlfriend Jenn, photo by Greg.
Greg's kæreste Jenn.
Test driving the ghost bike "The Infernal Machine".
Testkørsel af spøgelsesmotorcyklen "The Infernal Machine".
One of the small independent shops in the neighbourhood, good some of them survive.
En af de små uafhængige nærbutikker - godt at nogle af dem overlever.
Klaus and Greg in front of the "Space Noodle". Built by the Chinese to the world fair in 1962, symbolizing the new time with activities in space and a future market for chinese noodles, stretching towards space.
Pete escorted us through the Snoqualmie Pass, our first taste of proper winter.
Pete eskortedeos gennem Snoqualmie passet, hvor vi fik den første smag af ægte vinter.