The Chernobyl of Capitalism

Quite some people ask me what was the highlight of the trip through the states after dropping by some odd 25 states. Now well across the border to Mexico it’s sort of the chance to do a wrap up of the travel through the states, but I’m too lazy to do it properly. Sorry about that. Not so much.

It was too many great people we met, and great places we saw so I cannot justify to start elaborating on it.

However, there is one thing that certainly made the biggest impression; I’ll never forget Detroit, or “The Chernobyl of Capitalism” which I quickly named it. I never mentioned it on the blog, I found it hard to write something that was worthy the impression it made. Anyway, I guess this is the last chance.

From the Joliet prison outside Chicago we have no contacts before Kevin Lentz in Ann Arbor, a few miles west of Detroit, Michigan. Leaving late from the blues brothers dormitory, taking the Interstate-94 a cold afternoon we only managed to penetrate Michigan with a few miles before it is utterly dark. It is cold enough to make your feet feel like two wooden blocks when stepping off the bike, while the fingers don’t cooperate when you take off the helmet and remove the jacket, temporarily stuffed with New York Times for extra insulation.

You start to wonder if it is worth to keep heading up north to see Detroit while defrosting in the bathtub and feeling the needles steadily punch you while you slowly get back the feeling in your legs and hands. But you can’t abort; it was the town everybody told us to stay away from. The automotive industry’s cradle with the satanic steel mills along the Rouge, the home of a world class white flight, the living ghost town symbolizing the greatness of capitalism and union power.

It is dark again when we have a half hour left to Kevin’s place Ann Arbor the next day. Traffic is growing heavier and faster the closer we get. With hardly any light on the bikes it is an adrenalin rush to cross over all the lanes at the time we have to get off the highway. First challenging, and then rewarding when you see you managed once more without getting run over by a tractor trailer going 1,5 times your speed. It is a relief to get to Kevin’s place.

Ann Arbor for me is the dull highbrow brother of Detroit. Detroit had the heavy industries and history, almost like a working class heroes’ Mecca. Ann Arbor has the intellect and education.

But Kevin’s heart is burning for the history of Detroit and the heavy industry. The rise and fall of the Motor City. When he talks about Detroit he sounds like Dennis Hopper talking about Kurtz in Apocalypse now. It’s the same enthusiasm while talking about the city equally crazy as the colonel. We got the perfect man to take us into the industrial heart of darkness.

Next day is a typical grey December day in Michigan, perfect for underlining the decadence waiting ahead of us. While passing Dearborn, home of Henry Ford’s operations the sad reality becomes apparent. Working our way further in we bypass the Motor City Casino. A casino is probably exactly what the town need.

Downtown is quiet as a political opposition party in North Korea, even on a Friday afternoon. There are hardly any people to see, and empty high-rise buildings are slowly falling apart. There’s not enough cars to even make the slightest traffic jam. Some places steam blows up from the ground from the city’s heating system and gives it an even more industrial, hellish and tragic appearance. The few people we see is only African Americans, the white flight drained the town for all the whites, which was the one that could afford to move when the economy went down.

On the way over to Belle Island we’re going through several neighborhoods with burned out houses, empty lots that the nature have started to take back, and houses boarded up by the authorities to reduce the risk of squatters burning down the place. A short stop at old Fisher’s mansion discloses that one of the richest dude’s former home has been taken over by a Krishna congregation. Though there’s no money left in town, there might be some souls to steal.

A third of the street lights on the bridge to Belle Island have fallen down, like they nod to you to confirm your expectation to find a former playground for the well to do’s that’s empty and falling apart. The oldest yacht club in the states greets you on the other side, all boarded up, dark and empty. The island is empty, the playground is just not fun anymore.

Last stop is the Heidelberg Street, the proof that at least the creativity is living. Tyree Guyton started in -86 to transform empty houses and lot’s into gigantic art installations, just armed with paintbrushes and leftovers from the community. Soon the Elba Street and Heidelberg Street was a massive art installation. The city demolished parts of it in both -91 and -99, but it’s survived and still evolves. It’s one bright spot in an else wise dark town, though the installation is more or less picturing what’s happened in town, and all genious politics around.

Some people shun town in fear of crime. We don’t get any trouble despite flashing heavy duty photographing equipment and hanging out at the worse parts of town. My feeling is that people don’t bother to do any robberies anymore because everybody that had something worth robbing them left decades ago.

I find it scarier with Detroit than Chernobyl which I saw it a few years ago. Chernobyl can at least be blamed on an accident, more or less. Detroit can mostly be explained by greed and politics. It sort of tells a story few people on the western hemisphere like to hear, but I’m intrigued by the honesty of the story Detroit tells. I’ll for sure be back, for me it’s the most unique place in the States.

Departing from Joliet, Illinois
Typical condition after driving for a day, chest and beard covered in ice, snow and salt from the road. No feelings in feet or hands.

Kevin and the Pear Street band jamming in Kevins basement in Ann Arbor

The Motor City Casino, exactly what saved Detroit

GM's head quarter

The bridge to Belle Island, Detroits recreational area

Not too many of the lights on the bridge still stands, but it doesn't matter as Detroit probably can't afford to use them anyway

No pets on the beach. Actually nobody at all.

Detroit from Belle Island

One of USA's oldest yacht clubs. Not that fancy anymore.

Fisher's Mansion taken over by some sort of a Krishna congregation

God is good, just a pity he forgott about Detroit.

The Heidelberg Project

Kevin

Can you eat your speed....

Kenny Rogers was the big star entertaining this x-mas. Couldn't suit better with a decadent artist in a decadent town...

Where else in the world can you find skyscrapers falling apart downtown?

Once one of USA's most beautyful railway stations. Now not so much.

"Fuck Detroit"

The bridge from Detroit to Windsor, Canada

Back in Monkey Business

There are probably quite a few that’ve been wondering about what we’ve been up to the last month as it’s been dead dog quiet. Then again, many people have also wondered about where Jimmy Hoffa been hanging out and amusing himself the last thirty-five years, it’s actually nothing abnormal about it.

However, hints point in the direction of we’ve been standing up against bureaucracy and quickly facing a defeat. It might have been work on the coming bestselling novel about the Norwegian wild life and survival experts Odd Dyretråkk and Tom Ødemark, their moose racing and bear fights. It might have been work on catching up with the back log of pictures and logistics, or simply that we’ve been drawn into some x-file’ish conspiracy like the Montauk Project (http://www.crystalinks.com/montauk.html ). The entire thing is blur and raising quite some questions that the world probably never will get the answers on before CIA and KGB open their archives to the public.

More important though is that we’re back in monkey business, and there’s no business like monkey business like ol’ Frank said. The leather gear is ironed and free of wrinkles, the bikes are ship shape, freshly insured and upgraded. We’re in better spirit than ever and actually made an extremely detailed plan for an entire week ahead. It’s historical.

We’re now heading for Waterbury, Connecticut to meet up with a real sword swallower and see some old brass mills (while the world is lost in the eco-tourism, which nobody really knows exactly what is, I’ve introduced the industrial tourism which is all about visiting old industrial and environmental hazardous places and ghost towns like Chernobyl, Butte, Kurchatov, Detroit, Pavlovdar, the Aral Sea and so forth. Much more interesting and you don’t get troubled with other tourists)

After Waterbury we’ll head over to Long Island to hang out with the spirit of Nicola Tesla, before coming back to NYC this weekend. Most likely we’ll have a slide show at the Matchless in NYC Monday night, ( http://www.barmatchless.com/events.html ) but that will be confirmed later, maybe.

As nothing has happened lately, or at least that’s the official story, I got no new pictures to post so I’ll feed you with some old pics from the top secret “Vermont-Upgrade-Project” which took place in Miles and Pat Mushlin’s secret laboratory at a secret address in Draper Road.
T

PS: As I really do enjoy challenges I’ve set a very ambitious objective for the blog. If possible, I’ll update it even more infrequently. This time I managed the entire February without an update, but we’re talking about the shortest month in the year. I’m sure I can do even better.

Det er sikkert mange som har lurt på hva vi har drevet med den siste måneden siden det har vært fullstendig radiotaushet på hjemmesiden. Men, nå er det nå også mange som har lurt på hvor Jimmy Hoffa har vært og hva han har gjort de siste 35 årene uten å få noe svar,så det er ikke noe unormalt over dette.

Men, det er definitivt ting som tyder på at vi har stått opp mot byråkrati og relativt hurtig lagt oss flate igjen. Det kan også ha vært at vi har vært travelt opptatt med den kommende bestselgende dokumentarbokserien om Odd Dyretråkk og Tom Ødemark, villmarkens konger som får Lars Monsen til å fremstå som en jentespeider, og som kapp-rir på elg for å more seg, og fisker tom innsjø etter innsjø med bare nevene. Eller det kan rett og slett være at vi har vært fanget i en tidslomme eller deltatt i et x-files prosjekt i Montauk Project klassen (http://www.crystalinks.com/montauk.html ). Det er uansett spørsmål verden aldri vil få svar på.

Men, hovedsaken er nå uansett at vi er tilbake på banen, eller med bananen som aper sier. Kjøreutstyret er nystrøket så en hver skrukk er borte, syklene overhalt og overmalt, nyforsikrede og uthvilte. Vi har til og med lagt en ekstremt detaljert plan for denne ukas videre ferd. Nå skal vi satse på det som det er mening i, og det er turer det, i følge vårt åndelig forbilde Jan Erik ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BSRkd0ylg3s )

Vi tar av fra Albany, NY i morgen tidlig lokal tid og kjører til Waterbury, CT hvor vi skal besøke en bekjent sverdsluker og magiker som kanskje kan lære bort et par triks eller forsvinne oss. Dessuten skal vi se på noen gamle messingverk (mens alle er fastlåst i øko-turisme om dagen fokuserer jeg på industri-turisme som går på å besøke gamle industristeder, miljøkatastrofer og spøkelsesbyer som Detroit, Tjernobyl, Kurchatov, Butte osv. Mye mer interessant, og dessuten slipper en å tråkke i andre turister).

Fra Waterbury drar vi til Long Island hvor vi skal vandre i Nikola Teslas fotspor og se stedene han drev med sine vanvittige eksperimenter og lo så ondskapsfullt som jeg tror bare han kunne gjøre. Etter dette drar vi til New York City i helgesvingen, og blir 3-4 dager. Vi skal antageligvis holde et lysbildeforedrag Bar Matchless ( http://www.barmatchless.com/events.html )i Brooklyn mandag kveld, muligens, om det skulle passe. Dette vil evt bli bekreftet på hjemmesiden her om et par dager om noen har interesse av det.

Kan en plan bli mer detaljert enn dette? Jeg tør å påstå at svaret er et rungende NEI. Den inneholder både steder og tidspunkter, så jeg er mektig imponert over oss selv, og det er ikke få ganger jeg har klappet meg selv på skulderen i dag og sagt jeg er flink.

Siden det ”ikke har skjedd noe” har jeg ingen nye bilder å legge ut, foruten at de bildene jeg eventuelt skulle ha fra siste måned er graderte og skal brennes opp, legger jeg ut noen gamle bilder fra det såkalte ”oppgraderings-prosjektet” i som ble utført på hemmelig adresse i Vermont, på Pat og Miles hemmelige labratorie.

T

PS:Siden jeg liker utfordringer har jeg nå satt meg et meget ambisiøst mål med bloggen. Om mulig skal jeg oppdatere den enda sjeldnere. Nå klarte jeg hele februar uten å oppdatere, men det er nå den korteste måneden.

Tim and another Guzzi-mate pulled their bike out in the middle of the winter to come and see us though it was quite some distance. That’s the Guzzi-spirit, and very typical. Without the Guzzi community in the states our life would have been way more poor, I’m really grateful for what that gang has done and is doing for us. I’ll probably buy a Guzzi someday, a lot due to this. To check out one of the most outstanding Guzzi-riders on the planet John Boettcher, check out http://www.johnboettcher.com/ He should be something to look up to for all so-called bikers or wannabe bikers.

Tim og en anden Guzzi-kammerat trak deres maskiner ud her midt om vinteren, for at komme over at se os, selvom det var et godt stykke derfra. Det er Guzzi-ånden, ret typisk. Uden Guzzi-kontaktnettet her i Staterne ville vores liv have været fattigere, og jeg er taknemmelig for hvad det hold har gjort og gør for os. Jeg kommer nok til at købe en Moto-Guzzi en dag, i høj grad pga. det her. Klik på http://www.johnboettcher.com/ for at tjekke John Boettcher, der er en af de mest enestående Guzzi-kørere på denne planet. Han er en af dem såkaldte bikere eller gid-vi-var bikere kan se op til.

Pat organized an open house session in Vermont so people could feed us peanuts, look at the baboons and their equipment and donate money so we can buy more bananas. Thanks a lot to Pat for the effort, and all the people that showed up and gave donations.

Patricia fik organiseret et 'åbent hus' arrangement i Vermont, så folk kunne komme og fodre os med jordnødder, og kikke på os to bavianer og donere penge så vi havde råd til bananer. Tusind tak til Patricia for indsatsen, og til alle de mange der mødte op og støttede os.

These three pics are interesting . Very interesting. It shows the main upgrade done in Vermont, and the core of the top secret ”Vermont-Upgrade-Project”, the attaching of a can crusher on the sidecar. The first you might notice is my clothing. Maybe looks like rags, but it isn’t. It’s the original shirt, and the original shorts. The shorts was bought in Bali in 2003, and has been with me on countless travels, including probably 25 countries, including the Norway-Singapore trip in 2006 ( http://www.kccd.no/chronicles_2006_en_part1.html ). It’s in very good condition considering this, except from a couple of oil stains. The shirt is the very shirt the crank shaft of my bike was wrapped in when I got it in 2005. The shirt was a special item for the previous owner, of both the bike and the shirt, Frank Nielsen in Denmark. When he was out chasing girls he always wore it, and always scored. It was the lucky-shirt. I’ve brought it on the Singapore trip, as well as this trip and use it on very special occasion, like fitting a can crusher. (Translator's note: But did it give you the same kind of 'special occasion' luck that it gave Frank?)

Anyway, the main thing here is the can crusher. It was stolen by Miles from a canteen and given to me as can crushers is my only real interest, except from steam organs, blowing soap bubbles and Japanese musicians playing on burning grand pianos with fire proof suits. This can crusher got a magazine for about 6 cans, which you crush in appr. 5 seconds if you’re trained.
The installation was carried through following the standards of the oil industry, to ensure suitability for offshore use. First we did a FAT, Factory Acceptance Test, which ensure functionality before assembly. When crusher was assembled on bike, we did an EFAT, Extended Factory Acceptance Test, which is a stack up test ensuring functionality with all parameters involved. It went well, see the step goes through from loading on perfect boxes in to magazine, till crushed boxes less than half an inch tall. Big thanks to Miles for the contribution.
Is there anything more to say? Yes, it’s the longest caption I ever wrote.

Disse tre billeder er interessante. Vældigt interessante. De viser en større opgradering foretaget i Vermont, i form af en 'dåseknuser' monteret på sidevognen. Det første man bør bemærke er min påklædning, der ligner ælaser, men ikke er det. Shorts (Bali 2003) der sammen med mig har besøgt mindst 25 lande og var med på Oslo-Singapore turen. De er i god stand trods oliepletter. Skjorten er den som var viklet omkring Nimbussens krumtap, da jeg fik den i 2005. Den var noget specielt for den tidligere ejer, danske Frank Nielsen, fordi den var god at have på når han var ude at score damer. Den var også med på O-S turen, og bliver nu brugt til særlige lejligheder, som fx at sætte en dåseknuser fast. (Oversætters note; men giver den dig samme held som den gav Frank?)

Anyway, det drejer sig om dåseknuseren. Miles stjal den fra en kantine og givet til mig, da dåseknusere er min eneste store interesse bortset fra dampdrevne orgler, at blæse sæbebobler og spille på brændende flygel iført brandsikker dragt. Dåseknuseren har et magasin til seks dåser, hvilke du med lidt øvelse kan knuse på fem sekunder. Den blev installeret efter samme retninglinier man bruger i olieindustrien, så vi er sikre på den også virker når vi går off-shore. Først en 'Factory Acceptance Test' (FAT) og – efter montering på sidevogn – så en 'Extended Factory Acceptance Test' (EFAT), alt fungerer vel, og dåserne er en halv tomme høje. En stor tak til Miles for bidraget. Er der mere at nævne? Tja, det er den længste billedtekst jeg nogensinde har skrevet.

Pat was very sad when we left, and so were we. Miles and Pat became like parents to me during the stay. But when you're 30, it's time to move out from your parents.

Patricia var meget trist da vi tog afsted, og det var vi også. Miles & Patricia var som forældre for mig mens vi boede der. Men når man er 30, er det på tide at flytte hjemmefra.

Klaus adjusting the compression on his engine with Sewerage Master's special tool, p/n 666.

Klaus justerer kompressionen på sin maskine med et særligt kloakmester-værktøj, p/n 666.

Even hard-core and mean bikers like me can do kitchen service. I made Cheeze Souffle' and baked white bread, the Norwegian delicatesse' loff for Miles and Pat. The only real vegetarian food fit for humans.

Selv barske og onde bikere som mig kan begå sig i et køkken. jeg lavede oste-soufflé og hjemmebagt hvidt brød, en norsk delikatesse specielt til Miles & Patricia, og den eneste slags vegetarmad der passer sig for mennesker.

Miles and Pat's son Zebby joined us as well. Really nice dude, like myself, Klaus and Miles and Pat. We were nice fellows all of us indeed.

Miles' & Patricias søn Zebby deltog også. Flinke mennesker allesammen, inklusive os selv.

Radar, the fat fox with Downs syndrome was served whiskey on the rocks while we ate Souffle'.

'Radar', den fede ræv med Down's Syndrom, fik whiskey on the rocks mens vi andre spiste souffléen.

Jerry is another great friend we got a lot to thank for. Most patient and pleasant dude I know I think, and one of the few people that I've lend my -57 Triumph Thunderbird to without worries.

Jerry er en anden god ven vi skylder stor tak. Han må være den mest tålmodige og flinke fyr jeg kender, og en af de få jeg uden bekymring har lånt min '57 Triumph Thunderbird til.

Jerry also got some great nephews and nieces, actually 8 that frequently hangs out at his house. Great gang.

Jerry har også nogle fine nevøer og niecer - faktisk har han otte stk., der tit hænger ud hos ham. Fin bande.

This rifle is specially made for seagulls and made a big bang.

Denne riffel er specuilbygget til at skræmme måger, og skyder med et højt brag.

Klaus hates Mammoths and when he saw a bunch coming he didn't save one single of them.

Klaus hader mammutter, og da han så en flok af dem komme sparede han ikke én af dem.

Nathana, Jerry's oldest niece came over from Germany while we were around, good company to hang out with.

Nathana, Jerry's ældste Niece, kom over fra Tyskland mens vi var på besøg - fint selskab at være i.