The weather forecast says shitty weather Sunday and Monday, so I take the opportunity of having one last sunny ride, going ten-fifteen kilometres north to see the ‘Brat Style’ custom bike shop, whose modified Yamaha XS’s and SR’s once caught my eye when I surfed on the net. Impossible to find, but again some local bikers save the day, by spending half an hour guiding me to the place. The bikes out there are as cool as they get (besides, they’re not the usual Harley-crap), and the many trophies on the walls confirm that they’re not one-shot wonders either. Really should have brought the Zero book for signatures.
An hour on the freeway later I’m down at Crazy Pete’s again, to pick up the shipping crate for the Nimbus. It takes me four hours to dismantle it, beat the damaged parts back in shape, strap it all onto the bike, and buy a few essentials at a builder’s market. Talk a bit to some Indian guys and Pete’s daughter and son-in-law who have showed up, do the rocker arm trick and such. Good thing I didn’t postpone getting the crate until a potentially wet Tuesday morning, because I have to be in Yokohama an hour from here at 1 p.m. that day.
Rush hour traffic back to the hotel is just as dense as it was yesterday, even here on the toll road, so again I use the emergency lanes if available, and otherwise filter up through rows of slow-moving boxes, up high on the ten-twenty meter stilt-road in over the centre of town. Though now with 30 kilograms of metal strapped onto the side, and a red rag flapping in the wind at the end of the 2,2 meter long strips.
Simon from yesterday meets me at his office, we jump into his modern Nissan sports car, and head for the city part called Roppongi, a wealthy neighbourhood where a lot westerners live or hang out. Nice fast ride, despite his complaining about how heavy the 1,7 tonnes car is for the 280 bhp engine. A genuine Bavarian pub is our target, as even Brits will admit the Bavarians know a thing or two about brewing beer. Or about sausages and Sauerkraut, tonight’s dinner. I have been on a strictly Japanese diet over here since arriving, but ‘Fleischkäse Pretzel’ and whatever else this mini-Bierhalle has to offer is exotic/absurd enough for my tastes.
An hour on the freeway later I’m down at Crazy Pete’s again, to pick up the shipping crate for the Nimbus. It takes me four hours to dismantle it, beat the damaged parts back in shape, strap it all onto the bike, and buy a few essentials at a builder’s market. Talk a bit to some Indian guys and Pete’s daughter and son-in-law who have showed up, do the rocker arm trick and such. Good thing I didn’t postpone getting the crate until a potentially wet Tuesday morning, because I have to be in Yokohama an hour from here at 1 p.m. that day.
Rush hour traffic back to the hotel is just as dense as it was yesterday, even here on the toll road, so again I use the emergency lanes if available, and otherwise filter up through rows of slow-moving boxes, up high on the ten-twenty meter stilt-road in over the centre of town. Though now with 30 kilograms of metal strapped onto the side, and a red rag flapping in the wind at the end of the 2,2 meter long strips.
Simon from yesterday meets me at his office, we jump into his modern Nissan sports car, and head for the city part called Roppongi, a wealthy neighbourhood where a lot westerners live or hang out. Nice fast ride, despite his complaining about how heavy the 1,7 tonnes car is for the 280 bhp engine. A genuine Bavarian pub is our target, as even Brits will admit the Bavarians know a thing or two about brewing beer. Or about sausages and Sauerkraut, tonight’s dinner. I have been on a strictly Japanese diet over here since arriving, but ‘Fleischkäse Pretzel’ and whatever else this mini-Bierhalle has to offer is exotic/absurd enough for my tastes.
1 kommentar:
"I love Choppin", ahaha! and the Mohawk on the woman (?) You're too hilarious!!
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