Ah, United States of America – finally I would meet the finest people on the face of the Earth. Indeed, after watching the average American on Ricky Lake Show I had no doubt that their beauty and intellectual capacity would take my breath away.
OK, you’ve already figured out that I brought with me some of that silly European prejudice. Let me say right now it’s BS. America is a wonderful surprise. The custom clearance of Balto was hassle-free with friendly officers. They didn’t even bother to check my stuff. The third party insurance was easy too. Fifteen minutes on progressive.com and we were ready to go. But where? The US has the unpractical shape of a roadkill. Whatever route you choose you’ll miss out on many things.
.Ah, United States of America – finally I would meet the finest people on the face of the Earth. Indeed, after watching the average American on Ricky Lake Show I had no doubt that their beauty and intellectual capacity would take my breath away.
OK, you’ve already figured out that I brought with me some of that silly European prejudice. Let me say right now it’s BS. America is a wonderful surprise. The custom clearance of Balto was hassle-free with friendly officers. They didn’t even bother to check my stuff. The third party insurance was easy too. Fifteen minutes on progressive.com and we were ready to go. But where? The US has the unpractical shape of a roadkill. Whatever route you choose you’ll miss out on many things.
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How many times do I have to say it – it’s not a teddy, it’s a kangaroo
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Susan who spent a year with my family as an exchange student in the early eighties welcomed me at the LA airport. We had not seen each other since we were children, so we approached each other as responsible adults by blowing up a number of Coca Cola bottles with Mentos’ on her front lawn. The rest of the time we drove around in the city in her Chevy while drinking vegetable juice. Hollywood, Beverly Hills, and a bundle of places I’ve never heard of. Just name it and we were probably there too. The biggest surprise was the Walk of Fame which I imagined was a wonderful showcase. In reality it looks like a suburb of Riga. One amazing thing about Susan – with no practice for more than 25 years she still speaks harstaddialekt, the sexiest kind of Norwegian language. That’s right; harstaddialekt makes French sound like an epileptic convulsion. Susan’s problem is that it is a rare dialect that most American men do not understand. If they did she’d probably be married twice by now.
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My sister Susan
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The original Route 66 does for most parts not exist anymore, thus driving it would be like going to the Louvre to see a fake Mona Lisa. I drove the last three kilometers of it, and at the end was the beach where they filmed Baywatch with the assistance of so much silicone that Palmela Anderson alone could fix 40 blown engine gaskets (and then we’re talking big BMWs). Ah yes, she had two of them - that makes 80. Anyway, the legendary Highway 1 which follows the coastline is much more real, a winding funfair for bikers, and I laughed all they way to San Francisco. There I stayed a few days in the penthouse apartment of David and Erika whom I met in Bangkok last year when they were on a trans-Asia cow-crashing expedition with a Transalp. Nowadays they have a V-Strom with – as David emphasizes with a hint of satisfaction – Wilbers suspension.
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David and Erika was absolutely delighted to see me again
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Together we had a serious look on the map. I knew I was in for some long stretches on surfaced roads, so to be ready for a cross-country I needed to give Balto some cruising abilities. I mounted long-distance tires. Then it was off to the seat maker Corbin, and during some productive hours in their factory they transformed my offroader into a Harley Davidson. Eh, not quite, but close enough. Two Harley footpegs on the engine guard and I was ready to go. Another rider on the spot said he really liked my motorcycle. Now, how often does the owner of a petit Japanese-Italian bastard hear that from a Harley-dude?
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The Corbin people had never made a seat for the TTR before, so they had to make mine from scratch
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Then it was back on Highway 1 and continue north. Wow, the coastal road is so amazing, and the interest I received from the locals was surprising. Some places they were literary queuing up to ask questions. It was almost as in Asia, but instead of being asked the same question by everybody (e.g. in India: What does the bike cost? / in Indonesia: Where are you going?) the Americans has an impressive mixture of queries to throw at me, such as these: What kind of dangers have you encountered on your trip? What kind of weapon do you travel with for self-defense? Where do you hide your revolver?
And just before the ocean view starts to become habitual the Highway 1 ends at the junction to 101 where you all of a sudden feel like an ant. It’s the trees that do it. They are the biggest on the planet. A redwood tree adrift at sea could sink a supertanker. Or to put it more constructively; one redwood tree and your sauna will be hot as hell for the rest of your life. They are an awesome sight. Really, you’ll have to be there to grasp their scale. So when I crossed the border to Oregon I did a right turn and – spellbound by the many grand vistas - headed inland to see if I could find some really rocky mountains too.
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Redwood trees made me lose all respect for bjørketrær
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