ok, so its not a *big* bike
Wednesday promised a lot, and delivered even more. Frank and I jumped in the pickup truck - I headed for the wrong side as usual, "Who put a steering wheel over here?" and we headed to Jorn's place in Flensburg, a northern German city bordering Denmark (and hypothermia). Jorn was a top chap, very willing to help out with my journey and the scoot was seductively waiting for me in a large club room amongst jealous 50, 80, 150, 200cc machines. We loaded the scoot aboard the truck, well the guys did, I was too busy snapping away with the camera, and then someone decided to go to Denmark for a quick sidetrip. What? A foreign country? aww I just got my scooter and we didnt have time for that! Anyway, Denmark was similar to Flensburg, perhaps because it was just across the road and I was quickly ushered to a hot dog stand on the side of a coastal highway in the middle of nowhere for a Denmark speciality. Great hot dogs! After a bit of chatting about the wacky tax system in Denmark it was time to head back. Frank and I dropped of Jorn, bid him farewell, and headed for Kiel with the 200cc Italian stalian strapped aboard. All was going nicely to plan. Frank christened my hog with a quick run up and down a small country lane between fields and he officially declared it wobbly, and my decision to use it crazy, I declared it a success! Frank, being the ever logical German, disallowed any running on roads as it was yet to be registered and insured, I was a bit pissed but he was right and registration wasnt far off. The hot dog was great, the guys were understanding of my insanity, and even the Denmark supermarkets had packaged food with vikings on the front! It was almost more than I could handle.