Table of contents

• Blickpunkt tour with a child Dad, when are we there?
• On a discovery tour
• “Dad, let me drive too”
• “Back then, in the GDR …”
• Finally there!
• Tried: AKE intercom
• Police comment

Artist

motorcycles

Blickpunkt tour with a child

Blickpunkt tour with a child
Dad, when are we there?

The adventure of four-year-old Paul, who crossed half of Germany on a motorcycle with his father. A road story.

Rolf Henniges

04/22/2009

It’s a Monday afternoon in August. The sky looks like it has been washed up from the bottom of a river. In the humid heat of the last few days there is a rosy smell of rain. Paul’s head sways between my arms, he only hesitantly answers my questions. His helmet hits the handlebars lightly, and I immediately pull over to the right.

My dream of the limitless adventure that only father and son can experience seems to burst like a soap bubble. We have been on the road for four hours now, have taken six breaks and only reeled 50 kilometers. And now the little one almost fell asleep while driving. How should we ever get there ??? Hey, Paul, all right? Are you okay ??? I’m tired and hungry ??, the intercom comes slowly. I’m heading for the next entrance to the courtyard. A worker stands in front of a locksmith’s shop. Black, calloused hands, blue dungarees, lace-up boots. He looks like most of the people we’ve met in the past few hours. Amazed and curious. ?? Hello, we are looking for a bench to sit on, preferably covered, it will definitely rain soon. ?? Well, who do we have there? Aren’t you too young to ride a motorcycle ??? Once again I don’t know who is meant. After all, I’m only 1.67 meters. Father and son grin. Metalworker Thomas Fruhwirth runs a four-man business, he has two children Paul’s age and asks us into his hall. Hand us juice, coffee, apples and a giant chocolate bar that we share. In return, we describe our trip.

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Artist

“Why does an engine drink gasoline?”

The idea for this trip came to me in the spring when the media reported about a world record: A small Honda motorcycle had sold over 60 million times around the world and was now also available in Germany. I knew this little 125 with the name Innova from Asia. Like almost no other motorized two-wheeler, it is predestined to take a child with you. The machine should become our travel companion. Goal: We want to eat the best soup in the world at my mother’s place and spend a weekend together. It is 437 kilometers, around four hours’ drive, to her on the autobahn. The ruled out however? too dangerous. We will only use side streets and have planned five days for this. ?? Looks very professional the way you both drive ??, says Fruhwirth, ?? the little one can’t fall down anyway. ?? No he can’t. Paul is sitting comfortably on the bench between my legs and arms, can support himself on the handlebars, his feet rest securely on a platform that I made especially for it. It is impossible to slide sideways. In addition, unlike children who sit behind the driver and see nothing but his back, he doesn’t get bored.

On a discovery tour

Artist

“How do the drops actually get into the clouds??”

?? You can sleep here ??, offers Fruhwirth, but I wave it off. If we can move forward at this rate, it will take us ten days. Paul, too, would like to continue to see grandma, is now bright, alert and strengthened. Five minutes later we’re back on the road. A motorcyclist comes towards us, greets us. I explain to Paul that bikers wave to each other. A little later another motorcycle overtook us. “Hey,” exclaims Paul, “he didn’t say hello at all. Overtake him, then we scold! ?? The top speed of our machine is around 80 km / h with heavy luggage. We make our way north under thick cloud banks. I have installed a navigation system on the handlebars that guides us along the smallest of paths. Cornfields, forests and pastures rush past. Cows are crowded together. ?? Dad, why are they standing so close, making the cow party, should I honk ??? ?? No, don’t scare them. They are cold, they huddle together to warm themselves.

?? And the cow in the middle? Doesn’t she sweat too much and falls over dead ??? I smile a lot on this first day of travel. And I’m really happy that we can spend a whole week together. Heavy rain sets in at around 4 p.m. Paul remains brave, doesn’t nudge, doesn’t whine. Is cheerful and looking forward to sharing a bed with me, a pillow fight, bedtime story, closeness. But it is Monday, many inns are closed. We fight our way through heavy rain to Sinsheim, take a double room. A little later my son is lying next to me, snoring softly. I enjoy the sight. Although Paul is a separated child, fortunately we spend a lot of time together. A time in which he always shows me how valuable youth is. The hustle and bustle of life and stress are still alien to him. Much of his lack of need results from a lack of sense of time. That carries over to me every time.

Next morning: Paul’s eyes are bigger than hunger. Everything he has seen before he drags from the huge breakfast buffet onto his plate. ?? Paul, this is way too much. You never eat that. ?? Dad, I eat this! Shouldn’t the weather be good? ??But!?? Right after our start it was pouring rain. ?? Paul, are you cold ??? ??No. Dad, when are we there ??? We covered around 130 kilometers on the first day of driving. Today, with this rain, there will hardly be that many on these paths. ?? Soon, Paul. You only have to sleep three more times. We can communicate easily while driving via a radio system in the helmets. We divided up many tasks. For example, blinking. I turn on the indicator, Paul turn it off again. That works fine. Four hours have passed ?? seven breaks, 60 kilometers. Paul is excited. ?? Dad, the blinker doesn’t go off anymore. It’s still blinking. ?? This is not the turn signal. This is the fuel control. ?? What is she doing ??? ?? She says we’ll run out of gas soon. ?? ??And what happens then??? ?? When we run out of gas, we get stuck. ?? ?? I don’t want that, dad. I don’t want to fall down. ??Falling down? Who says we’re falling ??? ?? But we have to fall first if we want to lie down, right ??? We meander through the Odenwald, through the Finsterbachtal to Neckarhauserhof. Continue along the Brombach reservoir. Through places I’ve never heard of in my life, over stretches that can hardly be distinguished from forest trails. And where Paul quickly comes up with crude ideas.

“Dad, let me drive too”

Artist

Adventure on the go: huge pumpkins on the Swabian Wine Route.

We both always have our hands next to each other on the handlebars, but I really don’t want to let go. ?? No, you are still too small. Also, if you drive alone and the police see that, they’ll take my driver’s license away. And you surely don’t want that, do you ??? ?? What does a driver’s license do, dad ??? ?? This is a small piece of paper on which it is written that I can drive .???? Doesn’t matter. Then I tell Stefanie from kindergarten that she will write you a new one. ??No. The police write permission. And if you’re not good, they’ll take them away again. Then you are no longer allowed to drive. That bothered him for a while. How could I have explained that differently? Shortly before Traisa near Darmstadt, a police car comes towards us. Paul winces, is as quiet as a mouse. The car passes us, the officers look over curiously. ?? They didn’t stop you, maybe asked where you come from, where you are going ??? my friend Markus wants to know, with whom we spend the night that evening. “Dad has a driver’s license for it,” replies Paul. We laugh and I explain to Markus: German legislation prescribes the following rules for the motorcycle passenger: There is no age limit. He only has to wear a suitable protective helmet, have a firm footing and be able to use his motor skills to follow the movements of the vehicle. And that’s Paul, no question about it. He has a talent for movement and by the age of four has already mastered a number of tricks on his bike. I am sure if I would let him handle the handlebars…

Third day of travel. The sky is the color of Paul Newman’s eyes, a sharp, icy wind is blowing from the northwest. Paul has never shown signs of tiredness since the first day of driving. We have doubled the number of stops, stopping practically every 20 minutes. Breaks in which we play ball, explore our surroundings or practice writing and painting. We are currently resting at a kindergarten in Rodgau. Paul has seen the climbing frame and really wants to do gymnastics. He walks into the yard, gets in touch with other children immediately, and has to answer their questions about our motorcycle. Three teachers stand in the corner and look suspiciously like Eskimos who are told a joke in Latin. An hour later we are back on the road, crossing the Main near Hanau. A freighter with a mighty draft is dragging itself through the water. Paul really wants to get closer, watch him. We turn onto a dirt road, squeeze past two barriers and stand directly on the Main, only twenty meters away from the ships we are watching. On the way back to the street, an officer of the water police stands in our way. Paul is as quiet as a mouse again. ?? May I ask what you are doing here ??? ?? My son wanted to see the ships, I answer truthfully. “Dad has a driver’s license for it,” says Paul. The officer looks stern. He lets us take our helmets off, skeptically circles the motorcycle and grumbles: ?? Ignore barriers, so, so! You already know that this is a water protection area, right ??? I look at the cooling towers of the former Kahl nuclear power plant. You are only 200 meters away. And I look into the officer’s eyes. He turns around, also looks at the cooling towers. ?? What is a water silt area ??? Paul wants to know.

“Back then, in the GDR …”

Jahn

Crossing at Neckarsteinbach. “What does a driver’s license do, papa?”

“Good,” says the officer seriously and lifts his index finger, “this time it remains a verbal warning.” In the evening we take a room in the middle of the Vogelsberg. The sun disappears behind the hills, flooding the horizon with golden light. Paul plays hide and seek with the innkeeper’s children, I’m sitting at the table with two plasterers from Saxony. ?? Your motorcycle reminds me of our Simson Schwalbe, the thicker of the two is happy and reminisces. ?? Back then, in the GDR, it was quite normal with children on mopeds, there were even child seats as original accessories. You had to be mobile. “Still,” adds the other, “that’s pretty damn cool what the two of you are doing.” Cool? I tell about my fears and how meticulously I prepared the trip. Extra seat, navigation system, intercom, toys for on the go, first-aid kit, protective clothing. Ultimately, we trust two small tires, the contact area of ​​which is as large as a postage stamp, and my caution and experience. A wasp sting could mean the end of the trip. Or an upset stomach, flu, extreme weather. Not to mention an accident. ?? Those who only quarrel and therefore never take action remain in their fear and experience nothing, the fat man muses. “My two sons are always on their game consoles, says his colleague. ?? They wouldn’t be interested in such a tour. That being said, my wife would never have allowed that either. On the wall of the dining room, diagonally opposite, hangs a sign: Life is a journey, not a destination. I have to think a lot about the last sentence of the plasterer the next day while driving. In the end, it shows how much trust Paul’s mother has in me. And my mother.

?? Dad, where do the rivers come from, where do they flow to ????? They flow into the sea and arise from raindrops falling from the clouds. ?? ?? And how do the drops get into the clouds ??? Hen or egg ?? the time between our breaks, the minutes in which our bikes roll stoically towards the goal, the exhaust lets out its sonorous, dull thud in the distance, is ground up by entertaining conversations. I experience the environment differently than usual. See it through the eyes of a four-year-old, who observes exactly what I have long overlooked and passes on to me. Why doesn’t the bird break its legs when it falls from the sky into the field? Why is the time trapped in the clock? How do the photos get into the camera? Is the woman so sad because she has no child? On the morning of our fifth and last day of travel, Paul sits in bed and doubts. ?? Papa, every day you say we’ll be there soon. I want to be there now. Only one more time. Then we are there. We have breakfast, have barely covered a kilometer, and he says: “Wait a minute, there is a gas station here. Let’s refuel quickly, then we’ll be with Grandma. It is Friday noon when we reach Kassel. Drizzle hangs like a blanket in the canyons, the GPS guides us through the city. Since yesterday afternoon we’ve been pestering each other with the same questions:

Finally there!

Artist

Finally there: Paul’s grandma has been waiting for him longingly.

?? Paul, are you cold ??? ?? Dad, when are we there ??? Signs that this trip should end soon. Our destination is just under 50 kilometers away. ?? Why do they have train routes on the road here ??? ?? These are tracks for the train so that it can drive over the street. We have to be careful not to fall, because they are slippery when wet. And if we fall, we are dead and we will end up in a cave. But I do not want that. I still have to see the world. ?? You will too. I’m already paying attention. But you know, there are people who will never see the world and are still happy. Your grandma, for example, spent most of her life in the small village. Paul takes a little time to comment, then says: ?? That’s good, then she’s sure to have a lot of friends. On the last few kilometers a wave of happiness and pride floods me. Five days that we have never spent more intensely together are behind us. A good 650 kilometers too. We listened to the vastness, defied the pouring rain, braced ourselves against gusts of wind, sweated together. And laughed, laughed a lot. It was the greatest and most beautiful adventure of my life. And that despite the fact that I crossed Africa, parts of Asia and Australia single-handedly on my motorcycle. We are picking flowers in a field that Paul would like to give his grandma.

She is overjoyed to take us into her arms in good health. How I would now like to know how it feels to hug your son and his son. With tears in her eyes she asks Paul how he liked it. ??Top. Next time I’ll drive myself. But first the police have to write me a paper for it. We enjoy a homemade beef soup à la nut, the best soup in the world. Three generations. Three lives that could be more different and yet not more closely linked. Two days later I’m sitting in the ICE going south. Three hours, seven minutes to Stuttgart. What a difference. Paul stayed and will spend another week with his grandmother. The world rushes past the windows. Lines of cars like fireflies, fog like scraps of memory. A glowing sunrise paints the streets with a silver glaze, opposite me, tie straps stare silently into their computers. I have never missed anyone more than at this moment.

Tried: AKE intercom

The tested intercom system PowerCom RELAX in connection with HighSound helmet loudspeakers worked perfectly at all times, even in the rain. Even with the visor open, communication was clean and trouble-free. The system is voice-controlled and installation in the Honda Innova was easy and completed in just five minutes. The intercom was attached to the storage compartment under the seat with Velcro. The jack plug protruding on the side next to the seat bench is used to connect to the helmet with a spiral cable.

At 338 euros (intercom) and 129 euros each (loudspeaker per helmet), this system is certainly not a bargain. In addition, there is around 50 to 60 euros if microphones and speakers are built into the helmets at AKE. However, the system can do a lot more than is used on the tour described. Various devices such as MP3 or CD players or a navigation device can be connected via the universally designed audio connection. The system adapts the volume of the audio signals to the respective driving noises. For those who want to spend a little less, AKE offers the complete set PartnerCom for two (409 euros).

More information at: www.motorradsprechanlagen.de

Police comment

MOTORRAD editor Rolf Henniges carried out this trip and only then asked the police what they thought about it. It should have been better done the other way around…

Carl Schmitt, Expert from the police in Karlsruhe:
Although Mr. Henniges prepared this undertaking very carefully and meticulously, there are concerns from the police point of view: The driver’s freedom of movement as well as the optimal reaction in dangerous situations were restricted by the fact that the passenger was sitting in front of him. Sudden evasive maneuvers are made more difficult for the driver, and in the event of a frontal crash, the father also acts like a ram to his son. In addition, the son’s helmet covers the indicator lights for turn signals, high beam and neutral.

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