Table of contents
- With the Suzuki Address 110 across the Alps Everything for the story
- “Boss, we need the suitcases”
- “Looks so funny!”
- “Did you drive through?”
Gargolov
12th pictures
Jorg Rettenmayr
1/12
The suitcase holds a wild strap orgy…
Michael Pfeiffer
2/12
…The first refueling stop after 111 kilometers.
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3/12
Thank goodness: I’m wearing my thermal suit and a yellow 113 on it.
Michael Pfeiffer
4/12
The Swiss vignette costs 41 euros…
Michael Pfeiffer
5/12
…in the end I spent more on roads than on gas. The spiders.
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6/12
On the 1230 kilometers, the Suzuki Address pulled through nine tank fillings, for only 59.36 euros. Only cycling is cheaper.
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7/12
The cases are delivered…
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8/12
…Selfie taken, the Alpen Masters crew can continue working – and I’m finally rid of the crap.
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9/12
Free at last! The Suzuki runs 10 km / h faster, in the end 108 km / h! craziness.
Michael Pfeiffer
10/12
The marmots are chased away by a whistling French…
Michael Pfeiffer
11/12
…the Rhone glacier the climate catastrophe and the alpine roses the snow.
Michael Pfeiffer
12/12
My thermal suit? Warms up now.
to travel
Suzuki Address 110
With the Suzuki Address 110 across the Alps
Everything for the story
The Alpen Masters team actually forgot a set of suitcases in Stuttgart. And we wanted to knit some story around the number 113 for 113 years of MOTORRAD. Help was coming – in the form of a scooter.
Michael Pfeiffer
08/04/2016
“You’d have to do something with the number 113. After all, we are now 113 years old!” Whenever the big XXL edition of MOTORRAD comes up, at least one number game has to come up. But 113? We can’t think of anything. 113 hp? Too normal. Driving a 113 cubic inch machine? Does that even exist? The diabolical grin of Gerd Mayer, our catalog man, is explained immediately: “Boss, I’ve got something for you. Suzuki is building a 113 cubic scooter, the Address 110. It fits perfectly! “
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Wonderful, what does wonderful mean? The part has 10 hp, an air-cooled single-cylinder four-stroke engine and, according to the certificate, runs 94 km / h. What am I supposed to do with it? “You could drive 113 kilometers or maybe 113 meters.” “We’ll put a 113 dB horn on you!” “You can buy clothes for 113 euros and drive it …” There were many suggestions from our dear colleagues, but none of them sparked my imagination. Maybe I’ll go with 113 cubic 113 euros and see where I am. With 2.05 liters of standard consumption, which Suzuki specifies for the small address, that would be a whopping 1811 kilometers. So to Madrid or Minsk, or rather to Reggio Calabria on the ferry to Sicily. Lillehammer, maybe?
“Boss, we need the suitcases”
While the decision was being made, the phone call saved him: “Boss, we need the Aprilia Caponord suitcases! We left it behind in the hustle and bustle, and now we’re missing them at the Alpen Masters final. ”There she is again, the mother of all ideas. I’m going to the final of the Alpine Masters, like three years ago for our 2500th edition. But this time instead of a Honda CB 250 and 2.5 liter consumption with a Suzuki Address 110 and a full bottle. After all, the suitcases have to be headed for the Aosta Valley as quickly as possible, and a rental car isn’t.
With Topspeed 94 it takes me eight hours to get to the Alpen Masters location in Saint Vincent. The plan is clear. Departure 2 p.m., tank almost full at 771 mileage, but what to wear? After all, it goes over the Great St. Bernard Pass, which is 2,469 meters high. And there should also be a storm with a rain shower. I take my winter overalls, you never know. Looks stupid, but warms. Can you drive a scooter on the Swiss autobahn? You can, researches news man Mike Schumann. And Italy? You are not allowed to.
“Looks so funny!”
The two fleet people Gerry and Tobi surprise me with a daring design. They fixed the thick Aprilia suitcases on both sides with a wild orgy of straps. I can barely fit in, but can barely move. “Looks really funny!”, The two call after me, I already feel humble as I drive off. Not because it’s all hilarious, but because the seat is upholstered quite thinly, the windshield makes a lot of noise and the Address sneaks out of the Stuttgart boiler at a whopping 60 km / h. The instruction manual of the Suzuki part raves about the engine technology of the GSX-R models with roller rocker arm and injection. What use are roller cam followers if the camshaft has hardly any valve lift and the injection hardly injects anything. I just say: Scooter and me, it won’t work.
Even the first traffic jam improves my mood. Despite, or perhaps because of, the bulky suitcase and the yellow start number, I can get through the lines of cars well. Will probably be viewed as a special vehicle. The speedometer needle climbs painfully slowly from 80 to 86. Adversity threatens from behind: a heavy truck does not want to have to take off the accelerator. Especially not because of a strangely loaded scooter with an even stranger guy on it. I make myself small, very small behind the disguise. Only now do I notice that I am overcoming a motorway gradient of perhaps half a percent. The truck pushes three meters behind me and now starts to horn. I thank him by… Uff, it’s going downhill. Finally the clock is 90 km / h and the engine turns towards the peak of its performance. Bye, you Bulgarian speedometer acrobat!
“Did you drive through?”
A Dutch caravan artist overtakes me, cuts right in front of me. As if by magic, my speed soars, 98 km / h, 100 km / h, 105 km / h! I can not believe it. I stay right behind him, fat vertebrae shake me back and forth, but I stick with it. It is essential to hold the rear wheel, as in a bike race. This is really sport here. Now the guy is overtaking. His caravan oscillates alarmingly in the wake of a 38-ton truck. And I commute with you. For a short moment I take my foot off the accelerator, the team pulls away. I’m already looking into a thick pair of headlights – in my rear-view mirrors! And on the right the truck slowly comes by again. I give up. Get in line behind the truck. Breather. I’ll have it later. Stalking in the slipstream to just behind the bumper, then massive pulling out to the central guardrail to avoid the wake of the wake of the truck driver’s cab, then cut in again immediately and pray that it won’t go uphill. You only see something like that in Moto3, pure racing.
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Take a quick selfie – the Alpen Masters crew can continue working.
I’ve already refueled twice as far as Basel. The fuel tank only holds five liters, the scooter needs a good three liters instead of the two promised. After 120 kilometers it gets exciting, at 160 it’s over. I buy a vignette for 41 euros and make it to Montreux without stopping. Night falls, a mighty rain area causes flooding in my station wagon, with the last drop of fuel I tucker up to a motorway filling station. 4.91 liters, phew. Now it’s going to be tough. The northern pass ramp overcomes 2000 meters in altitude, already at 1000 meters I start to freeze. A thermometer shows four degrees and the road is still climbing upwards. Over the pass in the rain at night, hadn’t I even seen snow? I’m driving through the tunnel. The 14-inch IRC tires with the Made-in-Indonesia label offer terribly little grip in the wet. I pull off an unbelievable 17.20 Frankli for 5.8 kilometers and roll through with 80 things. But now quickly down into the valley on the Italian side. Chattillon are 50 kilometers to go, I’m pulling through. Buy a ticket on the autobahn, press 5.20 euros again and look at puzzled faces. “Did you drive through?” Test boss Gert is flat. He has a fat cheek because of a tooth and a tired body after a long day of testing.
The Alpen Masters crew is happy to hand over the suitcase the next morning. I take my selfie and head home again. Without a suitcase, the small Suzuki scooter runs 10 km / h faster. Or is it the tail wind that drives me? Anyway, at 105 km / h I rush towards the Furka Pass, because I want to go over there. Marvel at the Rhone glacier, admire the alpine rose blossoms and play with cute marmots.
It turns out quite differently: The Rhone Glacier has pretty much melted away, the cute marmots are chased away by a whistling Frenchman, and the Alpine roses have disappeared. It is snowing heavily. A layer of ice forms on the Suzuki windshield. I’m happy about my thermal suit! And via the Gotthard Autobahn, which I reach after poking around in the fog for a long time. Thank goodness I had refueled three liters before the Furka, so the fuel lasted until shortly before Zurich. Heavy rain soaps us again. But the address keeps purring. Somehow I almost love him by now. As super good as the little one purrs. And on the autobahn, he’s really working hard again. The speedometer needle on the A 81 in the direction of Stuttgart shows 108 km / h, no idea why it now feels like 2 hp more. Maybe because I always gave him full throttle. At home the odometer shows 2001. 1230 kilometers driven, 41.5 liters consumed for 59.36 euros. It doesn’t get any cheaper. And it was less than I had to pay in road tolls. Outrageous, right??
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