Table of contents
to travel
The sense of life
The sense of life
End of the line departure
If you don’t drive off, you can’t experience anything. But if you don’t think about it while driving, you will never find the meaning of life. Rolf Henniges went looking for four days. And found what I was looking for.
Rolf Henniges
04/04/2001
Really great. The Latta is gone, the bread is rock hard, the toilet is flushed, the office table is overflowing, no more marks on the bench. I want rough! Out of my life. As a kid, it was a lot easier. There was the Kung Fu series. Master knew everything: “You have to have trust in someone who is not trustworthy. You have to be able to show weakness to be strong. You have to understand the meaning of life as such. ”If only I had become a master. Ha! The sense of life? Millions are looking for him. He’s out there on the street somewhere. At least that’s what the globetrotters say. Many drift across the continents for years and follow their feelings instead of a map. Not a bad idea, actually. Travel without a destination. Stress-free and open to everything. But does that take years? I have four days of vacation and my Moto Guzzi Jackal is ready to go from the front door. A machine as if carved out of stone. With a robust character, good sound and life-affirming vibrations. One last coffee. One last look back. Over the roofs of Stuttgart caressed by the dawn. The baggage roll behind me thuds dully on every step. There are 104. Open the door, lock three times, done. And ready to slide. Castle Solitude. The notice on the road sign is emblazoned in white letters. The Jackal rolls rumbling over the cobblestones up the shady path to the castle. Barred windows, shorn lawn, park benches. A young woman is sitting on one. “What is the meaning of life?” Daring question. Her eyes look up from a pile of paper and dissect me, her gaze is as firm as the grip that is used to pull a drowning person out of the sea. Redness rises in my face. “Life is a school, every day is a new teacher.” Maria, a Spaniard, is studying for her exams as European secretary. “I want to try to get the positive out of all situations and to achieve my goals in life,” says the 24-year-old in the voice of a preacher and grins all over her face. Eleven hundred cubic meters push their distinctive tones through the chrome-plated exhaust pipes and push me a little forward with each stroke of the pistons. In the blazing midday sun I find myself on the market square of Weil der Stadt. My teeth are greedily tugging at a kebab. A little boy spins around me on his bike. “What is a jackal?” Isn’t that a wild dog from South America? He is satisfied with my answer. “My papa drives a Sharan. This is ‘a lizard from Africa!’ Children are just great. Impartial, direct, straightforward. He has no further questions. The little one trolls away with the excuse that I-don’t-have-any-more-time. In a good mood, I stroll through the streets of the city. Anyone who smiles always gets a smile back. Especially with 50 grams of remaining tzaziki in the corner of my mouth. Construction site tragedy: grumbling at idle, my load pushes past the waiting line of cars. Right at the front is a Ford Granada with at least as much music as engine power. Finish: green-red-yellow. The RASTAMAN INSIDE sticker is clearly visible on the rear window. Two dreadlocked ladies sit in the car and nod to the Marley rhythm. “Where is he, the Rastaman?” The question hits her off guard. “At home, he’s waiting for us.” Great. You have to be a Rastaman. Let two women work for you and in return give them an attitude towards life. The sun is already low on the horizon and I am lying under one of those trees under which marriage proposals are made. Its infinite forks of branches act like the switches of life to me. With every decision my life turns out differently and gets a new direction. The wind gently caresses the golden leaves, blowing blades of grass into my face. I enjoy the weightlessness of being. “Well, take a break?” A man in his mid-fifties, parted to one side, leans on his walking stick and eyes the machine critically, looking for the BMW emblem. Long, balding hair blows over his thick glasses. “I’m waiting here for the sunset.” “It’s nicer in Simmersdorf,” he says after thinking for a moment. What a sign of fate. The sun goes down in Simmersdorf and I can be there. The Jackal pauses next to me, ticking softly. Simmersdorf is just around the corner. Behind a hill, the glowing red ball says goodbye for one night. My room that evening is spartan, the waitress in the bar nicer than expected. Michaela and Doris come from Leipzig and Chemnitz and have been studying hotel management for four years here in the 430-soul town of Berneck. Draw beer for four years and whatever else there is. “A good job, that’s the most important thing in life.” Well then I can sleep peacefully. Lethargic rock rustling from Alannis Morrissette wakes me up the next morning. The clock radio has seen better days, unfortunately me too. My neck feels like brownies used it as a sandbag. The shower is linked to a boiler, which needs at least half a football game to provide hot water. Welcome to life. Short breakfast ?? after that the freshness of the new day wafts around my nose. Greedily my lungs soak up it full of it. Is there anything better than starting a new day? Nobody is a better painter than nature. Clouds of mist creep over the brooks, rays of sunshine hesitantly flash in the dew, paint the clouds, the birds sing about the end of darkness. The feeling of being there when the day wakes up is indescribable and captivates me. The jackal’s wheels follow the eyes, the eyes of the beauty of the landscape. The movie I’m in is great cinema. And damn real. No appointments, no goals to forget your worries at home. With an undisguised thud, my trusty vehicle heaves me forward and parks in front of a McDonalds restaurant at lunchtime. The American takeaway chain’s stores are a phenomenon: nobody supposedly goes out to eat there, but it’s always packed. With a look as if they were urinating fearlessly against electric pasture fences, a few cruisers stand in front of me and almost spray with heroic prose. Cruiser ?? does your meaning of life consist of thick exhaust systems and lower chassis? I am surprised. “Time is money,” a pomady baggy trouser trumpeted me, who trains probably 24 hours a day for the World Cup in tummy tucking. Time is money. The sentence won’t let me go. Time is actually the most precious thing we have available. But it’s free, not for sale. There is much more to this sentence than the key to Wall Street success. Time is money, it is power, it is perhaps the key to the meaning of life. Just ?? who can be sure if he has enough of it? And why does everyone say they don’t have one? The Jackal puffs and comes to stand in the playground of the elementary school in Bonndorf. Who else if not the children have enough time? Rector Stecher grants me access to the second graders. They are very enthusiastic. And know how to save time: “When you drive from Munich to Hamburg on a fast motorcycle.” “Nonsense,” says the next. “You have to travel in the sleeping compartment of a train, it saves time.” A blond boy who abstains until the end of the discussion finally has the solution: “You mustn’t look at the clock. Then you have time too. ”Clocks as time-wasters. Children in power. Below me the jackal is booming again. The landscape flows past me, the speedometer shows a maximum of 80 km / h. At the end of a small pass road, a hearty smell lures me into an inn. Four totally refined Harley’s are parked in the yard, the drivers belonging to them are silent for a moment after the question. “The sense of life? Take a look at the door. ”It can’t be. Should a quarter of a million people, drivers of a living legend, fall happily into bed every night? “It’s all nonsense,” says the landlord. “You only realize how meaningful life is when you are confronted with death.” Dampness rises in the corner of his eye. “When I think of Humphrey …” Humphrey was his dog. Unfortunately a bit too conscientious and addicting. Every evening he guarded the front door and only let the guests pass when they had bought him a beer. He died of alcohol poisoning on a particularly busy night, and once again the horizon turns blood red. My marine diesel is anchored on a farm. Elfriede Kallenbach is currently milking the cows. The 68-year-old has already seen everything. The war, the Americans, but no one who asks her such questions while milking. “When you’re as old as me,” she muses, “you live every day as if it were your last.” Funny, the same thing that surfers around the world have taken on. Maybe it’s because of their hobby. Darkness falls over the town of Alpirsbach. My body hangs casually in a chair under the awning of a pub. Two grouches are sitting next door, trying to stir the bottom of their cup. It starts to drizzle silently. The famous title song of a Monthy Pyton film can be heard from a small loudspeaker: “Always look on the bright side of life”. An overweight lady is dragging a long-haired dachshund for a walk. Weighted down by the rain, it can barely walk. What is the bright side for the dachshund? A barber and freedom? How good that we humans can imagine the positive side and work towards it. I am greeted by thick fog the next morning. In pan-thaw fashion, I wipe the drops off the visor, dreamily listening to the heartbeat of the engine. A song of praise for slowness. The Jackal’s front wheel carefully feels its way over the damp tar and leads me towards a mountain range and thus towards the sun. The fog is gone. Farmer Wilhelm Noring stands next to his old tractor in the field and begins to harvest potatoes. I park the Jackal right next to it and want to know where the best motorcycle routes are here. “In the witch’s hole.” I beg your pardon? “Back there next to the thick black cloud on the right.” His calloused finger points south. Well, clouds are clearing away. The witch hole ?? i never found it At some point, however, the power of the moment is stronger than any goal, the enjoyment of existence fills everything. Often there are benches on such paths and invite you to take a break. The heights of the Black Forest rise boldly, a brook babbles in front of me, it smells of fresh grass. Nothing will change here in a hundred years. Satisfaction sloshes over me like a wave. This feeling of an aimless journey is so invigorating, so invigorating. Actually, every moment is the most important piece of the mosaic in life. Everyone. The sense of life. Thousands committed suicide because they couldn’t find him. It means something different to everyone. A heavily packed cyclist approaches slowly. A Rolling Stone, a bum, a good-for-nothing. Panting, he looks at the Jackal and sits down next to me. A nodding greeting, we are silent in the distance. His eyes shimmer like crystal clear mountain lakes in the ridges of his prominent face. I just have to ask him. “The sense of life? This is something that you don’t miss. Only if you don’t look for it have you already found it. “
Meaning of life, tour to find that
The motorcycle Should definitely leave the rider alone and sway them in serenity. In fact, a timeless and aimless journey can also be undertaken with a fully disguised racer or a classic car. But it is easier to be able to indulge in your thoughts stress-free, without being distracted by the peculiarities of a difficult-to-drive two-wheeler. The route leads to where you let yourself be drifted. With little traffic and a lot of nature. Traveling without a destination is often a self-cleaning process. Most of us hardly take the time to think carefully about values and goals. The range of entertainment is huge: books, television, the world of work, the Internet. Hardly a minute a day we are not distracted, we can think about ourselves. Driving a route by feeling is ideal for reducing stress. The best thing to do is leave maps and clock at home and not book hotels in advance.
Book tip
The Book of Job, Bible, Old Testament Who does not know her? A man, his life and a thousand faux pas and catastrophes. Herder Verlag Freiburg, 15.60 MarkWassermusik, T. C. Boyle This book makes you addicted to adventure. A bizarre-funny drug for two losers. Extremely realistic. Rohwohlt Verlag, 711 pages, 18 Mark, Kiss, Kiss, Roald Dahl Life is full of surprises. Dahl’s pitch-black short stories are too. Rohwohlt Verlag, 12.90 MarkMotomania, Vol. 1-5, Holger Aue The comic mirror in which all bikers can find themselves. Weird, shrill ?? Ideal for training the laughing muscles. Eichborn Verlag, each 24.80 Mark Ten Years on two wheels, Helge Petersen 10 years world tour. Brilliant glossy photos encourage you to start immediately. English text. Available from Touratech, phone 07728/97920, 89 Mark Germany free of charge, Michael Holzach On foot and without money through an affluent country. A Spiegel reporter makes the impossible possible. Hoffmann Verlag, 19.90 Mark The book of calm, Paul Wilson Serenity in the workplace. Guide for everyone who wants to banish hectic life from their lives. Heyne Verlag, 16.90 Marks
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