Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

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Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
Wedemeyer

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

25th pictures

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
Wedemeyer

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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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The Guzzis are the first choice for a night without a plan or big words.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
Wedemeyer

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With a V7 you are a reserved gentleman. Not a hot-blooded stoker.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
Wedemeyer

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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

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Oh, Berlin, I love you …

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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… Wide handlebars instead of deep stubs. Patina instead of shiny paint. Four courses for a hallelujah.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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The old buckets are undemanding and simple …

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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The two rare, almost identical Guzzis merge with the big city neon light.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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An unforgettable Guzzi night in Berlin.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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When it gets dark, our breaks turn into contemplative still lifes.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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The cult pizzeria “Due Forni” is still very busy, …

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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… while our old speedometer needles do not have to go far enough at night than in daylight.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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Two Guzzis, one thought: the escape from everyday life turns us into tourists in our own homeland.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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Hand on the gas, distant thoughts: Klaus ’eyes say more than a thousand words.

Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
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We glide smoothly through Berlin with the old buckets.

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The fire dance, …

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… the people on the wall and many other things make the night unforgettable.

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Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin.

Sports & scene

Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin

Report – Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin
At night all Guzzis are white

When the day fizzles out in Berlin’s work cycle, you inevitably become a night owl. It’s best to make a virtue out of it. Two friends, two Guzzis, one night in Berlin.

Sven Wedemeyer

04/16/2015

It’s crazy: we get up early in the morning, get our blood pumping with a coffee to go, pant to work, work overtime and only notice in the evening traffic jam that we expected more of the day. At the latest then the question arises: Is there a world outside of the gray everyday? My recipe for breaking this rut ​​is simple. I call Klaus: “An evening, come on – do you want to go for another round? Yeah, I know, it’s after seven. Never mind! At the gas station in 30 minutes? Great, see you soon! “

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Klaus is a safe bet when it comes to spontaneous actions. Like mine, his heart beats for two-wheeled delicacies from Italy; as red as possible, as honest as possible. We are united by the honor of having a few exclusive specimens of this genre in our gloomy garages. We really appreciate that, and every now and then we let Konigswelle, Le Mans or 916 come out into the daylight together. Then open Contis roar through empty streets early in the morning. We want to get out of the capital to look for curves in Brandenburg. A task as you know …

Oh, Berlin, I love you …

These meditative tours are precious moments. However, not an option for a mid-range Thursday evening shortly after rush hour. So we leave the pretentious Ducatis at home right away. Instead, we brawl with what appear to be twins – two milk-white Moto Guzzis V7 Special – in the parking lot of the gas station. Klaus with a saddle and chrome on the tank. Me with right shift and double bench. Our old buckets are undemanding and simple. Wide handlebars instead of deep stubs. Patina instead of shiny paint. Four courses for a hallelujah … Because of their stately age, these junk boxes slow us down as much as possible. This makes them the first choice for a night without a plan or big words.

So – fill up and go. The engines of the seventy-fifties are warm and bubbling with us through the colorful district of Wedding. Mobile phone shops, oriental fruit shops and darkened windows of shady casinos rush past us along Mullerstrabe. The shine of the former promenade has long since vanished. Less than ten minutes later, the airport runway spreads out in front of us in the twilight. Tegel, mind you. We stop at the edge of an ugly motorway slip road, the wall of which has been a grandstand for observers of the incoming jets for years. A hell of a racket! Just a few meters above our heads, the buzzers float in. Sit down and roll lazily to the terminal, which glows in the floodlights. Couples in love let their souls and legs dangle from the wall, hold hands and look languidly into the concrete wasteland. Oh, Berlin, I love you …

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At night, the scenery at the Grober Stern appears surprisingly peaceful

Klaus and I don’t feel like holding hands. We prefer to swing on our Guzzis and cruise back to the heart of the city. At every red light, the rest pulse of the V2 and the constant ticking of the valves make us a little more relaxed. Until a black BMW stops next to us, whose roaring six-cylinder explicitly challenges us to the traffic light sprint. With our Ducatis we would have embarked on the motorized three-way battle, because the four would-be gangsters behind the tinted windows have not yet heard of the term “power-to-weight ratio”. On the bubbling Guzzis, however, the challenge rolls off us. With a V7 you are a reserved gentleman. Not a hot-blooded stoker.

The BMW rushes forward with all its might when the traffic light turns green again. Klaus and I smile briefly at each other and at the same time knock in first gear. There is a metallic thud in the beams, and the Guzzis stomp off at a leisurely pace. That’s how we know and love it. Gradually the streets become emptier and a flow that is unknown to Berlin sets in. We surf liberated on the green wave to the big star. In the middle of the roundabout, the golden victory column rises up. Tonight she is making a particular effort in the glow of a colorful light installation. time for a break.


Report - Moto Guzzi Night in Berlin


Wedemeyer

When it gets dark, our breaks turn into contemplative still lifes.

Initially, the lady, affectionately known as “Goldelse” by Berliners, stood in front of the Reichstag until the Nazis decided to underpin their crazy thoughts of omnipotence by moving the sculpture to its current location. Such and similar stories ooze right here – in the center of Berlin – from every pore of the city. Empire, two world wars, the wall strip – everywhere we are reminded of times gone by. However, this view is difficult during the day and in everyday life. Because you usually find yourself stuck in a traffic jam here. Or wait for disoriented tourists to crash straight into your car in the jumble of the six-lane roundabout.

But at night the scenery at the Grober Stern appears surprisingly peaceful, almost meaningful: the Brandenburg Gate shines on the horizon. The wind rushes through the foliage of the zoo. The old street lamp seems almost ceremonial like an oversized candlestick on our old buckets. Klaus and I enjoy the kitsch of the yellow artificial light that makes the scratches and rust pimples on our stoves almost invisible. At this point, both machines still look really fresh, even after a good four decades.

One second for eternity

As we continue towards Ku’damm, Klaus is initially in the dark. Its front light has failed – the bulb appears to be through. But there is a substitute: Without further ado, he pushes the headlight down a little with hearty force. From now on, the high beam shows him the way through the night. At Bahnhof Zoo, the hustle and bustle has been reduced to a minimum. Three taxis wait in vain for passengers. We glide casually with the astonishingly agile hum through narrow construction sites past them, looking at modern facades of high-rise buildings and half-renovated shopping centers. After 25 years of lack of investment, the western city is now being spruced up again. In the east of the city, investors have already renovated every square meter …

The silhouette of our reflection flashes briefly in the huge shop windows. One second for eternity. But because we’ve had enough of glass palaces, we turn with squeaking drum brakes to Potsdamer Platz and rush straight on to Gendarmenmarkt. The classicist square is particularly impressive at night with the illuminated domes of two cathedrals, in the middle of which the no less magnificent concert hall rises. Here the capital is noble. So it is surprising that an alternative-looking artistry group has declared public space to be a stage in this chic spot of all places. Flow of Fire, as the ensemble calls itself, stages a fire show that keeps us and a few lost tourists under their spell for some time. Bodies bend in the glow of blazing torches, sparks spray over the pavement, and bizarre music from another world captivates us.

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We warm our cold hands on the air-cooled cylinders

When the flames go out, we notice that it has gotten cool. Time for a midnight snack. We pull up our collars and drive over the Alex to Schonhauser Allee. On the way we warm our cold hands on the air-cooled cylinders. Heated grips don’t need a pig here. On Pfefferberg there is one of the best pizzerias in town. The “Due Forni” is an institution. Notorious for rude staff and punk atmosphere. But the ambience, which is not dissimilar to a train station hall, with tattooed walls and Che Guevara above the open kitchen, obviously goes well with the Berlin snout. Especially since the pizzas on the menu, which is only written in Italian, are legendary. Anyone who adjusts to this and has overcome the basic disinterest of the wait staff in the guests can have a really good time here.

So we park our motorbikes right in front of the door, climb the stairs into the still full restaurant and let our spontaneous tour slowly end with pizza, water and club mate. In the conversation about God and the world it finally becomes clear that our little escape from everyday life is actually always feasible. Because regardless of the time of day, the power of the mobile pedestal or the number of lean-angle-friendly curves, we obviously find our therapy in the midst of the high-contrast city center. The old Guzzis act as amplifiers. They don’t take physical toll or excessive concentration. Instead, the mind expands to new knowledge. The next morning I get up later and relax and enjoy my coffee on the balcony. Downstairs in front of the door my machine shines in the morning sun. In my mind I hear her whisper: “Everyday, you can do me!”

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