(This is my first attepmt to blog from my iPhone.)

Earlier this year, I picked up a well-used 2001 Kawasaki Super Sherpa, the oddball midsized street legal dirt bike that never was a big seller due to not really being big enough for most guys and there not being that many girl dirt riders out there. Hence, accessories are hard to come by. To remedy the complete lack of storage, I decided to make a tank bag.

Here are some pics.

Edit – a friend asked me how easy it is to fill up the bike with the bag in place. Not hard at all. The safety strap allows me to swing the bag out of the way without losing it.

Ah, well, it was good. Actually, it was great. I mentioned the differences between the NC and my F, and one of the biggest ones didn’t hit home until I did. My F is too damn low. More on that in another post!

I took the bike on a planned route in the area of Germany known as Lipper Land. My riding partner from my Alps trip joined me – we enjoy riding together alot. It is not so easy to find other ladies to ride with, so while we are not perfectly matched, we suck it up and ride on! We left from the dealership and headed to her place to group up and load the bikes. Once again, I have to remind: Never take your gear without taking a tank bag. Just take it. Preferably a strap one, as bikes like the NC have no metal up top. I forwent a pair of sneakers, but did manage plenty of socks and underwear.  We rode out to find our little place to stay, the Hotel-Café Waldruh, Rüheweg 8, Holzhausen.

In Lipper Land, we started the day with a gluten-free birthday cake from my GF- how cool is that. The ride started near the Externsteine, a rock formation that is truly impressive. From there, we headed to the Hermanndenkmal and then off to an artillery range. This was truly neat, although we were too nervous to stop for photos there. The varied terrain was outstanding and the signage was quite threatening.

From there, we rode north and up and around several cities about 30km north of Detmold. The winding roads were fun and we enjoyed quite a bit of forest riding. This was more than welcome as temps were over 30°C both days. We came around the eastern side of Lipper Land and found the Köterberger Biker Treffpunkt, one of hundreds of little stops that welcome riders with a hot meal and clean bathrooms, along with plenty of parking and a nice view (and this sweeeeet Guzzi!). Then, it was back to our little hotel.

The route home took us on familiar roads through Westphalen. We stopped for lunch, then some sweets later, then for a break in the shade, then at another Bikertreff, the …..

Getting the NC in motion was so easy and riding was so pleasant that I stopped everywhere to take pictures. It started with the Global Multi-Grab from ADVrider.com – a game where riders take photos of their bikes with a list of objects or locations. I started with a list of farm-y stuff, and ended with a holiday list, which I grabbed in short order.

First, a haybale man.

Then, irrigation in progress and a tent.

Some wildflowers…

A windmill.

A community picnic.

On monday afternoon, I rode down to Köln to visit a friend, and then rolled back into my hotel about 15 minutes before all hell broke loose in Düsseldorf. The worst storms in ten years blew in and fortunately left the bike untouched. As I looked out the window, the midwesterner in me said “wow, that looks like tornado weather”. And so it was – the transit system was shut down for almost three days, with very few trains running at all due to the number of trees and wires down. Thank goodness for lane splitting and filtering!

I returned the NC700X to the dealer with a bit less rubber and a lot more smiles. For a weekend rental (or even for longer, seat issues aside), I’d go for it again. The turn-in process consisted of a quick walkaround by the gentleman I did the original paperwork with and a quick “thank you, we are done here”. What about the extra 200kms? “Have a good day. Email me if you want to do this again. I will arrange everything for you.”

What a birthday, hmmm?

Having learned to ride in Germany, home of so many twisty roads and so friendly to bikes, I find nothing beats a weekend over there with a bike. Work travel over a German holiday weekend (that coincided with my birthday) afforded me the opportunity to have a long weekend, so naturally, I needed a bike.

One thing about Europe – bike rentals are easy to come by. Not always cheap, but practically every dealer and even some of the car rental shops (Sixt) will gladly rent you a bike if you can show that you’ve had your license more more than a couple of years. I emailed around prior to arrival looking for a G650GS, but no one rents those, and a lowerred or low-seated F700GS also was not materializing. So I called up my old Honda dealer and asked what they had. I was surprised to be talking to the same guy I bought my CBR from! He was surprised, too, and accidentally gave me a pretty ridiculous price on an NC700X for three days, with 900kms included. Extra kms would cost me 0.25€ each, no major disaster. As Germany is similar to the US in that for every hardcore rider, there are probably at least five bikes that see 500kms per year tops, the limit is not that low.

I went and checked out the bike, mostly to make sure it was not ridiculously tall like the F twins. Or, at least, tall for me. My F single is low from the factory, and that has its pluses and minuses. It’s made me profoundly lazy, for one thing. The CBR was a bit taller, but eventually the shock wore out a bit and my feet were right back down on the ground. Enter the Super Sherpa, which is supposed to cure me of this high anxiety, but it’s still in pieces in the garage. There was that bruising hour with the XT225 in the end that my right calf is still telling me about… So now I want to ride, and my potential rental is not quite a tippy-toe bike, but it is balls-of-the-feet or slide-over-a-bit-to-the-side high. Hmmmm…

I decided to go for it.

I got a Darkness Black NC700X that was clearly a trade-in. It had a chopped off exhaust and carbon fibre vinyl accents. 13076kms on the odometer. Very sticky tyres, stickier than I would normally choose, but hey, it’s a rental. Beggars can’t be choosers. Honda’s Rent-A-Bike program (yes, it’s actually named that) allows dealers to take bikes out of inventory and tag them for use as rentals. The program has a price for everything from a 50cc scooter all the way up to the Goldwing and includes all of the street-legal bikes and a few dirt bikes. You need only find a dealer with the bike you want available for rental.

The NC700X is, in my opinion, Honda’s take on the old BMW Scarver. A weird form factor with the tank under the seat and a ‘frunk’ – a locking storage bin where the tank would normally be. Like the Scarver, the battery is up top, but the weight is all down low. Honda laid the engine almost completely on its side, bringing the center of gravity of the bike to unheard-of lows. Why is that important? It makes the bike effortless to balance, which frankly makes calling it a taller bike a complete and total farce. It balances like a 300 pounder. You feel the real weight of the bike when you need to push it around, but otherwise, you’d never know it was there.

The frunk is far larger than I expected and packs quite a lot of junk. Had I had the brains to bring my tank bag with, I could have easily gone out for three or four days between the two containers. Two and a half was pushing it with minimal packing. However, for everyday grocery getting and whatnot, it’s probably not that bad. I easily fit two tall 1l water bottles in along with my GF bread and clothes. Actually, if I didn’t have so much auxiliary crap, I probably could have made a few more days worth of clothes fit.

It took me a good 350kms on the bike to get my posture to a stable and comfortable place. The seat sucks. Coming from my Farklelounger BMW, a Honda is a rude awaking for one’s butt. And thighs. I don’t know if it possible to have less butt-friendly seats than the stock Honda ones. I did eventually figure out how to perch on it to minimise pain and maximise whole-body comfort. The NC is billed as a tourer, a style of bike I have no experience with. I found that rather than the usual dual-sport sitting up I do, a more standard position gave me the ergos to ride pain-free and well.

Riding was interesting. I felt the weight of the bike as I pushed it through tighter curves. Through sweepers, it was effortless. Slow speed manoeuvers were tentative, but I attribute that more to being aware of my unsure footing and really not wanting to drop it.

I’ll have more on this experience in a few days, after I return the bike and decompress. Ride report and pics, too, as I was able to hook up with with my riding partner from the Alps trip to ride all over LipperLand. We hit some of our favorite roads and biker stops on the way home, too.

I will miss Germany, for sure. Germany is cool. A different cool than Detroit, which I have missed for the past 3.5+ years.

I will also miss the TÜV. Germany’s much maligned inspection authority is not really the end of the world. Sometimes, it’s the only way to get things done.

Last month, I was back home in Detroit and needed to visit the tyre shop. Two of my snow tyres were leaking air, and I wanted to get them checked out and probably remounted. I’ve been using this shop for more than ten years, and sent countless friends there. I don’t know how many tyres I’ve bought from them, it’s a large number. The techs remember me, even though I haven’t been around (or buying lots of tyres) for the past three years. However, they refused to work on the car at all. They added air and sent me packing with no technical assistance whatsoever. Why? Because I run spacers up front to correct the offset on the wheels I use for winter driving.

The VW OEM Classix wheels I use require 10mm of additional offset to clear the suspension on my B5 Passat and keep the steering geometry properly arranged. I use a nice set of H&R hub-centric spacers and proper-length bolts. The rear wheels, which do not require this modification, do not run spacers, and they were the ones leaking. I fully understood that the shop would not touch the fronts, but for sure the rears…. Nope. No way. The car has spacers, no touchy. Now I have to find a new tyre shop. One that is not averse to properly setup cars. One that can get beyond panic attacks when  customer shows up with something out of the ordinary. One that can measure bolts and add.

In Germany, this would not have been an issue. I would have showed up, handed over my paperwork, and gotten the repairs done. My paperwork would (and does) consist of a stack of ABEs – allgemeine Betriebserlaubnisscheine – the documents that say, yes, this is approved for general use on one or another cars. A matching set of papers for my wheels, spacers, and bolts, and no problem, because the tyre shop would have written proof that everything was in order and therefore safe to work on. For as much moaning and groaning as the Germans do, there are far far far more officially modified cars as a percentage of the general population in Germany than in the US. Nearly every car owner has a set of extra wheels or tyres or so on that requires papers. And once you have papers, you have papers. End of discussion. Just keep track of them. You’re going to need them at the tyre shop, but so will everyone else. My German colleagues, right down to the least-car-aware of them, were shocked that I would run into such an issue in the US, because who needs papers over there, right?

The truth is that the TÜV serves as a backstop for just about everything. Not sure where to place blame? Ask the TÜV. Better yet, ask for TÜV papers. Have them, and you are golden. Nope? Maybe sweat a bit, and go get them in a hurry. It’s really far less of an issue than anyone makes it out to be.

Of course, I always have papers.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a new shop that does motorcycles tyres, too. I am going to need some of them. And maybe they will even accept my ABEs….

My uneventful visit to Kent was doomed by a UK holiday weekend and some incredibly crappy weather. So, as I found myself awake at my normal time (that being 0500 in England), I decided to hop the ferry and spend the rest of the day poking around France, Belgium, and then getting home before dark.

I hit the internet to book a P&O ticket. The Peninsular and Oriental Line is the largest ferry operator in the world, and runs ferries between Dover and Calais and Dover and Dunkirk. The Calais route was a bit cheaper and 30 minutes shorter, so I selected that one. I chose an 8.25 departure – I’d surely make that, and perhaps they have the same deal as le Shuttle – arrive early and leave early when possible.

The Port of Dover is nothing to mess with. It’s huge, with four ferry operators moving mostly freight across the English Channel at all hours of the day and night. P&Ois the largest with the most ships and two berths. The arrival process is virtually identical to that of the train – first clear your ticket/reservation, then immigration and customs. I was not checked out of England, only checked in to France, and customs was again a wa(i)ve through. After finding the right lane – as you leave customs, you must find the lane for the ferry you have chosen and the type of vehicle you are driving – you receive a hangtag with a time on it, and a slip with a lane number. You then are signed through the port along a snakey route to your departure lane.

From the departure lane, you enter the ferry. Freight boards on the lower deck, cars, caravans, and bikes on the upper deck. I was on deck seven. Riding up the ramp made me quite happy to have my little billy goat of a bike – it’s a bit steep and steel. Bikes are strapped down over the seat at the rear of the ferry – there is room for up to 24 bikes on the Spirit of Britain and its sister ship, the Spirit of France. Both are among the newest and most up-to-date ships plying the Channel waterway. It is the rider’s responsibility to insure that the crew have secured the bike. Within minutes, the crew was uncoupling the ferry from the dock and we were off, but not before the crew had shooed me upstairs – unlike le Shuttle, the rider does not remain with her vehicle. Once again, the last to load, this time by mere minutes.

Upstairs, the boat is quite well-fitted out. Several cafes, a room full of video games, another room full of slot machines, a food court, a Club Lounge, a family area, and a reserved area for freight drivers all compete with the ubiquitous duty-free shop. I was disappointed again to find no stickers for sale. I spent most of the time out on the rear observation deck, watching the cliffs fade into the distance. The 90 minute trip is just right – time enough to explore without getting bored. The ship is well-maintained, and like all good ships, contantly being cleaned and observed by the staff. I was not prepared for the drinking Englishmen – it’s 9AM, people… even the Germans are not in the beer that early.

Disembarkment was the reverse of loading, with the exception that riders can scoot off behind the first lane of exiting cars. Like in Dover, the Port of Calais is simple to navigate on the exit. I stopped in Dunkirk to see the belfry and St Eloi church, and on the way into town could not resist snapping a pic of a very silly restaurant. It was market day, and the entire downtown was crowded with shoppers.

The next stop was an architecturally interesting rest stop, which like so many other things in France, was not functional. Pretty to look at in a weird 80s way. I headed over to Brugge to grab a Belgie sticker. My trusty Garmin navi then took me on a bunch of backroads, where I found that whereever Donk is, it wasn’t there. I had to ignore it for a while on the next leg, as it was trying to route me around a  traffic jam. I wanted to stay on teh highway, as the lanes are wider and easier to split. The 32 minute posted delay was more like a five minute delay for me. My last stop was the Circuit Zolder in Belgium, where a testing day was taking place. Then it was into the ridiculous rain and wind and on to home, with a few more countries on the bike, and the Channel crossing complete.

I decided to take a ride to Kent, UK. No real plans, but did want to try out the Channel Tunnel train and the ferry. Here is a brief bit about how to cross the English Channel relatively stress-free.

The first step is committing to go. All ferries and the train are cheaper if you book at least a week ahead. But even as a last minute rider, you can still take advantage of one loophole in booking – book early for the latest passage you think you’ll make, and you can take whatever is open up until then.

I booked le Shuttle, the French name for the train that goes under the big gash, for a 13.50 departure. The Euro Tunnel trains are priced in two-hour intervals, so I booked the latest train in the interval in which I planned to arrive. I arranged my riding to bring me to Calais a full two hours earlier to allow for some stops if I found them necessary. The Port of Calais has a rather nice shopping area, but do not count on buying postcards or stickers, there are none available. The shopping is focused on the old-school duty-free mindset of buy as much alcohol and perfume as you can.

When you arrive, you come first to a booth which asks you to either buy a ticket or check-in. I punched in my reservation number and was advised that I was early and could choose any one of the three remaining shuttles in my booking window. I picked the next one and received a hangtag for my mirror printed with the shuttle code “L” and a receipt. The next step was customs and border control. The UK is not Shengen, so one must get one’s passport stamped after answering the usual questions. As an American living in Germany, I had a few more to answer, but nothing profound. I passed first through the French border station, then through the UK station, then through Customs. Motorcycles are typically waved through Customs, how much could we be carrying anyway?

Once through the paperwork (about 15-20 minutes), you are directed to a parking area near the shopping/food court.  A large LED board shows the calls for trains, and you wait or shop until you are called. Then it is off along a winding path to the boarding area. One goes up the ramp over the train tracks, then down to board. Bikes are pooled up to board last. All bikes board on the lower level – the cars are sent up and down. Unlike the AutoZug, there is plenty of clearance to ride in comfortably and walk around inside of the cars. Apparently the last two cars are reserved for bikes. I was the only rider on my train, so had an entire compartment to myself. You enter the train over a steel “bridge” and then ride in. I was wisely advised to avoid the metal strip in the center – it’s not the stiffest piece of metal – and stay to one side. Bikes are best ridden in on the right side, then turned across the way at an angle and parked with the front tyre up against the left edge. Out comes the sidestand, and that’s it. You’re loaded on. A few safety checks, intercomparment doors are closed, and you’re off!

Each car is equipped with a bathroom, but that is it. No amenities for the 35 minute trip that is 35 minutes. No longer. It’s barely enough time to snap some photos and notice that the train is moving. I was able to scarf down the sandwich I’d brought with and chat with the steward for a few moments, but it seemed like no time at all and we were back in the light. le Shuttle, as it’s called in French, is clearly designed to remain in motion.

We arrived at Folkstone and began the disembarkment process. About halfway out of the train, I looked back and discovered that they were already loading the next cars. Leaving the train, one can see the forward section that is full-height and used to move freight trucks. As immigration and customs were completed in Calais, one simply rides out of the terminal, up a ramp (the inductive sensor did not pick up my bike and I had to cross against the light), and into a right turn. Into the left lane. Then, a traffic circle. Ok, may as well get of that out of the way quickly. There are seemingly hundreds of signs scattered at the road side up to 50kms from Folkstone reminding people in four languages to drive on the left. I’d purchased a smallish windscreen cling that showed the driver on the left of the road and how to navigate a traffic circle. I kept it in my map pocket stuck to its white background paper – it was a good reminder. Conveniently, it can be reversed for use on the continent.

I visited the White Cliffs Nature Park and Canterbury Cathedral. Then off to Margate, which I was completely shocked by. Having spent some time at the Jersey shore, I was floored to discover that its twin exists in England. In fact, throughout my short tour of Kent, I was continually amazed to discover that there is nothing particularly special or unique about the Jersey shore, or larger parts of New Jersey and Southeastern Pennsylvania. They are little carbon copies of Kent, without the cool stuff like Canterbury and Sandwich. Unfortunately, it was a holiday weekend in the UK, so I have no cool BnB story to tell – just a PremierInn that wasn’t afraid of a chick on a bike, and had a clean and comfy (if noisy due to floor squeaks) room for 65quid.