Three months around Europe

Leaving Basel is easy. You just follow the tram lines to either France or Germany. In my case I took route 36 which led me quickly to Germany. Switzerland had once less illegal immigrant

The ride to Stuttgart was varied. Up over a 1600m mountain range, wind your way down onto the South German plain and then the autobahn for Mercedes mecca . My destination was the Mercedes Benz Museum - eight floors of homage to the marque. Its early beginnings, their firsts, their racing pedigree. Did you know that Mercedes made the first truck – for a beer company.

It was not just a motor museum. Art works were interspersed between photo montages of world events influencing car design and the MB business model. It was housed in a stainless steel building free parking,' multilingual guides. You rode to the top on an express lift and just let gravity and your curiosity take you through the exhibits.

Where to go after Stuttgart. Well why not visit the Skoda works in Pilsen and have a beer in a Czech beer cellar. Pilsen was a pretty city, big town square, multitude of beer cellars , but no Skoda museum – that is in Wolfsberg- home of Volkswagen.

Dresden was about 80km up the road. This was a city that completely ruined by a three day allied bombing raid at the end of the war. Arguments about the validity of this raid still rage. I spent two days visiting the rebuilt city . They had faithfully reproduced the key buildings: town hall, cathedral, municipal buildings while embracing open green spaces and the opportunity for a cafe society. Christchurch could take a lesson from here.

My bike chain was now terminal so fitted a new chain and front and rear sprockets as well as two new Metzeler tyres. Cost all up was $750. My Bridgestones had lasted about 8000 miles more that I anticipated when I bought the bike. The difference in handling and ride was immediately apparent, with the softer compound Metzelers giving more confidence on the windy bits.

From Dresden I rode to Berlin. I only spent two days here but with 52 museums I could have stayed three times as long. Among the offerings was the Erotic Museum. I wanted to go here but they have a dress code: Only long raincoat, village people chic or off duty Qantas steward will suffice.. Kiwi pensioner garb was not welcome. But I visited the Holocaust museum, and the Pergamon which specialises in ancient Iraq, Syria and Jordan.

In the afternoon I wandered the flea market. One stall was selling badly cleaned Paua for $70 and I saw two sold in the five minutes I spent talking to the stall owner. Someone is making easy money.

Riding down the wide empty streets towards the Reichstag, it is easy to imagine yourself standing in the back of a Mercedes 540 tourer letting the wave of power wash over you. But it would never work for me as a a cowlick hairstyle and small ferret moustache would clash with my fashionista ambitions.

From Berlin I took up, my ferry friend , Norburt's offer to stay with him. He loaded up my I pod with a whole lot of new tunes. There is something special about doing 120kph on the motorway listening to REM. Supertramp and the Mustangs, particularly if the sun is shining

Leaving Norburt I visited the German Tank Museum. This was the only museum I visited in which the Germans on display looked presentable. In all the other museums I visited, they were depicted as misshapen brutes with pig eyes , unwashed stubble and ill fitting uniforms with a limited vocabulary. Dad's Army and War Picture Library comics have a lot to answer for.

Onto Holland and just across the border is a motorcamp dedicated to motor bikes. No motorhomes, no cars allowed. The bar is full of memorabilia , the grounds full of motorbikes and every Saturday a rock or heavy metal band is on stage. Biker heaven. It was full of middle aged Dutch, Italians and Germans on their summer break and for two weeks living life to the slogan: born to be mild. Most of us were asleep by 9.30pm but up till them we were out there with active minds, creaking bodies and limitless enthusiasm for the cause – whatever it was. The camp is in Menderslo, near Venlo and is run by Hank and Mrs Hank – and they love New Zealand, having visited several times.

The Dutch military museum is just 10km up the road and it has the largest collection of military hardware in Europe. Three halls of trucks , tanks, motorbikes, half tracks, guns and bombs. The Germans again were brutishly ugly and everyone else lantern jawed, whipcord muscled and blue eyed.
Even Welshmen looked passable.

The most intriguing display was in a side hall and featured eroticism during the war. It had a collection of condoms issued to forces, dirty postcards and a brothel mural. Featured condoms included the Hercules which because of its slightly larger than average dimensions was not issued to British or Australian forces or anyone from Taranaki. There was also the intriguing Hoogenstroogle amphibian issued to the Dutch and Belgian canal troops.

Ieper and the Menin gate were my next stops and I attended the moving last post ceremony, rode around a few battle sites and visited the museum. My grandfathers were here and both made it back.
They were the lucky ones for the gate commemorates those 60,000 soldiers who were never identified or found . Belgium is a country of cemeteries and breweries.

My insurance cover was only for 90 days and I was right on that so I rode 100km to Calais and caught the ferry to Dover.

After 21000 kilometers, I was back where I started.

Till next time

Safe riding