Tuesday, July 15: On this beautiful, sunny day I set off towards Germany, riding the CBX. “Riding the CBX” had been a given for the past 25 years, but from this year on, that’s no longer self-evident. Had the V8’s teething problems been less severe, I would have taken that bike on its very first long trip. Instead, I used 2025 to test the V8 at Dutch motorcycle meetings and shows; quite a wise decision, as it turned out. And anyway: heading out on the open road with the CBX remains an absolute joy, without exaggeration.

Prior to the trip, the bike had been professionally appraised, something that needs to be done every three years. Given its reputation (including its 24 international awards, now 25, spoiler alert ;)) the appraised value was raised significantly. That brings a certain peace of mind to the inherently risky business of a multi-day motorcycle trip. Fresh rubber on the rims helps too.

I love the Lehmbruck museum in Duisburg and visit it almost every year. A strong permanent collection, complemented by high-quality temporary exhibitions. This year was no exception.

The immersive work of Austrian media artist Peter Kogler was a stimulating introduction.

Naturally, I couldn’t miss the retrospective exhibition of Jean Tinguely, “Mechanik und Menschlichkeit,” which included works by both Tinguely and his partner, Eva Aeppli.

Unlike other years: children in the museum! Entire school classes wandered through the galleries, sometimes with assignments. You could see how fascinated they were by the slow movements of Jean Tinguely’s kinetic works.

I hadn’t seen his smaller artworks before: playful, surprising, and often simply funny.

For several years now I’ve been teaching a workshop called Art & Technology, themed “Unconventionally Headstrong”, in which students repurpose everyday electrical devices for entirely different uses. Tinguely did exactly that a century ago, so I find myself in good company. ;)

The description stated that many artworks could be activated by a foot switch, after which they needed a 10–15 minute rest period.

I spoke with a museum attendant and joked that without those breaks they’d probably have gone mad from the noise. No, she said, the pauses were to protect the artworks from wear. When I replied that Tinguely explicitly wanted his works to wear down, even to break, embracing impermanence, she denied this. Incorrectly.

His sketches are fragile and breathtakingly beautiful.

What bizarre creations, and beautifully lit too. This piece was titled The Swiss Cow – Flower Parade (1990).

Together with Eva Aeppli he created Earth Witches (1991). Her themes were heavier than his, and it clearly shows.

Tinguely also collaborated with Niki de Saint Phalle, with whom he shared a relationship until his death in 1991. Her colorful, rounded style is unmistakable in this work, though I personally felt their styles blended less naturally than those of Tinguely and Aeppli.

Aeppli’s own work appealed to me deeply as well: still, almost menacing. Group of 48 (1969). And yes, there really are 48. ;)

At the end of last summer I had reluctantly said goodbye to my trusty little tent and bought a chic MSR tent instead. Too big. Too red. And I’m still too young for “too big and too red.”

So I set up a search alert on an online marketplace and within a few months scored not one but two second-hand Eureka! tents. Slightly wrinkled and wonderfully tiny, exactly how I like it. I’m set for years again.

The camp site in Essen was an oasis of calm. I watched, utterly fascinated, a retired couple mowing their patch of grass with military precision ...

... and then meticulously cleaning the mower with what must have been a custom-made mower-cleaning brush set. It lowered my heart rate instantly.

Cooking dinner at a similarly relaxed pace on my Trangia stove was pure bliss: salmon, beetroot salad, raw vegetables and tagliatelle.

In the evening I took a long walk through the beautiful surroundings ...

book in hand, a Paulaner beer alongside. Life is good.

Wednesday, July 16: Morning view from the tent. The weather turned worse, as forecast.

Once again I’d been bitten by a black fly: swollen ankle, the works. Luckily I had medication with me. And above all: no scratching!

I continued on to Museum Ostwall in Dortmund, riding through heavy rain.

It was miserable out there.

Storing all my gear proved challenging; most museums aren’t exactly designed for traveling motorcyclists.

Initially, the collection didn’t impress me much. Been-there-done-that photography ...

... and some exhibition rooms so chaotically arranged that I wondered whether a curator had been involved at all.

Time to relax on a beanbag, headphones on, listening to a lecture about food. Fair enough.

The exhibition Roots in Motion, however, was genuinely interesting ...

... and as physical objects. Powerful sculptures, surprising materials ...

... like colored cable ties.

Playful was Donation Machine (2017) by Niklas Roy: feed it coins or bills and it comes alive in return, a colorful spectacle.

Of course the proceeds go to charity.

The electronic heart is fully visible; a clear trend in contemporary art.

Back out into the pouring rain, I hunted down a motorcycle dealer and finally bought the desperately needed chain spray.

I ended up at one of the most desolate camper sites imaginable in Bad Sassendorf. If you know me a little, you know I’ll still find beauty in places like this.

When it briefly stopped raining, I lubricated the chain and pitched the tent. On the seat plate sat a cup of coffee, offered by my neighbor. Very kind, and very welcome.

My gear hung drying in the bread hut ...

... the TomTom went on charge.

At alocal supermarket I scored sweet potatoes ...

Thursday, July 17: Fresh bread rolls to start the day.

I briefly considered half-cleaning the bike, inspired by the V8’s paint job. The rain soon unified everything again: mud.

His installations caused a similar kind of disruption, in some of them quite literally.

After buying shorts at H&M (I’d forgotten mine) ...

... I continued to B.f.f.L. Kassel, a naturist campsite. It was not easy to find. When I asked for directions, someone replied: “No campsites here. Well, except for nudists, but that’s probably not what you mean.” It was. ;)

A relaxed atmosphere, as always at naturist camps, though few naturists were visible due to rain and low temperatures.

In early days it was called 'FKK', Freie Körper Kultur, but I think the term has fallen out of use.

Good food, rest, sunset, a book. In short: highly recommended.

Friday, July 18: No rain, at last. I decided to spend the day at a sauna before heading to the bike event.

I found a lovely sauna complex in Heiligenstadt and enjoyed a sunny, blissful morning and early afternoon.

Then on to the bike event of MF Bickenrieder Roadrunner e.V.. Erwin and I had selected it online: an old monastery as the location, spectacularly beautiful, and photos suggested a friendly crowd. Not an MC, but MF (Motor Friends). We’ve had positive experiences with that.

We met in the afternoon, and yes: beer was involved.

Everything was impeccably organized. The happy-striped barrier turned out to be solid concrete, cleverly keeping cars off the camping field. Loved it.

Golden hour made the buildings glow.

We even discovered what may well have been one of the best, albeit unintended, artworks of the entire trip. ;)

Nice bikes came and went.

Sauna by day, less responsible lifestyle by night; it suited me just fine.

As I said, the old monastery is a stunning setting. Also worth noting are the two motorcycles suspended in the air.

Always risky: a few Schnäpschen at the end of the evening. A solid headache the next day is guaranteed.

Not everyone made it to the end of the night.

Someone had noticed that my rear brake caliper was missing a bolt, and just about every local biker started rummaging through their shed to see if they could find an M10 bolt with a fine metric thread. A rare thing, fine metric, especially among the many Harley riders, whose bikes all use American threads.

In the afternoon I briefly left the site for a short ride without luggage. I skipped the main group tour, as riding in large groups tends to be too slow, causing the engine to run hot.

Along the way I picked up the kind of food my body was craving, saving the “proper” greasy fare for the evening.

We met Linus, a young bike builder who had turned a 2002 ZX-9R into a classic streetfighter. It’s reassuring to see that the motorcycle scene still has a new generation, that gives me hope.

Relaxing and catching up with Erwin, always a good thing.

We made new friends.

And the conversations? About bikes and politics; nuanced opinions, radical statements, lots of laughter and nonsense too.

There was a striptease. Two, actually. One by a woman, one by a man. That’s how it should be, in my opinion, though the art form itself doesn’t do much for me.

Halfway through the evening I was called inside: there was an award.

Sunday, July 20: Slightly hungover, I packed up my things and rode through a sun-drenched landscape towards Weilburg.

Along the way, a braking issue occurred for the second time, this time at the front of the bike: there was barely any brake pressure. So I bought a bottle of brake fluid at a gas station …

… and opened the brake reservoir cap, which is integrated into the handlebars. Yes, there was very little left in it.

Next to me stood a young couple with a BMW, who were also busy working on their car.

They seemed to have just about every tool imaginable with them, and thanks to that the problem was quickly fixed.

… threatening as well. They foreshadowed what lay ahead.