|...and then, it was chocolate||Europe: 2021-02-01 18:00 (UTC)|
There are many types of chocolate.
The readers of the website already have extensive knowledge of, and have known for a long time what a chocolate is not — for instance it's not when the first wheel of the motorcycle launches into the air, but when a 100 km/h road suddenly decelerates to 60 km/h and turns into cobblestone in the corner.Kaunertal was not chocolate. In similar circumstances the whole body and mind work exclusively on the solution, you won't realize to do anything other else.
Further browsing of pasttime memories recalls this story, which easily could be the so far chocolate-most. No video or picture was taken, since the camera wasn't on the bike at this time, and this story would neither be visually particularly spectacular.
I was on a smaller trip to Bratislava, and had the two-nights accommodation on the streets of Petřin. This so far would sound as an easy story, the Slovak Buda side, the view must be great to the river and the city. The bike was basically equipped with full luggage, all in the back, the backpack on my back. It hardly was overpacked, yet the light but vertically expanding clothes bag on the first floor offered a good chance of swinging.
Realizing the whole situation hit me just like Noah's inundation, only the heavenly plumber forgot to notify me.
What happened was, although I envisioned the light hills of Buda, yet the accommodation came into view on a brutal 30 degrees slope street, not much having highway quality but at least also had a slight curve too. Such street, where even by walking you look up with your neck stretching back. Such street, where you arrive after a not demanding, yet 4 hours of ride. And oh yes, obviously the accommodation was around the topper part. I stopped about one or two house down away, with such thoughts ofpark down the bike and ring the bell— but this never happened. After putting down the stand and leaning the bike with its both full dry and wet weight on it, the only thing happened was:…KKKKKKRRRRKKKRR……KKRRRRKKKRRRRR……KKKKRRRRRRKKKKRRRR…. It wasn't my daily prayer to Cthulhu, but for people who don't speak motorcycle language it means in English that the bike clawing-clinging slid backwards on the asphalt.
What can one do now? The story isn't coming from yesterday but bicycle and motorcycle engineers get my huge respect for inventing two brakes: my fixed left leg fully held the bike, but to lift my right leg even for a second from the ground and dance over the brake pedal — it was an immensely instable issue - so the bike was held back only with the front brake.
Which was all nice and great — but a stalemate.
All bikers (by self, safety-training, car driver similarities) know how to start on a slope:
- left hand holds the clutch, in first gear
- right foot kept on the brake pedal to prevent the rolling back
- right hand slightly opens and holds the throttle, not into the scarlet red, only as much as to have the engine revved up to overcome the physics of the slope
- when the revolution is met, the left hand releases the clutch in a synchronized manner simultaneously with the right leg muscles
- as necessary, after the launch in the fraction of the second shall play more with the clutch and open the throttle more and work with the right foot
- everybody's smilingOne can do all the above with the front brake too — but this wasn't the time to play.
This was the plan. In practice, the slope made the bike so instable, that the lightest move made it swaying here-and-there and slid backwards. And the main purpose of the biker boots, everybody already knows that quite well — including their minimal mountain climber skills too. Happiness in disguise, the accommodation had its gate already open this time, so I was relieved that from here I only need to shoot the bike through the gate to the flat parking spot.
Which was yet farther than the bridge, as I had two possibilities:
- uphill direction: I was confidently unconfident to do it on a slope like this, that I'll make a tight righthand turn with the luggage, especially since the garage path to turn onto became visible only in the last moment above the stairs of the walkway. My astral eyes visualized the moment with full inner peace, when the bike slows down too much for taking the corner — from there after toppling to the right, the bike and myself will tumble down on the hill to the entrance of the strapačky restaurant.
- downhill direction: this sounded better…had no other option…whereas I just make that left turn by the elan kept back with simple break use
I remained with Plan Batman, although still had to stabilise the not-so-stable situation. Meaning on the busy street with the front brake, with the rear view mirrors, with very cautious body and head moves along with frozen into a geometrically perfect triangle, I rolled back to a lower point — where finally found a free spot on the other side of the road and I could align the rear wheel to the curb to stop the descension.
The story turns into an easy pleasure ride from here, of course with evening tales likeHow to do a very tight uphill turn back on a 30 degrees slope with luggage, but without stopping, choking, falling over?— but I took also this challenge upon first attempt, so I finally made through the gate where I recalled to breath again.
The moral of the story
Cold hands, cold pulse, cold head.