After becoming the owner of a K 75 s in 1988 my motorcycle life changed. A few friends and I had founded the German Motorcycle Club of El Paso earlier. This club was not limited to German motorcycles, but to individuals able to speak German (in fact, the highest number of beemers in the club was a mere three). The Club went well (and is still going strong, although I do not play an active part in it any more), since the German Air Force had (and still has) a rather large number of troops stationed at Fort Bliss, TX. For details on that time, please go to the German M/C History pages (so far, these pages are available in German only).
Before I got "Das Mopped" (a name that got stuck to it later) I was basically happy with mingling with the local biker scene. I knew lots of people and enjoyed doing daytrips with my friends. But at the time of purchasing my bike I became a member of the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America. I loved to read their monthly magazine, the BMW Owners News, from cover to cover. And I started to wonder if beemerphiles were really different fom the rest of the two-wheeled crowd.
So it came to no surprise that in 1989 I decided to ride to the 16th BMWOA National Rally, held in Madison, Indiana. Unfortunately, Hermann, my friend on the other BMW K 75 s, could not join me for the whole trip. But he at least managed to go with me to the Top O' The Rockies rally in Steamboat Springs, CO, the weekend before the National. That was my first contact with other BMW-riders: young and old folks who loved to ride and not just to show off. Folks who took a lot of pride in their bikes, in spite of the almost complete absence of chrome and cool gadgets. Folks who loved to party without getting loud or aggressive. In one word: I loved it.
On Sunday morning I went on to Mount Rushmore while Hermann headed back home to El Paso. As I learned later, he never made it by himself. He totalled his bike near Taos, NM, and had to be transported home by Air Force Medics. Luckily, my trip did not end that way. I arrived in Madison on Thursday, when the rally started. This was definitely the biggest rally I had ever been to: around 6,000 BMW riders from all over the world were present. BMWs in all shapes and colors, the same goes for the riders. I even ran into a group of French riders whom I met again years later in France.
But I had problems finding my tent at night. And my motorcyle in the parking lot. And a decent diner to get breakfast. And meeting the same people that I met earlier. So I decided for myself that rallies of this size are no place for me to go. At least not alone. So, when the National was over, I was not too unhappy to head back home.
What else is there to tell about this 7,117-mile-trip? I enjoyed riding the Blue Ridge Parkway. I almost died of a heart attack when, while having lunch, I saw the bike slowly tipping over (the main stand had sunk into the blacktop, which was softened by the hot July sun). I loved camping right on the beach in a state park in South Carolina. I hated being arrested for speeding just an hour after I broke down my tent (and having to wait for the judge to let me pay a $65 fine). Finally, on the last day of the trip, I was forced to do my first (and so far only) 1,000-in-one ride. I just could not find a decent motel or campground and decided to keep going. So I rode about 1,200 miles in 24 hours without sleep (even though it were two calendar days). When I finally arrived home I could hardly hold the bike upright. Nothing I am really proud of.
Anyway, this ride was a great experience. A unique experience, too, as I never did anything like it again until very recently. After my return I got back into the local club business and stayed with it until I finally had to go back to Germany in July 1990. At that time I even wrote a letter to the editor of the BMW Owners News (published in the September 1990 issue) that closed with the words: "To the Left Lane in Europe I say: 'Watch out, here I come'".
Of course, to find out what was going on in Europe you have to go to the European Touring Page.
