A BLAST FROM THE PAST: (by Barb Peters)

The “Freedom Rider” August 1973 club magazine has a fantastic write up from Peter Sanders. It tells of his trip with Ian Hallet from London to the Nurnberg Ring race course on ...

“a 1956 BMW with a 1964 600cc motor and a Watsonian “Monza” fibreglass sidecar”

“The route we planned to take was Oostende, Brussels, Cologne, Hanover and Berlin. Then back through (or nearly through) Leipzig, Erfurt, Frankfurt and Koblenz to the Nurnberg Ring, the famous race course which is the site of the Elephant Rally every year.”

The article is rather long and I thought to ‘whet your appetites’ and hopefully encourage you to go onto the club web site and read the entire article, I would send in a small extract from the article. So without further ado here it is. Enjoy J

TRIP TO ELEPHANT RALLY – JANUARY 1973

(From FREEDOM RIDER – August 1973)

...It was now quite cold and for me, time for bed. I discovered a new use for the BMW, a sleeping bag warmer. Great. I crawled into my newly warmed sleeping bag for some shut eye whilst Ian, Paul and Neville went up to the Sport Hotel (on the camping ground) to make a night of it.

I didn't hear them come in that night and I was the second last one to get up Sunday morning. Ian was last, (typical slack Kiwis). A hefty breakfast was had. Then I went across to see Les and Graham, two pommy guys who had put a hole in the piston of their Triumph outfit. They were all packed up and ready for the off; all they were waiting for now was me, as I was going to tow them back to London.

We finally had our gear packed up and went across to pick up these rather heavy hitch hikers. The tow rope was attached and I broke it at my first attempt to get rolling. At the second attempt we were off (only 350 miles to go). Now that it was light I could see the shear drops and high mountains and it was quite breathtaking. The BMW was pulling steadily (if slowly) up the hills and less than second gear was seldom required, although it was tending to get a bit hot and clutch slip could be felt if I tried to go too high up the rev range in any gear.

We were getting along alright until I slowed for a left hand bend and Les (on the other outfit) didn't slow down quick enough. The tow rope caught up in his front wheel, locked it and the outfit flipped. Les realised what was happening and just waited till the sidecar came up and then just rolled off. Fortunately, he was unhurt (only bruises and a shaken faith in my ability as a tow truck driver.)

On and on we pushed stopping every 100 miles or so to fill up with oil and with petrol. The seal from the gearbox to the clutch was completely broken down now and oil was splashing about all over the motor and clutch. On the outside the motor was covered with oil and when we stopped a great pool of oil soon appeared.

Another problem when we stopped was from asphyxiation from burning clutch smoke. Every time we stopped there was a mad dash to get clear of the bike, the smell of the clutch was so bad. It was OK for us on the BMW (Ian, Graham and me) while we were moving as the wind took the clutch smell away but it must have been really bad for Les on the Trumpy behind. Not only the smell but the oil from the leaky seal had to go somewhere and the front of Les and his outfit seemed as good a place as any.

We struggled grimly on, one great patch of pollution moving steadily across Germany. When we reached the Belgium/German border the guards looked at us in disbelief and moved us through without stopping us. Another petrol and oil (and for Les fresh air) stop, then on again. The fog was still very bad and, as the roads were wet, dirt and grime were added to the oil already coating Les.

As we pressed further into Belgium the roads got better. On the last 50 miles or so via Antwerp there was street lighting as well.

At about 12 midnight we rolled into Oostende harbour to the amazement of the chaps who saw us leave the rally in the late morning. A cup of coffee and half an hour later and it was time to load the bikes onto the ferry for the channel crossing. From the car deck we went straight to the restaurant where it was steak and chips all round, Les shouting (I have never seen anyone so happy to see a ferry).

After the meal it was downstairs for a quick kip before Dover. I was in a no hurry to get to Dover as the bike was making lots of funny (and not so funny) noises. Along the A2 (all the roads here have numbers, like Highway 31 Hume Highway), to a road side cafe for breakfast and more astonished faces that we were still going.

About 20 miles after the cafe (60 miles short of London) there was an almighty clunk and I died thinking that the crank had at last let go. Ian and I limped away and left Les to push to Maidstone, a matter of about four miles. Eventually Les and Graham caught up to us. I was then to go to Bexlyheath where I had left my Velo when I picked up the BMW. The idea was that I should zap back to Maidstone, where we would dump the BMW and Triumph at a mate of Les’, and drag Ian back to London. What a joke! When I got to where the Velo was, the guy was not in. So I hitch hiked (you knew that had to get in there somewhere didn't you?) back to Maidstone to find the lads. You guessed it, no lads! So I hiked back to London feeling really depressed and sorry for myself (and my newly acquired outfit).

When I did eventually get back to my grotty little bedsitter, very surprised was I to find the BMW outside my front door. A visit from Ian cleared up the problem; the left hand barrel had become loose and was moving with the piston, banging on the crank case sounding for all the world like a shot crankshaft.

The BMW needs a valve grind, new oil seals and gaskets and a set of engine pipes. A very pleasant surprise after a quite memorable trip of 1,600 miles.

Peter Sanders