It’s the early eighties – 1980 to be precise – and I’m relishing the sense of freedom that only European travel on my Honda CB900F2 can provide. This wasn’t just any bike; it was enhanced with a Moriwaki big bore kit and a Harris Performance Exhaust, making it a truly Fast Bike for its time.
My girlfriend, surprisingly, decided to join me as a pillion passenger instead of bringing her own motorcycle. Looking back, our youth likely meant a tight budget, and this arrangement certainly helped keep costs down. What we possessed in youthful exuberance, we lacked in experience. We were incredibly green when it came to international travel.
It took an embarrassing hour for me to understand that “Centrum” wasn’t the name of a large town, but rather signs directing us to the town center of every place we passed through. Fortunately, intercoms weren’t common back then, saving me from vocalizing my naivety with some foolish remark. Communication was limited to shouting over the wind noise or a tap on my helmet when a stop was needed.
Border Blunder on a Fast Bike
After a couple of hours of riding, in the distance, I spotted what appeared to be a series of toll booths spanning both sides of the motorway. My inexperience, combined with the arrogance of youth, convinced me these couldn’t be toll booths. This was the Netherlands, after all, and I was under the impression they didn’t have toll roads. So, I confidently kept the throttle open on my fast bike.
About ten minutes later, we pulled into a service station to consult the map. I had anticipated crossing into Germany by this point, but the realization still hadn’t dawned on me. It took another ten minutes, as I recall, to finally understand that those weren’t toll booths at all – they were the German border. And I hadn’t stopped. I was likely cruising at 40 MPH over the intended stopping speed as we roared between the booths, the Harris exhaust on my fast bike echoing loudly off the structures.
No barriers were lowered, and I hadn’t seen anyone signaling for me to stop. If there were border guards in pursuit, lingering around like a confused tourist wasn’t a smart move. “Immer geradeaus aus,” as they say in Germany – always straight ahead. This fast bike was proving useful for a quick getaway, even if unintentional.
The Allure of 80s Motorcycle Adventure
This whole experience is why I found Andy Wareing’s books detailing his touring adventures from the Eighties so captivating. Even though he rode a Suzuki GS1000, possibly with a replica GPZ nose cone, his stories resonated deeply with my own memories of that era.
Andy Wareing himself admits his serious biking days might be behind him, despite his last machine being a Ducati 996S. However, the spirit of those adventurous times clearly endures. Back then, as us older riders often reminisce, foreign travel was a much more challenging undertaking. There was no internet, no smartphones, no Google Maps, no GPS, and distinct, heavily controlled borders between countries, even within Europe.
The AA offered a book listing a limited selection of hotels in each region. To make a reservation, you had to call them or send a letter. The more technologically advanced might have even used a fax machine. It was in this world, so different from today’s ease of travel, that Andy Wareing chose to embark on his motorcycle journeys to distant and unfamiliar places, likely on his own fast bike equivalent of the time.
