Honestly, I was shocked when I first came to America to make my dream come true.  You ask why? Well, the first time I commuted from the East Bay to San Francisco on a motorcycle, I was confronted with California’s laws and rules of the road. Furthermore, I had new experiences to process with lane splitting, city chaos and the Oakland Bay Bridge. The DMV circle test and the written exam were not difficult, but they did not prepare me for riding on California roads. I adjusted quickly. But as I considered ways to ride safely in California, as a European Championship professional and racer coach I had the training and skills to adapt quickly, but here is my point…what’s going to happen with a rookie who’s just started riding on the street, even though he learned to ride at the MSF course instead of going through the DMV circle test?  He might not have enough time to give his butt a quick goodbye kiss.

Then, I couldn’t wait to hit the road in California’s canyons. Ready to let the R1 horses rip on my first Sunday ride. To my surprise, all the cars were gentle and attentive, which is a marked difference to Germany’s drivers, believe me. But here I was confronted with fallen trees, deer, gravel, bumps and holes in the pavement as big as Read more

The 3rd of November 2008 was the date on our one-way flight tickets from Frankfurt to San Francisco. That’s the date on which Marion, Jill and I waved our friends goodbye, and on which we hugged our parents with tears flowing.  It’s the date on which Jill just was 4 years old and did not understand what the hell was going on. The 3rd of November was the most surreal day of our lives, full of ups and downs of excitement and emotions.

Just a couple of days before that particular date, we celebrated a goodbye party in an apartment where we used to live temporarily while we sold our house. The stuff we wanted to keep was already on its way through the Panama Canal, in a wooden 8x8x10 box. Some stuff we couldn’t sell was auctioned to our friends under heavy tequila influence at the party.  They supported us that way, because actually nobody needs a broken hand mixer. It was a hilarious party in that now-empty apartment, but there was always a cloud over it, with our friends looking in our eyes and asking a virtual “Are you serious?!” and “When are you coming back?!”. In the morning, or more accurately in the middle of the hangover, the answer was confirmed and clarified…there was nothing that could stop us. Read more