It was such awesome weather. Actually, it shouldn’t be that warm. That’s the reason why I didn’t put on the leathers on that Tuesday, because according to the weather forecast I should go by car. An Audi 80, type B4, about 5 years old. I also had the empty „money bomb“ from the company with me, and in the evening I should have taken part in a training in the company. Furthermore, I should have brought a whole bunch of electrical installation material for Mirko. A bunch of switch boxes, socket outlets, changeover switches, serial switches and all that shit. On top of that I’d already got over 350 marks. But when I left the house, all reason was gone. The sun was shining, it was just before 20 °C (68 °F) and I’ll not to go by car, but rather by the motorbike. The backpack was hopefully big enough for Mirko’s electrical parts. Besides that I could already take a part with me in the lunch break. Because the distance from Oldenburg could be done by bike in less than 10 minutes. But not anymore today.
The bike was a brand new Fireblade. A CBR 900RR, SC 33. This is what it was supposed to look like:
But when I opened the box at my motorcycle dealer, JRP Racing, Oldenburg, there was another Fireblade in it, one so much more horny. It looked so horny that I almost cum. It was neon yellow/purple/white/black.
On Saturday, April 20th I got it, on April 22nd I could register it, there was still a registration office in Oldenburg/Holstein. So on April 23rd 1996 in the morning at half past eight my horny Fireblade had not yet 500 km on the clock. So I just put on the leather jacket and the cross gloves and cross boots, rucksack on my back and gas.
Everything what comes now, I know unfortunately only from stories, reports and files. My memories go up to the time when I turn off a side road onto the L57. After that there is nothing more. Real memories are only from the 2nd of May, 1996, by chance the common birthday of my parents, who, yes really, both had their birthdays on the same day.
I think the reports will be accurate because a lot of them are from the police files.
So I drove off in the direction of Oldenburg to the company I had changed to from Eutin at the beginning of ’96. Normally it didn’t take me 9 minutes to get there, unless I had to break in a new bike carefully or the Bull… uh, had the police on my back. Therefore I had to turn left in Lensahn at the „big crossing“ (the biggest and only crossing with traffic lights in Lensahn ;-)). In front of me there were two VW Golf, whose drivers were carrying their cars towards the next intersection at a distance of about 500 m (547 yards). That means that they did not exceed the allowed 50 km/h (31 mph). That was the crossing Oldenburger Str./Sundstraße at that time, where many others and unfortunately also I had to pass. Now there is a roundabout and a development area.
At the height of the junction to Sundstraße a truck came towards me, which let the two creeping Golfs pass and then turned left. Stupid for me was only that the driver of the truck had overlooked me, even though I was driving the VWs behind them. According to a testimony I tried to avoid a collision with the truck loaded with beer in an adventurous stunt. I did not succeed. A pity. Fireblade busted, I busted. The fucking driver of the fucking beer car had probably already tasted his fucking load, because his blood alcohol concentration was almost two per mille. He handed in his driver’s license on the spot, but it was no use to me either. At that time I was already on the way to Kiel to the university hospital, unfortunately not with the Fireblade, but in the helicopter. Unfortunately I didn’t notice anything about the flight. My horny Fireblade was dying several meters further on the field where the new building area was later built.
A driver and co-driver of a VW-bus of the Schleswag (doesn’t exist any more) which drove behind the beer truck, already sensed the impact coming. An evasion should have been impossible for me. I only found out about this 20 years later, when I read through all the files. I couldn’t have been too fast either, because I had to rein in the Fireblade behind the two Golf carriers. If they hadn’t been there, or a bit faster, I would have been faster too, and ……. if it wasn’t for the word „if“, the dog wouldn’t have shit and wouldn’t have got the rabbit after all. It is futile to philosophize about it now. The VW Bus passengers fortunately took off my helmet professionally, pulled me over on my side and then left me lying there. They behaved exactly right. And nobody cared about my dying Fireblade. It was later brought by the Estermann company to the JRP workshop in Oldenburg, where it stood for weeks, alone and in the dark in an adjoining room of the workshop, until I came out of the clinic months later and was driven to Oldenburg.