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Welcome to my life…
 

My life and choices since August 7, 1950 a little late at night. ……………

It was a dark and stormy night …… Nah, by the way, I do not know what the weather was like the night I was born. I was probably not so terribly old then.

But reportedly it was probably quite late when I decided to make my entrance into this world. And then I definitely had to arrive ahead of time as well, when my midwife convinced my parents that I was fully developed, here a month before the otherwise planned arrival. If just this early kick in the ass …, where I am highest when I pick strawberries, has influenced me to become badly curious for the rest of my life, I must then leave unsaid. But at least my presence on Earth has often been marked by sudden whims I obviously had to bring to life, without thinking for too long, just to see if it was now also a good idea I had there.

Whether it was healthy and encouraging, such as becoming part of an accelerated birth – perhaps also helped by the midwife’s eagerness to score a little extra payment – I should not be able to decide. But at least it has helped my natural curiosity, which has often taken me far or given me experience in some other way along the way. Maybe not always well thought out, but then it has often been fun and certainly developing the desire to see more.

The desire to see more – yes, we all have that. My curiosity was certainly not the least and brought me into the eerie presence of a couple on the head of my sister Lizzie when I could not keep my fingers off her things and cases. Likewise, curiosity was nurtured fine when traveling with the family to bla. Sweden, Norway, Germany and Italy once. I also remember the family trips around Denmark, as something we all looked forward to with excitement. Here time often went by with various antics along with my cousin Bent, who also did not go out of his way too much. Cousin Bent and I have seen a lot of each other since, so he’s going to perform here a few times along the way.

My early childhood from birth to school, I do not have much about in the memory. But it is probably because I have probably been largely protected in the head and r .. and the whole thing has therefore slipped away easily and painlessly. But I can thank my lovely parents for that.

But I can well remember my childhood home at Lundtoftevej 288 in Hjortekær. Lovely large house, located on a very large plot that included enough for later several plots to be sold off.

My childhood home was a 2 minute walk from Kongens Dyrehave, Eremitagesletten with the summer castle where Kong Frederik and Dronning Ingrid often came out. The plain was and is a fantastic playground for us children (and adults too) where I was often out among the deer and other animals, just as Rådvadskoven and Jægersborg Hegn became a big part of my upbringing, where the experiences and games out here in nature have meant a lot for me and in no way could have been traded with gold, silver and diamonds. I also remember some of my childhood friends, Franz from Lundtoftevej and Preben plus his little sister Birthe on Hjortekærbakken where I came a lot.

1957 onwards …..

So there are probably a lot of holes in the memory until I started in 1st grade at Raadvad School in August 1957. Here I got Mr. Brogård as a class teacher, just as I can well remember arithmetic teacher Lebech, Hansen, Mrs. Hansen, Wallenström just as there have probably been others along the way at Raadvad, where there were never more than you pretty much knew everyone at school, where many were really good friends, one evenly thinks back on because they have each influenced one in the younger years and in that way given the ballast to move on to where we are today.

So I guess I owe Anders, Annelise, Annette, Birgit, Bo, Charlotte, Dorthe, Elinor, Flemming, Gertrud, Jan, Jens, John, Jørgen, Kim and Kim, Kirsten, Mariann, Marianne, Ove, Peter, Poul, Steffen , Søren, Torben, Troels, Vibeke and Vibeke a big thank you for what they gave me of experiences at Rådvad School and of course also in my free time outside the school.

I am convinced that each and every one of my exciting schoolmates and also all the peers outside of school, each one has sown exactly their seeds that have sprouted and developed my person in the direction I have chosen when there was more than one option, if one can now put it that way. You do not think much about it as a kid, but as the years go by it is obvious that we can all give our “everyday roots”, especially in the very young years, the credit for many of the choices, or opt-outs we have made in life.
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It was big school classes then, as opposed to now where it almost looks like private tuition with its own teacher. Maybe it’s better with small classes, but I think now the different stuck very well back then, when there was not so much to distract and punch the mind, such as mobile phones beeping incessantly with text messages and what else is of totally indispensable wonders, to disrupt everyday life everywhere you go in the world.

Well, but Raadvad School filled the first 5 school years and was as I remember it, a place one liked to be because it was not bigger. In addition, we had Raadvadskoven, just outside for free use after school.

The forest with the gravel pit, Raadvaddammen and the many other exciting places, I think almost everyone, at least the boys, used for play and many other things and strange ideas we came up with after school.

But as always, nothing lasts. And here it was decided that Raadvad School should only accommodate the first 5 classes and we should then be moved to 6th grade in both Trongårdsskolen and Lundtofte School, which then meant an untimely division and division of the class.

Personally, I was determined to come to Trongårdsskolen. But for reasons incomprehensible to me, I definitely had to move to Lundtofte School, which has certainly had major consequences for my choices throughout the rest of my life.

In Raadvad School I saw myself coming to the Real Class and getting a 3rd Real which probably corresponds to the 10th grade today. I do not quite remember when Realén was actually removed, but the decision that I was going to Lundtofte, meant for me that I went completely behind bars and did everything to avoid going to school. From being really happy to go to school and get a nice exam, I completely turned around and just wanted to get away from school, which also succeeded with a 7th grade exam that really could not be used for anything. Anyway, at least I didn’t go down without explaining myself first. But no complaint about it as the choice was my own and has suited me quite well.

It turned into 2 years with a lot of pjæk and self-invented diseases that could keep me at home. I especially remember the one “disease” that went so far that I had to walk the line and be admitted to Gentofte Hospital and had the appendix removed. Of course, it did not fail anything, but the thought of admitting it was a prank seemed very distant to me. This “stunt” on my part, unfortunately led to several side effects, among others. a violent gait intestinal loop that was eerily close to going wrong. So once more or less innocent time pjæk, can quickly run off the track and end up costing too much, when it is now very far to have to admit it was all the result of a play, invented by a schoolboy who would not let himself manage.

So after going through 6th and 7th grade, I left school, with a graduation certificate that said: “Sven Erik’s abilities are good, but since his diligence is not overwhelming, he does not achieve the high results” . Easy way to get wrapped up that you actually did not show up for the class and achieve something. But then one can think a little about what the result would have been and how life would have taken shape if teachers and school authorities had listened to what the students wanted. For me, it would probably have meant 10 years of schooling, perhaps more if success had nourished the fire and created even more diligence, with what one can only imagine of any further education and perhaps differently composed life.

Of friends at Lundtofte School is a bit foggy thing, as I did not exactly overload the school with my presence. Of course, it was they who also had to continue their schooling at Lundtofte, but there were also many new faces we had to share everyday life with. The “new” ones are having a hard time finding their way around the memory, but names like Elmer, Vivi and Bent “Tyr” show up, but it was then shown from the parallel class, as far as I remember. Elmer I was very much with when we drove mopeds (pretty fast) together and sweet Vivi, who was Elmer’s girlfriend who lived in Brede (approximately).

Just to freshen up the moped era, my favorite brand was Puch, which I had several of in the years 1964 to the summer of 1968. Why it was just Puch, I should not be able to say, but many had at that time and then there were rich opportunities for to conjure a little with the machine so that they became more than fast. As far as I remember, the type was called MS-50 and was with black plate frame that was constantly pulled skewed by too much engine power. But it was fun with the rush.

Another thing that is still clearly remembered is the shipwreck off Greenland on January 30, 1959, when “Hans Hedtoft”, who was called the ship “who could not sink”, sank in a hurricane-like storm after hitting an iceberg. 95 people died in the shipwreck called Denmark’s “Titanic” disaster, which could have been avoided with common sense, but the then Greenland Minister Johannes Kjærbøl pushed the voyage through, despite many warnings from Captains and other experts in Greenland traffic. And afterwards, there were no limits to how many people washed their hands and abdicated responsibility for the accident.

. It was a side jump, but still an event that has burned into the memory, as the disaster there in such a short time, became so extensive and came to mean an incredible deal to so many for so long after.

1964 onwards ….
Do not misunderstand me finally, I have been fully satisfied with what I have achieved. Maybe not just in terms of high salaries and titles, but certainly with what the case has given me along the way of experiences and choices from time to time. Choices that have brought me together with a lot of exciting people and given me a lot of experiences and opportunities. It was always exciting with new faces in the circle, because everyone without exception puts a little dash or exclamation mark in one’s life. A line or a sign that in one way or another acquires meaning in one’s actions later in life. Had I instead come to Trongårdsskolen and perhaps followed a targeted education, with a title in the prize, I might have come to sit in an office somewhere and made other choices instead and therefore lived a completely, completely different life. But we will never find out.

But enough about school. After a couple of weeks holiday, I got the offer to move to Haderslev. Fine enough, then you came out to see other things. First got me a job as a work boy at a heat pipe factory where I cleaned up and cleaned things for the adult employees. Not exactly a dream job, so when suddenly there was a job on a BP tank, I jumped in and worked there as far as I remember 3-4 months. Had a fun and exciting time that gave many Jyde friends and then you made money. HøHø, by the way, also got cress hair – then you can imagine a grain bun of 120 kilos, with bristles and round cheeks. I was big before I got over there, but cream sauce and steaks every day, sat down like 25-30 kilos extra in the half year I I was Jyde. It was close that I had to wear yellow armbands because my cheeks grew up in front of my eyes.

I also ran a time as a “Little Aid” at Tempo Bybud. It was a Christian Nebel who lived on Fjordagerring. He had a Volkswagen Pickup, where he picked up pigs from the farmers and drove them to the slaughterhouse in Haderslev. Actually really fun, but more than dirty. HæHæ, remember once in a pigsty in the pigsty, where I had to keep a big pig in the tail, and then I slipped and of course did not escape, but was lifted around after the pig and rolled around on the floor and was greased in from the outside to the inside with pig shit . Christien shouted that I should let it go, but not if I wanted to let the pig win and eventually it stopped and the adults came and took over. Add for a ride and then they called me the Latrine Boy afterwards! And then Christian did not want me in the carriage, so I had to sit up on the barn with the other pigs. Do you understand that? Puha, it took several days before I stopped smelling, no matter how many times I took a shower. While I was in Haderslev, I lived in a room out on Vandlingevej, where sweet Edith was in charge of the food pots and I therefore did not get so few kilos put on my side legs during the time I lived there.

With Jutland as the first real experience on the job scene, I traveled home to Hjortekær, Mors food pots and the childhood home, with just over 120 kilos on the bathroom scale, where the bed and room were ready for me. Have always had a couple of wonderful parents who were always ready with support and help if needed.

Went home for a while until I heard there was a lack of work boys at Atlas refrigerator factory in Lundtofte. Started off in a good mood, but work boys were treated like something you stepped on there, so the joy quickly disappeared and I stopped after a short time. Who wanted to be yelled at and talked down to all day? Not a defiant 14-year-old kid at least!

But then my dad had to use a work boy in the company. “J.W.Hansen & Søn” in Store Regnegade 26 in Copenhagen. It was a carpentry and joinery business, with lumber mill and lumber mill, where I went and folded my folds for a year. Got to know a lot of people and made a lot of friends sometimes, even though I was just a kid. The streets and alleys of Copenhagen also came in handy when I also rode as a swayer on the 3-wheeled delivery bike, with goods for the customers. HæHæ, there was also a tow truck, for the heavy orders. Can remember one time I was not aware where the wheels ran down the tram track and I just had to foot away, with line 1 in the heels. He was good enough negative, him the tram driver, but he still sent the ticket salesman out to help me get off the track so he could get past and I could get on my right track on that city trip, ding-ding !! Also often allowed to just slip over to the other side of the street, to look into the then “Jazz House Montmartre”, where many famous names practiced during the day before it went off in the evening. Got a lot of good talk with the musicians who thought it was funny that such a young kid was sitting there with his mouth open and polyps listening to their passion Jazz.

From the autumn of 1965 onwards ……..

But even though I was out of a tree family where opportunities for a future lay just ahead, my interest in mechanics was the strongest. So after a year in the “tree”, I went around Kgs.Lyngby one day and applied for an apprenticeship at the various workshops in the city. And suddenly I ended up in “Lyngby Motor & Mechanical Workshop” on Hovedgaden 80, where I just dumped into teams of beer-drinking mechanics and guests. Among them was the foreman, it sent me over to Carl F. Jensen who was the boss and owner of the company.

He called the foreman, Leif Christensen – “Letter” among the beer friends – who asked when I could start. Not so much nonsense, there was a job as a work boy from Monday morning and if it went well after a few months, it could turn into an apprenticeship in the workshop. Bingo! It was just what I wanted and then the track was chalked up for me for some time to come.

As a journeyman in the workshop, only the foreman was. But we were 5-6 apprentices who helped each other with the lessons. As a young apprentice, it was on oil changes and service all day, as well as cleaning and city trips for food and of course the many beers that were drunk in the workshop by the foreman and friends.

There was also another workshop in the firm, on Buddingevej 82, where the major repairs, such as engine renovation as well as gearboxes and trucks, were referred to. Here Leif Christensen’s father Henry was foreman. With him went the elder apprentice Jens Holm and then we others were up there to learn “real” mechanics. When I became an older apprentice, I went for long periods on Buddingevej and learned many things, just as you got to learn a little lesson at the neighboring workshop, Kofoed’s Autoelektro. It was a really good time.

The salary in itself gave restrictions in the purchases, so I had to say no to the master’s offer to buy an almost ready-to-drive Nimbus for 25 kroner. Can remember the only thing it failed was a hanging valve which had not caused problems for a star mechanic. But it was the economy that said no. Today you can see that it was foolish to say no, but what should you do when the money was small? At the time I had a good idea that I would not borrow money, but later in life I was able to correct that mistake. HaHa.!

It was not the whole big thing you could buy for the apprentice salary. The first year I got Kr. 39.- a week and then it rose to princely Kr. 65.- in the second year. Can not remember what the 3rd and 4th year gave in the bag, but the last 4 months gave the half Svendeløn, as far as I remember. Anyway, it was probably something with Kr. 400.- a week, so it was affordable at the time.

It was also in the mid – sixties that I got my first moped. A brand new black Puch MS50 for the princely sum of Kr. 1295 cash. But that was only the beginning, on a series of very different kinds, that pretty much everyone was run dead by unrestrained tuning, which now belonged, with subsequent fines and shitballs by various officers. In those years I drove a lot with Ole “Lillebror” from Hjortekær and Elmer Petersen from Lundtofteparken, if we were not down at Elmer’s fiancée Sødevivi in ​​Brede. Of course, there were many more friends at the time, but at the time of writing, the name memory is a bit tight and it is a bit difficult to write faces down. Remember that Vivi and Elmer moved to Solrød later.

It also turned into a lot of gravel pit driving in the track trench, along the motorway in Lundtofte. It also developed into motorcycles, where not least the Priest’s son Poul-Erik played a role, with his double-stamped Puch 250cc and his BSA Empire Star who also appeared in the same track, although it might have been a bit clumsy for straight motocross.

In addition to Jens Holm, I can remember Jan “Magnus” Sørensen, Leif “Lifte” Petersen (called “Lifte” because he always talked about a car lift in the workshop), Torben “Daffy”, Hasse, Erik Walker Saxling, Lars Christian Borg who after the training would be Policeman and Ole Olsen who had just been trained and then went to Cyprus as a soldier, as well as a couple of faces who can not really find a name at the time of writing, but maybe they show up later. The seller in the company was Niels Kærsgaard. Here was a great unity and everyone helped each other with everything, so we each got a lot in the backpack for the further life in the industry.

After 4 years and 4 months, it was the apprenticeship test in the workshop. The test was a theoretical one in an hour, together with a foreign Skuemester, who was Jørgen Jensen from Smedeforbundet who also afterwards gave a mechanical task to perform, on a random car that was in the workshop. Everything went perfectly well and Svendebrevet as a trained car mechanic was at home. But now you first had to learn right.

Also made some good friends the times I was at Technical School and here I especially remember Dan Heising and his fiancée Birgit, with whom I had many wonderful hours together, either at my home or in Østerbro in Løgstørgade where Dan lived.

Summer 1968 – My motorcycle life starts for real ..

By this time I had already had a motorcycle for a few years. The first was a Yamaha 250er there, who never got another number plate than the homemade one with a 7 number on it. On it I wandered around the landscape a bit, together with my then super friend Mikkel Bo and his lovely Sussanne. Mikkel and Sussanne had a Triumph, which they unfortunately had an accident on a day we were on our way home from Ålholm Bilmuseum and a quail in a car squeezed them over a field during an overhaul. Mikkel managed to break free, but Sussanne suffered some serious injuries to one leg. Later, the Yamaha was replaced with a brand new Norton Atlas 750cc, which was often driven a little bumpy on the roads at the time. Also came a lot in Copenhagen, with some boys and girls in Vesterbro, where the evenings were spent driving around the streets, where it could now make the most noise. Not something that was furiously popular in there, but shit, we had a lot of fun with various street races and parties where they were now. There were several motorcycle groups at that time in Copenhagen, without each other going to bed. I drove with some boys who stayed at a small cafeteria in the middle of Vesterbrogade, from where we had our “cruises” around the city. Not infrequently we visited the then “The Wild Angels” which for the most part was located in a cafeteria, on Vesterbrogade up by Rådhuspladsen, just as there were many rides to and around a cafeteria on Nærum Hovedgade, until motorcycle riding was closed on the street. There had simply been too many noise complaints from the residents. Not to understand, because it easily took 5-10 minutes between each small race down or up Nærum Hovedgade, so what were they complaining about?

By this time I had already had a motorcycle for a few years. The first was a Yamaha 250er there, who never got another number plate than the homemade one with a 7 number on it. On it I wandered around the landscape a bit, together with my then super friend Mikkel Bo and his lovely Sussanne. Mikkel and Sussanne had a Triumph, which they unfortunately had an accident on a day we were on our way home from Ålholm Bilmuseum and a quail in a car squeezed them over a field during an overhaul. Mikkel managed to break free, but Sussanne suffered some serious injuries to one leg. Later, the Yamaha was replaced with a brand new Norton Atlas 750cc, which was often driven a little bumpy on the roads at the time. Also came a lot in Copenhagen, with some boys and girls in Vesterbro, where the evenings were spent driving around the streets, where it could now make the most noise. Not something that was furiously popular in there, but shit, we had a lot of fun with various street races and parties where they were now. There were several motorcycle groups at that time in Copenhagen, without each other going to bed. I drove with some boys who stayed at a small cafeteria in the middle of Vesterbrogade, from where we had our “cruises” around the city. Not infrequently we visited the then “The Wild Angels” which for the most part was located in a cafeteria, on Vesterbrogade up by The Cityhall, just as there were many rides to and around a cafeteria on Nærum Hovedgade, until motorcycle riding was closed on the street. There had simply been too many noise complaints from the residents. Not to understand, because it easily took 5-10 minutes between each small race down or up Nærum Hovedgade, so what were they complaining about?

Of course, many names pop up, from the time in the late 19s where it all went fast in many ways. It was not least Kenneth Pill, Søren Grasto, Ole Bülow from Holte, Jan “Lauer” and Bente, Dion Bertil Schutze from Vangede, Fru Helt from the “sausage cart” in Vangede, Steinar from Taarbæk, Steen “Stonie” from Fortunbyen, Ole “Litlebrother” from Hjortekær, Elmer and Vivi from Lundtofte as well as many more who each put a curls on everyday life so that time certainly did not stand still for very long at a time.

My first Harley Davidson …..

It was in the autumn of 1969 that I bought my first Harley-Davidson, from a school teacher in Svogerslev near Roskilde. The price was as high as Kr. 3600.- sight and registered in my name. It was a completely renovated really nice 750cc WLC in military colors, however I quickly got “peeled” off and rebuilt to what was called a Chopper at the time, with special exhaustpipes and what was now daring at the time.

At that time I rode a lot with another Harley driver named Peer and was from Asminderød, later Allerød. We had many super good time together and enjoyed life on the roads. I have known the same Peer since then and now he and his wife Sweetbente live in Hundested, where they have calmed down and enjoyed themselves, not least when they take the land on their large Suzuki Cruiser motorcycle. Their super boys are named Sune and Lasse and are always nearby. HæHæ, it was now fun with Peer, because after completing his education as a chef at Rudersdal Kro, almost at the same time as Ole Bülow and Søren Grasto. Peer started working as an autopainter and mechanic in Allerød. But what, it’s also very obvious after getting trained as a chef, right? But must remember to tell that he has not forgotten to cook, because every time there is exciting deliciousness for the palate when Peer is standing by the stove.

My first job as a trained mechanic was at a Morris workshop in Birkerød, where I stayed for a while, after which I was on a guest appearance at a car workshop in Allerød, where my friend Peer also worked. Here I screwed a few cars for a while, until a job appeared in “Danish Cargasservice” in Copenhagen, where I installed gas systems in cars with a petrol engine, which was an alternative to the diesel cars. Something that was popular in American cars because car gas was cheap as diesel. I worked here until I had to show up at Bülow’s Barracks in Fredericia, to perform my military service in the Army Materiel Command.

From November 1970 onwards …… It became 3 months of recruiting school and then 3 months of Field Sergeant school, whether you wanted it or not. Good negative at first because it was forced, but it quickly developed into a really good friendship, as well as good respect both ways with “Scarface”, our Chief Sergeant Tommy Hansen, and our First Lieutenant called “Uncle Anders”, but he was now also only rarely. There was a strong friendship among all at the Sergeant School .

After the field part, we came to Copenhagen at Artillerivejens Barracks, to review the professional part of the Sergeant education. Also a great time here, although it was probably almost comparable to a rest home, upstairs at Bülow’s Barracks. It was then also here on Artillerivej, we got our appointment under somewhat formal conditions, as it now belongs within the fiery Royal Danish Army.

Then there was the choice of place of service as Sergeant. Here pretty much everyone was catered for as far as the new barracks were concerned and I was lucky to get the Farum Barracks. Here I was further lucky when I got Smedeværkstedet in building 19 as “my” place. I had a First Lieutenant – Leif Johansen – as my immediate boss, but it was now rare for him to be there, so I largely ran the workshop myself. But that was not a big deal, as apart from myself, there was only one civilian blacksmith, Egon Gildberg (read: furiously skilled), and 2 privates named Kjeld Hansen and Preben Reib. All talented and pleasant people who clearly contributed to me having a really good time in the Armed Forces.

I had a Colleague Sergeant at the Garrison Workshop, whom my top boss, Captain Runefeldt, often used as a fine example in press leaflets and polished boots when I was called to talk about my attire, or perhaps rather my rather relaxed attitude to the same.

But now there was no uniform requirement in the workshop, so I was allowed to still hide in a light blue civilian worker’s boiler suit and clogs, as long as I wanted to “sign” clearly that I was once a sergeant, which had been complained about not could see I was. OK – I then took a piece of wood and put 3 well-polished brass threads bent at an angle and hung it in one shirt pocket button and then I whizzed down to the office, to show it to the Captain. I guess Runefeldt sat and just looked at me for a minute, after which he shook his head and waved me off. I was probably right there abandoned in the military context of his world.

But then I could live even more in my own world, which was certainly not governed by military correctness and what follows. My life was lost to motorcycles and here especially to Harley-Davidson, who came into my world in 1969 with the WLC I bought from the school teacher in Svogerslev near Roskilde.

Fun bike, I also rode when I started coming to Holte around 1970, more specifically at Vejlesø together with a team of motorcycle roots who stayed there. Then I was still serving as a Sergeant at Farum Barracks, or rather I had just been transferred there

The time at Vejlesø was full of life, shared with the many who came here. Just thinking of some names that appeared: Svendsen, Bigjørgen, Finn, Kjeld “Vild”, Kirsten, Ole Bülow, “Rise”, Bent “Laban”, Volvobent, Britta, Jon, Hans and Nille in the kiosk, Pernille, Erik Saxling (my apprentice body who lured me to Vejlesø), Vibeke, Marianne, Kurt, Kenn, Kim, Britta and hers Kim, as well as 2 lovely girls, Fie and Dorthe, who nicely colored the days by the lake with their always super mood and playful ideas and not least Knut Langmack also called “Walnut”, which I have shared an incredible number of experiences with since in the Harley world, just like with Kim “Måsse” Mågensen and his sweet girlfriend Anette who also drove Harley. And by the way, “Måsses” father was also “Potatoman” in Søllerød, where we could always pick up beer almost all around the clock. I also remember that Sweetkirsten and “Rise” who merged the plants early on and by the way also emigrated to the Faroe Islands for a while, until “De Grønne Lunde” pulled them back to Dannevang. Of course there were many more at Vejlesø, but at the time of writing I can only remember the faces, but the names may appear later.

It was a very special world on the square at Bådudlejningen by Vejlesø in Holte, which Hans and Nille owned. Almost every day the friends met there and had fun together and a lot of “excursions” went from there, if not the weekend stood on beer and fun, which it now often did. Hi, I also remember Pork and Brown Cabbage in large quantities, which Kurt’s Mother Sonja offered from time to time, at her home on Sofievej. Just delicious!

During the same period, I also bought a Triumph Bonneville by Kjeld “Vild”, which I drove for a while until it was stolen in front of Gentofte Bio, one night we were inside watching movies. Then I bought a used Norton Atlas, in Gladsaxe at some dealer I do not remember the name of. But it was quickly resold as I could make good money ot it.

It was also my friend Knut “Walnut” and I who each bought a new Harley-Davidson “Sportster” in the spring of 72, by Robberaxel in Søborg. It was so lucky that Knut had a student loan, which I could probably comfortably borrow a little from, to put on the new Sportster. I picked up mine already on March 17th and went out into the world, proud as a Pope – if otherwise such a size is proud. Knut picked up his a little later and do you just think we were “King´s of the roads and side roads”?

It only lasted until April 17, when I on my way to Farum Barracks in the morning, had my way there blocked by a rump that braked his car up right across my roadway, which caused an unnaturally fast stop in advance of The Harley, leading to a 35 meter flight for me, followed by many bone fractures, as well as a hole in the skull and brain- (yeah, I’m ashamed one) bleeding and holiday stay on intensive in 7 days of unconsciousness as well as the necessary subsequent patches and recreation for just over 3 months . I must have looked exciting, because I was later told that when the whole team of friends from Vejlesø in Holte came to visit, only one (1) was allowed to come in and then afterwards tell the others how it was with me . Have never remembered the accident itself or anything from the unconscious week at Gentofte Hospital, but it may well be the same, as accidents are probably rarely a particularly beautiful sight

Incidentally, it took about the same time to repair the Sportster, as it was very difficult with Harley spare parts at that time. In fact, it cost Kr. 24.50 more to repair it after the accident than I had given for it as new, Kr. 24,732, – which was a nice sum of money for a motorcycle at the time, when you consider that my new Norton Atlas only 3 and a half years before, only cost DKr. 12.123.-

But then it came. And in fact, it was on the one I rolled out of the gate on, the last day when I left the military at the end of July 72. Out into the real world, instead of the protected World in the service of the Defense as a Sergeant and blacksmith at Farum Barracks.

Continues in the folder “ENGLISH 2“

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