Tokyo's Expressway System

 May 25, 2023

It takes us bloody six hours to reach Osca, the mini-monkey bike guy in Tokyo, in part because we stop at a car dealership specializing in pricey and/or odd vehicles. There's three Rolls Royces, two of which are rusted hulks, two Mitsomatu thingies and a slew of other exotic sports cars and motorcycles, the latter ranging from a Bimota to a BMW K100 cafe racer. Cool place; they get to see the Nimbus' valves at work, we get to stretch our legs and ogle their tinware.

It's urban traffic & roads most of the way, one stretch reminicent of the car driving scene in the old Soviet sci fi film 'Solaris' - the real version, not the one with Clooney. Changing lanes on the two-laner immediately turns the one I've chosen into the slower one, a hitherto unknown talent of mine, that somehow should be made marketable.

Osca & Axel hit off right away over 3D printers and whatever else tech guys hit off over. The small bikes with their 25 cc chainsaw engines are admired, as is my bike when his friends show up. Turns out Osca once worked for Honda, developing stuff, and that he finally has come to terms with the Horex projects, that took too much of his time and money. Axel suggest he use his rights to the Horex name and slaps it onto some of the Kozaru bikes ('child monkey'), thus reviving the brand after all. But Osca has other plans.

Axel then races against the clock to be back at the rental place in time, with - as it turns out - an hour and three minutes to spare. They want to know all about the trip and are justifiably impressed by the distance and the places we went. Thus we arrive at the hotel in Nishi-Kawaguchi almost at the same time, me almost breathless after having navigated around Tokyo's elevated expressway in a recap of the stargate scene in '2001': Curved framed in roads constantly changing direction and elevation, I'm riding i twilight, tunnels like something out of a post-apocalyptic sci fi flick, everybody except me going well over the 60 kph speed limit. I enjoy it to the max, despite paying through my nose for it.

I had my doubts about the cheap hotel we finally booked, it being placed right next to the train tracks. Hope the bullet trains don't come by too early, 'cause they're noisy. Doesn't look promising on neither outside nor inside, but the incredibly cheerful Chinese hotel portier makes up for it by letting me park my motorcycle right outside, and bringing me another two mattresses after I discover the place does old school Japanese interiors, stylish but hardly physically comfortable. I've said it before: If the Japanese could invent something harder sleep on than a tamami mat, they'd do it.

The evening is rounded off by visiting Andreas who lives 20 minutes away for a couple of late hours, just shooting the breeze and drinking beer.

Mitsuoka fun car, lest hand side steering wheel.

Messerschmitt Tiger replica from the same company.

Small old Subaru kei car near the exit ramp.

Toll booth collectoress.