13-10-2006

Irbit

Around 9am Seryosha shows up and escorts me to the factory. The workers have already started to have a look at my motorcycle. We have coffee and talk until the TV-crew shows up for my interview. Seryosha is impressed by my knowledge of the Russian language and tells the interviewing lady that we do not need an interpreter. I was not prepared for this, but what to do. I do not know how, but I managed to pull off my first interview in Russian. It must probably be something like the famous Jean-Marie Pfaff interview by the German TV. Anyway, I know by now how these interviews work: they will just cut and paste and make up some stuff to fill in the blanks to make something interesting for people to watch between commercials. My interview in Tomsk mentions that I have a wife and some motorcycle magazine has an article that says I have a girl in Perm. Nadya is an intelligent girl and knows better.

As soon as the interview is over I notice the workers looking at me and shaking their heads … the end of the road, they say. They motion me to take a look at my left cylinder. They have taken off the cylinder housing to expose the piston and crank gear. There appears to be some play in the bearing connecting the piston arm to the crankshaft. Not good indeed. Seryosha tells the men to take the engine into the factory to the engine department where they can take it apart and replace what is necessary. I have no time as the newspaper guy has shown up. Seryosha ushers me and the interviewer into his office and we do the interview. Once that is over we go back downstairs to take some pictures. It is not easy to pose on a motorcycle with a loose seat, loose gas tank and the engine missing, but the guy manages to snap some shots from and angle that will disguise this minor problem. In any case he will be able to fill the paper some more. Seryosha and I have a quick coffee and go into the factory to check how my engine is doing. About 5 workers are occupied with my engine. Among them a guy named Andrey who, according to the computer they have there, was the one that assembled my engine. It is great to see these men in action. It doesn’t take long for them to take the engine apart. In the process of reassembling they put in: a new crankshaft and piston arms; new pistons and piston rings; new seals and rubbers all over; new clutch; new teeth ring on the flywheel for the starter; and a new filter and new oil. Seryosha is there to keep everybody working as we are pressed for time. I keep saying that I will stay in Irbit as long as necessary, but Seryosha says everything will be okay by the end of the day. On the other hand, it is Friday today and I doubt the workers will come in over the weekend to help out a crazy Belgian. Anyway it is around 5pm when they can put the engine into the test station. They fire it up and the operator checks everything including power output. All is good except for the noise of the alternator. To make a long story short they hook up the original alternator to the new type of adapter to make the noise go away. They load up the engine and take it back to the workshop. There they have already installed: new springs on all shocks; a new sidecar drive shaft; new jerry can holder; new air filter box; new hoses for fuel, air and vacuum; new spare wheel and tire; new instrument cluster for “high-low” beam; and a new clutch control lever. They also checked and fixed: the sidecar bearing problem; the sidecar drive engagement lever; and increased the angle of my motorcycle in relation to the sidecar as my right cylinder was hitting the sidecar frame.

The bill for all of this was handed to Seryosha who neatly folded it a couple of times and put it in his pocket. I was not to worry about it and it was never mentioned again. I guess he will arrange it with the general director.

It was already getting late in the day. Before leaving the factory I of course had to meet the general director. So Seryosha escorted me to his office. The factory director and French designer were also there. I shook hands with all of them and thanked the general director and factory director for their help and hospitality. We talked a bit about my trip and the motorcycle and they were proud, but still a bit amazed. The general director gave me another pin to add to my collection. It was an honour for me to be in Irbit and get this marvellous reception. A big thank you to all involved.

The only thing I will have to live with for the rest of my life is the fact that I did not have my camera with me. Shame on me. I regret this very much as it was interesting to see the people in action. One also does not frequently have the opportunity to take a picture of your disassembled engine spread out across a table in the Irbit Motorcycle Plant. I forgot my camera in Vasili’s home and when I realized it was not with me Vasili had already left for work. In any case, I have the memories.

Once the work on my Ural was done, Seryosha stuffed one unused spring in my sidecar, a new oil filter and the old rubber hoses from my air filter box. I was good to go.

I started up my motorcycle and Seryosha got in his car to take me to a different location to store the bike overnight. In a hangar in the old part of the factory, my Ural was safely left for the night next to the Ural racing team vans.

As I was getting ready to get into Seryosha’s older Audi, we had a funny situation. Seryosha was on the phone and I motioned him to open the rear door. The doors of the Audi have to be opened from the inside, the outside door handles don’t work anymore. Well, they work, but need a strong Russian hand to open. For us westerners, they are broken. Anyway, the rear door opens and I put my backpack in the back. I close the door and try to open the front door. Of course it is stuck. Seryosha was still busy on the phone and quit paying attention to me a long time ago. He figured I was sitting in the back and took off while I was trying to open the front passenger door. It was already dark so he did not see me waving my arms like a mad man. I was not really panicking, but I was a bit worried to be left alone in this dark and dismal area that will remind many a person of the movie ‘Stalingrad’. About 300 meters further he realised I was not in the car and was flabbergasted. But as soon as he saw me approaching and I explained the situation we both had to laugh. He apologized, but there was no harm done, it was a very funny situation.

Seryosha took me to Vasili’s, but invited me to go with him and spend the night at his place. This is not the first time that I am caught in the middle of two people fighting over where I should stay. Well, it is not really a fight, but it is an uncomfortable situation for me. I like Vasili’s place, but would also like to stay at Seryosha’s because of all he has done for me. But it would not be polite to leave Vasili. In the end I manage to explain and all is good: I stay with Vasili. Seryosha will meet me in the morning to take me to the bike.

Vasili and his family are heading to a birthday party and of course I have to come along. When we get there, the party is already well underway and vodka and beer is generously poured. They also introduce me to a new beverage: samagon. This is a home made alcoholic beverage that resembles vodka. The only problem is that it can be really strong, so just to check they try to set it on fire. Luckily for me it does not burn, so it is under 50% alcohol content. They think it is safe to drink and since I am a guest, I cannot refuse. We have fun and laughs and I manage to leave without actually being too drunk. It was fun. The birthday boy gives me a flask filled with samagon to take along with me. I can take a sip whenever I feel cold, they tell me. Thank you for the gift.

I spend the night at Vasili’s one last time.