Arenys de Munt

4 & 5 April 1981

Death brushes past me once again

The time came for the parade in the city, which was to end with a traditional trophy presentation. This ceremony was to take place outdoors on the beach of Arenys de Mar.

The procession of participants and their machines was made up of approximately 75% combos and 25% solo machines. This large horde of rallyists was supervised by the motorized brigade of the Catalan Civil Guard riding Sanglas 400 models, their usual steed of the time.

The Sanglas brand, founded in Barcelona in 1942, ceased production in 1981.
The Sanglas 400 model seen here, whose commercial debut dates back to 1964,
was widely used by the Civil Guard, the Armed Police and the Municipal Police

Among the motorcyclists of the Guardia Civil on mission that morning at this rally, some admired with great interest the biggest motorcycles of the participants. ‘Bocu’ Bouculat seized the opportunity to be able to chat with them.

He learned from these motorized gendarmes that their single-cylinder Sanglas 400 could reach a maximum speed of 135 km/h. They specified with a touch of humour that this ultimate speed could only be reached if the wind blew at their backs and that it was impossible for them to catch up with a motorist driving a Ford Fiesta, at the time the slowest cars in their country.

No need to tell you what their facial expressions were when ‘Bocu’ Bouculat told them his own top speed on the handlebars of his Honda Gold Wing of the moment, with in addition the weight of the sidecar, its two passengers, and that of various luggage.

The era of the 80s when he rode a Honda Gold Wing is over. The page has definitely been turned. Since then, ‘Bocu’ now rides real men’s motorcycles; as evidenced by this photo where he poses on an ancestral Velocette from his large collection on which he came to the Alambic rally in 2014

Miraculously I escape a horrific collision

Finally the procession of machines began to move, heading for the parade, with a roaring din of running engines and the shrill whistles of the Guardia Civil supervising the smooth running of operations.

We let this horde get ahead of us, having to first fold our tents and pack our bags so that we could leave as soon as the prize-giving ceremony was over.

I was not the freshest that morning, my brain and body still fogged up by the effects of the night's abuse and the fact of not having had enough hours of restorative sleep.

As I described earlier, the long road leading to the rally camp was narrow, rutted and sandy in places. Once again in the saddle and on this road on the way to the beach of Arenys de Mar where the awards ceremony was taking place, I was not riding excessively fast but nevertheless more at the pace of a hare than a tortoise. Let's just say I was going at a good speed.

Coming out of a bend where I had absolutely no visibility of vehicles coming towards, suddenly, my eyes discovered with horror an imposing military machine heading straight for me and my MZ combo.

Imagine the horror of crashing head-on into a 1235kg (2700lb) German Army Kleines Kettenkraftrad
(aka Kettenkrad) that could carry a load of 325kg (700lb) and tow trailers weighing up to 450kg (1000lb)

Its driver, presumably a local collector of vintage motorcycles, was apparently distracted to occupy a good part of the middle of the road.

In a few milliseconds, my brain had a vital decision to make; and this despite its handicap of still being very foggy from the abuse of alcohol and magic cigarettes the day before.

My first option to consider was to attempt a crash brake to avoid hitting the Kettenkrad head-on; but given the short distance between us, and knowing how virtually non-existent the engine brake of my MZ 250 combo was, and that its drum brakes on the front and rear wheels were barely more effective, I immediately ruled this out.

In service from 1939 to 1945, the Kettenkrad was a single front-wheeled half-track motorcycle manufactured by NSU and powered by a water-cooled Opel inline-four engine.
It could reach a top speed of 70 km/h (44 mph).

Despite the narrowness of the road, I opted for the only other possible option: not to slow down and try to pass while squeezing as much as I could to my right at the edge of the road. Miraculously, it worked. At the final moment when our respective vehicles brushed past each other without touching, if we had been able to take the measurements separating them, I remain convinced that between the two, there would have been only a tiny space of one or two centimeters.

There are moments like this in life when, without being able to understand the why and how, unexpected miracles save you from an extreme situation where you had very little chance of getting out of it.

Badge and trophies

After joining the crowd of rallyists on the beach of Arenys de Mar, we attended the raffle without winning a prize. The trophy ceremony began under a burning Catalan sun.

Like the prize-giving in Italy, this one also lasted so long that it seemed interminable. Especially since each registered combo owner received as a souvenir, from the hands of the organizing club, a handcrafted trophy (a wooden base with a metal combo and a plaque indicating the name and year of the event).

As for the rally's commemorative badge, it is clear that it must have been ordered and paid for by one of the event's sponsors, in this case a local BMW dealer.

(left): The handcrafted trophy given to each combo owner who arrived on his sidecar motorcycle;
(right): the rally's commemorative badge, apparently paid for by a local BMW dealer

Since we had registered collectively under the name Gueux d'Route, we were awarded a gigantic trophy. I have no memory of what happened to it, although it seems to me that, like many others won here and there, we recycled them by distributing them in turn to the most deserving participants in our Gueux d'Route events of that decade of the '80s.

We had a few 'pesetas' left in our pockets. So we went to spend them by treating ourselves to a last lunch together in a seafood restaurant at the port before separating and taking the road back to our respective homes.

Not a bad idea to get rid of our last Spanish banknotes by enjoying some local cuisine before we part ways

It all ends with a pastis

Before crossing the Spanish border again and returning to France, the smartest and most resourceful of our group did not fail to buy anethole to make their own cheap pastis.

Anethole is the essential oil of anise which is the basis of pastis. All you have to do is add 90° alcohol, mugwort, fennel and liquorice.

Let it all macerate for fifteen days and the aperitif is ready.

All that remains is for me to toast to your good health....

Jean-Francois Helias