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In Which I Bond With Some Very Old Motorcycles
October 13, 2006 by Mike
Vaasa
Route: Oulu - Lumijoki - Kalajoki - Kokkola - Jakobstad - Vaasa
As I sat this morning in the roadside grilli kioski, I pondered the fact that the man who served my hamburgare and cup of kahvi couldn't speak a word of English.
It's lucky my Finnish is coming on so quickly.
--
And then, just as quickly, I rode into Swedish-speaking Finland. This next section of the coast is full of Finns who have, for generations, spoken the language of the country 50 miles across the Gulf of Bothnia. (If I strain my ears, I can just about hear my chums from the Cape Town Opera in action in Umeå -- remember them?)
These Finns speak Swedish. They have Swedish names. They watch Swedish TV. They read Swedish newspapers. They drive Volvos. But they are Finnish.
Swedes settled the Finnish peninsula 800 years ago, Christian crusaders who just happened to appreciate the rich natural resources of forested Finland. They stayed until 1808. Vaasa, which I reached this evening, was founded by Sweden and named after their Royal family - sort of like Windsor in reverse.
I want to get a grip on this relationship. What does it mean to be a Swedish-speaking Finn? Split loyalties? Family in Sweden? Who to cheer for when the teams meet in football? What do the Finnish Finns think? Is there resentment? Bemusement? Frustration? Ignorance? Does anyone raise an eyebrow if a boy from one community falls in love with a girl (or boy) from the other? What about local and national politics? Where do immigrants fit in?
--
Visited a Motormuseum on a whim.
I was very glad I did. It's run by a slightly dishevelled man called Pelle Lillkvist - a name so Swedish t's practically designed by Ikea. He is, of course, Finnish.
Pelle spotted me peering through the window of the locked museum and ambled round to introduce himself and his collection. (He also displays western Finland's largest collection of inboard and outboard boat engines, and demonstrated his technique on a 19th century pump organ by serenading me with the Norwegian national anthem. Don't let this stop you from making a very large detour to meet him - it was a hoot.
Now I have a fearful ignorance of the history of bikes, but I know enough to admire a collection of bikes.. no, these deserve to be called__ 'motorcycles'.__. which includes a 1926 Norton 18, a 1926 175CC Raleigh M17, a 1928 Norton ES2, a 1952 Matchless G80S, a 1953 BSA B-31, a 1954 Matchless G9, a 1956 AJS 7R, a 1960 AJS 14 and a 350cc Royal Enfield from 1952 that looks just like the Enfield Bullet I rode in India a few years ago.
Not to mention prewar Harleys, Czech, German, Swedish and Finnish motorcycles.
Pride of place, though, is a 1920 OEL. Never heard of OEL? Don't worry, you're not supposed to have. OEL was Otto Emanuel Lillkvist, father of Pelle. In 1920, he was 25 years old. He built himself a motorcycle. I can barely fill the petrol tank.
Otto removed the engine from his motorcycle in 1928 because he needed it to power a boat. The bike was put to one side. Father and son rebuilt the OEL in 1987, when Otto was 92 years old.
Like I said, pride of place.
The OEL
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By Nick | October 18, 2006 7:52 AM
So many interesting things you're seeing and doing – and so much more still to come! Thanks for sharing it all with us!