Every spring the same crap: In all publications with even peripheral motorcycle reference appears the obsessive season start article. "Get in shape for spring!", it says, or: "Fit on the bike!" or a bit more gloomy as well: "Do not underestimate the danger!", because you have become not only fat but also demented over the winter. Since these articles are a line drudgery, which arises from the embarrassment that one really nothing better thought of, and since I am German up to the marrow, I suggest to forbid this kind of articles in the future legally and the motorcycle Einmott articles in the autumn immediately with it. We have enough of them to last us the next ten thousand ice ages.
Of course, as an editor, I also feel compassion when I read the seasonal starter. Because this editorial conference always follows the same pattern: "Spring is coming, the season is starting, we have an excuse to waste space with a non-topic! Who will do it?" And then embarrassed silence in the round. Everyone tries to stay conspicuous, inconspicuous. Shoes shuffle across the linoleum. The editor-in-chief runs out of patience, remembers that he is authorized to give orders and that his oldest companion has a serious alcohol problem (an industry disease), but that’s precisely why he can’t say no, because it’s not just him who suffers from drunkenness, but also his work, and that could finally be brought to the table in the event of a refusal. The Suffti says yes, so that the sick status quo is maintained. All others breathe a sigh of relief. Now to the real ies!
What does the poor alcoholic do now?? Let’s give him a name, that might make us feel better with him and is shorter to type. He heibt "Horst". This is not meant to damonize Germany’s hoards, but the name merely sorts him into what is probably the industry’s most perilous age group. So, after everyone has left, Horst stays at the coffee machine for a moment and stares out at the grey Strabe. Back then, when he tapped his fingertips bloody on the mechanical one for this publication, he never dreamed that he would go down the drain like this now, together with the whole industry. But it doesn’t help. He takes another deep breath, then does his duty, old soldier’s soul that he is.