I wrote the craziest Tales from the Curve in the saddle of a KTM LC4 625 SCSM. With this motorcycle, a crazy, sharp Supermoto, nothing remained unlived – and it was the only one on which I had to deal with a flat tyre.
Before you read, please note: this post was translated with the help of Deepl.
If you find any errors – please have fun first and then give me a hint.
In 2002, KTM’s SuperCompetition SuperMoto was one of the sharpest tools on the market: a good 60 bhp, everything stripped down to the bare essentials and almost more capacity than oil in the engine. There was nothing on this bike that wasn’t absolutely necessary – 130 kg of compressed fun. I often lost control of myself when riding this toy.
KTM 625 LC4 SCSM – my partner in madness
The SCSM had a sportier chassis for hard road racing. It roared and chirped its air/fuel mixture through an ingenious flat slide carburettor and had only a funny display that reset to factory settings in the rain. The gearbox had six speeds, but the first was too short. When you opened the throttle, the KTM went upright, not forward. After shortening the gear ratio by a few teeth, pulling away was best in second gear, wheelies in third were the funny consequence.
I used to lose my control
I put over 40,000 km on this bike – always with the throttle wide open, mostly in a low lean position, very often on the rear wheel. I should never have sold it, but in May 2008 I suddenly needed some money for a pram.
Until then, it and my mate Johy on his 660 SMC were my favourite companions in the madness. Almost every weekend we would be out on the road for sport, stopping at red lights on the front and green on the rear, the blue mist of our melting tyres hanging over the braking zones of the South Tyrolean hairpins.
THIS motorbike simply endured everything ..
We wanted to end 2004 with a decent collection of hairpin bends, so we took the two Supermotos over the Stelvio Pass to Bormio and from there through the Valfurva to the Gavia Pass. We did countless drifts and wheelies, made our tyres scream and garnished the flying sparks from the cross boots with scratches from the footrests on the road.
We hurled ourselves around the corners of the Stelvio, battled the damage of the high alpine asphalt and survived the pitfalls of the dark corners of the Gavia Pass. We were the only motorised beings to arrive at the closed Rifugio Bonetta on the Gavia in the late afternoon, and once our motor was switched off, all was quiet on Lago Bianco. Except for …
A soft hiss
from somewhere.
It didn’t bother us for a while – we gazed out over the sugary mountain peaks and I was a little sorry to miss my beloved Bonetta Carbonara. We joked about the bear that had recently been spotted in the area before taking the two bikes off the main stand again – and then we realised the reason for the faint hissing coming from somewhere: my rear tyre was hanging airlessly from the rear rim.
Getting a flat tyre late in the evening on a Saturday in October at 2600 metres above sea level is a rather inconvenient event. I had a mobile phone with me, of course, but who could I call in the dead zone on the Gavia? Should I have despaired? No – because the SC had neither a working speedometer nor a horn (which somehow got lost after a wheelie) and only one rear-view mirror on the handlebars (the second one got lost on a fence post on the way to the Sella Joch), but the cool tool bag at the back I had filled with spare hose, compressed air cartridges and some tools for removing the wheel in a fit of foreboding. So, after an initial shock, I took off my helmet, grinned with relief and unzipped the bag.
A flat tyre
in high alpine terrain …
I reached into two gloriously rotten and mouldy pear carcasses with gusto. One night, when the SCSM was not in the box but under the pear tree outside my flat, some prankster replaced the emergency tool with fallen fruit.
The joker had achieved his goal, his prank had worked, here at the end of the world: I saw the tow truck get stuck in the snow on its way to me. I saw my KTM disappear under five metres of snow, only to reappear in the spring in a lake of meltwater. But in my memory I also saw the quad and motocross shop in Valfurva, and the Italian way of respecting opening hours gave me the idea of asking for help there.
In this saddle I experienced the funniest things
Our two supermotos – radical single-seaters – had no pillion seats, no handholds and no footrests for a passenger. For the 20 kilometres down into the valley I was more hanging than sitting on the saddle of Johy’s bike. Shaken by cramps from the baggy cross-boots, my legs eventually just swung uncontrollably through the air, and in the braking zones of the Gavia switchbacks I came very, very close to my friend …
He wavered between
amusement and pity
The good man in the quad shop had not yet finished his work and listened to our story. Wavering between amusement and pity, he eventually handed us tools, inner tubes and air cartridges. Somehow I managed to fit almost everything into my leather suit – except the tyre irons. And so began the second part of the painful and bumpy journey, this time with heavy tyre irons in hand. I suffered.
Back in the cold of the Gavia, I was really happy about the many tyre changes I had done myself – how lucky I was to know all the right moves on the rear wheel of the KTM in the threatening snowstorm and to be able to repair the flat tyre practically on the spot.
Changing a tyre on my Supermoto was never a problem for me
Rarely before or since have I been so happy to leave an Alpine pass as I was that evening. The good man in the quad shop was happy to be off work, the bear on the Gaviapass found a soft pillow to sleep on in the leftover inner tube, and we could finally make our way home.
The Stilfser Joch was still ahead of us, but we were already riding it in our sleep. Nevertheless, it was getting dark and there was a risk of freezing rain. Two low wattage headlamps lit our way to the pass summit, which was closed due to the risk of avalanches. The alternative, the Umbrail in Switzerland, was also closed because the border guards had been sitting by the hot stove since 8pm.
That night we became high-altitude mechanics as well as smugglers and illegal immigrants – we had no choice but to turn our bikes over and drag them across the rough tarmac under the turnpike.
Pure adventure – and all because I
Once had a flat tyre …
Perfectly matching:
In the snow with my motorcycle
Magical Moments
The journey to the water
Come on!
Dams in the Venosta Valley
Apple blossom in the Vinschgau (with picture gallery)
