Ural is a Russian motorcycle with a sidecar is a real star. It is impossible to ride without attracting attention. Whether it’s a biker in the Parking lot, or a woman who wants to sit in the stroller, or the cute elderly couple that offers you free coffee, thinking that you are traveling around the world, or even the Comptroller of the toll road, which will not miss you, not asking a bunch of questions — all will pay attention to you. Children are watching, staring, people take pictures on phones, drivers overtake, to consider the bike better, and then Express their admiration raised up the thumb. People communicate with the bike. It’s like the touch of history as if they were also involved in the past.
I’m riding the “iron horse” model 2016. But the original “Ural” during the Second world war taken by the Russians from the Germans. After the Nazis failed blitzkrieg in Poland, the Soviet Union realized that they needed mobile technology for intelligence and defense purposes. Therefore, Soviet designers have used several secretly purchased by the German BMW motorcycles R71s release of the 1930-ies and created his own version — “Ural”. War is certainly hell, but it really produces some cool toys.
The headquarters of the “Ural” (in the US) located in the business Park, 14 miles from Seattle. In a place like this expect to see a small company supplying computer chips, well, certainly not the firm, where for 13 to 16 thousand dollars, you can buy brutal Russian motorcycle. In this cozy store — every thing in its place. From 15 to 20 motorcycles with a sidecar, cool colors — “asphalt” and “urban camouflage” — waiting for its new owners. Some stories painted in vintage red, the other in gloss black powder coated.
Every bike has its original equipment: racks, spare wheels, gun rack, first aid kit, headlights, cans, boxes of ammunition, etc., etc. All you need to “travel to war.”
Each motorcycle is equipped with a 749 CC four-speed engine with air cooling. The vast majority of bikes have two shaft drive, single — rear wheel, the other on the carriage drive, which allows these minetonka to overcome trenches, around mines, and even to break through the barbed wire. The only thing that looks a little more modern — Brembo brakes on all three wheels.
The representative of “Ural” David George (David George) instructed me about the specifics of riding a motorcycle rickshaw: you should always follow the stroller. The important thing is that you really should be doing is “fly the chair”. The trick when you lift a pram wheel off the ground in turns. It is very difficult and quite dangerous maneuver, especially if you don’t know what you are doing. (And I don’t know what you’re doing.) And I ask David to teach me. My wheel barely off the ground, but it’s enough to bring down the Nazi helmet with the head of David before he shoots a rifle. Incredibly cool.
I’ve never been to Seattle, so have no idea what to expect from our 100-mile test drive. All I know about this place — it is cold and humid, and this place is great. We start at the 202 highway. It takes me about 15 minutes to fully read all these “turning left”, “tilt left”, “simultaneous inhibition of all the brakes.” The hell with him! You have to go with the flow! You can do it!
When passing us in the opposite direction carried by trucks and other cars, I’m glad Ural is not capable of speeds over 110 km/h But the bike is gently and smoothly, even in places like Denny Creek Campground where we fly through the vast pits, streams and through the woods, where, probably, lives Sasquatch (the name of the alleged mammal-like APE living in the forests of North Pacific region of North America — approx. ed.). I’m going on this bike with wet feet and frozen hands, and outside is getting colder. But I’m so good that I just do not notice. Until it starts to snow.
To ride a motorcycle in the snow is how to set themselves on fire in an attempt to keep warm. It just doesn’t work! The snow is deep and veiled all the way. But the “Ural” designed just for such things. I press the lever and turn on all-wheel drive, and David tells me: “keep it gas!”. Uphill the bike in such conditions climbed with the ease of a snowmobile.
We go to the Park Summit Inn, where I was already waiting for a juicy cheeseburger and hot coffee. Snow is falling while I’m looking at the “Ural” through the window. I believe I could take one of these bikes with a sidecar, where’d the gun, and went with a group of hardened rebels to fight the Nazis. Or, at least, would go on the highway, where curious drivers paralyzed traffic because of my appearance.
