Schrödinger’s cat
Leyla Hujer shares thoughts on proactive paradoxes.
I’d heard of the concept some time ago. But when Leyla Hujer brought it up, I had to be re-educated, particularly in the context of motorcycles, of which she has multiple. A true seeker of the abandoned classic, a searcher of barn finds, the ultimate internet warrior, Leyla never ceases to amaze me with her two-wheeled discoveries. From BMW resurrections to a single owner Shovelhead who made her promise to keep it as he’d intended, there’s even a Craig Vetter Hurricane in her stable. Before you swallow that spoonful of porridge, everything runs, and better than it should. Now reach for your coffee: she’s also self-taught. Well resourced through the interwebs, Leyla has developed a unique network of support in a rapidly evaporating field of knowledge. There’s no task she hasn’t been able to complete. At best of times, I can be freestyle with repairs, but sharing a studio with Leyla for a couple of years, I watched how she visioned a Moto Guzzi Le Mans custom project: as she dismantled it, every part was cleaned, inspected, labeled, bagged and stored, both on the shelf and on a spreadsheet. Maybe as a Frenchman (born in London), I see her German heritage: attention to detail, the focus on design engineering, the selection of precision tools and above everything else, her commitment to a process. If the French side of me hopes my bike makes it home, my British side might not make it out of the garage…!
So why the feline reference? you’re asking. Aside from the fact that Leyla has 2 beautiful cats, a recent discussion, following the purchase of an original R80 G/S from 1981 that was not as described took her story down a different path. “I felt ripped off!” she said. “It was essentially a perfumed pig. Almost all statements by the seller were lies, nothing was rebuilt and it leaked like the Exxon Valdez…” Who was it that thought she wouldn’t notice? Some dames don’t care. This dame cares.
“I’ve spent an insane amount of money putting this bike back to its original state”.
An important point to add at this stage is that Leyla’s passion is not just motorcycles. It goes beyond that. When one understands her life journey, for most of us, this is like learning a new recipe, figuring out how to make the perfect souffle. Leyla’s true calling in life is far deeper. Her past may be complex; her future, on the other hand, is bright. The world is a big place and she needs to see it. Better yet, she has to experience it. A motorcycle is her access to that spirit. Like many of us, she has been inspired by stories of overland travels, journeys to the tip of a continent and the desire of keeping your shit running for the duration of your trip, and beyond. Hence the purchase of a G/S. For many, the ultimate traveler’s machine that you can roadside fix unlike the new generations of these Bavarian horses that require a digital diagnosis. In true Leyla style, something else came up: an online search took her to an abandoned ’73 R75/5. Ah! ye ol’ faithful slash 5. Hard to resist when a complete package crosses your path. I fell for one myself a few years back. Leyla went to check it out and $1800 later, it was on her truck. Back home, after a few hours of covering all the basic revival procedures, she fired right up. To shake it down, she took it on long rides and has covered a few thousand trouble-free miles in the past year. It’s the get-around, the daily beater or the scooter as she calls it.
So about this cat and the paradox of all paradoxes. Following the arrival of the G/S, Leyla proceeded to go through it. And through it she did. Right down to every nut and bolt, washer, spoke, cable, electrical fuse, and circlip. Everything was cleaned, measured, adjusted, rebuilt, shimmed, greased, vapor-blasted where necessary and reassembled “as it should have been mother fucker!” The result? A planet discovery machine ready for the moment she quits her toxic cultured tech job and heads south to the tip of the Americas.
“Arguably, the slash 5 could resolve your travel challenge,” I suggest “Once you’ve finished spending the time and pushed the G/S over $20k, you may as well go with the slash 5 as it is and fix if/when something breaks along the way.” I continue to mansplain my opinion. “I could” she replies, “But it’s like a Schrödinger’s cat in the bike world,” she responds clearly. So know the kill is on the table. “There are various ways of doing this adventure” she explains, “I think one is you sit on an old rusty bike and take that to the end of the world and that’s the adventure. “If Schrodinger’s cat is in a box, is the cat alive or is it dead? And the only way of knowing is to look inside. So just like the slash 5, getting a bike that kind of runs and taking that to the end of the world is a different adventure than taking a G/S that I completely rebuilt to the end of the world. The difference is that with this slash 5, you don’t know what’s going to happen. What you do know is it is going to break down. The focus on the trip with the G/S is on the riding and the places I go, the bike is the vehicle and (it) should work. I want to “ride” the bike. I don’t want to carry the bike down there.” And there you have it: proactive thinking in a paradox of possibilities.
“On the G/S, there’s more terrain to be covered, both on and off-road. I need a bike that can handle abuse and bad roads as well as a period-correct bike. This bike is a little out of my scope as it’s from the early 80s. All my other bikes are from the 70s. You could argue that technology is from the 70s, BMW hasn’t changed a lot before this bike.”
When I ask her why go South, she’s quick to respond: “Because going North is cold and I hate being cold! I feel this weird connection to South America which I can’t explain. There’s a draw to Columbia that was inspired by a friend who recently took me on a five-day motorcycle trip there. I discovered a culture that is very far removed from the culture I grew up in. There are vast lands that I haven’t explored and I want to explore them.”
In my head, this trip is still a sabbatical. Maybe over 3 months, less than 6. I want to reserve some time to take it all in. What I don’t know is that when I get to Ushuaia, I might decide to ship the bike to Cape Town and carry on from there. When I was 18, my first solo trip was to Africa and it definitely left its mark on me. I can’t wait to go back. I won't decide until I get there.”
“I’m at the point in my life where I’m about to start my own company. So I do need to work. One outcome is the company fails and I’m free to go. The other, more desired outcome is the company succeeds, we sell it and I’m free to go.” Leyla Hujer
In parallel to the preparation of her motorcycles, Leyla has been through some major life-changing experiences in recent years. Her journey has taken her through many crossroads. But her consistent spiritual energy has been largely supported by motorcycles, which at times of adversity, has channeled her decision-making process, and kept a level of sanity in what many would consider an insane pursuit. I’ve met many motorcyclists over the years. It never ceases to amaze me how people from all walks of life can make a such a strong connection through a motorized two-wheeled contraption and end up sharing deep and personal journeys, whilst many onlookers might simply dismiss us as highway terrorists. The road is full of surprises, good and bad. Just when I thought I had this motorcycle conversation down in my head, Leyla showed up. Thank you for catsitting.
