I was actually going to comment something similar, I seem to recall them being maintenance nightmares. If she cares to race the fellow a few kilometers, he'll likely break down.
Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread II
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
I was actually going to comment something similar, I seem to recall them being maintenance nightmares. If she cares to race the fellow a few kilometers, he'll likely break down.
Just not British motorbikes, their cars were the same way. I had an MGB that had an assigned carlift at my local foreign car repair shop. I think I funded his early retirement with that car. Same went for anyone I knew who had a Jaguar.
When you make the Porsche Tiger look reliable, you have fucked up as a motorcycle making nation.
Well, someone had to get the short straw when dividing up the German engineers after the war.
Goering Furniture Removers will do that.
Also British industry really didn't recover from the Wall Street Crash.
Not anymore. The modern ones are pretty reliable. I had a Thruxton 900 for a couple of years (2014 to 2016), and other than keeping the chain lubed, it was pretty much a trouble free motorcycle.
Many British industries were in trouble and antiquated before that. The Crash didn't help.
ferdi254
Banned
I seem to remember that the company Harris‘ furniture removers ltd had a sort of higher market share especially when combined with the Roosevelt furniture express removals.
The problem I view as more important was an inadequate education system and that will be the same ITTL
Part 105, Chapter 1696
Chapter One Thousand Six Hundred Ninety-Six
4th October 1964
Münsingen Proving Grounds, Württemberg
The 3rd of October involved a Company sized detachment of the Cadre being loaded onto lorries and driven an hour or so north-east. For Manfred an hour spent not having to worry about the Instructors or Christian had been an unbelievable luxury. Then they had arrived at Münsingen where the detachment had been further split into Platoon sized elements. The group that Manfred was in had been marched to a wooded ridge that overlooked a small valley. The rules were simple, they were not supposed to advertise their presence or leave the ridge without given express permission or being ordered to. Then finally they were told that they would need to subsist on what they had been issued before they had left Heuberg, meaning survival rations. The weather was good, however clear nights in the highlands brought their own problems.
The first night had been spent shivering in the blankets in the shelters that they had packed in on a thin foam pad that didn’t provide much comfort. Once again Manfred had been stuck with Christian, and he had discovered that keeping him out of trouble was proving to be a full-time job. The next morning, the Instructors had made them break camp and march to a different ridge.
After weeks of frenetic activity, this version of survival training after a long march over rough terrain would almost be a welcome change of pace if it hadn’t been so cold. It wasn’t really survival training from Manfred’s perspective. It was more about learning to live outside the range of the field kitchens if necessary. As Manfred had learned, don’t talk about what you know, where you learned it or who you learned it from because no one cared. Instead, he was to just do it, and if he really wanted to keep the Instructors off his back Manfred would show others as well.
Unfortunately, there was simply no way to do erbswurst and hard biscuits that were possibly older than they were correctly. If you didn’t break a tooth, then you must be doing something right. There was also instant coffee, citrus drink mix, somewhat dubious bouillon cubes or dehydrated cheese that all reacted weirdly with the chlorine tablets that went into the drinking water. Packets of salt and sugar that were always in short supply. A tin containing rye bread that was about as palatable as the hard biscuits and finally the small jar of unidentifiable jam. For breakfast there was oatmeal as well, but with sugar and salt always in short supply…
Manfred mused about the food situation as he ground the capsule of erbswurst as finely as possible with the hilt of his bayonet. In theory, the capsules that came in yellow or green varieties from the sealed package, would dissolve in boiling water, the fuel pellets for the small folding stoves they had been issued were only good for about twelve minutes, barely enough to get the water boiling.
There was considerable irony in Manfred eating this sort of “food” while sitting in a forest. He had seen evidence of small game around, but to eat it he would have to catch it and cook it. It was simply not possible with the rules he was trying to follow. The Instructors had said that if they caught a whiff of woodsmoke, the dumbass who lit it would be spending the rest of basic training on KP. And while the G44 could be used as a hunting rifle, even if the Instructors didn’t hear the report, it was well known that God have mercy on the man who couldn’t account for all the cartridges he had been issued when they returned to base.
Althüttendorf, Brandenburg
“Were you trying to get yourself killed back there?” Zella said as she shut down the engine on the R27, “Because bombing through traffic like that is a good way to do that.”
Louis Junior just looked at her with a smile, which was aggravating. Mostly because it was instantly obvious that among all the royal siblings, he and Kiki favored their father the most. It was the same sort of smile that Kiki tended to have when she thought she had someone’s number.
“I read your book Marcella” Louis said, “It was a part of what inspired me to buy this.”
“Nice to know that someone did” Zella replied. Though the book she had written about the journey she had taken had not been remaindered, the publisher had declined a follow up. It was then that a sedan full of BII Agents came tearing into the carpark, Palace Security if Zella had to guess. It seemed like the all the von Preussen family made great sport of ditching their security details. Louis had left them behind when he had driven between the cars, it was the sort of thing that Kiki used to do before that sort of arrogance had nearly gotten her killed.
“My minders are here” Louis said taking a drink of the bottle of pop, “You make documentaries, right?”
The BII Agents were giving Louis a death stare from the sedan but hadn’t gotten out.
“Right now, I spend my days editing video that other people shoot” Zella replied, “The last few days I have been trying to cut forty odd hours of footage about the paint industry into something coherent.”
“You mean to say that you are having to watch paint dry?” Louis asked, like everyone else who Zella had told, he found that funny.
“There’s a human element as well” Zella said lamely.
“If you ever decide you want to do something that is far more interesting, I’m supposed to be taking command of a gunboat out of Kiel next week” Louis said, “It’s the least I can do for one of my former dance partners.”
When they had been children Louis Junior had been one of those frequently been dragooned into being the dance partner of his older sister’s circle of friends when they had become obsessed ballroom dancing after Anya had gotten them into it. Years later, it remained a pleasant memory for everyone involved. Knowing how to dance like that had also served Louis extremely well socially ever since then.
“I would have to speak with my employers” Zella replied.
Louis just shrugged as he finished his pop and pitched the bottle into a rubbish. A minute later he started his motorcycle and pulled out of the carpark with the sedan following him. Zella was extremely glad that she didn’t have that kind of life.
4th October 1964
Münsingen Proving Grounds, Württemberg
The 3rd of October involved a Company sized detachment of the Cadre being loaded onto lorries and driven an hour or so north-east. For Manfred an hour spent not having to worry about the Instructors or Christian had been an unbelievable luxury. Then they had arrived at Münsingen where the detachment had been further split into Platoon sized elements. The group that Manfred was in had been marched to a wooded ridge that overlooked a small valley. The rules were simple, they were not supposed to advertise their presence or leave the ridge without given express permission or being ordered to. Then finally they were told that they would need to subsist on what they had been issued before they had left Heuberg, meaning survival rations. The weather was good, however clear nights in the highlands brought their own problems.
The first night had been spent shivering in the blankets in the shelters that they had packed in on a thin foam pad that didn’t provide much comfort. Once again Manfred had been stuck with Christian, and he had discovered that keeping him out of trouble was proving to be a full-time job. The next morning, the Instructors had made them break camp and march to a different ridge.
After weeks of frenetic activity, this version of survival training after a long march over rough terrain would almost be a welcome change of pace if it hadn’t been so cold. It wasn’t really survival training from Manfred’s perspective. It was more about learning to live outside the range of the field kitchens if necessary. As Manfred had learned, don’t talk about what you know, where you learned it or who you learned it from because no one cared. Instead, he was to just do it, and if he really wanted to keep the Instructors off his back Manfred would show others as well.
Unfortunately, there was simply no way to do erbswurst and hard biscuits that were possibly older than they were correctly. If you didn’t break a tooth, then you must be doing something right. There was also instant coffee, citrus drink mix, somewhat dubious bouillon cubes or dehydrated cheese that all reacted weirdly with the chlorine tablets that went into the drinking water. Packets of salt and sugar that were always in short supply. A tin containing rye bread that was about as palatable as the hard biscuits and finally the small jar of unidentifiable jam. For breakfast there was oatmeal as well, but with sugar and salt always in short supply…
Manfred mused about the food situation as he ground the capsule of erbswurst as finely as possible with the hilt of his bayonet. In theory, the capsules that came in yellow or green varieties from the sealed package, would dissolve in boiling water, the fuel pellets for the small folding stoves they had been issued were only good for about twelve minutes, barely enough to get the water boiling.
There was considerable irony in Manfred eating this sort of “food” while sitting in a forest. He had seen evidence of small game around, but to eat it he would have to catch it and cook it. It was simply not possible with the rules he was trying to follow. The Instructors had said that if they caught a whiff of woodsmoke, the dumbass who lit it would be spending the rest of basic training on KP. And while the G44 could be used as a hunting rifle, even if the Instructors didn’t hear the report, it was well known that God have mercy on the man who couldn’t account for all the cartridges he had been issued when they returned to base.
Althüttendorf, Brandenburg
“Were you trying to get yourself killed back there?” Zella said as she shut down the engine on the R27, “Because bombing through traffic like that is a good way to do that.”
Louis Junior just looked at her with a smile, which was aggravating. Mostly because it was instantly obvious that among all the royal siblings, he and Kiki favored their father the most. It was the same sort of smile that Kiki tended to have when she thought she had someone’s number.
“I read your book Marcella” Louis said, “It was a part of what inspired me to buy this.”
“Nice to know that someone did” Zella replied. Though the book she had written about the journey she had taken had not been remaindered, the publisher had declined a follow up. It was then that a sedan full of BII Agents came tearing into the carpark, Palace Security if Zella had to guess. It seemed like the all the von Preussen family made great sport of ditching their security details. Louis had left them behind when he had driven between the cars, it was the sort of thing that Kiki used to do before that sort of arrogance had nearly gotten her killed.
“My minders are here” Louis said taking a drink of the bottle of pop, “You make documentaries, right?”
The BII Agents were giving Louis a death stare from the sedan but hadn’t gotten out.
“Right now, I spend my days editing video that other people shoot” Zella replied, “The last few days I have been trying to cut forty odd hours of footage about the paint industry into something coherent.”
“You mean to say that you are having to watch paint dry?” Louis asked, like everyone else who Zella had told, he found that funny.
“There’s a human element as well” Zella said lamely.
“If you ever decide you want to do something that is far more interesting, I’m supposed to be taking command of a gunboat out of Kiel next week” Louis said, “It’s the least I can do for one of my former dance partners.”
When they had been children Louis Junior had been one of those frequently been dragooned into being the dance partner of his older sister’s circle of friends when they had become obsessed ballroom dancing after Anya had gotten them into it. Years later, it remained a pleasant memory for everyone involved. Knowing how to dance like that had also served Louis extremely well socially ever since then.
“I would have to speak with my employers” Zella replied.
Louis just shrugged as he finished his pop and pitched the bottle into a rubbish. A minute later he started his motorcycle and pulled out of the carpark with the sedan following him. Zella was extremely glad that she didn’t have that kind of life.
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You're supposed to soak the biscuits in the soup, Manny. 🤦♂️
Anyone who had ever encountered those things knows that they are completely petrified, it would take a lot of soaking.
Which is why I'd figure you put them in with the water at the start of the boil.
And you would crush the biscuit so it will soak faster. However if you crush biscuit, soak them into water and add coffee whitener, you get a passable ersatz porridge.
Especially with the biscuits issued by the Bundeswehr as they are almost sweet.
Sadly, erbswurst went out of production. It tasted quite nicely and was an easy carryable peasoup.
The Butler Education Act of 1944 OTL had taken steps to address this problem by setting up Technical Schools, which unfortunately were not used as a template when the Labour government of Harold Wilson introduced comprehensive education. If something akin to Butler had been introduced TTL butterflies may have changed this. Education ministers of the 1950s-1970s may not have included a Wykehamist academic snob (Crossman) if and when they introduced comprehensive education and may have given vocational education more priority. A less cash strapped UK might have also used the more expensive Technical School model if it did introduce comprehensive education, rather than the glorified secondary modern with grammar and scientific streams that was essentially followed OTL.