The Day Everything Changed

It was an ordinary afternoon until Christian asked a question that stopped me in my tracks. I had just gotten back to the office from running errands when he looked at me with a seriousness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. “What would you do if something happened to me?” he asked quietly. “How would the magazine go on?”

I stood there, stunned. He was young, strong, healthyand always cautious, especially on the bike. The question felt so out of place, so unlike him. I was upset he’d even suggest something like that. Why now? What made him ask? I brushed it off, told him not to be dramatic, and we moved on. We never spoke of it again.

At the time, I thought it was just a strange moment, maybe a fleeting worry. But looking back, I realize now that it was the quiet start of a chapter I never imagined I’d have to write.

In the midst of all our planning and growth, our focus remained on the heart of the magazine: the journey. RoadRUNNER was never about the models or the brands. It was always about the ride on two or three wheels and the spirit of adventure. It was about discovering new places, embracing exploration, and, above all, experiencing the freedom of the open road. This passion led us to explore new ideas—like when we were introduced to a sidecar company at a trade show. Christian was immediately fascinated. He wanted to feature it in the magazine and, before long, one of their models ended up in our garage.

He started riding it and quickly realized it handled nothing like a motorcycle. It was unpredictable. He never took a passenger, as he felt it was too dangerous. Instead, he weighed the hack down with boxes of magazines. Christian wouldn’t let me ride it. “Too tricky,” he said. The sidecar—the boat, as it’s called—would lift off the ground quite easily. Still, it became his new toy. He practiced around town and used it for short commutes.

In late June 2005, I flew to Austria with Manuel and Florian to celebrate my mother’s birthday. It was a wonderful opportunity for the boys to connect with family and remember their roots. We were enjoying our time overseas when, on July 15, I got a call from a friend in the U.S.

He told me Christian had been in an accident with the sidecar. He was gone.

I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. We had just spoken the night before. Christian always rode safely. There had to be a mistake. Yet, the truth sank in slowly and painfully. I held the boys close as the reality took hold. That day was the darkest of all.

He had been riding home from the office in the sidecar. On the ramp to the interstate, the boat lifted. When he braked, the right wheel touched back down hard, spun fast, and pulled the vehicle into the left lane—directly into the path of a truck. It happened in an instant. He was killed on the spot.

To this day, I’m unclear on why he used that on-ramp. It wasn’t close to the office. What was he doing there? Just taking a ride through town, maybe. I’ll never know. It never made sense.

Sometimes, no matter how careful we are, no matter how much we plan, we simply run out of luck. On that day, we did.