Rob and I were at Mannheim together for 3 days. 9AM in the morning he left our room to see some more games prior to leaving for Oostende and, finally home. He must have tried to call me at 16:16hrs, but I did not hear it since I was waiting for ADAC to come and help me with my car (I had a fragmented tire, and Ford put a wrong tool with the replacements in it) along the autobahn near München. It was cold, I put my wintercoat back on, an Icelandic woolen hat, and after more than an hour I started walking the length of a bb-court up-and-down, just to stay warm. It could not have differed more than 20-30 minutes from 17:22hrs when I turned and faced my car again. A man was kneeling by my car, he was not ADAC-just a nice 'normal' German, he shouted "the tool doesn't fit" and ran to his car to pick one good for the job, ran back, changed my wheel and said "the sticker says: Do not drive faster than 80!! But 90 will be OK", and he turned to go back to his car. I was just in time to shake his hand, say "thanks!", and off he went.
At that time I did not know yet what had happened near Trier, where Rob had lost control of his beloved (white) motor-bike (due to technical failure of the stear?) in a curb, at 17:22hrs, and was killed instantly when his head hit the safety-rail...
I heard the bad news Sunday at noon, while in the South of Germany staying with a long time basketball friend I hadn't seen in years.
Monday and Tuesday I was driving home, and a thought flashed trough my brain: "the nice German man seemed like an angel who waved my brain...".
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