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A single, unexpected question during an otherwise ordinary afternoon would become the first sign of a loss that reshaped a small publishing team. The moment was brief, but it stayed with me — and, as events unfolded, it took on an almost unbearable weight.
The question that stopped us
I had just returned to the office after running errands when Christian, who was usually cautious and steady, looked at me with a seriousness I rarely saw. He asked what would happen to the magazine if something happened to him — who would keep it going.
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A day that altered the course of events
I dismissed the remark at the time. He was young, fit and careful, especially on the road. It felt out of place, even dramatic, and we moved on without another word.
What we were building
Our focus at RoadRUNNER had always been the ride itself. The magazine wasn’t about fashions or sponsorships; it was about the freedom of two- and three-wheel travel, exploring new places, and the spirit of adventure that draws people to the road.
That ethos shaped many of our decisions. When we encountered a sidecar manufacturer at a trade show, Christian was immediately intrigued. He wanted to write about them. Before long, one of their models was parked in our garage.
The sidecar — a different machine
He treated the sidecar like a puzzle to be learned. It behaved unlike a motorcycle: unpredictable at times, prone to lifting the so-called boat off the pavement. Christian avoided carrying passengers, calling it too risky, and instead filled the sidecar with boxes of magazines when he used it.
He practiced on local streets and used it for short commutes. He wouldn’t let me ride it — “too tricky,” he said — and it soon became his private project and pastime.
The call from home
In late June 2005 I flew to Austria with Manuel and Florian to celebrate my mother’s birthday and to reconnect with family. We were abroad when, on July 15, 2005, a friend phoned with terrible news: Christian had been in a sidecar accident. He was gone.
I could not accept it at first. We had spoken the night before; the idea that he had been killed felt impossible. Gradually, the facts settled in. I held the boys as the reality took shape. That day remains the darkest I have known.
How it happened
The accident occurred as Christian was riding home from the office in the sidecar. On a ramp onto the interstate the boat lifted. When he braked, the right wheel slammed back down, spun and pulled the outfit into the left lane.
It collided with a truck. The impact was immediate and fatal. He was killed at the scene.
Unanswered questions
To this day I don’t know why he took that on-ramp. It wasn’t near the office. Was it a short detour, a momentary choice? I have no answer. It never made sense.
We can plan and prepare. We can be careful. But sometimes bad fortune arrives anyway. That afternoon, luck ran out for us.
