Chapter two

By producing graphics and racing, my daily life was now dominated by one single topic: Supermoto. A thing most people haven’t even heard of. Motocross—maybe, but Supermoto? “Do you guys do backflips?”
The name “Independent Racing“, my decal business, became a brand within the German and Swiss scenes spread solely through word of mouth. It felt good and to head home from the races on Sunday afternoons in the motorhome with a bundle of cash in the pocket.
The racing itself became secondary. There was hardly any time for training due to studies and work; during race weekends, I spent the whole day wandering the paddock to collect orders or money, only to change for my start at the very last second.
But it didn’t matter, because I didn’t have to be fast anymore to have my place in the scene. I was the “decal boy,” and so I was known and needed.

The constant commuting and small basement, made the desire for something larger, directly in Mainz grow, so my 22-year-old self went on a search for a combination of living and working. That saves on rent and also time, since I would then work right where I woke up. A former, already livable backyard dance studio of 109 square meters. The rent was okay and partly tax-deductible.
In my circle of university friends, word got around that I now had all the printing machines etc. in Mainz, and because there was a lot of space, the studio loft also served well for photoshoots when the university studio was occupied. It was a constant coming and going of all the classmates who needed something printed or took photos. In this way, my contacts at the university weren’t completely lost.

Now orders from the Motocross scene also started coming in—which I had previously had little to nothing to do with, but which is significantly larger, yet also structured a bit more stingily. A new machine, a flatbed cutting table, was needed. The production would then take 10 instead of the previous 25 minutes. Now I would have had some serious business spendings, at least for a „side business“. I printed graphics until late into the morning; my father helped me. At the university, I did the bare minimum, propping my eyes open with toothpicks. On the way to the races and between the heats, I tried to sleep, if someone didn’t just happen to want to order something.

It was becoming unsustainable. A former classmate, Gregor, heard about my situation and was interested in the tasks. From then on, he would take over all the graphic work. I could now devote myself more intensely to my increased workload of administrative tasks as well as completing all the work for my studies without permanent night shifts. Gregor felt at home with this type of design, as he was an active downhill mountain biker himself. My self created job was from then basically bringing in orders, bookkeeping, calculated margins, quotes and maintained steady contact with all dealers like a sales representative. My father would get more tasks in production—nice work for a retiree.