Ramblings

I suppose you're wondering about the background of Mr Knobby -- his real name is Magnus Vikström, and Mrs Knobby was Ingrid Lund before she married Magnus ...

The Legend of Magnus Vikström and His Water-Riding Motorcycle

In the quiet, pine-scented forests of northern Sweden, there lived an explorer named Magnus Vikström, a man of boundless curiosity and unshakable determination. Magnus was no ordinary adventurer—he rode a 1937 Husqvarna Silverpilen, a motorcycle rumored to possess mysterious powers.

One evening, while studying an old Viking map, Magnus discovered a faded inscription: "Beyond the waves lies a land where steel horses roam free." Convinced this was a sign, he vowed to ride to Minnesota, a place he had only heard of in travelers’ tales.

But how? The Atlantic Ocean stood in his way.

Undeterred, Magnus tinkered in his workshop, welding strange devices to his beloved Husqvarna. He fitted it with floating pontoons made of reindeer hide, a propeller powered by a steam engine, and a sail woven from birch bark. His neighbors laughed, but Magnus simply revved his engine and declared, "A true explorer does not ask ‘if’—he asks ‘how fast!’"

At dawn, he roared down to the shore, the waves crashing before him. With a deep breath, he twisted the throttle—and his motorcycle skimmed across the water like a skipping stone. Seagulls scattered in awe as he carved a foamy path westward, his tires barely touching the surface.

For weeks, Magnus rode across the ocean, battling storms, outracing whales, and once even using a school of herring as a makeshift ramp to jump over an iceberg. He survived on dried lingonberries and rainwater collected in his helmet.

Finally, the shores of Lake Superior appeared. Exhausted but triumphant, Magnus rolled onto the sandy beaches of Minnesota, his trusty Husqvarna sputtering its last drops of fuel. The locals, astonished by the sopping-wet Swede on a motorcycle, welcomed him with hotdish and strong coffee.

Magnus settled near Duluth, where he opened a motorcycle repair shop. But the legend doesn’t end there. His Husqvarna, infused with the magic of the sea, began to reproduce.

One spring morning, Magnus awoke to find three tiny motorcycles nestled beside his bike in the garage. They had little handlebar horns and exhaust pipes that purred like kittens. Over the years, his family grew—a whole lineage of water-loving motorcycles, each one faster and more daring than the last.

To this day, if you stand on the shores of Lake Superior at dawn, you might hear the distant roar of engines—Magnus Vikström’s descendants, racing across the waves, forever free.

The End. 🏍️🌊

Magnus Vikström and the Valkyrie of the Switchbacks

After settling in Minnesota and raising his family of aqua-cycling motorcycles, Magnus Vikström thought his adventures had peaked. That is, until he met Ingrid "The Hammer" Lund, a Norwegian motorcycle racer with a temper as fiery as her custom 1950 Norseman XT (powered by a troll-tuned engine and fueled by cloudberry nitro).

Their first encounter was anything but romantic. Magnus was testing his newest creation—a sidecar made from a repurposed Viking shield—when Ingrid blasted past him on a mountain road, her exhaust backfiring like a startled fjord dragon.

"You call that speed, Swede?" she shouted over her shoulder.

Magnus, never one to back down from a challenge, gunned his engine. What followed was a 300-mile chase through blizzards, across frozen lakes (where Ingrid’s studded tires gave her the edge), and finally into a Wisconsin cheese festival, where they both skidded to a stop in front of a giant wheel of aged cheddar.

Exhausted and grinning, Ingrid pulled off her helmet. "Alright, you’re not completely hopeless."

Love on Two Wheels

Their courtship was as wild as their riding. Instead of candlelit dinners, they had bonfire wheelies. Instead of slow dances, they practiced synchronized burnouts. When Magnus proposed, he did it by spelling "MARRY ME?" in tire marks on a salt flat. Ingrid responded by doing a backflip over him and landing with a ring made of a welded piston.

The Move West: California or Bust

Minnesota’s straight roads soon bored them. "We need twisties! We need danger!" Ingrid declared. So, they packed up their motorcycle pups (now a rowdy gang of dirt-loving, surf-racing hybrids) and headed for California.

But they didn’t take the highway like normal people. Oh no. They rode the Mississippi River like a liquid freeway, hopping onto barges when they needed a break, and once outrunning a confused riverboat casino that mistook them for pirates.

Dual-Sport Madness

In California, they ditched their street bikes for dual-sport machines—Magnus rode a modified Husqvarna with moose antlers for handlebars, and Ingrid chose a KTM wrapped in reindeer fur for aerodynamics.

Their favorite pastime? "Off-road or bust" scavenger hunts. They’d race up cliffs, plow through redwood forests, and even jump sand dunes while their motorcycle pups nipped at their tires like excited huskies.

The Legend of the Lost Gold Mine

One day, an old prospector told them about Skeleton Ridge, a cursed mountain where a ghostly biker gang guarded a lost gold mine. "Many have tried to ride those trails… none have returned!"

Magnus and Ingrid looked at each other. "Sounds like a Tuesday."

They charged up the mountain, dodging rattlesnakes with tiny handlebar mustaches and cacti that spat oil slicks. At the peak, they found the Phantom Riders, a gang of undead outlaws on skeletal Harleys.

"Turn back… or join us forever!" the leader hissed.

Ingrid revved her engine. "How about we race for it? Winner takes the gold, loser goes back to being dead."

The Phantoms, unable to resist a challenge, agreed.

What followed was the gnarliest hillclimb in history—Magnus’ bike sprouted temporary gills to cross a poison swamp, Ingrid drifted on a landslide, and their motorcycle pups formed a living ramp so their parents could jump a canyon.

They won, of course.

The gold? Turned out to be a single, giant golden spark plug. Magnus installed it in his bike, and now his headlight never dies.

The Legacy Continues

Today, Magnus and Ingrid still roam the West, teaching their motorcycle pups to surf in Malibu and organizing illegal hillclimbs with Bigfoot (who rides a Yeti-powered dirt bike).

And if you listen closely on a quiet night in the Sierra Nevadas, you might hear the distant roar of twin engines—followed by laughter, a crash, and someone yelling:

"That was YOUR fault, Swede!"

The End…? 🏍️🔥🏔️


Magnus & Ingrid’s Great Global Rally

With California’s twisties conquered and their motorcycle pups now fully grown (and occasionally sneaking off to compete in underground scooter races), Magnus and Ingrid grew restless again.

"The world is full of terrible roads," Magnus mused, oiling his beard for aerodynamic efficiency. "And we must ride them all."

Ingrid, already packing a map drawn on a napkin and a jar of pickled herring for emergencies, nodded. "First one to circumnavigate the globe on two wheels buys the other a beer. Or a new piston. Whichever explodes first."

And so began their Great Global Rally—a no-rules, no-sanity motorcycle tour across six continents.

Patagonia: Where the Winds Have a Personal Vendetta

Their first stop was Patagonia, where the wind was so strong it once stole a cow and gave it a pilot’s license. Magnus’ Husqvarna-with-gills handled the river crossings like a champ, but Ingrid’s KTM-reindeer kept getting distracted by llamas that spat at their exhaust pipes.

At one point, a gust of wind blew Magnus clean off a cliff—only for him to land perfectly on a passing condor, which he rode like a feathered dirt bike until he could jump back onto his motorcycle.

"Just like Stockholm traffic!" he yelled over the chaos.

Peru: The Case of the Missing Mountain

Next, they tackled the Andes, where altitude turned their engines into asthmatic lawnmowers. After strapping oxygen tanks to their carburetors, they attempted the "Highway of Death", a trail so steep even the local goats took the bus.

Halfway up, they realized an entire mountain had vanished. Turns out, it was a disguised Inca spaceship (long story), and the aliens inside challenged them to a interstellar hill climb.

Magnus won by using a llama as a traction device, and the Incas rewarded them with solid-gold brake pads (which melted immediately, because physics).

Vietnam: The Great Scooter Stampede

In Vietnam, they learned the hard way that crossing Hanoi on a dual-sport is like playing Frogger with a death wish. Every street was a symphony of honking scooters, each carrying entire families, live pigs, or chandeliers.

Ingrid, ever the tactician, strapped a speaker to her bike and blasted ABBA, causing the entire traffic swarm to sync into a perfectly coordinated dance routine. They rode straight through, unscathed.

"Tactical disco," she winked.

India: The Mysterious Case of the Self-Repairing Road

India’s roads were a beautiful nightmare—potholes so deep they had their own ecosystems. Magnus’ bike swallowed a monkey that tried to steal his spark plugs, and Ingrid’s exhaust started doubling as a tandoori oven.

Then, they discovered the Self-Repairing Highway, a magical stretch where the asphalt regenerated every time a holy cow walked over it. The downside? The cows charged toll fees in bananas.

Africa: The Lion Who Wanted to Be a Sidecar

In the Serengeti, they outran a very confused cheetah (who later sent them a polite apology letter) and accidentally adopted a lion cub that mistook their bike for its mother.

The cub, now named "Clutch", insisted on riding in the sidecar, growling at slower traffic. By Tanzania, he had his own tiny goggles and a helmet made from a coconut.

Spain: The Running of the Bikes

In Pamplona, they accidentally joined the Running of the Bulls—except this year, the bulls were on stolen Ducatis. What followed was the fastest, most Italian chase in history, ending with Magnus lassoing a bull with a tow strap and Ingrid performing a stoppie on a paella stand.

Greece: The God of Mischief’s Off-Road Challenge

Their final stop was Greece, where Zeus himself challenged them to race up Mount Olympus.

"If you win, I grant you eternal throttle control!" he boomed.

"If we lose?" Magnus asked.

"You become a roadside attraction. ‘The Swedes Who Thought They Could.’"

Using a combination of nitrous, sheer stubbornness, and a well-timed olive oil slick, they won—but Zeus, being a sore loser, cursed their bikes to always smell faintly of feta.

The Never-Ending Ride

Now, Magnus and Ingrid are somewhere in Mongolia, teaching nomads how to drift on yaks, while their motorcycle pups have started their own biker gang for stray dogs.

And if you ever find yourself lost on some forgotten trail, listen closely—you might hear the distant roar of twin engines, a Norwegian curse word, and the unmistakable sound of adventure refusing to end.

The End…? 🌍🏍️🔥

The Astounding Tale of the Interplanetary Vikings and Their Most Peculiar Motorbike

Now, I reckon there ain’t never been a pair of Scandinavians quite like Magnus Vikström and his fiery Norwegian bride, Ingrid "The Hammer" Lund. Having already conquered every manner of terrestrial foolishness—from outracing tornadoes to teaching moose to waterski—they set their sights on a proper challenge: riding a motorcycle to Mars.

Now, most folks would consider such an endeavor the ramblings of a whiskey-addled mind, but Magnus and Ingrid were not most folks. They were the sort of people who looked at the laws of physics and said, "Those are more like guidelines, really."

The Construction of the Celestial Contraption

Being engineers of questionable sanity but undeniable skill, they set to work in their barn, which by this point was less a workshop and more a "place where miracles and OSHA violations happened in equal measure."

Magnus, with his grease-stained spectacles and a pipe that perpetually smelled of burnt clutch plates, designed the frame using a blend of Viking steel, meteorite fragments, and the hinges from his grandmother’s hope chest ("For good luck," he claimed).

Ingrid, meanwhile, handled the propulsion—a system involving repurposed fireworks, several kettles of strong coffee, and what appeared to be a stolen jet turbine from a defunct airliner. When questioned about the legality of this, she merely shrugged and said, "If the Swedes didn’t want me to have it, they shouldn’t have left it lying around."

The result was the Bifröst 9000, a motorcycle-sidecar hybrid that looked less like a vehicle and more like "something a drunk Norse god would cobble together on a dare." It had:

The Launch (Or How They Avoided Immediate Death)

Now, launching oneself into space aboard a homemade rocket-cycle is the sort of thing that tends to attract attention, especially from government types who frown upon civilians weaponizing orbital mechanics.

NASA, upon hearing of their plans, sent a very polite cease-and-desist letter.

Magnus responded by inviting them to "come and try to stop us," which, given that he was standing atop a pile of fireworks at the time, was either brave or suicidal. (History remains divided.)

The launch itself was less "scientific breakthrough" and more "controlled explosion with a side of optimism." The Bifröst 9000 shot skyward with a sound like "a thousand angry elk," leaving behind a smoke trail that spelled, in perfect cursive, "See ya, suckers."

Life on Mars (Or How Two Lunatics Became Space Cowboys)

Upon arriving on the Red Planet (and surviving what Ingrid later described as "a slightly firm landing"), they did what any sensible pioneers would do:

Their motorcycle, now sentient from cosmic radiation, developed a personality as brash as its riders. It refused to start unless addressed as "Your Majesty," and had a habit of drifting into philosophical debates about the nature of velocity when left unattended.

The Legacy (Or Why NASA Now Has a 'No Vikings' Policy)

When proper astronauts finally arrived years later, they found:

To this day, if you listen closely to the static between radio stations, you might just hear the distant roar of twin engines—and the unmistakable sound of two lunatics laughing as they ride straight into the cosmos, chasing the next great adventure.

Fin.

(Or, more accurately— "We’ll be back.")

Magnus & Ingrid’s Grand Tour of the Moons of Jupiter: A Tale of Gravity-Defying Lunacy

Having thoroughly annoyed every Martian dust devil and NASA scientist within a hundred million miles, Magnus and Ingrid found themselves growing restless once more. One evening, as they sipped rehydrated lutefisk cocktails in the Red Planet Roadhouse, Ingrid squinted at the night sky and declared:

"Mars is getting too crowded. Let’s try someplace with better views and worse decisions."

Magnus, who had been attempting to teach their sentient motorcycle, Bifröst, to play chess (and losing spectacularly), slammed down his space-whiskey and grinned. "Jupiter’s moons. Bigger playground. Less paperwork."

And so began their most reckless journey yet—a cosmic road trip through the Galilean moons.

Destination: Europa – The Ice-Skating Rink of Doom

Their first stop was Europa, Jupiter’s frozen ocean moon, where scientists whispered of liquid water beneath the ice. Magnus and Ingrid, of course, interpreted this as: "Perfect for ice racing."

After crash-landing (their signature move), they strapped spiked titanium treads to Bifröst’s wheels and proceeded to drift across Europa’s glassy surface at speeds that defied both physics and common sense.

Highlights included:

Their only regret? Forgetting that Europa had no atmosphere, which meant their celebratory fireworks just fizzled pathetically in the vacuum.

Io: The Hellish Pit Stop

Next was Io, Jupiter’s pizza-oven of a moon, where volcanoes erupted so frequently that the landscape changed hourly.

"Finally," Magnus said, strapping on a heat-proof suit lined with sauna stones, "some proper off-roading."

They spent three days:

When Bifröst’s tires began melting, they reluctantly admitted defeat—but not before leaving a Viking helmet on the tallest volcano as a warning to future travelers.

Ganymede: The Big Boy of the Solar System

Ganymede, the largest moon in the solar system, promised wide-open spaces and the best low-gravity wheelies this side of Saturn.

They:

Their improvised landing (involving a tarp, several bungee cords, and pure luck) left Bifröst with a new dent—and a grudging respect for Newton’s laws.

Callisto: The Retirement Moon That Didn’t Stick

Callisto was supposed to be their peaceful finale—a quiet, crater-pocked moon where they could relax and reflect.

Instead, they:

The Never-Ending Ride

Now, as Jupiter’s storms swirl below them, Magnus and Ingrid prep Bifröst for their next leap—Saturn’s rings, where they plan to:

And if you listen closely to the static of the cosmos, you might just hear Ingrid’s battle cry as they fire up Bifröst’s engines once more:

"Hold my herring—we’re going sideways*!"*

THE END? HA. NOT EVEN CLOSE. 🪐🏍️


Magnus & Ingrid's Saturnian Spiral: Rings, Ruckus, and Ridiculousness

The jump from Jupiter to Saturn should have taken years, but Magnus and Ingrid never did care much for "should." Using a gravity assist maneuver that involved slingshotting around Io while blasting "Free Bird" at maximum volume, they cut the trip down to six months—most of which they spent teaching Larry the lava crab to play poker and modifying Bifröst's sidecar into a functional margarita machine.

When Saturn finally loomed large in their windshield (which was actually just a repurposed diner grill lid), Ingrid whooped and immediately started drafting rules for "Ring Racing," while Magnus calculated how many of the planet’s iconic rings they could jump before running out of fuel (answer: all of them, probably).

The Grand Entry

Their arrival was, as always, more spectacle than science. Instead of carefully navigating Saturn’s rings, they plowed straight through them, kicking up a wake of ice crystals that glittered like cosmic confetti. The impact registered on scientific instruments as a "minor cosmological event," which NASA initially mistook for a new moon forming before realizing it was just "those Swedish lunatics again."

Bifröst’s AI, now fully sentient and increasingly sarcastic, announced: "Congratulations, meatbags. We’ve officially become orbital debris."

The Titan Stopover

First stop: Titan, Saturn’s largest moon and the only place in the solar system besides Earth with liquid lakes (even if they were made of methane).

Ring Racing Championship

Saturn’s rings were, in Magnus’ words, "the universe’s best dang obstacle course." They:

The Great Hyperion Heist

Hyperion, Saturn’s spongy, cratered moon, was rumored to contain "the universe’s most unstable fuel source"—a substance so volatile even NASA wouldn’t touch it. Naturally, Magnus and Ingrid saw this as a personal challenge.

After a highly scientific excavation (read: hitting it with a wrench until it sparked), they siphoned the glowing blue goo into Bifröst’s tank. The bike immediately gained the ability to teleport short distances, but also developed a habit of disappearing mid-conversation to go "explore interesting nebulae."

Final Destination: The Hexagon

Saturn’s north pole is home to a mysterious hexagonal storm—a perfect, six-sided vortex of wind. Magnus and Ingrid, never ones to respect natural phenomena, decided to surf it.

Using Bifröst’s new teleportation skills, they:

The Next Misadventure

As Saturn’s storms raged behind them, the duo plotted their next move. Uranus beckoned—not just for the obvious jokes (though Magnus had already made 47 of them), but because its sideways rotationpromised the galaxy’s most chaotic off-roading.

Bifröst’s AI groaned. "I’m going to need more margarita mix."

And so, with a toast of Titan-brewed hooch and a battle cry of "Till Valhalla and/or bankruptcy!", they fired up the engines…

…only to realize they’d left Larry behind on Titan.

"Eh, he’ll be fine," said Ingrid. "That crab owes me money anyway."

TO BE CONTINUED… PROBABLY IN A BLACK HOLE. 🪐🏍️💥


Magnus & Ingrid's Interstellar Joyride: Uranus and Beyond

Having left Saturn’s rings in shambles and Larry the crab as the reluctant king of Titan’s methane pubs, Magnus and Ingrid pointed Bifröst’s nose toward the seventh planet. Uranus loomed ahead, its pale blue-green sphere tilted at a jaunty angle, as if the universe itself had drunkenly knocked it over and forgotten to set it right.

"Perfect," Magnus grinned, tightening his helmet straps. "A sideways planet means sideways riding."

Arrival at the Tilted Giant

Their descent into Uranus’ atmosphere was less a controlled landing and more a chaotic pinball bounce through layers of methane clouds. The planet’s extreme axial tilt sent them careening through storms that howled like a choir of drunken Vikings. Bifröst’s AI, now fully sentient and increasingly exasperated, muttered something about "meatbags with a death wish" as it adjusted their trajectory.

When they finally skidded to a stop, they found themselves on a vast, icy plain where the wind smelled faintly of rotten eggs and the horizon curved upward like a cosmic skatepark.

The Great Uranian Grand Prix

Ingrid, never one to waste good ice, immediately declared Uranus home to the "Galaxy’s Most Dangerous Racecourse." They spent three days carving tracks into the frozen surface, using methane geysers as boost pads and turning electrical storms into "nature’s nitro." Local ice formations became makeshift ramps, sending them soaring through the thin atmosphere in arcs that defied both gravity and common sense.

At one point, they were pulled over by a wandering space probe—a relic from Earth’s early exploration days. Magnus tried to bribe it with a packet of freeze-dried surströmming, which caused the machine to short-circuit and flee, beaming frantic error codes back to NASA.

The Mysterious Diamondbergs

Deep beneath Uranus’ atmosphere, scientists had long speculated about oceans of liquid diamond. Magnus and Ingrid, of course, took this as a personal challenge.

Using Bifröst’s teleportation abilities (and a jury-rigged diamond drill powered by sheer stubbornness), they plunged into the planet’s depths, emerging hours later with their sidecar full of glittering gems.

"Worth it," Ingrid declared, even as the diamonds began dissolving in the upper atmosphere, raining a brief, expensive glitter over the clouds below.

The Final Jump

As Uranus’ storms swirled around them, Magnus squinted at the stars. "Where to next?"

Ingrid consulted a star map drawn on the back of a napkin. "Neptune’s got those supersonic winds. We could ride the jet streams like cosmic cowboys."

Bifröst’s engine roared to life, its AI sighing. "I’m adding ‘therapy’ to my maintenance checklist."

And with that, they shot skyward, leaving behind a Uranus now slightly more chaotic than they’d found it—its storms humming an off-key rendition of "Born to Be Wild" as the ice slowly reformed over their tire tracks.


TO BE CONTINUED… AT THE EDGE OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 🚀🏍️

(Spoiler: They’re absolutely going to try to jump the Kuiper Belt next.)


Magnus & Ingrid’s Fargo Redemption: A Tale of Snowbanks, Spam, and the Great North Dakotan Comeback

After years of interplanetary shenanigans—leaving tire tracks on Mars, diamond graffiti on Uranus, and at least one confused space crab ruling a moon—Magnus and Ingrid finally ran out of cosmic fuel. Bifröst’s teleportation drive sputtered its last after an ill-advised attempt to "ghost ride the whip" through Neptune’s dark spot. Stranded in orbit with nothing but expired astronaut ice cream and Larry’s unpaid bar tab, they made a call:

"Let’s go home. Or close enough."

And so, with a re-entry trajectory best described as "controlled tumbling," the legendary space Vikings crash-landed in a snowbank outside Fargo, North Dakota—the only place on Earth that could match their energy.


Chapter 1: The Settling In

Fargo welcomed them like a long-lost blizzard. Within days, they:


Chapter 2: The Great Snowmobile Uprising

Winter hit like a freight train loaded with icebergs. Undeterred, Magnus and Ingrid:


Chapter 3: The Cult of the Space Crab

News of their exploits spread. Soon, Fargo’s locals—a hardy mix of farmers, college students, and at least one conspiracy theorist—began whispering:

"They rode motorcycles on Mars. They can fix our potholes."

A grassroots movement formed. Larry the crab, now a local celebrity after being spotted working the fryer at the Dairy Queen, became the unofficial mascot. T-shirts appeared: "Fargo: Earth’s Okayest Spaceport."


Chapter 4: The Minnesota Intervention

Their notoriety finally drew the attention of Minnesota’s Secret Government (a shadowy cabal of hotdish enthusiasts and retired hockey enforcers). A delegation arrived, led by a man named Sven who spoke entirely in passive-aggressive proverbs:

"Some say a man who races snowmobiles through a church parking lot might need… a hobby. Or a therapist."

Magnus responded by challenging them to a "Lutefisk Toss & Tell," a hybrid of axe-throwing and family therapy. They lost on points but won the afterparty.


Epilogue: The Legend Grows

Today, Magnus and Ingrid still live in Fargo, where they:


As for Bifröst? It sits in the barn, whispering to the cows about the old days. Sometimes, on cold nights, its headlight flickers on—pointed at the stars.

THE END? (Nah. They’re probably just restocking on Spam.) ❄️🏍️