The troops where proper tired, but content to the maximum levels that feel good ndorfins will allow. You know like that silly giggle you have after a huge fright, well just like that just the opposite. Riders sitting next to their bikes drinking s beer staring into the sunset soaking up the madness of the day in a quiet setting. It was a thing of beauty seeing big strong men just sucking in the atmosphere. It was at this point that I was irritating everyone trying to get pictures of them in the moment getting called all kinds of horrible names...
Rickus sat back sipping on a beer and then told us the story that described the trip for me at certain stages when it was just work, work and more work with the flats and overgrown roads and the heat.
It went something like this:
The farmer had a bad spell of problems and drought etc. He unfortunately committed suicide. He lived in town and not on the farm and somebody had to go break the news to his farm laborer looking after the farm out in the sticks.
The person bearing the bad news explained that the “oubaas” would not return to the farm as he had passed on to the old farm worker.
The worker asked how did he die and was told by suicide.
His reply was filled with shocked saying:
“ maar hoe het hy dan nie geweet dat môre ‘n beter dag kan wees nie?”
For me at this motorbiking zen moment in the bush sitting with an amazing sunset after a hard day it was the perfect story.
We all had an amazing nights sleep.
