- Joined
- Oct 2, 2007
- Messages
- 1,650
- Reaction score
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- Bike
- Triumph 800 XC
My brother posted this on Facebook after a ride we took together with some other hoodlums... For both of us this was the closest bonding experience we hav had sice we were teenagers.
His words below are rough but profound.
Some might say this post belongs in the Ride Reports section but I don't know.. this is more about brotherhood and a common passion resiscovered that strengthened old bonds we had forgotten.
It also explains something of the experiences and emotions we have when pointing the front wheel somewhere far away and unknown in the company of like-minded individuals. I know all of you in some way relate to this.
It speaks of a time when Adventure Biking didn't have a name...
Here's Eddie...
Not too long ago. I went biking with my brother ,mostly dirt road .with a few friends and it brought so many great memories ,that i felt the need to put it on record.
When we were young we would take our 50 cc bikes and pick a direction and then see how long we could avoid tar roads and if possible any road at all .
I think those were some of the best days of my life , there was no issues about weather or not we would make it , because many of us had bikes built up out of scrap bikes .
I honestly think my yamaha 50 was most likely to break down out of all the bikes . There was an old ss 50 .a honda.a suzuki . And s hodge podge of other bikes too. a pe175 and what ever anyone had that would join us.
The philosophy was that you leave no man standing and we travel together which i think was just accepted as an unwriten law and was in fact never discussed .
Just like that iconic movie ,which i think any bike freak of the time will know. Called ON ANY SUNDAY we would go out. though the main difference was it would be on any week end , and occasionally on any weekday.
There is just nothing to compare with that.
We were a group of kids of various ages growing up on the plots , far from the penny arcades so we never became good at those games , but biking was in our blood .
The freedom that it gave you was a drug that you could not refuse and you would sell your brother for a new clutch lever . Or sprocket and chain.
The smell of fresh petrol and two stroke oil . Or if you didnt have money then the smell of a fish and chip shop cos you were using moms kooking oil in your two stroke .
Now we were the offroad boys and this was our life . Then you had the road racers with thier suped up 50s . I think the suzuk rg was the favorite for suping up . Though i could be wrong . My mate Robert had one.
We eould go on epic trips. With some freakishly funny shit happening along the way and though we all came off every now and then it was usually more a battered ego than battered body . That dose not mean we never saw okes moer off in truly memorable fashion and get quite seriously hurt . We would then go to the nearest house and ask for sugar water . A few bandages and use of the telephone to call the ambulance . And when the cops showed up we would all either gather in the veld out of reach of the law or beat a hasty retreat.
And yes we would often go home covered in roasties down the back ,bleeding hands ,battered knees.and broken bikes ,which would be towed by those not so broken.
But we would arrive home bleeding and sore from a long day out and though a bit worse for ware , BUT ,,,TRIUMPHENT and HAPPY .
Yes and more . We had survived insurmountable odds.survived angry farmers (ons het nie oom se draat gesny ni oom. hy was so ,, belowe nyanies koepela ).rageing african storms , hunger and hardship. Break downs, thick mud , quick sand ,snakes ,viscious dogs.burning sun,insects ,marauding hordes . Ok not marauding hordes but you get the idea ,
It was an ADVENTURE going to NEW places .and WIDENING OUR OWN HORISONS . It was discovering new places .. new to us that is and we loved it.
I had fogotten why i rode bikes all those years. You become so tied up in this race for (financial ) survival that every thing else is pushed aside and you forget what really made / makes you happy.
It is the geting wet and cold . It is the heat of summer when you are dressed like a leather ninja . It is sweatting your frikking ass off kicking the f%$# bike to get it started , it is cruiseing on open roads , braaing under a bridge or tree , talking about how the day went and who came pipe . Having a dop by the fire ,or stoping for a smoke or a pis and looking around ,thinking fuck i love this .
That and so much more that if you arent a biker you will never get it.
That is all
His words below are rough but profound.
Some might say this post belongs in the Ride Reports section but I don't know.. this is more about brotherhood and a common passion resiscovered that strengthened old bonds we had forgotten.
It also explains something of the experiences and emotions we have when pointing the front wheel somewhere far away and unknown in the company of like-minded individuals. I know all of you in some way relate to this.
It speaks of a time when Adventure Biking didn't have a name...
Here's Eddie...
Not too long ago. I went biking with my brother ,mostly dirt road .with a few friends and it brought so many great memories ,that i felt the need to put it on record.
When we were young we would take our 50 cc bikes and pick a direction and then see how long we could avoid tar roads and if possible any road at all .
I think those were some of the best days of my life , there was no issues about weather or not we would make it , because many of us had bikes built up out of scrap bikes .
I honestly think my yamaha 50 was most likely to break down out of all the bikes . There was an old ss 50 .a honda.a suzuki . And s hodge podge of other bikes too. a pe175 and what ever anyone had that would join us.
The philosophy was that you leave no man standing and we travel together which i think was just accepted as an unwriten law and was in fact never discussed .
Just like that iconic movie ,which i think any bike freak of the time will know. Called ON ANY SUNDAY we would go out. though the main difference was it would be on any week end , and occasionally on any weekday.
There is just nothing to compare with that.
We were a group of kids of various ages growing up on the plots , far from the penny arcades so we never became good at those games , but biking was in our blood .
The freedom that it gave you was a drug that you could not refuse and you would sell your brother for a new clutch lever . Or sprocket and chain.
The smell of fresh petrol and two stroke oil . Or if you didnt have money then the smell of a fish and chip shop cos you were using moms kooking oil in your two stroke .
Now we were the offroad boys and this was our life . Then you had the road racers with thier suped up 50s . I think the suzuk rg was the favorite for suping up . Though i could be wrong . My mate Robert had one.
We eould go on epic trips. With some freakishly funny shit happening along the way and though we all came off every now and then it was usually more a battered ego than battered body . That dose not mean we never saw okes moer off in truly memorable fashion and get quite seriously hurt . We would then go to the nearest house and ask for sugar water . A few bandages and use of the telephone to call the ambulance . And when the cops showed up we would all either gather in the veld out of reach of the law or beat a hasty retreat.
And yes we would often go home covered in roasties down the back ,bleeding hands ,battered knees.and broken bikes ,which would be towed by those not so broken.
But we would arrive home bleeding and sore from a long day out and though a bit worse for ware , BUT ,,,TRIUMPHENT and HAPPY .
Yes and more . We had survived insurmountable odds.survived angry farmers (ons het nie oom se draat gesny ni oom. hy was so ,, belowe nyanies koepela ).rageing african storms , hunger and hardship. Break downs, thick mud , quick sand ,snakes ,viscious dogs.burning sun,insects ,marauding hordes . Ok not marauding hordes but you get the idea ,
It was an ADVENTURE going to NEW places .and WIDENING OUR OWN HORISONS . It was discovering new places .. new to us that is and we loved it.
I had fogotten why i rode bikes all those years. You become so tied up in this race for (financial ) survival that every thing else is pushed aside and you forget what really made / makes you happy.
It is the geting wet and cold . It is the heat of summer when you are dressed like a leather ninja . It is sweatting your frikking ass off kicking the f%$# bike to get it started , it is cruiseing on open roads , braaing under a bridge or tree , talking about how the day went and who came pipe . Having a dop by the fire ,or stoping for a smoke or a pis and looking around ,thinking fuck i love this .
That and so much more that if you arent a biker you will never get it.
That is all
