“Come on you Yachties must all know this.”

30 Sep. 10


I still remember the first time that somebody called me a “Biker”, I had been riding motorcycles for pretty much most of my life but this was the first time that I was referred to as a “Biker”. I can recall and replay the event in my mind quite clearly even now about six years later. The memory of the event and the feelings that the word made me experience. If I think about it for a while I am sure that I can still smell the slightly sweaty leathery aroma of my bike jacket and the sticky clamminess that came with the wearing of that jacket. The hairs on my arms that would start to slowly one by one release themselves and be free again to move with the breeze a short while after removing the jacket. The way that the wind would make your helmet move forcing your head to follow the involuntary motion as the wind roared past the outside of the helmet the instant that your right wrist twisted open the throttle.

We had just arrived at a small pub after an exhilarating Sunday morning breakfast run from the vaal dam. And this would be our last stop of the day before splitting up and heading off in our separate ways back to the reality of normal life. We had parked our cycles on the front porch directly outside the main entrance door to the pub slightly but not quite in the way of the regular patrons. After our second or third final beer we paid the bill and were on our way outside when it happened. Another group of motorcycles had just arrived and a tired looking older man walked up to me and asked if I knew this new group of people. I eyed him suspiciously and asked him why he was asking. He answered me with the statement “I thought all you Bikers were in the same gang”.

And there it was “Biker” the word that is synonymous with large bearded and tattooed roughnecks. Large men on large machines chasing around aimlessly and without a single responsibility in the world, taking what is needed without a second thought, and having absolutely no fear of reprisal from authorities.

This is of course the myth or urban legend that some may believe the word “Biker” represents, however for me it was a word that gave me a feeling of belong. And now years later a whole mixture of emotions and memories.

Today a new memory was born whilst we were sitting at the yacht club having a catch up conversation with Greg, a lady walked over to our table and asked us when would be a good time to go to Greece in the Med. I looked at her with a surprised look on my face thinking to myself why would she be asking me? I have yet to visit Greece, infact, I have yet to go anywhere out of Africa. She looked back at me and continued her question with the conversation “come on you Yachties must all know this.”

And there it was “Yachties” a new word, but with a whole new bunch of memories and feelings still to be made.