Distinguised Gentleman's Run
(28 September 2014)
Today we attended the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride.
The largest global classic styled biking event around!
The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride is a celebration of the art of being dapper and the style of classic custom motorcycles. It is held to raise awareness and support research into prostate cancer by bringing together dapper riders of classic machines, cafe racers, bobbers, custom motorcycles, trackers and undefinable two-wheeled creations.
Though neither me nor Michelle have a prostate, neither do we have sweet tooth and yet I donate mine regularly to a healthy dollop of icecream. Knowing that we could make a difference, we decided that this was a run we could not miss. Luckily Dave Griffin from RAD Moto (www.radmoto.co.za) gave us a Royal Enfield sidecar to use for the run. What an impressive piece of blik.
We gave our financial and emotional donation to this worthy cause, dressed up in our finest and headed out to meet and greet the other gents and genteels at Woodmead News Café. We never expected as many gentlemen to pitch up, nevermind the pretty classics all around. There were probably around 100 bikes shining their most dapper shine in the parking lot! Pressed cravats, starched tweed…
The news update we received from around the globe – the globe with the pieces of rock stuck to it – was that there were 20 000 riders taking part in 258 cities across 57 countries. Over $USD1.4 million were raised for research. Salute to the prostate!
Prostate cancer is a terrible blight for the men of this world. So, could I be the first to acknowledge all the effort at fund-raising made by so many Pakistani women taking part in Movember.
We took to the streets of Johannesburg with vigor. Standers by were hanging out their windows, waving from balconies and dancing tap to the rhythm of the revving. We stopped for a few pints in city central before we ended our fearless ride at the Zoo Lake Bowling Club.
Pipes were smoked, noses were powdered! I’m sure next year there will be more gents shaking out the gullyfluff from their suit pockets.
Gentleman (n.) A man of calm demeanor, strong preserve, intellectual thinking, polite yet meaningful speak and a good upbringing. A fighter for the cause of right with words, not guns.
Something very rare today. A man who is respectful and considerate of those around him. Acts politely. Treats women with respect. Open doors for them, pulls out chairs, and is classy. What more guys should be. Because regardless of what your testosterone driven buddies tell you, treating people with respect and being polite doesn't make you a ‘wimp’. It makes you a good person.
A true gentleman is a respectable thing to be. A wannabe is a very bad thing to be, since you shall not be liked.
A fizzing good event- ecstatic that we attended!
*Lots of these kiekies were taken by Chantal Madgwick: www.igola.co.za*
(11 October 2014)
Today we attended the Stunt Festival.
There were 14 stunt riders… well – 13 and one chicken still learning how to wing it. There were lots of spectators with picnic baskets and fold-up chairs, dop in hand.
There was a plus-bus and even a loo! I’ve never seen our stunt spot this busy.
The stunt guys had me in awe. These guys gooi a bike around like the big girls did in standard 7 gewigstoot. I tucked my tail between my legs and took the side line for practice. But soon there was other stunters joining me in the back lane, handing out advice and practicing with me.
We had a competition at 2pm, but I had serious spectator anxiety. I couldn’t even get a wee bit of light between the rubber and asphalt. Michelle pitched up just as the first round of wheelies was done and we yelled at her to bring her helmet. She had no idea what was going on but we plonked her on Brom, helped her off the side-stand and told her to pop a wheelie. Brave chicken that she is, she managed two baby pops!
One day… One day when I’m big…
Christ — A stunt performed with the rider standing straight up on the seat or tank of the motorcycle with both arms extended while the bike is in motion. Also called a "Cross".
Surfing - Rider balances one foot on the gas tank and the other foot on the rear of motorcycle in traditional surfing position.
Then there is the Planet Fitness club managing a few push-ups between stunts. Guess that’s one way to keep fit.
Basic Wheelie - Lifting the front of the motorcycle off the ground by means of either power or use of clutching the bike into a wheelie.
Tank Wheelie — Wheelie with the rider sitting on the tank with legs spread.
High Chair — Wheelie with the rider's legs over the handlebars.
Seat Stander — Wheelie standing on the seat of the motorcycle.
Man-dom — Riding Wheelies with two men (…or in our case – WOMEN), possibly more.
I definitely performed better with Michelle on the back. Two asses are always better than one!
Johan Gray performed page 342 of the Bike-asutra. One chicken on the back and one switchback on the tank. Jheeeha!
Skitching - sliding on your feet off to either sides of the bike or the rear of the bike.
Stoppie — Lifting the rear wheel of the motorcycle using momentum and braking force. Also referred to as an Endo.
Burnout — Using the power of the engine and braking force to cause the rear wheel to spin, heating the rear tire and producing smoke.
Chainsaw — An extreme form of Burnout performed by the stunter standing beside a motorcycle laying on its side holding the motorcycle exclusively by the right handle bar. Then causing the bike to "orbit" around the rider while maintaining control during the burnout.
And then all stunt heaven broke loose. There was a two minute freestyle session. Please note that no bike were hurt in the process.
In the words of Alwyn Engelbrecht,
“Hierdie is moer tappet, maar piss koel!”
*Lots of these kiekies were taken by Capturing Art Studios: www.capturingartstudios.com*
(18 October 2014)
Today we attended the MOAM racing event- Last MOAM Standing.
What we expected, we must have forgotten. Maybe a light cruz on a well maintained farm road?!? But would we be… uummm… pleasantly would NOT be the word… surprised.
Teams consisted of the best rider and the worst rider of the day. I should have smelled a rat when Michelle got tagged with Marcel Blignaut!!! Next up…or down… was myself with Martin Janse van Rensburg. Either their good riders weren’t ‘that’ good OR this route was something that not even Cape baboons climbing Table Mountain regularly would travers. And I knew Marcel and Martin’s riding capabilities too well to be fooled.
There was a red route and a green route that might have had a tinge of dark orange in places.
One rider would do a lap of the green, tag the red rider and wait for his turn again. Over and over again.
Or… in our case: the red rider would come, beg the green rider for one more lap, eventually give up and go do the green route themselves, just to go straight back into the next red lap again.
We were paai-ed with promises that this was a FRIENDLY race and was more about the drinking than winning. But I guess if we want to ride for prostates, then we should be happy to compete against testosterone…
For our first lap, our red riders escorted us over and down the mountain. At first, all looked happy, calm and lavishly ‘green’…
‘Till we started to climb and the green started to get an olive tint.
There was a few rocks but the higher we got the more angry the rocks became, showing us sharp edges and wiggling their striations at us.
As much as every facet of riding has it’s own stile – there is one golden rule. You stop – you fall over! Clinging onto the bars I hopped and skipped to the top, not looking back once. I heard a rumour about a salt pillar or something like that.
I wasn’t quite sure where this friendly-ness was that everyone mentioned. But before my moed begewe, I kept the trottle rolling and started my descent (…and this word has nothing to do with that other one that is spelt without the ‘s’). There were a few decent (yes… you can use the word now) step-downs, eroded ditches and trees running wild. The trees were really tricky to miss…
I finally survived my first lap and pulled into camp waiting for Michelle. A few minutes later she came rolling in, but as she took her helmet off there were one too many snot-strepe on her face, “Never, ever, ever, never, nooit again!”
But after a few sluks of Lucozade and a pep talk by Marcel, she was brave enough to face another lap. Luckily the guys decided to join us again… there was no chance I would be able to pick up the bikes that often.
And she’s off…
No, she’s down…
Nope, she’s up again…
Nah, she’s down again…
There should have been a reward for most PLONKS – Michelle survived a magnificent 13 dives in two laps.
“Take the third boulder left, then at the second tree…”
Luks, regs, luks, regs, luks, regs, luuuuuks!
I attempted a third lap, in desparation – still seeking that friendly-ness. My UP was remarkable. My DOWN… just markable. I avoided the ditch, just missed the running tree, but had an altercation with the boulder behind the bush. And there I found it… FRIENDLY-ness! Martin pulled me up and surely had a little chuckle on the side, pulled my bike out between the rocks and helped me back on.
We made it back to camp in one piece, with a shade of blue – NOT GREEN!
The red route claimed more Dumpty’s than Humpty’s.
Ended the day with a price giving.
The Chellies (Michelle and Marcel) for the most original team name.
Anton and Rion was the winners that completed a stupendous 13 laps!
The PIENK PANTY award went to Pieter for competing in the silver class at the Roof Of Africa, but opting to be the ‘green’ rider of their team.
There was also the ‘eating of a helmet’ after Stefan declared at a Roof training session,
”Daai 4 manne sal dit nooit maak nie, ek eet my helmet op as hulle dit regkry…”
Friendly-ness is in ample supply, just not always where you expect to find it!
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