Day 5 - Bikers

So as not to bore you too much (and too quickly) I have taken a break from telling my story....much more important is a letter in todays morning newspaper. Harry, who describes himself as a T-shirt Terrorist, berates a group called Christian Action as they have forced a local retailer to remove from stock satirical T Shirts he created, as they cause offence. Harry, rightly in my opinion, tells them reasonably politely, to piss off and perhaps look a little closer to home before blaming everything else for the demise of society.
That this even makes the paper beggars belief. This in a country such as South Africa; where the government is overwhelmed by the stench of corruption, good people leave with their skills everyday, where the murder rate would make the Bosnia conflict blush at its own ineptitude and where drug use and abuse would make any Columbian happy - and thats just in 'texas! And people and groups such as Christian Action froth at the mouth over T Shirts!! Forgive me for being blunt...but for Gods own sake there are more pressing issues to deal with.


Anyway, thats my rant for the day. Today I am going to write about Bikers, and I am not talking about the dirt riders, weekend warriors or those who own motorbikes because its easy to get to work on or those who buy a bike 'cos they don't have to sit in the traffic or because its light on fuel and so on.
NO, I'm talking about the leather clad, patch wearing, rough looking hooligans that carry with them such a negative perception in other's eyes that they will probably never be accepted for what they do - or taken seriously!
I had that perception. In my first seven years of running a niteclub in 'Toti, bikers in colours were definitely not allowed in, they were the scourge of the town with no money to spend and trouble to cause. They would frighten my normal customers, the women would be molested, the younger patrons would be bullied and intimidated and they would take over the bar and steal everything in site. That was my perception. There was no basis for it at all. Until then I don't think I had ever met a biker even. I can't tell you why I had that perception. What I do know is that they never really gave me a hard time about it, which was odd considering. Ok there were a couple of times when they tried to come in mass but invariably we stopped them at the door...... and they left?


And then Lenny died. On a motorbike. Lenny was someone who sort of hailed from Australia - I never really got the full story but he spoke with Aussie accent, his adult kids were Aussies but he came from SA I think originally - we had become good mates over time as he often frequented my restaurant. He also owned a bike shop. In the days of mourning following his untimely death I was absolutely flabbergasted by the support shown to his family by the biking community. Not just one club but clubs from all over the country came to pay their respects. I met people who I would not have spoken to a few days before and they accepted me. They knew our history but there was no animosity, there was no aggressiveness. These people in their leathers and their colours buried this man with tears in their eyes. He was their brother.
And the irony in the whole story? Lenny's funeral wake was attended by several hundred bikers and it was held....in my niteclub!
Since those sorrowful times the local bike clubs have looked after me like you would not believe. Yes, in every group of people, there is some rubbish but, and I can now say this because I now know the majority of bikers that I have met live the biker lifestyle at every opportunity but are educated and work in professional, well paying, respectable jobs. And they have families and responsibility like you and I. 
I have made friends with people that have never waivered in their support for me, have never judged me (and have pulled me out of a hole more than once) - even in my darkest times, and if you know me you'll know what this means!. We have drunk together, in my clubs and others and I have tried to reciprocate this relationship by being their mate too and helping them with their events and functions where I could. 
And sadly I have too, with them, attended a number of funerals of fallen brothers. RIP.
Would I be considered a brother to them? I hope so. Even though I am a non biker. Would I judge a book so quickly by its cover again, probably not. Do I have anything in common with these mates? More than you would imagine.


Todays piece is dedicated to my two wheeled crazy mates who never take or say no for an answer. God speed.