Wearing black and skulls again?

I’m back with yet another mind provocative thought. This time it’s all about the biker obsession with the colour black and skulls. And I’m not just talking about the guys and gals that ride cruiser style motorcycles. I’ve know many adventure riders and even been a super bike rider myself, yet black clothing and skulls seems to catch our attention.
So let’s think first about the black clothing we all own. Heck, one look at the washing line after the washing machine has done its job, shocked me the other day when I actually realized that all of my clothing is black or so dark in colour that it is bordering black.
Why would we wear black though, considering that we spend our riding time out in the open, being beaten on in the sun. Kind of the worst idea, if I think back to that physics class in high school about how light rays work and that black absorbs light. But then I thought about it further and came to a few reasons that would explain this biker life obsession with black.
For starters, its much easier to keep clean, especially if something happens on the road that turns us into grease monkeys. And secondly, black is the colour of most of the leather that we all wear for protection, because its easier and cheaper dyeing leather black instead of other colours.
Just my points regarding black, despite that it involves you sweating in the slightest bit of shade you do manage to find at the next jol you attend.

Now onto the topic of skulls, we boldly head. Prior to this blog post, I sat and read up on a ton of articles and other blogs on this exact topic. The general consensus on all of these prior articles/posts is surprisingly the same in the long run, but there must be something else surely that draws the attention of motorcycle riders across the spectrum and worldwide.
Yes, I agree that the effects of WW2 had quite a bit to do with the rise of military veterans arriving back from war and purchasing motorcycles at a minimal cost from the army in various countries. Most notably the Harley-Davidson’s of the American Army. This led to veterans creating “gangs” made up of service units, which in turn led to the use of military unit insignia, which tends to have a lot of skulls involved, so as to frighten the enemy.
There is also the ancient approach to it, in that skulls signify immortality, seeing that it is all that remains once all the juicy bits decay into the ground.
However, I myself, as a motorcyclist, don’t feel any particular draw to any of these theories, that still do have some significance to the biker lifestyle, however not so much to me personally.
For me, it is more so a reflection of mortality that attracts me to the skulls that adorn of motorcycles and gear.
And this includes the jewellery that I wear even when I'm not riding.
I tend to side with the mortality that the famous biker skull symbolizes.
Bare with me here now as we delve into the depths and possibly relate together.
Every time I swing my leg over a motorcycle saddle, I embrace the fact of my mortality.
I accept that there is a possibility that I might not make it to my final destination. This doesn’t mean that all the skulls adorning me mean that I am an irresponsible rider in any way though. After all, I could be taken out by the cager at the next intersection that jumps a red light.
However, in the depths of my being, it means that I am embracing the dangers of the life I live as a biker. I live my life as fully as possible, in every way, and the skulls are merely a display and reminder that I am not afraid of death.
I know who I am and what I have accomplished, and that means I know where I believe I’m going if this ride is my last ride.
So thus, I adorn my skulls in all the black attire I wear on a daily basis, showing and sharing my way of life as fully as possible.
Ride safe all you awesome, black clad and skull adorned bikers!

Slow is sometimes better 😉

A bellowing “Gaan ons ry?” (“Are we going to ride” for our English readers) greets me on this fine Friday morning, as my father-in-law has just woken up.
As the founder of South Africa Motorcyclist, and considering the fact that I’m the original instigator that got this man on a motorcycle for the first time in his life some 10 years ago, my answer is a very obvious “YES oom!”
Let’s actually back into that for a bit, considering that this is the first real post of this blog shall we…
So I met my father-in-law, oddly enough, way before I met his daughter whom today I affectionately refer to as “wifey” despite her cringing every time I say it. P.s. Love you gogga!
Back then I was still wet behind the ears, working in the local supermarket and of course on the one motorcycle I still regret having sold, a 2003 Honda Fireblade in red and black. Man what a bike she was!
Either way, the old man and I hit it off almost instantly when he first came into that shop after having moved into the area. He was always intrigued by the motorcycles parked outside, yes multiples, and he asked me tons of questions about them. The reason for riding. The reason why I was so hardcore at on my choice of owning a Honda. Where did I ride and why. The list to carrying on with this is quite extensive, so I won’t bore you with it.
Needless to say, a few months after he and I had started becoming friends, he arrived one day on a stunning ’99 Honda VT750 Shadow, which I incidentally own now. Now he owns yet another Honda as well as his more “wife friendly” Harley.
Back to the topic behind the post though. We set off this morning from the homestead, to the garage around the corner for some much needed petrol for a trip to Montana, Pretoria.
He looks over at me, as oddly enough we don’t get a chance to ride together much, and asks me the most obvious question considering that I’m on a far older bike than today’s standard, “What’s the average speed you can hit on the highway?”
With a moment’s thought on my part, “Let’s cruise around 100 - 120km/h”
I can see the joy draining out of his face at these words. He was obviously hoping for the 140 + km/h mark that seems to be a motorcyclist norm from the West Rand to Pretoria via the infamous R28.
I’m grinning from ear to ear to see what happens next though as we climb into the highway.
As the k’s start steadily sweeping by, I can see that he’s starting to enjoy this slower pace. He’s looking around and pointing at things it seems he has never seen before on this beautiful stretch of South African road.
All the way to the North East side of Pretoria and back to Roodepoort we ride at a very chilled pace between 100 - 120km/h. Barely using the amount of petrol we normally would. Cars going past us, without us even bothering to open the throttle and leave them far away in the mirror.
Yes, I’m riding an old girl, but that V-twin motor grumbling between my legs has more than enough power to push the old man’s limits that he normally rides, but that’s not what I’m after today.
I ride tons of various motorcycle makes and types daily, but it’s different testing a bike versus enjoy the ride of a bike.
We finally make it home, safe and sound, every biker’s goal.
As my father-in-law’s helmet comes off, I can see a nice big satisfied and relaxed smile across his face.
“That was the most amazing ride I’ve had in ages! Who would have thought that going slower could be so fun!”
“That was kind of the point”, is all I can reply through my own relaxed smile.