Whether as a means of transportation or a lifelong passion, motorcycles have a long tradition in South Africa. It’s no wonder that every biker is a treasure, especially if they’ve been cruising Africa on two wheels for more than fifty years.

Outlaws on two wheels, modern-day cowboys, free-spirited tough guys in leather jackets covered with patches living day to day, members of clubs and gangs who do as they please. These stereotypes have always accompanied most bikers. To what extent this is true is, of course, individual. But they all have one thing in common – it’s a very diverse and specific community, full of interesting personalities.

“Bikers have their minds set differently, as if they’re living life to a different rhythm than others, which is why they all understand each other,” is a definition that any lover of two-wheeled machines will reveal to you without batting an eye. Whether you’re riding through mountainous landscapes, dry semi-deserts, or carving serpentines above the cliffs of South Africa, you’ll encounter bikers everywhere.

Motorsport has a long tradition in South Africa, and you’ll quickly notice the difference between an ordinary weekend rider and an old-timer who’s been riding a motorcycle all their life. And when you start talking to this generation, you’ll quickly discover that thanks to their crazy lifestyle, their pockets are full of stories. And not all of them are about motorcycles.

A Recipe for Growing Up Fast

In the 1950s, British influence was still significant throughout the South African region, not only politically but also in terms of the motorcycle market. Of course, it followed the global trend, and the dominance of British two-wheelers was slowly coming to an end, just like the entire British Empire. And it was during this turbulent time that a new generation of South African bikers emerged.

“I grew up in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), and when I got into university in Durban, I didn’t have many options to get there. Even though everyone discouraged me, I decided to ride there on a motorcycle,” says Hank, one of the many bikers we meet on the road.

However, the coastal city of Durban, spread out on the eastern coast of South Africa, was 2,700 kilometers away from Hank’s home. That’s like traveling from Paris to Moscow. And that’s not considering the difficulties associated with the journey itself and the surrounding environment. Oppressive heat, lashing heavy rain, or the danger of a flat tire in the middle of the African wilderness is ever-present.

“Such a journey was quite a challenge because at that time, gasoline was rationed, which was 5 liters per month for motorcycles. So I took my saved 5 liters in a jerry can and set off,” Hank continues, adding that his journey wasn’t without problems.

“The bad thing was that I lost the jerry can somewhere halfway through the journey. And if that wasn’t enough, when I finally got to the border, there was a problem with my passport, and I waited there for a month for it to be resolved. In the end, I managed everything somehow, and I must say it was a huge adventure and a very quick way to grow up,” adds Hank.

The combination of these experiences may be the very cause of the typical biker character that the community shares among themselves, and which, whether you like it or not, gets etched into every biker’s skin. The motorcycle very quickly becomes a passion that writes itself into your life.

When God Gives You a Motorcycle

“You know that song ‘Ferry cross the Mersey’? It says ‘We don’t care what your name is, boy, we’ll never turn you away.’ And that’s what this whole community is about, it doesn’t matter where you come from or where you’re going, you’re always welcome with us,” explains Piet, an old-timer who not only practically lives on a motorcycle but whose pace is hard to keep up with both in traffic and off-road.

Piet is the president of the motorcycle club “Chicken outfit,” which was founded in 1973. It’s a family club with the philosophy “God first, family second, work third, and motorcycle fourth.” Originally, however, the club and its name, which loosely translates to “cowards” or “scaredy-cats,” was created as a joke and mockery of tough biker clubs that preach free-spiritedness despite hundreds of internal rules.

“We even have a biker church,” Piet notes and continues. “It all started when a Pastor was a cop, and once God appeared to him in a dream and told him that as punishment, he should go preach to bikers. He replied to God, ‘You want me to preach to bikers? Then give me a motorcycle!’ By complete coincidence, shortly after, a friend called him saying he had found a motorcycle for him, so he should come to Joburg (slang for Johannesburg) to pick it up. And that was such a commitment for him that he really founded a biker church. We’ve been going there every Sunday since then, I think it’s been about 10 years now,” says Piet.

Toy Run? A Charity Ride for a Good Cause

“A large part of my life consists of collaborating on charitable projects,” says Lofty thoughtfully, a former motorcycle racer, collector, and restorer of motorcycles. Despite his impressive collection, which includes a rare Jawa, Lofty Pretorius is known among the biker community primarily as the co-founder of TOY RUN, the biggest motorcycle event in all of South Africa.

TOY RUN started in 1983 just as a local biker collection for children from an orphanage, but gradually became the largest biker event and unifying force for bikers across the entire Republic of South Africa. The motorcycle parade, which takes place every year in most large and small cities, had difficult beginnings.

“When we were starting in Joburg, I tried to convince the local motorcycle clubs to get involved in the event. But no one wanted to do an event for black people. I had to take some of them directly to the orphanages, only then did they decide to join,” says Lofty.

Steve and Liz Kealy first came up with the idea to support handicapped children in 1983. But their idea wasn’t met with a very positive response from either the political representation or the public.

The segregated society of the time had little understanding for an event of this format. Partly due to the politics of apartheid at the time – involving the black part of the population in a public event was not common and aroused fear, even when it involved small orphans. Secondly, charity organized by the biker community was at least disturbing for many, as there was a general idea that bikers were nothing but criminals in leather jackets.

“I remember one year when we were busing in kids from the surrounding areas,” Lofty recalls. “We came up with the idea that the kids would ride with us in the parade on motorcycles. And to know where each of them belonged, each of them got a number, according to which we then drove them back in the evening. But it never occurred to us that kids are kids and during the day they exchanged numbers. So then all evening we were getting calls from orphanages that we had returned a different child,” says the biker.

In the beginning, TOY RUN experienced tough moments, including police escorts, fights with the city council, and even the need to convince the bikers themselves.

Despite this, and thanks to the dedication and enthusiasm of the organizers, over the years the event has grown, received media attention, and entered the public consciousness. TOY RUN has elevated the image of bikers and shown the strength of this community, but most importantly, it helps children who need help and support the most. As every year, the 39th TOY RUN will be held at the end of this year.

However, almost every older biker will tell you today that a motorcycle is not a cheap means of transportation these days, but rather a luxury toy. Although this can be taken as just a nostalgic memory of better times, from the stories you’ll hear from them, you’ll understand that these people are true enthusiasts, in whom motorcycles ignited not only a passion for fast riding and rebellion, but also a huge dose of goodness, empathy, and zest for life. And you’ll see all of this as soon as you start talking to them.