06/10/2026
THE GREAT EAST LONDON “OOPSIES”
What happens on the road… eventually ends up on Facebook!
Every good motorcycle trip starts with a plan.
You have a route. You have your petrol stops. You have your luggage packed. You have your bike checked. You know where you’re going.
And then there’s HDCSA Durban.
We set off for East London with motorcycles, luggage, wallets, gloves, scarves, mirrors, working bike parts and, most importantly, our dignity.
Not all of these made it home in quite the same condition.
Somewhere along the route, our motorcycle adventure quietly turned into an episode of:
LOST & FOUND • ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE • FLYING BIKERS • EMERGENCY TOILET SERVICES
And presiding over this travelling circus was, of course, our fearless Sergeant at Arms.
THE SERGEANT AT ARMS AND THE SHARED THRONE
The Sergeant at Arms is supposed to maintain order, discipline and proper biker behaviour.
He is supposed to keep everyone in line.
But nobody had prepared him for the greatest challenge of his East London adventure:
HAVING TO SHARE THE TOILET SEAT WITH HIS FELLOW EAST LONDON “OOPSIES”.
There are friendships forged on the open road.
There are friendships strengthened over a cold drink after a long day’s ride.
And then there are friendships that reach an entirely different level when you find yourself standing outside a bathroom door asking:
“ARE YOU FINISHED YET?”
By the end of the trip, our Sergeant at Arms knew considerably more about his fellow travellers’ bathroom habits than any Sergeant at Arms should ever be required to know.
His authority survived.
His dignity?
That investigation is still ongoing.
GRANT AND THE CASE OF THE LONELY GLOVE
Grant started the journey with two gloves.
Which is generally considered the correct number for a motorcyclist.
Somewhere along the route, however, one glove decided that rally life was no longer for it.
It disappeared.
Pockets were checked.
Luggage was checked.
Questions were asked.
The remaining glove was interrogated but refused to give up the whereabouts of its partner.
Somewhere between Durban and East London, there may still be one lonely glove lying beside the road, waiting for Grant to come back.
STATUS: MISSING IN ACTION.
SUSAN AND THE GREAT SCARF ESCAPE
Susan also started the trip with all her belongings.
Including a scarf.
She did not finish the trip with the scarf.
Nobody actually witnessed the exact moment of escape, so we can only assume that somewhere at highway speed, the scarf saw its opportunity.
It spread its wings and shouted:
“FREEDOM!”
Whether it is now decorating a tree, a fence, a road sign or another unsuspecting motorcyclist somewhere between Durban and East London remains unknown.
STATUS: LOST — AND APPARENTLY LIVING ITS BEST LIFE.
FLIP TAKES FLIGHT
Then we come to Flip and Barbara — partners, rider and pillion.
And this is where things became interesting.
Very interesting.
They hit a particularly enthusiastic bump in the road.
The bike went up.
FLIP WENT UP.
For one glorious moment, Flip was no longer simply a motorcycle rider.
HE WAS AIRBORNE.
Unfortunately, gravity has very strict rules.
What goes up…
must come down.
And Flip came down…
RIGHT ONTO THE BACK SUPPORT ON THE BIKE BETWEEN HIM AND BARBARA.
That back support had probably travelled many happy kilometres doing exactly what it was designed to do.
Support.
But it had never been asked to catch FLIP FALLING OUT OF THE SKY.
Flip landed.
The support surrendered.
And just like that…
BACK SUPPORT BECAME NO SUPPORT.
Barbara, sitting behind him as pillion, suddenly discovered that an important piece of motorcycle furniture had officially resigned from duty.
Flip had achieved something few bikers can claim:
He hit a bump, became airborne, landed back on his own motorcycle and took out part of the furniture on the way down.
But Flip and Barbara’s contribution to the East London Oopsies was only getting started.
THE LOST & FOUND SQUAD
Flip & Barbara — Rider and Pillion
Next, Flip lost his wallet.
Now, losing a glove is irritating.
Losing a scarf is unfortunate.
But losing your wallet immediately turns a perfectly normal biker into a detective, forensic investigator and prayer warrior.
Pockets were searched.
Luggage was searched.
The same pockets were searched again.
Then came the famous lost-wallet dance:
Pat the left pocket.
Pat the right pocket.
Check the jacket.
Check the jeans.
Check everything again.
Panic.
Repeat.
Eventually…
THE WALLET WAS FOUND!
Flip could breathe again.
But apparently the universe had decided that one Lost & Found incident was simply not enough for this rider-and-pillion team.
While Flip and Barbara were riding, they hit another bump or pothole.
Their top box came open.
And somewhere behind them, Barbara’s cosmetic mirror made its grand exit onto the road.
Fortunately, a Good Samaritan saw it, picked it up and handed it to Brett, the sweeper riding at the back of the group.
So Flip specialised in:
WALLET LOST → PANIC → WALLET FOUND
While Barbara specialised in:
TOP BOX OPEN → MIRROR FLYING → GOOD SAMARITAN → BRETT THE SWEEPER → MIRROR FOUND
There could no longer be any debate.
Flip and Barbara had officially earned their East London rally title:
THE LOST & FOUND SQUAD
Partners.
Rider and pillion.
And apparently partners in making things disappear and reappear.
JANNIE’S BIKE: FROM STUTTER TO SILENCE
Then there was Jannie’s bike.
It started stuttering.
Brrrmmm…
brr…
b-b-b-brrrmmm…
Naturally, this immediately activated the unofficial motorcycle club roadside technical department.
Heads tilted.
Arms folded.
Serious expressions appeared.
Everybody had a theory.
Fuel.
Plugs.
Electronics.
Air.
Something cheap.
Something expensive.
And, inevitably, someone probably had a story beginning with:
“Mine did exactly the same thing once…”
The bike continued to stutter along.
Until Kokstad.
There, Jannie’s bike apparently decided:
“That’s enough. I’m done.”
And stopped.
Completely.
No more coughing.
No more stuttering.
No more discussion.
SILENCE.
Fortunately, Craig from Pietermaritzburg had a trailer.
And on that trailer was Craig’s own perfectly good motorcycle.
So the next operation began.
Craig’s bike came OFF the trailer.
Jannie’s broken bike went ON the trailer.
Craig climbed onto his own bike and continued the journey riding.
Meanwhile, Jannie and Carol joined Charlene in their bakkie, towing the trailer with Jannie’s now very quiet motorcycle aboard.
So somewhere in Kokstad, the rally plan became:
CRAIG’S BIKE — OFF
JANNIE’S BIKE — ON
CRAIG — RIDING
CHARLENE — DRIVING
JANNIE & CAROL — BAKKIE PASSENGERS
BROKEN BIKE — ENJOYING FIRST-CLASS TRAILER TRANSPORT
Problem solved.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call:
BIKER LOGISTICS.
MICHELLE AND THE EMERGENCY P*E
Then came an announcement every motorcycle convoy understands immediately.
MICHELLE NEEDED TO P*E.
Not later.
Not at the next scheduled petrol stop.
Not when it suited the itinerary.
NOW.
There are motorcycle emergencies.
There are mechanical emergencies.
There are medical emergencies.
And then there is the announcement:
“I NEED TO P*E!”
At that moment, route planning becomes irrelevant.
Distances suddenly become longer.
Petrol stations become beautiful.
Restrooms become sacred ground.
And even a conveniently positioned bush starts looking like prime real estate.
The convoy learned an important lesson that day.
When Michelle announces an emergency pee…
WE STOP.
No committee meeting required.
AND THEN THERE WAS ANTON…
While everybody else was losing things, finding things, flying through the air, breaking bike furniture, launching mirrors, towing motorcycles and searching for emergency toilets…
Anton quietly produced the greatest mystery of the entire trip.
ANTON DID NOT APPEAR TO CONSUME PETROL.
Everybody else watched their fuel gauges.
Calculated kilometres.
Discussed the next petrol stop.
Filled tanks.
Checked ranges.
Anton?
Nothing.
“Anton, petrol?”
No.
More kilometres.
“Anton, surely you need petrol now?”
Still fine.
At some point, we began to suspect that Anton had discovered a revolutionary alternative fuel source.
Perhaps his motorcycle runs on fresh air.
Perhaps it runs on brotherhood.
Perhaps it runs on positive thinking.
Or perhaps Anton knows something about fuel consumption that the rest of us don’t.
Whatever the answer, with the price of petrol these days…
ANTON NEEDS TO SHARE HIS SECRET.
THE OFFICIAL EAST LONDON OOPSIES REPORT
By the end of the adventure:
Grant had reduced his glove collection by 50%.
Susan had donated a scarf to the South African landscape.
Flip had hit a bump, gone airborne, landed on the bike’s back support and successfully converted BACK SUPPORT into NO SUPPORT.
Then Flip lost his wallet…
and found it again.
Barbara’s cosmetic mirror escaped when the top box opened after hitting a bump or pothole, was rescued by a Good Samaritan and eventually delivered safely to Brett, the sweeper at the back.
Together, Flip and Barbara — rider and pillion — became THE LOST & FOUND SQUAD.
Jannie’s bike progressed from stuttering to complete silence in Kokstad.
Craig unloaded his own bike from the trailer, put Jannie’s bike on it and finished the trip riding his own motorcycle.
Jannie and Carol swapped two wheels for four and continued with Charlene in the bakkie, towing the trailer and their non-cooperating motorcycle.
Michelle introduced everyone to the official Emergency P*e Protocol.
Anton apparently travelled an impossible distance while consuming approximately three teaspoons of petrol.
And our brave Sergeant at Arms?
He survived the greatest test of them all…
THE EAST LONDON SHARED TOILET-SEAT SITUATION.
AND THAT’S WHY WE RIDE
Because years from now, nobody is going to remember every kilometre.
Nobody will remember every petrol stop.
But someone will say:
“Remember Grant’s glove?”
Someone else will answer:
“What about Susan’s scarf?”
Flip will hear the word wallet and instinctively start patting his pockets.
Barbara will check that the top box is properly closed.
Someone will point at the back support and ask Flip whether he intends flying again.
Jannie will hear a motorcycle stutter and immediately start looking for Craig’s trailer.
Michelle will locate the nearest toilet before departure.
Anton will still say:
“No thanks, I don’t need petrol.”
And the Sergeant at Arms will quietly leave the room the moment somebody mentions…
THE TOILET SEAT.
FINAL RALLY VERDICT
One glove: Missing in action.
One scarf: Somewhere out there enjoying freedom.
One back support: Became no support.
One wallet: Lost and found.
One cosmetic mirror: Ejected, rescued and returned.
One motorcycle: Stuttered, surrendered and travelled by trailer.
One Craig: Lost his trailer seat but gained a ride on his own bike.
One emergency bladder: Successfully resolved.
Anton’s petrol tank: Apparently bottomless.
One Sergeant at Arms: Forever changed by shared bathroom arrangements.
Friendships: Still intact.
Memories: Priceless.
And the most important lesson of the entire East London adventure?
WHAT HAPPENS ON THE EAST LONDON TRIP…
DOES NOT STAY ON THE EAST LONDON TRIP.
