“On a motorcycle, you can’t really think about more than where you are. There’s a freedom that comes with that – from stress, worry, sweating the small stuff.” – Laurence Fishburne
The most hardcore Formula 1 fan still appreciates the genius of Rossi, Lorenzo, Marques and friends as they dart across the apex of a corner and each other, with only inches to spare. In the same way, the average classic car fan immediately recognises the appeal of motorbikes that pay homage to the classics.
Names like Ducati and Triumph are perfect company for the likes of Alfas, MGs and Porsches. In fact, Porsche purists will only find their beloved air-cooled technology in motorcycle showrooms these days, rather than at their local Porsche dealer.
Speaking of Triumph and Porsche, both have demonstrated an ability to make money off a single name for multiple decades. The name “Bonneville” is as iconic at the local hipster breakfast spot as “911” is at the racetrack.
As Shaun Wray demonstrates though, the Bonneville can do far more than get you from A to Flat White. After a genuine near-death experience with a rare lung condition before reaching the age of 30, Shaun decided certain things couldn’t wait any longer. A magnificent blue and silver Bonneville was in the garage soon thereafter.
As he explains:
“My one true passion for as long as I can remember has been motorcycles, so much so that I made it my career.
I can attribute a lot of my motorcycle knowledge to my mom as I spent most of my childhood Saturday mornings under the watchful eye of Peter Jovaris who ran the Ducati store in Bryanston JHB. My mom would leave me there in the morning, go off to do her shopping and come collect me before they closed at 1pm.
Peter, Mile and Zoki would entertain question after question, weekend after weekend as I tried to learn as much as possible about dry clutches, wet clutches, desmo valves and whatever else I needed to know about motorbikes.
I worked for Ducati for a while and I now own a business called Parabolica Motorsport that distributes REV’IT! apparel in South Africa (www.parabolica.co.za)”
So, how does a Ducati fanatic end up with a Triumph?
“There was no denying I had an affinity to the Ducati brand, but I liked and still do like all motorcycles. All bikes create a world unto themselves and a place for us to escape. I needed a bike that was within budget, had relatively low mileage, would be hassle-free, could handle dirt roads, would be good enough for a long trip and would most importantly look cool. So, I bought a Bonneville.”
Perhaps more importantly, how does a Triumph Bonneville end up balanced on a cooldrink crate on a road where you would expect to only find Jeeps and adventure bike riders?
That’s a long story. A naked classic motorcycle is not the usual choice for a mixed tar and dirt route roadtrip across South Africa, but then Shaun isn’t a usual kind of guy. At all.
“I needed to be in Knysna the first weekend of May for an annual boys’ weekend at the Jaguar Simola Hillclimb. So, I had two options – fly to George and hire a car or fly to Cape Town and grab a lift with the mates.
I chose neither. I decided the best bet would be the Bonneville and following the least direct route at that. A few WhatsApp messages later and I had a riding buddy lined up – Steve, on a far more sensible KTM 1050.”
A Triumph and a KTM, on an epic adventure across the country. It sounds like the motorcycle version of possibly every Will Ferrell movie ever.
“We headed into the abyss – the N1. Around 900kms later we found ourselves on an olive farm in Beaufort West for the night. The second day saw us tackle what I looked forward to the most – the infamous Swartberg pass.
Knowing it needs more brains than brawn, I thought my Bonneville would make easy work of it. It did, for the most part. About 500 metres from the safety of tar, my front tyre hit a pointy rock and succumbed to the injuries.
Three plugs and a tube of tyre cement couldn’t keep the air in the tyre, so we limped over to Kobus’ se Gat – a padstal about 1km from the start of the pass on the Oudtshoorn side. Kobus had a small bicycle workshop on his property where the staff were more than willing to try help. After trying to remove the tyre from the rim and destroying a few spoons, we called it a night and left the bike without a front wheel, balancing on an old Coca-Cola crate.
Shortly after waking up on Wednesday morning, Kobus had arrived back from Oudtshoorn with a new tyre fitted to my rim, which we quickly popped in before hitting the road. That day’s riding was unforgettable. With perfect weather and nowhere to be, we hit the R62. After doing the mandatory stops at Ronnie’s Sex Shop and Diesel and Crème, we finally made it to Montagu.
The sun was still a few hours from setting, so we thought the logical thing to do was race it to the horizon. Guess what? The sun won.
About 50kms outside of Hermanus, everything went pitch black very quickly and little speckles appeared in my headlight beam. In the middle of the drought-stricken Western Cape, it was raining.
The trip home from Knysna was like the trip there, in the sense that we went everywhere but the direct route. Surfing in J-Bay, playing dodgems with cars after being incorrectly waved through at stop-gos and epic sunsets in Hogsback were followed by 55kms of corrugated sand road to Cathcart. We circumnavigated Lesotho to Fouriesberg and headed home to Joburg.”
A trip like this changes a man.
“I discovered that every form of riding can actually be an escape, an escape from bad places that we create in our minds. We always think that paradise is just over there, a day’s ride away. But, wanting to escape is a funny thing. You can go far and wide and keep moving on from town to town, but you never escape your own life.
Escaping isn’t a place we go, but a thing we do. It’s a thing that teaches us what we need to know about ourselves when we are not riding, an escape that gives us knowledge to change the bad places we are in.
This trip made me realise where my life belonged – on a motorcycle.”
Whether on a motorcycle or in a car, there is one great truth here. Most of us don’t love the machines because of what they are, but because of what they truly mean.
