Charley’s Chat October 2010 (Bike SA)

Something I have never ever tuned you okes ever about yet is that I’m a vegetarian. No it’s true. I don’t smaak killing animals and stuff, but it’s also the kind of thing I don’t smaak talking about because when okes find out that you're a vegetarian they scheme that there’s something wrong with you or that you're an oke from Cape Town.
Now although us vegetarian okes are quite sensitive people because we have feelings for animals and understand the pain that they go through, other okes that ride with us and who still haven’t reached our level of wisdom, are often cold and unfeeling and sometimes even make fun of us. I scheme that they actually do this to us because they know that we vegetarians with our sensitiveness can pull more chicks than they do.
Anyway, so about three weeks ago Mikely decides that he’s gonna have a bit of a jol at his house on the next Saturday because he’s won the lotto with five numbers which is actually only a couple of thousand bucks and he tunes that the rest of us okes from Da Cuzzins, which as you all know by now is our famous and fearless biker gang, must pull in and bring nothing with us because the party’s on him.
Now free dop is free dop and even though it was gonna be a braai with meat, I waited with quite bated breath for the day of the party to arrive. I now also began to check Mikely out in a whole new light and developed a deep respect for him because he didn’t go and waste his bucks on retiling his kitchen or going to a larney restaurant with his missus or something silly like that.
Finally the day of the jol arrived, but because it was a Saturday, there was first a whole lot of stuff that I had to get done on my Triumph to have it grafting lekker for the Staffie Rally the next week. My boss at work has gotten all strict lately and won’t even let me change the Triumph’s oil during work hours or even check the boney’s timing.
Anyway, I'm still busy tracing a wire to my left back flicker which has now all by itself suddenly decided to stop flicking, when the phone rings and its Mikely on the line tuning me to please pop in at the butcher on the way to his jol to collect some meat that he’d already ordered but now doesn’t have time to fetch. I check the time out and realize that the flicker was gonna have wait and quickly jumped on my bike and shot off to the butcher.
When I get to the shop, the oke gives me this big thick see-through plastic bag full of meat and spare ribs. Through the plastic I can check this red juicy runny stuff which when I ask the butcher about it, he tunes me that it’s called ‘marinade’ and that he’d cut the ribs lekker thick and that the meat’s been soaking for two days already.
Now the bag of meat was quite big, but I couldn’t tie it onto the back of the Triumph’s seat because if okes checked the meat there on my boney they’d scheme that I was now suddenly a big meat-eater and so I opened the front of my lummie and squeezed the packet in lekker tight and pulled the zip up and set off for Mikely’s house.
But of course something always has to happen to screw up a perfect day of free dop and stuff. I hadn’t even gone four blocks when up ahead I check a bunch of Metro-Cops with their red cones and stuff waving cars down. It was already too late to turn off, so I hit the anchors and got into the line of cars and waited with them.
And that’s when my brain suddenly tunes me that I still had a broken flicker on the back of my boney and that today being a perfect day and all, I shouldn’t go paying any cops any bribes. Slowly I edged the Triumph’s front wheel out of the line and when it looked like none of the cops could check me, I did a quick U-turn and skieted back up the road as quietly as my drilled out exhaust pipes would let me.
I was almost all the way up the street and around a bend when from behind me a cop siren made a quick blast. I dropped my bike hard into the corner and opened her up skieting off as fast as I could.
Now I don’t know how many of you okes have ever ridden away from the cops, but there are a few things to scheme about while you're riding. The first thing is that the cops are too much like sissies to actually try to chase you on those big fat Bee-Ems of theirs.
The next thing to remember is that you must quickly mingle into the suburb that you're being chased through and blend in. If you're in the south of Jo’burg its quite common for okes to be working on their bonies on the pavement and so what you have to do is quickly stop and pretend that you're grafting on your bike until the cops have skieted past. I checked back behind me to see if the Metro okes were closing in, but then the third thing that an oke has to remember, which is that you must check where you are going, suddenly hit me as I bliksemed into a street boom.
Me and the Triumph were still flying through the air when I heard the cop siren behind me. With full force I bliksemed into the side of a tree and landed on the pavement.
When my eyes opened a cop was leaning over me. ‘And where do you think you're off to mister?’ He said laughing and then held out his hand. ‘Can I see your license?’
‘It’s in the front of my lummie.’ I tuned the cop still trying to get my breath back. My ribs were sore and my arms felt all wobbly from the shock. Keeping his eyes on me, he slowly reached down, pulled the zip aside and put his hand in.
As the jacket burst open, spare-ribs and marinated steaks exploded from the broken plastic bag and sprayed everywhere…
The Metro-Cop looked down at his red dripping hands and at the broken bones sticking from out of my chest and turned white as his eyes rolled up and then he sank heavily in a dead faint on top of me.
As I tuned you guys, the cops are such sissies these days…

 

haha, thats a good story.

can't imagine a cop joking around with a biker after he caught a him running from him...

 

I'm not sure whats worse - the huge block of text or the strange language.

 

Definately the huge block of text. They're both bad though :P

 

It's like he's trying to talk to me or something. I swear some of it's English.

Funny story.

 

Good old Souf Effrikan bikerese..............you don't understand it ? hehehe
And no-one forced you to read the big text block, all you okes are strange, s'tru ma bru

Oh and the writer, Charlie Cooper is a good friend AND AN ENGLISH HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER...................having said that, he teaches English as one would like others to use it................

 

regener8ed - I think it tried to speak again ?

 

Try this
Hey wena ngiyahamba le kaya kawena. Nigithelishaya wena muhle manje. Suga !
Ask a Zulu to translate that..............and you thought bikerese was difficult.........
(Hey you, I'm coming to your house, Now I'm going to beat you ! P---ss off !) hehe
We have ELEVEN OFFICIAL LANGUAGES. I'm only fluent in 3 and can understand some of the rest.
And you buggers can't even spell English correctly hehehehehehehe Humour......

 

shadow , is the vegan thing really about caring for the critters or a heath descision?

 

Not being a vegan, or the author of the content, all I can tell you is that
CHARLIE TELLS LIES - he eats meat like a T Rex and drinks like a fish.
He probably had to look up "vegan" before he put it in.
As for being concerned about critters he regards ground squirrels as "nature's little speed bumps" - he'd probably eat them if they were fresh.