One of the striking differences between DHS of the late sixties and Kingsway High School at which I started teaching in 1972, was the array of buzz-bikes that could be seen on any given school day parked in the DHS campus. For what ever reason, Kingsway boys lacked this mode of transport. 

 

Mike Lalouette, my closest friend and collaborator, graduated from a buzz-bike to a Honda 300 in my final year at DHS. And though I don't recall it, I'm sure he must have enjoyed a significant rise in status, at least with the other buzz-bikers. The major benefit for me was that I had a means of getting to the Saturday First XV rugby matches - a weekly highlight during the winter months. That there had not been any major calamities involving the buzz-bikers, was probably fortuitous rather than a product of sensible caution. But there might have been at least one. The Maritzburg College/DHS encounters inevitably involved a migration of schoolboys either towards Durban or Maritzburg depending on who had the home fixture.  Mike and I decided that the away fixture would provide the perfect opportunity to test the limits of his Honda 300, and perhaps cheer on our rugby stars to an historic victory over an arrogant MC XV. Following surgery, I had had my right leg encased in a full plaster-cast, and  the potential problem of riding pillion was easily solved by means of strapping my leg to Mike's thigh. On the long dual carriageway stretch into Maritzburg, it occurred to me that the shuddering of the bike had something to do with Mike using a full throttle. Without warning, he suddenly leant forward at full stretch. It was as if I had been pummelled with a clenched fist to the chest. That my leg had been strapped to Mike's probably prevented my detachment from friend and machine. 

 

When I was gradually able to drag myself up into an upright position, I could see that my great buddy was entirely oblivious to what had just happened behind him. In fact he was still leaning forward, his index finger pointing with unbridled enthusiasm at the speedometer, which he later claimed had registered 160 KPH,  or was it 100 MPH in those days? I had no reason to disbelieve him;  but I do also recall the unpleasant sensation of collecting his saliva in my face, when subsequent to the earlier excitement, we had tried to engage in a conversation yelling at each other in the face of a 160 KPH gale. Mike obviously thought that what mattered more than my consternation, was the speed attained by his Honda.

 

Sadly, the rugby match was something of a let down, and I'm certain that we returned to Durban more upset about another defeat at the hands of an Old Enemy, than mindful of a near encounter with our maker.