Stop The Bus

Talk about dragging something out. Jeez. Well the good news is we’ve eventually bought our bus – turns out it’s more of a camper bus than the moerse big bus we originally dreamed about but nonetheless we are chaffed. Actually buzzing, doing flick flacks cos things are finally coming together.

December was a bit of a bummer month. I’m not referring to the 6 kg’s I picked up while on leave or the withdrawal symptoms I suffered from missing free internet access at work and being able to make a phone call without thinking twice. The bus saga brought me down cos we had a stunning party bus lined up and then if all fell through. Theo and Keith (my brother in law who knows about diesel engines) caught a greyhound up to Bloemfontein to buy a party bus for sale up there. The guy said the engine was great and we had visions of doing a few party trips and making some moela from the bus while tackling the outside renovations. I’d started phoning to make enquiries about public liability and visions of us taking party groups on trips to the beach and Theo whipping up a seafood braai all fell by the wayside when the bus turned out a dud. The puddle of oil under the engine was a give away and the bus barely made it round the block. 1 month of waiting for the guy to sort out the paper work all for nothing. I was starting to get despondent but we still had the option of a smaller school bus up in Struuisbaai to fall back on. We just had to wait for the guy to be available after new year before we could move on that. More time ho hum and I was starting to loose my pluck.

In the meantime I focused on Xmas, stuffed my face, tanned my cellulite and got horribly drunk on new years. Then we discovered that the Struuisbaai bus had a problem with the diff, wrong ratio and complicated to sort out. Mid January back at work and on the phone to dealers who could put a Nissan centre diff into an Isuzu engine in a Bedford bus. Not going well and we hadn’t even started on actual work yet. About to give up we considered buying a camper just to get going. Then we went back for a second looked at the very first camper bus we looked at in October, which at the time seemed crummy but suddenly seemed perfect. It’s smaller and lighter than a big bus yet bigger than a standard camper and it’s already kitted out. Just a few changes needed. It’s absolutely perfect. We will have to hook up a trailer for the bikes as apposed to hoisting then onto the back. No problem, in fact less work.

So now we are the very proud owners of a camper bus and are busy getting it ready for roadworthy. Yeehaa!

Medicate, Vegetate and Inebriate

I’ve been having all my nuts and bolts examined while I’m still on medical aid since time is running out before Theo resigns from his job. It’s the last chance to get moesies and poesies sorted so I even considered having a hysterectomy but the advice I got from friends ranged from “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” while another warned me my bladder could drop out and would spend the rest of its remaining days swinging from a hammock suspended below my voluptuous eggs. I didn’t fancy sporting a manly moustache which another warned me would manifest itself on my upper lip so I ended up having the screws removed from my funny knee instead. It sounded less risky and I looked forward to a few days of genuine sick leave without feeling guilty.


I had visions of blogging every day and sleeping late and I was off the hook from participating in my mother’s line dancing sessions. Unfortunately it also meant no more biking for awhile, although I was apprehensive about that dam kickstart.

I spent the first few days at home vegetating on the couch, staring at the TV and waiting for the next 6 hrs to pass so that I could pop another 2 painkillers. The 2nd part of my sick leave was spent eating all the Xmas fruit mince pies which my mom and I had made. I also had a bash at tanning my cellulite outside in the back garden. Trips to the physio were about as much exercise as I got and the few kg’s which I had previously lost, reappeared around my waistline. It was time to revert back to my mothers meals of grated carrot salad, steamed broccoli and a slice of skinless chicken and avoid double helpings of Theo’s potjiekos, or snacking on sticky chicken wings or sampling his yummy olive biscuits. Luckily I’d polished off all the tempting fruit mince pies.

I ended my sick leave with a good ol biker party and attended the Skeleton Crew 1st year birthday bash. I haven’t been to a bike get-together for ages so it was really great seeing old friends and since the drinks were buy one get one free, well, do the maths. The music was good and it wasn’t long before I found myself head banging and forgot all about my puffy knee. Unfortunately head banging requires you to be steady on both feet so I fell over but I broke my fall on my friends face, careful to keep my knee out of harms way.

She went home with a blue eye and I spent my last sick leave day back on the couch nursing my kidneys. And the lesson learnt – sun tanning with bandages will result in zebra stripes.

My First Off Road Experience

We’ll I’ve had my bike a month already and only taken it for a quick spin – no offroading. Finally a free weekend rolled around so we packed the tent and sleeping bags and planned to follow the railway line along the service road and see where we ended up. We took the tar road until Joostenberg Vlakte and then onto gravel. My first impression was not great. The road was sandy and my bike seemed to have a mind of its own. This was supposed to be fun and I wasn’t having any. My mirrors had loosened themselves from all the vibrations and the one even fell off. The road changed after a couple of km’s and I started relaxing and then it was back on tar again before we turned onto the service road at Hermon. I was kak scared when the road became a grass track and you couldn’t see the condition of the so called road and at one stage the prickly tall weeds were flapping around me at waist height. I was really grateful for my brand new offroad boots, my birthday present from Theo, which scored him big brownie points.

My bike started easily enough the day I bought it but for some reason I sukkeled to kickstart it from there onwards. I wasn’t opening the throttle enough so it cut out every now and then on pullaways and poor Theo had to kickstart mine, then his and his leg was taking the punch. At some point he signaled for me to stop so he could take a photo of me riding through a difficult section. Yeah right. The only thoughts I had were to keep moving, stay upright, try not to say oh sh!t too loudly and convince myself I was having fun. We stopped under a tree for a rest and I pulled a weed out of my bum, rearranged body parts, had a stiff drink for my nerves and decided that this was fun, only just though. The scary factor was high up there. Theo suspected that there was a drift up ahead and warned me that I better not cut out in the water otherwise I’d have a problem. I followed his lead, gave power, crossed through successfully but came out too fast and my back tyre slipped and slid all over the place and I nearly lost it. Luckily the bike cut out 2 inches before I hit a fence and I started doubting the fun factor again. I entertained a cow while I huffed and puffed and tried to maneuver my bike backwards into a better position for me to climb on again and try and kick the thing into life. Theo rescued me and to my relief he soon turned off and we hit the tar again. Riding on tar roads soon got boring traveling at 100 km’s. We came over the Nuwekloof pass into Tulbagh and Theo decided to explore the original old tar road along the gorge. It was fun but unfortunately we came to a section with locked gates and had to turn around. We headed for the forests in Tulbagh (which sadly hardly exist anymore) and the gravel roads up in the mountains had my adrenalin rushing to the limits. We rode up and down hectic gravel roads and when we stopped for a break I was exhilarated yet kak bang and panting. It was hard work turning my bike around in the dirt, until I realized it’s possible to just ride over small bushes. I had to keep pushing my remaining left mirror away from my shoulder to get my clutch lever back into a clutchable position and not point skywards. There was lots of vibrating I tell you and not the kind I was used to.

We took the back dirt road through to Wolsely and back along the tar. We arrived at the Tulbagh caravan park, pitched our tent and I flopped down grinning and exhausted. I didn’t care that my hair was stuck to my dusty face. There was no mistaking the fun factor anymore. A few drinks later, still buzzing, I praised myself and relived each and every scary bit.

The next day we chilled around our campsite and took a slow ride back home alternating between boring tar and straight easy gravel roads. Our bodies were sore and I was glad I didn’t have to deal with any serious stuff other than kickstarting my bike. I’d been managing occasionally to start it and felt sorry for Theo’s right bum each time he limped over to get mine going.

I’m sure I’ll miss my road bike and the buzz of racing along, pushing yourself to the limit through a sweep but my introduction to offroading scored a big adrenalin rush and I can’t wait for more.

Arranging the Deranged

Living with my mother is turning me into a organized, dull, respectable, middle aged auntie. I’m learning to line dance, I try not to drip all over the bathroom floor, I wipe the stove before going to bed and I can’t remember when last I’ve woken up with a hangover. Theo is accustomed to a bit of on chaos so I’m sure he is feeling like a fish out of water as well.

It’s great coming home from work and the supper is cooked and my washing is done and folded and everything is in its place but hell, last weeks excitement was the fact that I accidently left the front door wide open which my mother only discovered when she woke up at 9 o clock by which time she could have been murdered in her bed.

Being organized and making to-do lists does have its plus points. Every morning I go straight to the key rack to find my keys hanging there. I never have to drink black coffee cos there’s always milk in the fridge. I’ve been wearing matching socks, not just the same colour range, I mean a proper actual pair. Awesome. But I miss the chaos. Can this be true? I’m used to functioning in a slight bit of unorganization so it’s hard work competing with my alter ego. I mean, sometimes things tend to fall into place without all this effort anyway. Doing my makeup at work in the reflection of my stapler really doesn’t bother me when I’m late. Come to think of it, nothing bothers me.

Theo is coping well in the new environment. He hasn’t left his under pants wedged between the couch cushions or dumped his spanners in the drying up rack in the kitchen. My mother is fascinated by the jar of pickled eggs he made last week and couldn’t believe it when he whipped up a mushroom quiche on Sunday night at 8 o clock just because he felt like it. She went to bed before he had finished pickling the other 26 packets of mushrooms which we’d bought at a really good price. Luckily we have 2 fridges, one for my moms endless supply of tupperware containers range from big to small, smaller, smallest and leftovers get moved accordingly. The other fridge is full of Theo’s home made lemon pickled atchar, olive tapenade, cured bacon and liquors.
So bottom line, things are working out great living with my mom but I’ll just have to make sure I don’t change from being slightly deranged to very arranged. I’ve lost my clitoris before, but not my personality.

Window Shopping

We’ve moved into my old bedroom, which seemed more spacious during my budding teenage years. Squeezing 2 very full grown adults and meters of computer cabling into the same area is a tight fit. There’s not even space for my vibrator.

After trying over and over to kickstart Theo’s XT which didn’t happen since I didn’t have the “knack” and after viewing a few other bikes, I finally settled on a Suzuki DR 200. It’s a kickstart but you don’t need thunder thighs to get it going. (Bugger the knee, I’ll wear a knee brace or something.) I took it for a spin and it sure is different to my old bike. It’s old and it rattles and shakes and I have to just about sit on top of the tank and there’s no cockpit effort in the front which my old bike had. Theo told me to sit up and lift myself off the seat but I’m too poep scared to stand up on the footpegs. I’m sure I’ll get it after a few more tries.

Theo’s roadbike is also sold now so we have the deposit for a bus. We’ve looked at a few, even viewed a camper but haven’t found the perfect bus yet. It seems a 62 seater bus is the right size or else we’re gonna have to store the Webber (for smoking meat) and Theo’s sausage maker in the shower and his Still and boxes of bottles will have to be stored in the loo. Sounds a bit cramped. Or we could go true African style and load up on the roof. Going under bridges would pose a problem and anyway not our style.

Oh well, the right one will eventually come along, it’s just a matter of time. I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when we do find one and in the meantime there’s enough other things to keep us busy.

Well we move out of our house in 2 weeks. There are boxes stacked everywhere and it might appear as though we are living in chaos, but actually I’m quite organized. Everything’s labeled.

I’ve found a suitable house for Kyro and his college buddies to share. That was a mission. People just aren’t interested in renting their house to 3 young male students. I wonder why. Theo and I are moving in with my mom. By choice. That’s gonna be interesting. My mom is very easy to get along with although she has a totally different cooking style to Theo. He does most of the cooking at home and loves spicy food as well as unusual dishes. He makes his own olives, chorizo sausage, smoked bacon, pancetta, pestos and pickles. My mom on the other hand thinks any cheese other than Gouda is exotic and thinks if she adds a teaspoon of tumeric to her pot she has curry.

Her house reminds me of a show house. Ours is not messy but compared to hers it sure is. Keen to see how that’s gonna play out. I’ll probably join the line dancing class she gives on Monday evenings. Woopee. Oh well, I’ll enjoy the bonding.

Hill Billy Style

Theo’s booze concoction has been bubbling away in the spare room for what seems like ages now. He intends making his own triple distilled Vodka (us locals call it Witblitz) and soaking fruit in it or making liqueurs to “trade” with it. In the past he’s made really good rose petal wine and some apple cider of note. Anyway the stuff in the bucket did the ama-glug-glug as it fermented. He tried a shortcut and stuck the bucket on the back seat of our car in the driveway to catch a bit of the winter sun. Well, as things happen, he popped down to the shops later that day. The bucket tipped over, a little drizzled out of the funny curly pipe thing on top and left a hectic klunk in the car. I left the windows and doors of the car open that night in the garage to air it but the snails took it as an invite and had a party on the back seat so now I’ve got a klunk and snail trails to get rid of before we can sell the car. Anyway, back to the booze making.

Eventually it was time to try out the still. Theo built it from instructions on the internet and got someone to do the braising. He bought a hydrometer to measure the sugar content and spent the evening in the backyard watching the temperature of the stuff as it dripped through the still. The first cupful got dumped since apparently it’s lethal and the last bit gets recycled. We ended up with a jarful of kickarse proof booze. Theo made the most divine, creamed liqueurs which didn’t take long to polish off. The Death by Chocolate one was definitely a killer if you’re watching your figure.

The next trial run Theo plans to get walnuts to make Frangelica but it takes a whole month for the nuts and booze to blend to the right taste so ho hum, I’ll have to patiently wait for the next guinea pig session. Dam, life’s a bitch.