Tag: hijack

  • World Firsts

    World Firsts

    Or – Firsts in the Vrystaat (well, sort of . . . Firsts For Us! There you go).

    In our little world:

    • We invented Hijacking – of the Orange Express (check post)
    • We invented Streaking – in Kimberley (check post)
    • We invented Drifting – on the athletics track in the park (check post)
    • We invented Selfies – in Oklahoma (check post)
    • We invented Kidnapping – on birthdays, anyway*
    • We invented self-driving cars

    =========ooo000ooo=========

    Tobogganing – We didn’t invent tobogganing in the Vrystaat, but we thought we maybe invented summer tobogganing. We did it on old car bonnets that we found in the dongas east of town between King Street and the new bypass, which wasn’t there yet – just veld. Cardboard boxes worked too, but had a short lifespan. These guys were doing it in 1872 in the snow. OK, we were in the 1960’s – not cardboard on grass, but upside -down car bonnets down dongas.

    But we did invent Mountain Biking, we were sure. MTB’ing on our dikwiel fietse in and around those same dongas ca 1966 to 1970. Ramping, jumping and gooi’ing squares. Along the dongas and across the dongas. Maybe those fietses weren’t really built for that kind of action (no shocks, flimsy mudguards), as the mudguards caught on the wheels and got scraped up into weird shapes. We find the excessive use of helmets these days puzzling.

    History according to wikipedia: The original mountain bikes were modified heavy cruiser bicycles used for freewheeling down mountain trails. The sport became popular in the 1970s in Northern California with riders using older single speed balloon tyre bicycles to ride down rugged hillsides. See! We were first!

    Bicycle Dikwiel deluxe.jpg

    HijackingThe earliest documented instances of maritime hijacking were in the 14th century BC, when the Sea Peoples, a group of ocean raiders, attacked the ships of the Aegean and Mediterranean civilizations. OK, that was before us. Train hijacking? OK, there was this military raid that occurred on April 12, 1862, in Georgia during the American Civil War. Volunteers from the Union Army commandeered a train and took it northward toward  Chattanooga Tennessee. If you look closely, one of the raiders does look a bit like a Venning;

    train-hijacking

    StreakingWhen and where streaking started is unknown. A 1967 article in the student paper at Carleton College in Minnesota laments that streaking was a tradition during winter when temperatures were well below freezing. OK, so we were in 1969, maybe they beat us. Anyway it seems Lady Godiva beat us all to it:  An English noblewoman who, according to a 13th century legend, rode naked – but covered by her long hair – through the streets of Coventry to gain a remission of the oppressive taxation that her husband imposed on his tenants. In later versions of this legend, a man named Tom watched her ride and was struck blind or dead. The name ‘Peeping Tom’ for a voyeur originates here;

    DriftingAlthough the origin of drifting is not known, Japan was one of the earliest birthplaces of drifting as a sport. It was most popular in the Japan Touring Car Championship races. Kunimitsu Takahashi was the foremost creator of drifting techniques in the 1970s. But first there was us in the late 60’s in a black front-wheel-drive Saab! The venue: the streets  of the metropolis of Kestell and the athletic track in Harrismith. Steph at the wheel! Deftly dodging the bluegum tree stompe specifically placed on the track to deter hooligans. In vain.

    This church saw some good drifting in its day

    Selfies – I took my selfie in 1973 in Oklahoma, which was WAY before it became popular.

    ApacheOK73 (8).JPG

    selfie-1839-robertcornelius  serious-selfie

    OK, this Robert oke did it in 1839, and this lady had better equipment – in both ways.

    .

    Kidnapping – Tuffy started kidnapping in 1970 but these fellas kidnapped this bride 100yrs earlier in 1870:

    bride_kidnapping-1870

    *Birthdays: Tuffy started the tradition of birthday kidnapping, grabbing a birthday boy and bundling him into a sleeping bag, tying the top closed. Then driving him somewhere and dumping him to make his own way home. When it was Tuffy’s turn we simply dumped him out of the sleeping bag into the pool at the du Plessis’ place as he happened to be born on the Winter Solstice, 21st June, shortest day of the year. Oh, yes – and the coldest! So he didn’t have a long walk home, lucky fella. Funny thing is, he didn’t thank us . . .

    .

    Rally Cross – Tim Venning in the blue Triumph 2000 roared around and between the old popular trees and oke trees and other trees on the far side of the Harrismith President Brand park across the Vulgar river. Just when you thought he had to go straight he’d cut left between trees and hare off on another tack. People watching might have dreamt up today’s rally cross.

    .

    Self-driving cars – Or cars fuelled by one kind of inflammable substance while the drivers were fuelled by another. Old hat. Elon Musk was still growing pimples.

    =========ooo000ooo=========

    donga – Dry gully or arroyo, formed by the eroding action of running water; fantastic cowboy movie scenery;

    gooi’ing squares – slamming on the back brake while throwing the bike on its side, skidding dramatically while looking nonchalant; chicks swooned;

    dikwiel fietse – fat- or balloon-tyred bicycles; Chicks swooned over ous who rode them;

    ous – handsome young rakes; cool cats;

    ~~~oo0oo~~~

  • The Night We Hijacked the Orange Express

    The Night We Hijacked the Orange Express

    Trudi won Miss Personality at Maritzburg Varsity. We could have told them that she’d win beforehand if they’d asked. Her prize: A trip to Rio de Janeiro! Steph arranged a farewell party at Shady Pines in Stuart Street in the mighty metropolis of Harrismith Vrystaat on the night of her departure; after which we would deliver her safe and pickled to the Harrismith stasie. You didn’t know trips to Rio de Janeiro start at Harrismith Railway Station?! Ha! It goes to show . . . bone up on your geography.

    At the station we bid her farewell in moviestar style, Trudi hanging out the window, fans crowded on the platform, much hubbub (just like in any good romantic movie). Here we are, hubbubbing:

    party goers saying bye – Bibi de Vos pic

    Here’s Trudi with her hatbox:

    train-station
    credit: alamy free use

    All the mense are on the platform looking up to Trudi. Except some ringleaders are missing. Where could John and Nick be? Ah, the-ere they are, off the very far end of the platform on the tracks talking to the train driver. I recognise Nick’s leg of plaster of paris in the gloom. I scurry over and get there just in time to hear: “Nooit, meneer, this are not a melktrein, this are ve Orange Express! No stops before Beflehem.”

    He reminds me of the rumour that you can’t find three wise men in the Vrystaat. But he does turn out to be wise after some rooinek private school farmer persuasion, as he partially relents: “OK, ve bess I can do for yous is I’ll slow down when I pass Rivierdraaistasie.”

    Right!

    We hop on, and soon the train pulls off. John the agile gymnast has a case of beer under his one arm and a wicked grin under his one moustache. We make our way to Trudi’s cabin. “What on earth are you guys doing here?” We repeat a very hasty goodbye because already the train is FLYING! I myself am now rather nervous and if it wasn’t for the medicinal value of beer I might have said something sensible. We each take position at a door and watch as the poles whizz past us in a blur. Past the crossing to Swiss Valley where Nick (whose leg is in plaster so he is chosen to drive the getaway car, having proved his mettle and driving skills by breaking his leg when he pranged his car – just like in any good gangster movie) was going to meet us. The railway crossing whizzes past and it feels like we’re accelerating!

    – the lantern held aloft –

    Suddenly a decrease in speed and, peering forward, some lights in the dark. Get ready to jump. Arse over kettle each one of us hits the ground and tumbles. I almost stayed on my feet but then had to duck for the big sign RIVIERDRAAISTASIE one word. But one man didn’t fall: He who held the case of beers on stocky legs kept it together! Likely helped by that brush moustache acting as a windbreak and steadying the ship. We ran back up the track into the dark as a man came stumbling out of the stasie kantoor, lantern held aloft (just like in any good Orient Express movie), yelling that famous Afrikaans query, ‘Vuddafokgaanhieraan!?’

    When we gathered, a sober head prevailed. Probly Nick’s, limping driver of the getaway car. “Boys, we can’t go! We can’t ‘drop’ the train driver. The stasiemeester will have to put in a report and our man the driver will get into trouble. We have to go and talk to the stasiemeester.

    So a delegation is sent back to the stasie, one limpong, one carrying a carrypack as a peace offering. The rest of sit in the veld in thecpotch dark awaiting their return, supping thoughtfully on John’s case of ales. And we await and await.

    Eventually – just when we think maybe they’ve gone to jail – they return, much merrier and cleverer than when they left. Apparently as they started to say Naand Meneer, ons is jammer . . the oke said: “That’s the BEST thing that’s happened to me in all my years at Rivierdraai Stasie!” and insisted they sit and join him for a dop, pulling a bottle of brandewyn from the top drawer of his desk (just like in any good cowboy movie).

    ~~oo0oo~~

    A sequel:

    Is nothing a secret in a small dorp? I get home before sunrise, and later that same morning my Mom peeps her head into my bedroom in my garden cottage, The Country Mansion: “Were you on that train?” asks Mary Methodist in her woe-unto-us voice, “I’m so glad you’re home safely,” what a special Mom. At about nineteen years old, though, I couldn’t understand why she was fussing. It did sort-of dawn on me decades later, just like in any good psychodrama movie, when I had a nineteen year old who inherited all the wrong genes from me.

    – my Country Mansion on the left –

    ~~~oo0oo~~~

    stasie – Harrismith: famous station; opened just in time for the Boer War, still going; Rivierdraai: now also a famous tiny siding station; now derelict

    stasie kantoor – station master’s office furnished with govt issue desk and chair; desk has a top drawer

    nooit meneer – sorry, china; beg pardon, sir; no way, José

    china – my frie-end!

    melktrein – slow moving train; frequent stops; never called ‘express’

    stasiemeester – station master; CEO

    Vuddafokgaanhieraan? – what’s up, gentlemen?

    naand meneer, jammer – evening sir; we apol . .

    dop – stiff tots from that brandy bottle in the top drawer

    brandewyn – brandy; or whatever was on special at Platberg drankwinkel

    drankwinkel – drinking shop; bottle store; liquor store

    A Prequel

    Riverdraai had received belangrike and almost-as-exciting visitors along its railway line once before!

    The South African Railways – actually SA taxpayers – provided a fairly new Royal Train for Mr and Mrs King of Britain when they visited Southern Africa in 1947, so that they could get to Rivierdraaistasie and then ride horses to Platberg, our mountain above Harrismith. The spoorweg ous painted the coaches white, and the Garratt locomotives a deep royal blue for the trip to Rivierdraai. We actually provided three trains for the donners. The Royal Party travelled in the White Train, recycled from the 1925 Prince of Wales and 1934 Prince George Royal Tours, thank goodness, to save a bit of ponde. A Pilot Train ran 30 minutes in front of the White Train and carried lesser officials, tame gushing press people and servants. And bringing up the rear, a Ghost Train followed the White Train carrying spare parts for the trains, maintenance gear for the trains, and maybe inappropriate boyfriends for princesses? No horses, though.

    Our dorpie Harrismith down the track had to provide horses for the royal bums (get the double entendre there?). I only know that Margaret got Piet Steyn’s grey; I’m sure they all got good mounts from the good people of the dorp. They rode to the akkerbos and back and I’m sure they had fun and I’m sure the Rivierdraaistasie stasiemeester gave them a nice welcome.

    But I bet he didn’t haul out his secret brandewyn stash for them!

    An Update

    Darn! The desk with the brandy bottle in the top drawer has gone . .

    – Ah, the sign didn’t have ‘stasie’ – just RIVIERDRAAI one word –

    ~~oo0oo~~

    belangrike – important; Rivierdraaistasie was used by the 1947 royal visit when King Jors brought the tannie and two dogters to visit HS and Platberg

    tannie – queen

    dogters – princesses

    spoorweg ous – railwaymen

    donners – bliksems

    bliksems – blighters

    ponde – money; pounds shillings n pence

    akkerbos – oak forest on the slopes of Platberg