Poësie in petrol | Poetry in petrol

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Loftus Marais kan gedigte toor uit fisika en oliebore. Anders as Louw gebruik hy nie ’n beiteltjie wat klink en blink nie; dié rocksterdigter gebruik ’n “fokken lugdrukboor” om die klanke van sy semantiese skoonheid te skep.

Karin Schimke could turn geometry into an orgasm and she was able to create poetry from the tools found in her dad’s workshop. She might have done something far more meaningful at Sunday’s meet of local high-performance engines, but then she was not there. I was.

Sondagoggend om 07h00 buite McDonald’s by N1-stad. Blikskottel. Een na die ander kom hulle aan: motors wat ek nog net in tydskrifte gesien het.

A geek like yours truly is more familiar with the cadence of the iambic pentameter, but I do read about vehicles and I know when a hypercar rocks up. Besides, even if you do not know anything about cars, you could just have closed your eyes and listened. These monsters arriving at the McDonald’s parking lot at 07h00 on a Sunday were no ordinary family cars. They were high-performance animals waiting to be unleashed. Stuff iambic pentameters. These guys could scream crescendos at full blast.

Die TT het tien silinders. Langs hom staan ’n Audi-stasiewa met agt. Wat? Vir ’n gesinsmotor? Die Lamborghini het ook tien silinders. Langs die Lambo staan ’n Nissan. Net ses suiers, maar warm gemaak en met die hand oorgebou deur Tetsushi Matsumoto. Seshonderd perde gaan nie genoeg wees om die een te stop nie.

Hulle parkeer in ’n ry en begin raas.

Ten cylinders on the TT. Next to it a family car with eight. My word. I try to figure out what the Lamborghini has stashed under its hood and it looks like ten more. The menacing Nissan next to it has only six pistons, but the entire vehicle has been hand-built by Tetsushi Matsumoto. These four took centre stage and started screaming.

Wat maak ek hier? Dis my seun. Hy is die karmaniak. Hy het gevra dat ek saam met hom kom. En heimlik rittel ek van die lekkerkry elke keer as ek ’n motor sien waaroor ek nog net gelees het.

Why I am here? Because my son is a petrol head. Deep down this geek trembles with pleasure every time I recognise a vehicle I have only seen pictures of up to now.

Ek en my seun het uitgewerk dat die motors saam ver meer as R100 miljoen werd was.

The total value of these vehicles far exceeded R100 million.

Daar is ’n hele subkultuur van motorbyeenkomste waarvan ek nie weet nie. Die uitnodiging om deel te neem aan hierdie byeenkomste is oop vir almal, maar jy moet weet waar om die uitnodigings te kry. My seun weet. Dis hoe ek daar beland het.

The events are open to the public. Anyone can seemingly pitch up, but you’d need to know where to find the invitations. My son does. This one was organised by TunedIn, with the escooterclub.com, BSZA, Midnight Racing, Social Crew and the R Club SA also mentioned.

Die lawaai was indrukwekkend, en van die ouens het gewys wat hulle karre kan doen, maar nooit op plekke waar die publiek sou seerkry nie. Voor die rit na Kalkbaai is daar ’n deeglike gesprek gevoer waarin dit duidelik gemaak is dat geen kanse gevat mag word op die openbare paaie nie.

What impressed me about the event was the order. The noise was everywhere, but we were in an empty parking lot. During the route briefing, clear instructions were given that no doughnuts or burnouts would be allowed on the public roads. Some drivers did show some remarkable driving, wheel spins and even speed, but only under well-controlled conditions where the general public would not be inconvenienced.

Met ’n tikkie nostalgie het ek die GTi-ouens gesien. In my dae was daardie karre die room.

To the one side a few solid GTi badges were seen. I still remember the days when those were South Africa’s only supercars.

Die verstommende deel van die hele storie was hoe normaal die eienaars van hierdie megamotors omgegaan het met doodgewone ouens soos ek. Hulle was vriendelik, het geselsies aangeknoop en sommige het selfs gevra of hulle hulle deure groter of kleiner moet oopmaak as hulle sien ek soek ’n hoek om teen af te neem.

There were no douchebags. The rich okes had the hardware and they allowed the plebs, like me, to drool. They even engaged in chats and were considerate when I wanted to take pictures.

Van Goodwood af is die groep met die M3 oor Boyes Drive na die Kalkbaaihawe. Ek en my seun het uitgewerk dat ’n Toyota Avanza nie met ’n M4 sal kan meeding nie; ons het dus kortpad gekies en was in Kalkbaai toe die groot enjins begin opdaag.

From Goodwood the cars and bikes drove on the M3 and to Kalk Bay Harbour via Boyes Drive.

Soos die motors met harde knalle en gille die hawe begin verlaat het, moes ek hiervan probeer sin maak. Nooit sal ek ’n motor met veertig kleppe kan bekostig nie. Wat maak ’n sosialistiese semiotikus dus met sulke duur motors wat verby hawelose mense ry? Toe “kry” ek dit. Ons verkoop elke maand duisende romanses. Een van ons lesers het dit so mooi opgesom: “As ek dit by die huis gekry het, sou ek hulle nie gelees het nie.” ’n Mens mag mos maar droom.

As the cars began leaving Kalk Bay, I tried to wrap my brain around the event. I will never be able to own a vehicle that screams at the world with forty valves. What do so many cars, often worth far over a million each, say about a country where many people cannot afford taxi fares? The semiotics bugged me for a while. Perhaps the fact that I, with a ten-year old seven-seater, was there and was welcomed into the mix, could be what we should concentrate on. Is that not why people read romance novels? If they got it at home, they would not need to read them.

Dit was ’n boemelaar wat uiteindelik die saak beklink het.

My son, dressed to the nines in designer gear for the occasion, picked up a conversation with a young dude who had clearly slept under the railway bridge the night before. I could not help hearing the guy, in hand-me-downs, say to my son: “Nah, I’d like to a buy a really fast car. I want a Bugatti.”

Ek is boonop nie ’n digter nie. Hierdie sou dus nie ’n gedig gewees het nie. Maar in my hand was ’n kamera. So vrinne, kom ons droom.

I am no poet, nor can I compose music. The screams of amazing engines and squealing tyres could not be done justice by my words. I do like to take pictures, though. Here they are.

Toe ons wegtrek, trap ek my 1500 cc se enjin plat. Ek rev die kar soos nog nooit. Niemand neem ’n foto nie, maar my seun lag saam met my omdat ek so simpel is. Die oomblik is mooi.

As we drove off, I revved my 1500 cc Avanza really hard. Nobody took a picture, but my son laughed with me. Life was good.

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  • Pingback: Karre en kinders | Cars and Kids

  • Te lekker, Izak!! My seun is net so gek oor karre😁 Heerlik gelees hieraan! Ek hoor dit sommer so saam met julle! 😎

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