For more than 40 years, Simon Fourie was the face and the voice of motorcycling in South Africa. In 1975, Simon took over the fledgling Bike SA Magazine, fondly known as ‘Bark Essay’ to English speakers and ‘Die Boek’ to Afrikaans speakers. Bike SA was a hugely influential publication which featured local and overseas articles and established an unassailable position as ‘The Best Selling Motorcycle Magazine in Africa’. Simon seldom wrote an editorial, but what amused readers were the disclaimers and the list of contributors, which changed every month. This from the 500th issue published in March 2017: ‘Bike SA accepts no responsibility for politicians donnering each other in parliament nor for that paedophile getting 170 years in jail and 32 life sentences and he has to go to rehab and will he still benefit from the rehab when he gets out in 650 years.’ The contributors were Helen Zille, Jacob Zuma, Vladimir Putin, and Donald Trump.
Over the years, more than 20 publishers attempted to challenge Bike SA for a slice of the lucrative advertising market, but with few exceptions, they failed. Simon liked to say that anyone thinking of starting a bike magazine needed to have an unencumbered stash of a million bucks in a trunk under the bed. Simon welcomed competition and publicly stated that he would be the first to congratulate anyone who sold more copies than Bike SA. At its peak in the ‘90s, every issue of Bike SA exceeded 300 pages and sold 37,000 copies. Bike SA was an icon and an institution thanks to Simon’s charisma, his reputation for honesty and fairness and the undeniable fact that he was a crazy man.
The success of Bike SA enabled Simon to indulge his passion for speed and adventure. Simon’s extreme rides from Durban to Johannesburg in 1988 are the stuff of legends. Simon’s aim was to complete the ride in under three hours. His great friend Piet Spoed prepared a Suzuki GSX-R1100 for the record attempt. The first two attempts failed when the engines blew up. The third attempt succeeded. Simon maintained speeds of 280 km/h. His crew were stationed along the route to refuel the Suzuki and clean Simon’s visor. There was no GPS, and he had handwritten notes to remind him which way to turn as corners emerged at warp speed. With seconds to spare, he howled along the M2W heading for the Rissik Street offramp. Just a few hundred metres from the end point, the Joburg Central Post Office, the ride nearly ended in disaster. The offramp is a blind rise, and Simon couldn’t remember if the corner at the end of the ramp went left or right. He didn’t back off and, fortunately, guessed right. He arrived at the Post Office and set a record of 2 hours, 59 minutes, 10 seconds. This record will never be beaten. There’s nobody foolish enough to even contemplate it. The story made the newspapers and was immediately followed by dozens of indignant letters which labelled him a criminal, an idiot, a homicidal lunatic and a slew of other judgmental epithets. The Chief of Traffic Police couldn’t just ignore the flagrant traffic violations. He invited Simon for an interview and asked him not to do it again. Naturally, this notorious escapade only served to cement Simon’s reputation and street cred as a badass and the most infamous biker in the country.
Simon was a softly spoken man who didn’t need to raise his voice because he spoke with knowledge and authority. We were friends for more than 30 years, and in that entire time, I never heard him swear even once. He was exceedingly generous and assisted many bikers who were down on their luck without seeking recognition for his kindness.
In 1996, Grant McNicol launched Biker Lifestyle Magazine, a niche publication focused on custom bikes, rallies and day jols. The nude centrespreads tended to discourage mainstream advertisers. Simon assisted Grant with advice on running a publication and, every month, advertised the latest issue of Biker Lifestyle. When Grant started the Ink and Iron shows in 2004, Simon advertised those too. I was chatting to Grant, who told me that Simon considered the advertising to be a gift from one biker to another. Simon was a mensch, an exceptionally good, honourable, and decent human being.
Simon was a speed freak. He owned a BMW M6 and a Nissan GTR. He drove like a maniac with his hair on fire. He owned the first-ever Hayabusa in the world. He raced Boxer Cup and Battle of the Twins (BOTS) and any other race that appeared on the calendar. He passed his love for racing to Donovan, who won BOTS and, had he not been a little chubby, could have raced WSBK.
Simon was an entertainer. The Rhino, Impala, Paradise and Scooter Rallies were annual events not to be missed. These were huge rallies attended by thousands. For the uninitiated… South African bike rallies are wild happenings. A couple of thousand feral rockspiders, soutpiele, porras, charos, bruthas, and lids descend on a venue on Friday afternoon and proceed to party like madmen with a deathwish. The madness lasts for 36 hours straight, into the early hours of Sunday morning. The bands play, rock ‘n roll blasts across the campsite, the booze flows, fights break out, and the strippers strip. In the early hours, Captain Moron and Ricky Leeu replace beer as the drinks of choice, and the insanity spirals out of control. The cacophony of bikes revving to the max continues through the night. The stench of high octane fuel and burnt rubber mingles with fragrant clouds of sweet Mary Jane and the carnivore aroma from dozens of campfires. The rally site is a Hieronymus Bosch hellscape through which fantastical creatures stagger sightlessly in search of ever more dissolution. Simon’s rallies were outrageously excellent!
For many years, Simon led the Africa Friendship Safaris from Joburg to Zanzibar. But what most guys remember are the annual Desert Runs, which started at Hotazel, destination the massive dunes near Swakopmund. The vehicles on the desert runs were an eclectic array of bikes, bakkies, SUVs and trucks that looked like they had escaped from Mad Max movies. On one of the runs, there was a flatbed rig with a band that rocked all the way through the desert. Dune 7 was a scene of mayhem where maniacs on dirt bikes howled up and down the precipitous face of the dune, some reaching the summit and some crashing spectacularly.
Simon was always open to new ideas for adventure travel. I loved planning rides, and Simon was a wonderful companion. We rode to the Giraffe in Zimbabwe, to the Swazi, to Africa Bike Week, to the west coast via Putsonderwater and Verneukpan, to Botswana to ride the deep Tuli Block sand, to the Lowveld for dirt bike adventuring, to the Poison and the Stag on step-through scooters. We rode from Joburg to Durban and Cape Town in the dirt and rode the bridges of the Orange River from Sterkspruit on the Lesotho border to Onseepkans on the Namibian border. We rode Baviaanskloof and the Karoo. And in between these extravaganzas, we rode dirt bikes on Sunday mornings.
Simon was a gregarious fellow and could get along with anyone. He loved the fellowship of the biking brotherhood and considered it a privilege to attend rallies and dayjols organised by bike clubs. The clubs supported Simon’s rallies, and he reciprocated by attending their rallies and giving them free advertising and free articles. Simon heard of the Ulysses Motorcycle Club in Australia, a social club for motorcyclists over the age of 40 years whose motto is ‘Grow Old Disgracefully’. He thought it was a cool idea and brought the concept home. This is from ulyssessa.co.za: ‘In South Africa, one Simon Fourie thought that it was exactly what South Africa needed and in 1998 went to the Australian Ulysses National rally held in a place called Wagga Wagga. He gave a speech to the assembled disgracefuls about his intentions and was well-received and welcomed to the fold.’ 28 years later, Ulysses South Africa is still going strong, a community of mature men who love to ride.
In the 500th issue of Bike SA, March 2017, I wrote a tribute to Simon which ended thus: ‘It has been my privilege and my pleasure to contribute to Bike SA for more than 20 years and, more importantly, to call Simon my friend. Magazines come and go, but The Fourie and Bike SA march on like an unstoppable force of nature. I hope I will continue to write for this mighty organ for many years to come. Simon, every biker in South Africa owes you a debt of respect and gratitude. All the best!’
