WIMA Victoria: Know Your Members: Liz Kealy

Know Your Members: Liz Kealy

Liz Kealy has been a member of WIMA in three countries over about 14 years. Courtesy of husband Steve, this is her story.

Liz Kealy Liz was born at an early age in what is now known as Zimbabwe—a central African land-locked country once famous for its tobacco, but now not famous for very much at all. She started riding bikes at university in Cape Town and with practice, mastered the art of bursting into tears when stopped for speeding. Not knowing any better she endured several 500km trips on the back of Steve's Guzzi Le Mans 1 and a marathon 1600 km trip through the snow on a Le Mans 3. She often cites this as proof of true devotion—though to whom, she's not saying. Two months after graduating she used her first pay-cheque to buy her Guzzi 500 Monza, the only brand-new bike she's ever bought, racking up 2000 km in the first two weeks. She toured and commuted on the Monza and became the first woman in South Africa to pass the stringent Institute of Advanced Motorists motorcycle test.

A year later, Liz added a Le Mans 1 to the garage and promptly flung it on an gravel-strewn corner, breaking an ankle and shoulder. The Le Mans was rebuilt and shortly after, she bought Big Black, a 900SS Ducati. (She still has all three, regarding them as her dream garage. Between them Liz has clocked up about 160,000 km on her Italian trio, getting to about 50 or 60 rallies along the way). Around this time, she and Steve formed the Italian Motorcycle Owners Club (IMOC), which soon boasted about 300 members. They recall being disappointed that "only" 75 riders turned up for the first run. Liz was often asked by female friends for riding tuition and she was given a Honda 125 for this purpose, introducing many women to life behind (handle)bars.

Although there was nothing wrong with it, the Monza was stripped completely and rebuilt as a concours show bike with many hand-made parts, all of which came from within the IMOC. It won seven shows outright and was highly placed at several more, causing a bit of consternation, as it was a) not Japanese, b) not at least 1000cc, c) less than four cylinders and d) owned and built by a woman. However, the toll of many miles started to show, so the bike was returned to active duty as Liz's daily commuter and Steve rode it to two second places in National economy runs - usually at about 32 km/l.

Economy Runs in South Africa are three-day 1200km events run as time-trials across varied terrain. All the manufacturers enter teams of experienced riders on works-prepared machines and Liz, riding a works BMW R65LS became the first woman ever to win her class outright, at her first attempt. The following year she placed second and in the third, she was asked to ride the then-new Paris-Dakar R1000GS. Although it wasn't expected to win, Liz recorded the best results of any similar bike, BMW using her riding the big off-roader in nation-wide publicity.

Liz was then offered a sponsored drag racing ride and given a Kawasaki 750 turbo and bettered the National record at her first attempt. However, she declined to wear pink leathers and took up circuit racing instead. She raced a 450 Desmo Ducati with improving results until she crashed while defending her lead on the last lap, breaking her back. Seven months in a full-body cast effectively ended her bike racing, but during this time, she was awarded "Motorcycling Man of the Year" for her charity work, being made an "honorary man" for the duration. (She has also completed a two-day saloon car racing course, but hasn't got around to racing a box; "Not old enough yet", is given as a reason.)

In 1913, there was a two-day race between the coastal city of Durban and the high altitude (2000m) inland city of Johannesburg, some 600 km distant. The race was held every year until 1936, when a couple of riders were killed on the increasingly busy roads and the event was scrapped. Since the mid 1970s, a commemorative Durban to Johannesburg time-trial rally has been held, open only to machines built in 1936 or before. The two-day event attracts hundreds of old-bike buffs from around the world, some of whom take the event very seriously indeed—every second early or late counts as a penalty point, and on bikes with no speedos (they have to be removed) and over 600 km, two days and 40 or 50 control points, the winning score is often under a minute of errors. Speed is determined by counting telegraph poles or white lines on the road, per minute—although these vary between the three states through which the event passes. Liz was offered a 1935 Triumph 350 side-valve (three-speed hand-shifter, foot clutch, almost no brakes compared to her Guzzi) for the event one year - Steve rode a loaned ‘29 Sunbeam 500. With such old machinery, there's no shame in breaking down—often 60% reach the finish on trailers, but both Liz & Steve rode all the way to the finish, earning coveted finishers' medals in the process. Old-bike people are just like new-bike people— just, errrr, older.

One of the local bike magazines is published by an old friend, Simon Fourie, who every year makes a couple of trips to the African bush and invites along two or three hundred of his closest friends. Betweem Xmas & New Year, the troup heads to the Dragon Mountains in the land-locked Kingdom of Lesotho, home of the Roof of Africa rally. With a couple of dirt-bikes in the back of a borrowed 4x4, it is an end-of-year chance to vandalise the uninhabited bits, chase chooks (although they call them hukus there) through villages and generally ride as you like, where there are few roads, no rules and the police will enthusiastically wave you on to ride faster. Liz's faithful off-roader was a Honda XR200R, while Steve briefly had a diabolical Kawasaki KDX and thereafter, whatever he could borrow. The Honda never let Liz down, despite being flung, dropped, ridden off cliffs, plunged into rivers and generally treated like a Honda in a garage otherwise full of Woppery. It even ran faithfully, if somewhat asthmatically, at an altitude of nearly 11000 ft (3300m), where the two-stroke was a lame duck and the riders were worse. Trips to Lesotho were made about two or three times a year. It is one of the few aspects of Africa that we miss here in Australia—gotta getta dirt-bike!

During the early 1980's Liz had had the idea of starting a Toy Run in South Africa. At the time, the political system was at its worst—a gathering of more than four people was deemed a Riotous Assembly under the Emergency Regulations, and required official permission. In addition, bikers in South Africa did not have a particularly good reputation and rallies were banned or held under strict censure. Against the odds and in spite of some bureaucratic dragging of heels, Liz and Steve complied with every stupid requirement to successfully host the inaugural Toy Run in 1983. Every year it got bigger and other IMOC branches started organising similar events in other cities, always on the same day. Every year several hundred under-privileged kids received their gifts on the day, from Father Xmas—one role Liz declined on the grounds of gender discrimination. Right from the start, the slogan had been "All races welcome, all races benefit", which caused a bit of angst. One year Liz was assaulted by a thug, who later found himself doing time simultaneously in wards 6, 7 and 8, after a "conversation" with some Angel friends. A couple of years later there were phoned death threats from the rectal right-wing, on the grounds that "white" toys were being given to "black" kids. This was overcome by declaring all children Green for the day—and the suggestion that since most bikers in Africa carry firearms, the loonies had better bring a few utes for their dead. Like good cowards everywhere, they didn't attend.

After seven years, the Toy Run was being held in seven cities on the same day and the biggest, in Johannesburg, attracted over 5000 bikes, counted at the stadium entrance with a Police counter, Liz decided that it had become too much for the handful of people from IMOC who helped so she reluctantly handed over the reins to the Round Table—who found that a committee of ten wasn't quite enough for the organisation needed. The event has grown and expanded and is now held in 11 cities, still all on the same day—usually the last Sunday in November, to allow distribution of toys before Xmas. The spirit of the event has not been lost and crowds line the route to wave to people they would normally shun. Last year's national total was put at 22,517 bikes. A full day's entertainment is always provided free, with the only ticket for admittance being a toy. Many stories have come from the event, but a memorable one was a young teenager from an orphanage who received her gift, opened it and burst into tears. In 1984 personal stereos were very rare—and expensive—but that was what was in the box. Asked why she was crying, she just said "There's no card—so I can't write to say thank-you." Another was a black guy who bought some ice from an ice-cream vendor and stood with the block melting on his head; "You white guys have no idea how hot it is being black," he said.

Liz's latest adventure is motherhood—now the 18-year-old sidecar "project" Guzzi has priority...

Steve Kealy