MOVING FORWARD
I learnt of the record-breaking much
later, not long after I saw the movie
Mad Max in 1979 – which was the film
that not only enamoured me of outlaw
motorcycle clubs, but cemented in my
mind the hard-edged, almost hypnotic
appeal of the Zed.
I had, of course, seen Stone in 1974 and
it had lots of very nice Zeds in it. It was
also a really terrible film. I thought it was
naff then and I think it is even greater
rubbish now. I had no teenage desire to
be like the pussified retards dubbed the
Gravediggers. They looked nothing like
the outlaws I saw riding around town.
It wasn’t until I saw the dystopian
madness and violence in Mad Max,
and was awestruck by the hard-riding
feral malevolence of Toecutter and his
boys (all astride very non-pretty but
paradoxically more appealing Zeds) that
I knew where my future lay.
94 KIWI RIDER
My outlaw plans aside, it was the
Kawasaki in both those films that
filled me with that strange, humming,
mechanical lust only correctly deranged
motorcyclists suffer.
I even got to ride one, very briefly, when
I was 15 years old.
A friend of a friend had one around the
corner from where I lived in Leichhardt.
He was maybe 20 and into all sorts of
evil I was not privy to. But the one act
of evil I was privy to was the afternoon
he got stoned and let me and my mate
Roquelino (Rocky for short) ride his Z900
up and down the cul-de-sac where he
lived. Sure, it was all first-second gear
kid shit… but come on! The effect this
had on me cannot be overstated. Even
when I tore open my jeans and most
of my thigh by riding it on the footpath
too close to the low brick front-fences of
Beeson Street, I was not deterred.