Thobela steals and rides a BMW GS out of Cape Town

Thobela steals and rides a BMW GS out of Cape Town in a departure that converts his routine knowledge of a motorcycle shop into an escape plan. He has never ridden the large machines he has helped prepare for sale, and his first miles are marked by uncertainty rather than mastery. The ride nevertheless carries him beyond the city and becomes the opening stage of a journey in which mobility, surveillance, and the ability to adapt determine whether he can keep moving.

Surveillance and the decision to leave

Thobela takes a taxi to the Media24 building and walks east through the city, moving without urgency as he makes his way to the shop. Near Mother City Motorrad, he sees an idling car with intelligence officers inside. The sight tells him that the place is being watched. Rather than remain in the open, he enters the petrol attendants’ room, where their conversation gives him a reason to wait without attracting immediate attention.

When the car is gone, he leaves the room, checks the street, and reaches the shop by way of a service alley. He knows its ordinary opening routine intimately: he is usually the first employee there, sweeping before the mechanics arrive, making tea, switching on the lights, and cleaning the display windows. He has the key and the alarm code because opening up is part of his job. That familiar access gives him a way in, but also forces a practical choice: he decides not to switch on the lights, which might prompt questions or draw notice.

Inside, the available motorcycles present a problem rather than an easy solution. He has ridden a Honda 200, but has only pushed, washed, and polished the larger bikes; he has not been allowed to ride them. The fastest option, a 1200 RS, offers speed but little room for the bag he is carrying. The LT has ample luggage capacity but is enormous. He settles on the display GS, an orangey-yellow demonstration model with fixed cases beside its rear wheel. Its key is in the spares room. The decision is an improvised one, shaped by the need to carry his bag and leave Cape Town, not by experience with the machine.

An improvised departure

The GS nearly defeats him as soon as he gets moving. Turning into Oswald Pirow, he opens the throttle and is startled by the power; the motorcycle reacts very differently from his small Honda Benly. Its height, weight, and scale make it feel difficult to control, and he nearly loses it before reaching the traffic lights. When he brakes, the ABS engages sharply and he nearly tips again. He waits at the lights with trembling knees, then sets off slowly, taking a wide turn and keeping the engine revs low.

The contrast between his previous experience and the GS is measurable: he reaches 100 kilometres per hour before properly entering third gear, close to the top speed of the Benly he knows. On the freeway he stays below the traffic’s pace, uncomfortable with the wide handlebars and the size of the tank, while trying to judge the machine’s balance. He studies the indicator and headlight switches as he rides, keeps a long following distance, and holds his speed just under 100. The escape vehicle is also a new technical challenge that demands attention at the very moment he needs to make decisions about distance and route.

His first plan is to get as far from Cape Town as possible and reach Bloemfontein that night, where he thinks he may be able to take a plane without being watched. The motorcycle’s handling makes that plan seem doubtful. He considers turning toward Worcester or Paarl and abandoning it, but recognizes that a taxi is not a practical alternative at that hour. He decides to continue, reasoning that the officers at the shop may not discover the missing GS until the following morning. Then he remembers that he has failed to reset the alarm. The omission undermines his hope of delaying discovery and makes the hurried nature of the departure plain.

Before leaving, he writes a note to Mr Bodenstein explaining that he is taking the demonstration model for two or three days, and that he has also taken a suit, helmet, and gloves. He leaves money in the desk drawer for those items and promises to pay for wear, tear, or damage. The note presents the taking as a temporary borrowing forced by an urgent need to help a friend. It does not erase the fact that he has removed the motorcycle without permission, but it shows his effort to account for the property and make provision for its cost. Mr Bodenstein’s response is to question how well he knew the employee he trusted.

Learning the GS on the road

Thobela’s limited preparation becomes a liability on the Du Toits Kloof Pass. He had twice worked as a gofer while the BMW Rider Academy coached riders at Killarney, and now regrets not paying closer attention. In the dark, he struggles to coordinate braking, throttle, and headlight settings while negotiating turns and sharing the road with trucks. The episode is not a sudden transformation into an expert: he stops at the top of the pass, takes a break, and recognizes that the motorcycle is not impossible to ride if he relaxes and treats it with more patience.

On the descent toward the Meulenaars River, he applies what he has learned, leaning into turns more naturally and accelerating gradually out of them. The wider curves of the toll road give him room to ride with greater control. His speed later registers 130 kilometres per hour, and he takes satisfaction in a specific accomplishment: he has begun to understand the GS’s throttle and how the motorcycle responds. The road thus changes the meaning of the stolen machine. It remains a risk, but it is no longer only an obstacle; each stretch of learned control makes continued escape more practicable.

Just before the Hex River valley, he recognizes that he has mastered the R 1150 GS to a meaningful degree. He selects a line through a bend, changes gear, and accelerates out without the earlier discomfort. The skills he had encountered at the Advanced Riding School begin to make sense in practice. He can manage the power and pass a lorry, while attending to the road ahead. His confidence grows from repeated, specific acts of control rather than from a sudden disappearance of danger.

A route reshaped by pursuit

The ride is planned in stages and adjusted as its demands become clearer. Beyond Touws River, Thobela checks the fuel gauge and calculates his next stops: he expects to refuel at Laingsburg, then face about 200 kilometres to Beaufort West through the Great Karoo. From there, Bloemfontein lies another 500 or 550 kilometres away, possibly within reach before sunrise if he can keep the stops short. His plan is to sleep in Bloemfontein, ride into the Black township, and rest during daylight. The motorcycle gives him a route, but fuel, distance, timing, and the likelihood of surveillance continually limit his choices.

Later, two helicopters pursue him at high speed. He understands that they can outrun the motorcycle, so speed alone cannot provide a reliable escape. He continues toward a bank of rain; as visibility worsens and he slows behind traffic, the helicopters’ noise fades and they are no longer following him. The episode extends the original gamble: his survival depends not only on the GS’s performance but on changing conditions that affect both the rider and his pursuers.

The motorcycle remains part of his journey even when he is not riding it. During a later stage, Koos Kok transports Thobela in the back of a Chevrolet El Camino, with the R 1150 GS lying beside him under a tarpaulin among furniture and luggage. Thobela is still concerned with the time lost on the way to Lusaka, the borders ahead, and the difficulty of taking the GS across them without papers. The vehicle he took to escape Cape Town has therefore become both a means of mobility and a practical burden: it can carry him rapidly, but it also has to be concealed and moved through a pursuit that reaches beyond the city. From the first uncertain turn in Oswald Pirow to the later calculation of borders and hours, the escape is defined by the same contest between forward motion and exposure.