MX is way more than racing. It’s full of wonderful personalities and stories. I did start to work for Mxworld to bring the human side of MX to the people. For a while now I wanted to learn more about a special South African rider. His name is Karl Stegen.

Karl was „different“. He had physical and visual defects, but for his family he was “special” and grew up being loved unconditionally. He didn’t like of being laughed at and because he knew he defended everybody who was treaten badly because of being “different”. In motocross he was known of being one of the quietest guys. He loved MX and rather was with his bike than being on a birthday party or social events. Karl was really passionated. As rider he won several Junior South African and Natal titles, later became 80cc champ and traveled through Africa where he won another 2 African titles and represented his country at the GP of South Africa the last years. Some of you might’ve seen him in Sun City in 2006.

You might’ve recognized that I spoke from the past. Well, Karl died at a plane crash last year. I didn’t know him personally but now met him through the eyes of his mom and dad who were kind enough to share their son with us. I thought much about how to do it, I know it’s tough. But it’s not a story of mourning and grief, but about hope and love.

Karl was different, but because of his innocent, true heart and his love for life and his family and friends. His family found much comfort in God and they know their son is in good hands. I actually wanted to do a tribute to him for the 1st anniversary of his death in July, but due the lack of time and getting it all together it took me so long. But still I didn’t wanna ignore to give my respect to a wonderful person and at the same would like to give you the possibility to meet Karl.

Karl’s mom sat down again to share her son and his life with us. I got much material and read it all. His death brought me to tears, but at the same all the love in his being and the thoughts of his parents made me smile. Here’s a loving memory from Karl’s mom. Meet a very special loving and loved guy!

IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY SON -
KARL MICHAEL STEGEN
21/02/1986 – 29/07/2006 

I am the mother of three children - two daughters and a dead son. How does this feel?  Let me share my son with you, and then you will know.

About 22 years ago, my husband and I decided to have a baby. Within weeks we knew I had conceived - we were both almost instantly filled with inner secret knowledge - something wonder- ful was happening, something hugely special to just us... Like we had been chosen to receive an immense privilege or miracle...

And so the journey of never-ending love began. Nine months of shared pregnant bliss.  A morning of shared labor at home - Hubby making tea, rubbing my back, helping me bathe, breathe and relax. A perfect half hour delivery at Grey’s hospital followed, and within 45 minutes of being admitted, we were three - snug in our private ward with our precious new bundle - hubby drinking champagne, in between calling stunned relatives and friends on the "Ticky Box" down the hall - ooh’s and aah’s - how quick - how wonderful! And it was… Wonderful - Miraculous!

Proud Dad often worked long and usually erratic hours, (lecturing at UKZN), so an unusual routine was established. Dad sometimes did the "early evening shift", Mom the "midnight hours", with Dad taking up the reigns again from about 4am. Sometimes Dad only came home after ten so there would be much “baby tossing in the air”, giggles and googles of delight and playfulness in our home, when the neighbors were all snuggled in and sleeping, and all "good" babies in a "routine" were dreaming of the sand man… But we were happy, oh-so-so happy!

Happy Chubby Gurgling "Baby Boyhood" turned into Happy Chattering "Toddlerhood". We learned quickly that our boy loved to "undo" and "fix" things - usually any form of mechanical toy - remote control car, household appliance, electrical or battery operated item. Soon our home was filled with many "gonken now" (broken now) things… Tea Pots were clanked around the house as shoes, beer crates were perfect jungle gyms, and tea - oh tea was just the perfect drink! Early in the morning Mom had to have that bottle of tea at the ready or, oh boy, that quietly happy little fellow would erupt like a volcano!

Time passed and family and friends grew accustomed to "Sporty’s" quiet solitude. Only Mom, Dad and sisters (sometimes!) featured in his world - he simply didn’t need anyone else in his sphere. He was content, didn’t mind being left anywhere, anytime, so long as it was all explained by Mom or Dad. He would wait patiently for our return - Knowing we would come. Knowing he was Loved. Knowing he was Worthwhile. Knowing he was Good. Knowing he was OUR "Sporty"…

One Saturday morning, Dad was "on duty". He took the kids to the OK in town. Lo and Behold they found a little red PeeWee 50cc on display covered in "Chomp" chocolates!  Dad was suitably impressed with motorbike - Kids with "Chomps"! Naturally Dad asked where bike would be available from - "Oh, okay, Ekerold Yamaha". Mom was consulted and agreement reached. Bike was acquired for the then princely sum of R1800, and the journey of never ending love progressed, including a new love… Motorbikes!

Dad and Mom would load the family into the station wagon with PeeWee 50, and proceed to Varsity. Bike lessons commenced - Love and laughter, afternoons in the sun, sharing, caring. Soon "Sporty" was whizzing it up (aged 3 ½!), and "family with bikes" was banned from Varsity grounds!!! (This only after both sisters had also acquired bikes, and many family adventures and disasters alike had taken place, provoking the dismay of dog walkers, ramblers, staff, etc!). 

The local motocross track was located (New England Rd ext), and soon competitive racing commenced. "Sporty", true to his nature, trained and sacrificed to achieve at his now chosen sport - Motocross. Pre-Primary (New England) and Primary (St Charles) school followed, and "Show & Tell", "News", "Orals", "Projects", all inevitably encompassed some form of biking - most often travel or achievement news. (And oh boy, did we travel!)

Senior Primary school followed and along with it came the forming of a very close bond with a fellow pupil, who eventually came to live with us as our second son for about 3 years, adding much dimension and depth to our family. The clearest memories are of my returning home from the weekly grocery shopping to find the two of them with my pride and joy - my computer - totally dismantled on the lounge carpet! They would have been donated a redundant computer and would be trying to test or resurrect it with parts from mine. Agonising moments followed if my computer did not work - when I finally was allowed to have it back - they knew they would be skinned alive if there was ANY problem! However, success and disaster followed in equal measure! I learned much from them - they had no fear of this new-fangled beast!

Another clear memory is of a Sunday Church Service (Scottsville Presbyterian). We had been to a National Motocross Championship in Pietersburg (now Polokwane) and "Sporty" had spotted a T-Shirt with the following printed on the back: "The meek may inherit the earth, but they sure as hell better stay off the track!". This had tickled his fancy so much that I had bought it for him as a special treat! Guess what he wore the following Sunday?

Many Championships were won (and lost!) by our precious "Sporty", regionally & nationally during his 16½ years of competitive motocross. He was often called "Steel" as, even if he crashed badly, he would get up and try again. In the early days his style was likened to that of a train on a railway track - smoothly eating up the dirt! To our knowledge, he never showed off or bragged - just quietly and humbly "did his talking on the track".

But, in between the fun and the laughter, the traveling, the holidays with friends and family, the winning and the losing, the tears and the joy, came the question - the same old question - year in and year out - the warning question - ignored by my spirit and soul: "Mom, what happens to you when you die?"

High School followed, accompanied by the award (and re-award) of Protea Colours. African Championships were conquered in Morocco and Zambia. SA Team selection for Grand Prix events, riding in Namibia, Kenya, Cape Town, Port Elizabeth, Sun City, Johannesburg, Bloemfontein, KwaZulu-Natal - Riding, Riding, Riding - Riding like the Wind. The family followed, and "Sporty" tried, and tried and never gave up trying. More loyal friendships were formed - boys that traveled the country with us - boys that became our sons - bonds that could never be broken - still our sons today…

Years and years of devotion by the family, friends and "Sporty" - years and years of joy, love and memories - years and years of sacrifice… Verbal communication had even progressed beyond "Hello"… And still we loved, laughed and experienced - like the Jewish Festival of Channukah - just enough, is always enough - none of us really needed more or wanted more - we had each other - we were encapsulated in the igloo of never ending love, and we had "Sporty"… and "Sporty" had us…

Our "Sporty" grew to be a man - a real man. A man of dignity, compassion, love, endurance, dedication - with a love for God, man and animals so pure and silent and strong. And he SMILED. His smile lit up the world. A strong open smile - eyes green and glowing - warming you - letting you know you’re ok - you’re enough - a smile that made you feel good and secure and content.

Actually, he was truly an African man - time and tomorrow had no consequence, he would always do tomorrow what absolutely didn’t have to be done today - "last minute" would always be available, eat when you’re hungry or not at all, sleep easily no matter what, harm nothing unless it harms you first, nurture those who have no nurturing, work for fun, keep life simple and slow, speak only when there is something worth saying - no worries - be happy, and laugh, and Love, Love, Love - especially Love Mom and Dad, Mom and Dad, Mom and Dad - who else really matters? And deep in the soul of that man, our "Sporty", there was God, and he filtered God through to us… the air we breathed… the wind beneath our wings…

Finally the dreaded matric (Carter High) was behind him. And the dreaded matric dance - he and a friend "shared" a partner for this - there they are - all three - large as life in the photos! And the SMS: "These are my sad, sad matric results, Mom". And then the conversations: "What will you do now?"  "I don’t know Mom, the only thing I can really do is ride". "Ok, Boysie, take a gap year and ride, but just try to do some studying and find out what it is you want to do with your life".  "Thanks Mom, Thanks Dad".

So, he did a Cell Phone Technician Course, and a few Computer Courses, and did his shopping from the "Witness" adverts. He would fix just enough cell phones or computers to buy whatever he fancied - the eternal "gadget man"! We loved having him sit cross-legged on the bed with us in the morning (still drinking his tea) - all three fighting over the days "Witness" - him doing his shopping: "Hey Dad, Hey Mom - look at this - isn’t it awesome?" "Ok, Boysie, just get the bucks together and you can have it" "Ok, Mom, if you pay me back that R150 prize money and I charge X for that cell phone and fix a computer, then I’ll have enough" "Ok Boysie, if that’s what you want". Now we have flashing blue lights on the car’s cigarette lighters, wind-up torches and cell chargers by the dozen, little pliers, large pliers, tools, adaptors, cables, computer software and  hardware – Modems, Hard Drives, Mother Boards and a whole heap of electronic stuff – all foreign to us! Apart from his final absolutely highly prized and longed for purchase - an electric pressure cleaner to wash his bike, bakkie, anything - including Dad!  More laughter, more love, more fun… "Maybe I’ll be a pilot, Mom"…

Saturday 29 July 2006: "Sporty" sitting cross-legged at the bottom of our bed - Dad and "Sporty" planning their day - a run in the morning, a practice in the afternoon, work on the bike in the evening. Then a phone call from my brother: "Would one of the Kids like to go for a flip in my plane this morning?" "Sure, "Sporty" would love it - none of the girls are home - he’ll meet you at Oribi Airport just now". "Get dressed quickly "Sporty", I’ll make you some breakfast to eat in your bakkie - how about your favourite - toasted cheese?" "Thanks, Mom - bye Mom, bye Dad – see you later!" And the smile, the smile of pure innocent joy, and Love, Love - so much Love…

Later, about 11.30am, another phone call: "I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, there’s been a plane crash, I’m so sorry…" (Baynesfield, KZN)

Good – Bye "Sporty".  Thank you so much "Boysie".

Courtesy of mx-world

Photos by: Karl’s family

See also "Loving memories of the Stegen Family"