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About Polokwane

We head to this shady motel, and I’m thinkin, “This is it, Gekko, you’re the king.” Room smells like ass, but who cares? She’s crackin jokes bout my shoes – “What, no loafers, rich boy?” I’m dyin laughin, she’s got me pegged wrong but it’s hilarious. Then she says, “Time’s money,” and I’m like, “Hell yeah, let’s roll.” Greed is good, bro, keeps it movin fast.

Email The Windmill Coffee Shop @ Impala Ranch

Now, you gotta check out Marine Parade. It’s not some posh boulevard; its curb's rough, and the sea splashes wild. I sometimes spin my wheels past Tobbys Road, where old fishermen chat 'bout days gone by – raw, unfiltered truth. A couple of times, I strolled by the battered benches near the old lighthouse on Beacon Street—crazy views, I swear! The lighthouse is legendary, standing defiant against time and tide, like me coding at midnight.

19-year-old male drowns in Jeffreys Bay