'I'm an adventurer' - Life

OFF THE WIRE
By CHERYL CLOCK
STANDARD STAFF
In many ways, his very journey to Canada couldn't possibly be anything short of a tale from an adventure novel.
After all, from the moment Wil De Clercq entered the world 62 years ago, there hasn't been much dull about his life.
At age eight, he was nearly electrocuted -- thrown clear across his father's garage when he touched an electric motor and experienced what he now realizes was an out-of-body event. And then, at 11, he boarded the S.S. Seven Seas with his mother and set off on a seven-day voyage to a new land. A voyage that was not short on drama.
Call it fate. Call it destiny. It was a fitting foreshadowing of life to come.
By his own admission, he's never had an occupation. Never much wanted one. And while he's travelled the world, he never really stays put for too long.
In his own words, his life has been "filled with nothing but preoccupations and adventure."
He's sailed the Great Lakes. Met nobility and rock stars. He's a writer. A poet. Filmmaker. And an artist. And he's developed a name for himself in the motor-sport racing industry, as a journalist and these days, public relations specialist.
"I'm a writer by definition," he says. "I'm an artist by definition.
"But I call myself a creative person."
In his most recent book, he comes full circle in a way. Back to bikes. He co-wrote Biker Chicz of North America (Blockhead City Press, $24.95) with Edward Winterhalder, former member of outlaw motorcycle club Bandidos. Together they have written three books.
The latest tells the life stories of 22 women from across North America who ride HarleyDavidson motorcycles. These are women, mothers, even grandmothers (including an 85-year-old great-grandmother from New Jersey) and ultimately survivors, who share their spirit of adventure.

De Clercq is a man who can't easily be typecast.




"If you insist in nailing me down with an occupation," he begins with a smile, "I'm an adventurer."



An only child, De Clercq was born into adventure. His Belgian father, Rene De Clercq, was a mechanic and motocross star in the 1950s in his native country. An accident ended his racing career, and he never rode again. His mother, Ruth Bratke, is an 88-year-old German woman.



His creativity started as a young boy growing up in postwar Belgium. "We didn't have many toys," he says.



"We made castles out of cardboard boxes.



"I had a vivid imagination."



In 1959, they immigrated to Canada. His father came first. Then, De Clercq and his mother came on the S.S. Seven Seas. Near the end of their week-long voyage, their steamship was hit by another ship in the fog. After a panic that involved sirens and lining up at lifeboat stations, the damage was found to be above the waterline and not Titanic in scale.



"We managed to limp back to Montreal," says De Clercq.



In St. Catharines, his late father operated Rene's Auto and Radiator Repairs from a four-bay garage and BP station at Hartzel and Merritt. De Clercq spent a few summers pumping gas.



His first published work came at 17 when he wrote ads for The Standard for his dad's business. When he told his father his ads were boring, his father challenged: "You think you can do better?"



So he did.



De Clercq came up with "The Eliminator", a tool-belt-slinging character who professed various versions on the theme: "Let us eliminate your rad problems."



By the time he reached Lakeport Secondary School, he was more interested in playing his guitar in rock bands than school work. His best mark was a 54 in English. His worst, eight per cent in chemistry. He was kicked out of school multiple times for refusing to cut his shoulder-length hair. And finally, two months into Grade 12, he dropped out for good.



A couple years later, he indulged his interest in filmmaking by purchasing a professional 16 mm Bolex camera. And along with a British textbook on filmmaking, taught himself the craft. His work as cameraman on Passing Water, a documentary co-produced by Brock University and Pollution



Probe, can be found in the archives of the St. Catharines library.



The 1980s took him back to Belgium on adventures that involved Belgian nobility, a rock band and a famous motocross champion.



Suffice to say, De Clercq had a lot of connections.



"I believe in fate," he says. "The older you get, the more



you can connect the dots." Some of those life dots led him



to meeting a Belgian baroness. And whereas it was considered



proper to address her as Madame de Baroness, De Clercq took another approach on their first meeting.



"I called her Francoise and kissed her on the lips," he says.



"I figured she'd do one of two things. Invite me in or throw me out."



She invited him in and was so impressed with his collage artwork of magazine images, she became his agent of sorts, helping him exhibit his work at Belgian galleries.



In that same decade, De Clercq hooked up with Belgian rock band De Kreuners and proposed writing some English versions of their top hits (did he mention he's a slick pitchman?). He wrote the songs. In fact, the whole idea progressed as far as the band's frontman coming to Canada to record them, but the deal fell apart at the last minute.



Meanwhile, De Clercq was making a name for himself in the motocross journalism scene.



He had started to work his way up by interviewing amateurs and semipros. By 1983, he'd landed himself a prize interview with two-time 125cc World Motocross Champion Eric Geboers.



De Clercq had sold himself as a European correspondent to Motocross Magazine.



De Clercq was so nervous, he forgot, among other things, how to start taping on his cassette recorder.



It was Geboers who finally showed him the right button to press.



That encounter eventually led to De Clercq working for the racing star as his press agent in the late 1980s.



His association with ex-Bandido biker Edward Winterhalder began at a book expo in 2006. De Clercq earned his respect by pulling a few strings to have a review he'd written about another of Winterhalder's books published. He sent the review to Winterhalder. He liked it. And he asked him to help him on his next book, The Assimilation, a story about Winterhalder's personal involvement in the creation of the Quebec Bandidos.



In Biker Chicz, despite the fact that De Clercq is not a motorcycle rider (the closest he comes these days is his CCM mountain bike), he easily related to their spirt of adventure .



"I'm very good at getting into people's heads," he says. "I can get into character. I become these people.



"I'm a misfit," he says, laughing, "But I can fit in anywhere."



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Biker Chicz of North America is available at various online bookstores including Chapters and Amazon.



cclock@stcatharinesstandard.ca