Hi Honey. I’m Home!

Let's try again.  She's back.  Let me count the years.  No! Let's not.  Especially not count the dollars.

I'm glad to have it back but scared of what that means.  Is it too much, too late?   Since 2010,  I have had one ride,  just around the village.  I am genuinely concerned that the ride will no longer have the excitement and joy it had a decade ago.  It is gonna be hard work just getting on it.  I wont fool myself.  I am a lazy fat git.  Sorry, lazy old fat git.  Mustn't ever forget the old.  Apparently  that defines me these days.

In the short two weeks I had early this year it certainly didn't become the "goto" transport it was once.  It was 'hard work'.  If I had been honest with myself and lived in reality and not the dream, I would have admitted that the last thirty years had been hard work as far as the bike was concerned.  The two people I most wanted to share my passion with had less than zero interest in riding with me.  To be fair, the 20 year partner did give it an honest try.  About six weeks she persevered.  She got a learners permit.  I bought her a helmet and boots.  At one stage she actually rode around Balnarring.  After I rode the bike down to mum's and she drove, she got her bikey chick gear on and went for a ride.  After 30 minutes I got concerned and went looking.  I found her on the side of the road, unable to turn around.  Just enough cars and not enough confidence to chance turning around.  Yes we swapped vehicle again.  She was making slow progress and we used the local councils large empty car park on weekends to practice.  Then one day she got over confident, got a little too fast and slid down the park and into the kerb.  Her leg caught under the bike as it slid.  No damage but scared shitless.  No she never got back on after that.  At least she tried. But you know what?  She never rode on my bike with me.  Neither before nor after.  To the five year companion the bike was just one more thing on her list of the many things I never finished.  Oh my.

But I digress.  Dare I say, procrastinate.  The question is, where do I go now?  Being a responsible rider is so much damned hard work.   Let us ignore the problems of manhandling the bike.  To ride the bike requires boots, jeans (at least), jacket, gloves, helmet.  AND that's bloody hot in summer.  In my heyday I was confident and capable.  Every morning I rode to work in Melbourne, often accompanying a motorcycle policeman on his way into work.  In summer both of us were riding in only our shirts, sleeves folded up neatly.  Not today.  'PC'  and common sense demands the jacket.

It is so much easier to jump in the car, drop the roof and drive off.  The biggest effort is choosing which baseball cap to wear.  In other words, no effort.  More importantly I am sick of doing for myself.  It's hard enough finding a reason to leave the flat without the added 'burden' of dressing up.  And for what?  A solitary ride to nowhere important.

Oh Tony what have you done?

For Foxy Kerry

20 years ago in Balnarring


  1. Kerry10/12/2020

    This will be interesting.

  2. Foxy Kerry11/12/2020

    But please remember the joy your old gold wing bike gave my Mum when she visited you 20 years ago! She was chuffed to bits with the ride of her life on it in your capable hands sir!

    1. The Man11/12/2020

      Okay Foxy. I remembered. That was a lovely day. I enjoyed bringing some pleasure into your mum’s life. Hope you like the photo gallery I have added for you.


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