Suck in some big ones.

Who'd of thought that the longest hiatus I've had in my motorcycling life would be forced on me by the superflu? We all step up to motorcycling knowing that there is a big chance we could end up laid up with broken bones but laid up due to a Virus, strootharama!

As an Ex-ED Nurse (and pretty bloody happy about the Ex bit, just noisily) I knew a pandemic was a when not if. Grovelments who bleat on that it was out of their control and a surprise are takin' a lend. Ebola, SARS and MERS were a wake-up call, the world put earplugs in and went back to sleep. The reality is that a Pandemic will cull the poor and it's easy to take a cynical peep at the reaction of some administrations, thinking that it is exactly what they want to occur.

Enough of the political high horse, fake nudes bangin' on...

Nearly 3 months ago, I put a set of the flash new Dunlop Mission rim protectors on the Bumblewee. Promoted as a true 50/50 tyre they certainly looked the goods but scrubbing them in by pushing the bike around the factory was never gone work. It wasn't until last Saturday arvo the stickers were rubbed off and the rims got dirty. Oh, the joy, I took the long way home from work, sneaking up all sorts of back roads, both sealed and unsealed. Yeahaaaa! How good was it!

The first weekend of the Unclean's State freedom smelt like a hospital corridor to me so spending it at home seemed the wisest move. Errant 4bys, traffic jams from hell and temptation to blast down the outside of 300 tin tops would see me grounded for even longer (I hope I'm not starting to grow up!). That didn't stop the joy of speculating and planning future trips but Bleery Christmas is going to impinge. And the aforementioned poo-chucking contest will go on for the next 8 weeks or more.

A riding buddy and I have been working on Christmas/New Year holiday trips each year with the plan of seeing as few other people as possible and not venturing too far from home. One year we spent 5 days wandering Gippsland, rode most of each day, never popped outside a 200km radius Mudbourne and saw no other campers and very few other punters. It takes work but there's a certain weird joy in it.

Much of our riding these days is a little confronting, evidence of bushfire is never far away. Pop over hill or exit a corner along the east coast of Oz and the extent of the devastation can take your breath away.

Nature, ever optimistic, brushes itself off and has another crack. The bursting new, green growth takes me into befuddled feelings of sadness, amazement and awe. It's good for the soul.

I'm looking forward to getting out there and sucking in some the big breaths of Australia.

Newbies

As my current toiletries bag fell to bits toward the end of last year, I was on the lookout for a newie. This Sea to Summit unit caught my eye a few times as I flicked through the cattle-dog and thought I'd give one a go.

The biggest drawcard was that it hangs up. Hanging from the tree or a hook in a bathroom makes so much sense. Deep pockets also reduce the chance of my gear falling out onto manky floors or the dirt.

It's even got an unbreakable mirror so I can pick the bugs from between my teeth.

CLICK here to grab one.

Aussie As

I thought we'd start a bit of a fun look at Aussie slang, I reckon we are the best in the world at it. Next month I'll include words sent in to contribute to this list and create a new one to keep the ball rolling.

Let's start with something as simple as a fool (as a noun).

A bogan, boofhead, clown, dickhead, dill, dingbat, dipstick, drongo, as sharp as a pound of mince, knob-knocker, galah, goose, a sandwich short of a picnic, dumb as dogsh1t (or DADS), nong (or thong nong), wombat, wristy, silly as a wheel...

Send me your best Aussie description of a fool.

My trusty E750 in the French Alps

Shouda Never

There's only one bike I sold and wished I never did. Enzo the Elefant.

On a trip to Tassie many moons ago there were many dirt roads that I didn't feel right taking the 750 Sport down. I vowed the next bike would allow me to explore our country properly, and be able to scoot down dirt roads and see what there was to see.

We'd just sold a home I renovated and skimmed a little off the top to buy a run-out Cagiva E750. My Dual-Sport Adventure began.

Expensive and fiddly to service but reliable and more than the sum of its parts this will remain one of the most special bikes in my life. It visited 8 different countries, lane split the whole of Andorra one Friday arvo peak hour and took me to the Isle of Man.

There was just that little special thing about its weight, balance and poise on the road and dirt. I guess we should expect that from a formula that won a few Dakar Rallies in the early eighties.

As the Cagiva factory went broke and Ducati changed hands, they were basically disposed of and a few owners had a bit of grief with theirs. Mine clocked up over 100,000 klicks and was still running like a clock when I had a moment of weakness and let it go. Other than a fried regulator which warranty sorted it never really missed a beat.