a motorbike ride in company

14 MAY 2023:

Barrington Tops contains the last remnants from the once vast Gondwanaland forests. well that's what the tourism materials spout. My personal attraction to the place is complicated; partly to do with my adventurous adolescent ramblings, my place to escape and go fly fishing during years of marriage prior to children,  and more recently a status symbol of my personal freedom. 

for months and years I had daydreamed about cycling, hiking or even driving to Polblue Swamp, Ground Zero of the Tops. But the excuses tripped me up; no time, too much on, or the expense. But today, all those obstacles feel by the wayside.

My only son Joe recently got his motorbike licence and bought himself a racey little Yamaha 125, a low slung thing with full fairing that fails to protect even party of his 6'4" frame. I had recently bought myself a near New Royal Enfield Classic 500. We wanted to ride together, and I grabbed the opportunity. The overall mileage would be an issue, but we and the bikes would benefit.

The Royal's old engineering made us an even match for pace, I would grunt out of corners and up hills, while Joe could easily get away on the straights and higher speed sections. His greenness as a rider had me checking mirrors the whole time, especially after tricky sections of road; windy bends, potholed sections, roadworks or gravel. If underestimated how stressful this could be, and despite his successful negotiation of over the hundred kilometres of the most testing roads, I hardly relaxed the entire time. But I was very proud afterwards. 

Leaving pretty Gloucester after a stretch and toilet break, we climbed steadily for a couple of hours. It had snowed here less that a week ago, and although it was very cold the conditions were dry. Joe tapped out just 5klm sorry of PB, the roads surface up till this point had become especially rough for his racing style frame. Congratulating him, I encouraged him to rest up at Devil's Hole while I did a quick run up to PB. Typically, the roads eased of a bit thereafter and while pulling in to the PB siding I experienced what felt like a stream exhalation from a pressure cooker. The end of a long grinding marriage, the legal battle, managing the kids through it while earning minimum wage, had seen a small financial windfall come my way allowing the purchase of my grunting freedom machine. Years of doubt about whether I would ever make it here under my own steam were overcome in style. The burble of the British engineered exhaust went quiet as I drank in the hatch alpine vista, grey gums, brown sedge grasses and the bight of the cold air on my face. Anger, frustration and selfdoubt gave way to a sense of accomplishment in my road to recovery. This is a significant moment in my life that no-one would comprehend. The recent loss of my mum, the friends lost to illness, accident and the increasingly worsening odds that come with advancing age, had crept upon me. Perhaps this will be one of a few last hurrahs, certainly such a win is sweeter. There were no tears or regrets, just a great satisfaction that the fire still burns and the motivation to buck the system remains.