Dedication.

This model took me a while. It's based on the man who immediately flew to Tasmania to rescue his son when his bike was hit by a car. You the best.
My Dad

Ben's Facebook post. Context: April 2011

Pedro Mota on YouTube.

I've been following a few motorcycle travellers on Youtube.

A personal favourite is Pedro Mota who has ridden his much-repaired and modified '91 Honda Transalp across Europe, through Turkey, Iraq, Tajikistan, Mongolia, Russia, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Chile, Argentina, Brazil and Bolivia. He's currently locked-down in Argentina and hopes to ride to the southernmost tip of South America before turning around and heading north.

Here's a small selection from Pedro's channel:

Brazil and the biker's prayer*

Bartang Valley Tajikistan

250km beach ride in Brazil



* The blessings of the Big Guy (© Pedro Mota)

May the oil stay viscous and slippery,
and absent of water.
May the carburetor pump,
like a strong man's heart.
And may the engine keep pushing us
to further and further away destinations.
Help us now and then to make good foolish decisions,
but save us from the too-foolish ones.
Amen.

A spring Saturday snapshot.

Herbie Hancock, Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers playing throughout the house. Several loads worth of washing hanging inside and outside. The washing machine "error coded" and refused to spin the last load. The vacuum cleaner has been busy, on hard surfaces... carpets are for another day. Freshly-cut grass spread all over the backyard and Jazz (the dog, not the music) has green feet. Those green feet have been out for a walk and we caught the end of a local auction. Three BR unit passed-in at $815k, sentiment is that the "market's slow" but possibly everyone's become too greedy. John Coltrane's playing now, it's a very long clarinet solo and the tune is from Mary Poppins, might go and bump the cursor along a bit. 

Perspective.

Changing perspective, seeing the familiar in different ways. A pleasant weekend away from the kitchen and at the farm.

Zenterlink.

Zenterlink, where you learn patience, the folly of assertiveness, living with less and how to sit for long periods of time.

Arkham.

Confined by a straightjacket, beset by doubt and misery, cursed by bad luck and plagued by a swarm of rats... yet managed to rescue Daniel Chesterfield and escape the asylum.

Snapshot.

The last day of 2017. Right now it's 11am and Ben's in the kitchen solo-playing Onirim while waiting for UFC 219 to start. YouTube is auto-playing music of varying quality in the background. Downstairs, the washing machine noisily cleanses an assortment of ragged towels, old clothes and a new Coles Christmas t-shirt. The joyfully-red shirt has been in active service for three evening shifts a week while its generally-solemn wearer re-stocks shelves and helps customers locate items. The other evening, I asked for directions and was directed to a non-existent aisle 23. Mum, who's rarely here, was here briefly and has just left. Jazz is out in the yard snoozing amongst the peach pits. Two motorcycles sit idly in the garage, parked between the old blue Ford and a less-old Holden station wagon. The even-older Skyline has been sold to an enthusiastic younger person with lots of plans. Household finances, an ever-present post-retrenchment concern, have been eased by occasional freelance work with known publishers. As a result, those red zones on the planning spreadsheets have gradually been pushed back and we're safe to stay put for the next 12 months. UFC has started and our former-traveller is resting tiredly on the couch while heavily tattooed adults beat each other up using an assortment of fighting styles on the TV. "He's in a bad situation here," according to Joe Rogan's commentary. As for us, we're doing OK.