I’ve just written a book. Oh wow, I guess this sounds super casual. It’s not meant to be – this is my first book, a memoir, and it took a river of blood, sweat and tears to complete. Four years ago, I bought an old motorcycle and a single tent. Ten days later, this 62-year-old, recovering alcoholic began a solo 16-000-kilometre circumnavigation of Australia.
I completed my journey in 46 days. Sure, I wanted an adventure; sure, I raised $6,000 for Beyond Blue; and sure, as a Pom, I wanted to experience Australia. But I held the real reason close to my chest. Maureen, my second wife, said I was crazy. I didn’t disagree. I never told Maureen about the bottle of Johnnie Walker hidden in my saddlebags – until I wrote IF, my memoir.
So, now I’m a writer eh? Sounds like I’m an expert motorcyclist, camping guru, Australian travel adviser and life coach too. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Whatever I write is never good enough. Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite – and still it will never be good enough. But somewhere along the line you’ve got to call it a day, a night, or just type THE END. Hopefully, you’ve done your best. A few weeks ago, that’s exactly what I did. My fingers hit seven keys: THEspaceEND. I had written a 300-page memoir.
My manuscript went through several professional edits and proofreads. And still, despite the excellent help, I knew it could be better. But I raised the white flag: I’m done. The 46-day ride was just part of the story and although I suppose it’s a powerful indictment for my stupidity, to be frank, I did face immense challenges – mostly of my own creation. But my tale, I hope, will take readers around the vastness that is Australia and outline the struggles of a travel addict, an alcoholic, a divorced husband – and a father who lost a son. All four people are me.
I think I’ve already explained that I’m not an expert in anything and certainly not a life coach providing instruction on how to, or how not to lead a better life. All I know is that after 66 years on this planet, and hell knows I don’t deserve to have stayed around for that long, each day of sobriety is a miracle. And should be enjoyed for what it is – magical. I think the experts call this: Living in the Moment. It works for me. One day at a time.
I had a motorcycle and a scooter when I was a teenager, and I suppose in the almost fifty years that passed in between, I owned a small motorbike for about thirty months. And whatever I did learn, I think I forgot. As for camping, I’ve never done it before in my life. So how did I do it? It had to be brilliant planning with meticulous detail – right? Wrong! I just did it. My only plan was to ride anti-clockwise because someone told me there was a greater probability that I’d get tailwinds up my arse, rather than headwinds buffeting my face. It sounded like a plan to me. I rode every day until I was too tired to continue, or bad weather decided for me. At the end of each day, I just hoped I’d find somewhere to sling my tent. But there was one thing I did do right…
My original ‘plan’ was to do this same trip on a bicycle. You read right! I did tell you I was crazy and before you start to think of me as an expert cyclist too, well, you already know the answer to that – I’m not. I had an old $99 push bike that had remained rusting in my garage for years. I started training with what I had, but soon realised I would need a more capable bike. I discussed my needs with my local bicycle store and bought a hybrid mountain/racing bike – equipped with four panniers. Then I started to really train. I rode every day, walked Mount Coolum at dawn and dusk and went to the gym four or five times a week. After three months I decided I was getting close to the big day. I aimed to cycle 150 kilometres a day and complete the journey in 120 days. Could I have done it? Probably not, but I’ll never know. Maybe a push bike ride could be the subject of a second book, but frankly I’d like to stay married, so I guess not. I’m sharing this to tell you that the only thing I did do right was to become super fit. Well at least as super fit as a 62-year-old alcoholic could be. If I hadn’t done this, I don’t believe I would have had the energy or staying power to do what I did.
So, what happened? I had a chance encounter with a bloke I saw wheeling a motorcycle down his drive where he parked it alongside a ‘For Sale’ sign. In an act of spontaneous madness, I bought it – and became the proud owner of a candy-red 2007 Yamaha 1300cc motorcycle. The rest is history.
THEspaceEND
PS In my next newsletter I’ll share the beginnings of my writing journey. But remember, I’m not an expert.
Stay wild.
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