There’s a lot to be said about the adventures I’ve undertaken so far. Adventures created as a by-product of an insatiable motivation to track down, and acquire bikes, parts and who knows what else.
Adventures like these have taken me to places I never thought of visiting, sometimes more than 6 hours from the place I call home. Hundreds of kilometres up north, south and to the west, just to get that one part that could potentially work on the current project. The destination, and each part acquired are reward enough, but the cream on the top is definitely the experiences on each and every journey. It’s all so cliché, “it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that makes us grow” – the reality is, this couldn’t be more accurate.
Last week, I drove out to Gourlburn, NSW with Diran (Micmacs) in the trusty Datsun 1200. We went down there to pickup a Honda CT125 we had sourced for parts on our CT125 project. On the way down, we found ourselves hurtling toward our destination at speeds that were certainly questionable, made more questionable by the lack of a working speedometer in the Datsun. At one point, we found a person screaming up behind us as we progressed toward our destination in the right-most lane on the Hume Highway. For those who aren’t aware, the right-most lane of roads like this are strictly reserved for use when overtaking, so we were moving pretty damn fast (a safe speed over the signposted speed limits). We progressed along gradually increasing our speed before pulling over and letting the rocket pass us by. As the vehicle passed, our jaws dropped as we observed a green highway patrol car pass us by. We couldn’t stop laughing at how lucky it was that they showed us no interest.
It’s funny little stories like this that will always be memorable when looking upon my creations. Each motorcycle inevitably has it’s own list of stories; ones acquired during the bike’s creation, others acquired “on the ride”. No matter where the stories are born, the idea of motorcycles resonating character will always be one of my most loved aspects of motorcycle culture.
I know that someday, if I live long enough, I’ll be a crusty old man working away in my workshop, reminiscing about times like these with whomever will lend me their ear.