The Native Iowan

A magnificent wintry morn in Queensland. The sun is shining, the birds are noise-making and the air is crisp. I sit wrapped in a granny made afghan. The doors are open the breeze is quite chilly.

I am watching the morning newz. I am more and more perplexed by the inanities and banalities of what is nowadays considered NEWS… I guess it is part and parcel of such a “connected” world… the Prez tweets, the world shudders, rating are king, the news-reporter-types are entertainers and not reporters.

I stress this point… Where is the NEWS any more? Was good ol Walter Cronkite an entertainer? Did we go to John Carson for news? Walter reported the whowhatwherewhen of it all and Johnny lampooned all n everything.

These days things are different. We live in a world without NEWS. I cannot find honest reporting anymore. I fear it is all and only about ratings. Why report honest news when it don’t sell? People nowadays need to be entertained, not informed.

But I digress… I digress from the beauty of the world we share to wallow in the morass of the banalities and inanities…

I recently had a bit of fun with the boys… a while back a huge old gum tree in the yard dropped a branch. This branch was 40feet/ 12meters off the ground and weighed tons. It simply got too heavy for the trunk and broke off… and landed on the fence!

It is a solid branch throughout. No rot or termites. So I decide to be creative. And I decide to put my pups to work…

We can make something out of this, and have fun doing it…

First off we have a good look and decide where we’ll employ the chain saws and what we shall produce from our cuts…

First cut is toward the end of the branch… I do what the islanders would do when they wanted a strong piece of wood for an ax handle or a paddle… they carved it in the tree then finished it off after cutting it off. My idea is to make a walking stick from the heart-wood of the branch. I initiate this by roughing my stick out…I scarf the top of the branch off in situ. I cut a series of parallels with the chainsaw then attack it with the ax. This allows me to follow the “heart” of the wood, the strongest, hardest, oldest part of the branch…

It took a couple hours but I end up with a roughed out stick… 

Considering I am following the heart of the wood it shall not be straight. I have to follow the heart. So I employ a sabre saw, a machete, a big rasp, and a couple sanders and end up with this… 

Another day of soothing and shaping and the finished product makes me happy… It is strong, strong, strong. And feels and smeels great.

As I chopped n chiseled and shaped, the boys de-barked a couple of logs I chose to be fire-pit seats. Using a hatchet and a hammer the boys beat n stripped the bark from the wood. 

Thank goodness for the little tractor. These things are heavy, heavy, heavy. But the end product is very cool and works real well… With the cool weather we are out n sititng roun’ the fires most nights.

Speaking of heavy… somewhere along the line, with me and the boys attempting to fit the pieces of the seats together, I smashed a finger… 

Damn, did that hurt. Bad, bad words were said and I groaned and yelled… 10 days later and it still hurts.

And life is good…

More later

June is usually a good month. Weather, memories of school holidays, fun in the sun, nortamerica without snow… June is usually a good month.

June 2017 has been especially good, even especially great…

George and Martha (RPCVSI and ex-roommates/tenants) unexpectedly appeared in the land of Aus. They were around for Mendoza’s Bday party so they got to spend a night and meet our extended family here. It was fantastic to see them both and have a bunch of fun and smiles and laughter run’ the camp fire…

I do not have many picts of the party. Guess I am not that quick to shoot a pict when we are having sooo much fun. But I can report that the Magician and the Hypnotist and the juggler and hoola-hoop gal and the vintage soft serve ice cream truck were all a lot of fun.

A few picts of the decorations… Look at the bottom… theme of the party was “death by ice cream”…

Tho not many pictures I did take video of the shows…

Adrian and the boys made great subjects for Master Hpynomaker, Dizzy…

Brody got cut in half by Nickleby…

Both made us laugh a lot.

Mendoza’s present from “us” is a neat ol-skool aussie swag. these are water proof, go anywhere beds. Very timely because the boy is heading off to rugby camp next week…

A pict of Adrian – after he’d been hypnotised –  he was a stunned mullet the rest of the night. Son Don with baby Vera and George Meyers in the background.

For the full month Grace and I had baby DawnE with us. She is a sweetie… born at 2.02kgs she is petit, but tough. She and I had a lot of fun. Zai, she and I had lunch out n about most days. She is a cool kid with an impressive vocabulary… Life is good with babies – and dawgs…

Gracie n DawnE crashed out on the terrace…

A road trip usually means a snooze…

Me and my goil friend…

Brother n sister… big bros are good…

Just out of the pool on a chilly winters eve…

pajamas and hat and backpack…

My budding apprentice mechanic…

Zai n baby wrapped up watching TV…

My assistant tractor driver sleeping on duty…

Breakfast is ON the table…

Sunday brunch in the village…

After the walk home from Sunday brunch…

Learning about gravity….

The playhouse queen…

A baby selfie…

Watching Angelo and Mendoza’s field day at Toowoomba…

While having lunch at Rick’s… a nifty 32 ford showed up…

Motorcycle lessons in the back-40…

On the road to Toowoomba… what a cheeky grin… 

Look out July… here we come…

More later

I woke a bit pissed off this morning. I am disgruntled because of a couple things, but mainly because I hear such dumb-shit-bull-shit.

I don’t understand how bleeding heart liberals can even begin to justify heinous actions such as the suicide bombing of youths. I still hear brain-dead, spoon-fed, shit-in-their-head individuals say that the “West” deserves what they are getting.

It is a common liberal spin… “…we deserve it because of past wrongs perpetrated by generations past…”. Mea culpa. Mea culpa.

I read an article the other day (shall not try to source it) that was discussing that Islam is less of a religion but rather a political system. The gist of the article was that Islam developed and employed strategies that brought people into a communal fold of thought, not, as a religion does, but as a political movement does.

A modern Christian/ religious angle would be – ” Believe and practice as we do or the pearly gates shall be closed to you”.

The Modern Islam angle is – ” Believe and practice as we do or we will wipe your seed off the face of the planet”.

OK, ok, bleeding heart logic will point to the crusades and the Christian atrocities there in. Or the Spanish Inquisition and the Christian atrocities there in.

An attempt to justify or rationalise? I don’t know, I don’t get this weird western guilt trip at all.

There are atrocities to be found. Indeed there are.

But I struggle to find a time and place where such violence, as we have seen recently,  is justifiable.

I have lived with violence. Lived in violent settings. I have lived through a couple “civil wars”. 1st in the 90s when Bouganville fell. 2nd in 2000 when Honiara fell. I have been “there” when shots were fired and people killed. I have lived where the dudes with the biggest guns ran the show, and where those guys with the guns did as they wished.

I understand violence. I have raised my offspring with the understanding that the world is a violent place.

And the world is indeed a violent place… I woke to another ALERT. Something has happened in London. Knives and guns and vehicles into pedestrians… who knows, but the fact is that modern and public atrocities were committed.

And it pisses me off.

Some modern day martyrs, some self righteous radicals decide it is purposeful to attack defenceless citizens publicly.

I don’t get it.

And I am pissed off about it all… the news, the hysteria, the bullshit excuses and the political pontifications.

I am pissed off by it all…

Speaking of violence… UFC 212 on today.

More later

I really enjoy my time in the Islands. the basic remoteness of this place means one is less inundated with newz. The barrage of hourly/ half hourly/ prime-time newz that is common in “the world”, is less than common here.

I have not looked at a TV for 2 weeks. I confess to being an SIBC junkie. I like the newz in pijin. But it’s local newz.

World-Blo-Iu-Mi is each eve for a half hour. It’s pretty cool. But being away from the barrage of newz is both good and bad.

Good in that I feel smarter/ healthier being away from the barrage. Bad in thatnewz is important, and once back from the islands, I do need to catch up.

Of course, everywhere one travels there is a TV and usually some cable newz agency. (BBC, Al Jezeera, CNN, Fox) Entertainment sold as newz accosts the air with commentary of opinion and innuendo. And the people who watch these cable newz services end up indoctrinated into the fold of like-minded-believers. If they watch too much of one thing, they forget there is other newz, alternative newz out there…

I am oft time surprised people fail to remember that there is more than one-side to a story. And when faced with the facts irrational posturing often replaces logical thought. It bummz me out when intelligent folks become ignorant and pig headed. I say ignorant in an actual sense of the word…

John Lee Hooker plays “this is hip”. The winds blows brisk. The sun is hot, shows an intense glare. This is Hip lil baby…

I sit on in the ridges of Guadalcanal. I look out over Iron Bottom Sound. The day is hazy. I can convince myself I can see a faint outline of San Jorge.

San Jorge Island is the second largest island in the Isabel Province, Solomon Islands. The island lies at the southern end of Santa Isabel Island and borders Thousand Ships Bay. San Jorge has an area of 184 km² (71 sq mi) and has less than 1000 inhabitants living in four villages.

The first recorded sighting by Europeans was by the Spanish expedition of Álvaro de Mendaña on 21 April 1568. More precisely the sighting was due to a local voyage done by a small boat, in the accounts the brigantine Santiago, commanded by Maestre de Campo Pedro Ortega Valencia and having Hernán Gallego as pilot. They were who charted it with its present-day name, San Jorge, and also who named the narrow channel separating San Jorge from Santa Isabel Island as the Ortega channel after the commander of the expedition.

On a clear day you can see San Jorge pretty well. I’m guessing it to be maybe 60 miles from Honiara… I’ll check… not far wrong.

My hounds all hide from the sun. They seek the deep shadows where the breeze blows well. They are good dogs.

I have a few days of work to do here in Honiara, then I fly back down south. I don’t spend much time in Honiara unless I have to. Its a city. I don’t do cities very well. Never did. I find them difficult at best. Great to visit for a reason. not a place I am happy living in.

It’s be a bit redundant but I’ll publish a number of picts from my recent time out West. I know. Lots of pictures of the water and the islands… buts thats what we got here… lots of islands and lots of water…

And Life Is Good…

running home a bit late… Always enjoy night runs…

San Bis resort… well worth a visit if you ever get to Gizo…

San Bis as the sun sets…

As usual, an eclectic group of wayfarers and wastrels were hanging around for a fun night filled with conversation and lies…

Son Don, married ikiribati… 2 yr old Dawn thinks she is competent. Give her a couple years and she will be… Gilbert women are always impressive…

Don’s lady, Joanna, with baby vera…

Pretty good seas for our playing and games… 

Leaving Liapari, Gizo in the distance…

gotta be impressed… what a magnificent planet we do dwell upon…

I sit on my most recent lunacy, D.D.ICE. 

Have owned ICE over a year and have not utilised it at all. It has been a cumbersome project. A hard project to get a handle on.

I admit that I am prone to lunacies… I have a “thing” for bikes and cars and boats. I have a “thing” for off-grid adventures. I have a “thing” for risk taking. And ICE is sure a off grid, risky lunacy, thats for sure.

So I sit in the wheel house. A nice breeze filters in through the opened door. We rock gently. It’s about time I get up and “do something”…

I have SIBC (Solomon Islands Broad Casting) on the computer. I like the daily programming. “Money Matters” is on now. I really like the news in Pijin. You can stream it all via… http://mixlr.com/sibconline/.

It has been raining. Gizo harbour is pigmented with the red clay that has been flowing down Gizo hill. The skies are overcast, grey/ blue. The harbour has a brisk chop. The kids commenting to school via dug-out do so slowly, careful not to get too wet. 

I sip black coffee, eat a sweet biscuit, and think about shifting to Babanga Island… I want to get off the wharf. Go drop the anchor. Spend some time on the deck pulling lines, raising sails, testing all the running gear. I am sure some of the blocks are seized. I’ll put Abraham up the mast(s) in a bosun’s chair. Have a bit of nautical fun.

If all goes well we should aim to do a run up to Choiseul. Run the engines for 40hours nonstop. Stand watches, go somewhere, see something. I am ready to be untethered from the wharf.

Got a couple nice views of a rainbow over Kolombangara yesterday… Something magical, provocative with rainbows…

Today is my Mother’s 90th birthday. She still lives in Independence, Iowa. I wish her a very, very happy birthday and hope she gets another 90, she deserves it… 

And life is good. Very good.

More later

So it is April. First quarter of the year gone.

The world is still on fire, from within and without. But then the world has always been on fire, somewhere, somehow, all the time, the world is on fire.

I think of my youthful combustion and zeal. Fuelled by poets and prisoners. Incited by longhaired radicals, raggedy believers. Ignited by bodies in the mud, crimes, and lies. And presidential disgrace. We felt as if we had “won” something.

Just read an article about the YOUTH OF RUSSIA and their zeal… https://www.stratfor.com/geopolitical-diary/brave-new-world-kremlin?id=be1ddd5371&uuid=d1a71237-e91e-4299-b288-d2f95b0dc2ef

I listen to, read, digest the news daily. Had a real fun one yesterday…  The boat grounded after it “shit a submerged lateral marker”… made me laugh. Luv solid, honest reporting!

Speaking of which… BREAKING NEWZ… I note that the US just dropped bombs in Syria. Hmmm… interesting times. An act of aggression, overt aggression by the US of A. Against Syria… Hmmm… I am not very hawkish but I might be convinced to agree that it is about time Syria got reprimanded for killing it’s own people with GAS.

Did the Assad regime Gas it’s people. Most decidedly yes. Was this last “gassing” an Assad attack? Some say yes, some say no.

But argument over yea or nay is a planned diversion.

I do believe that the past administration was too verbal and too inactive when it came to Syria/ Assad. Too many damn lines drawn in the sand, for my liking. Bluff talk only works when it is periodically backed up.

Going to have to read up on this to decide what I think. But the fact that Assad had “destroyed” all his nerve gas stock piles may now well be proven to be a bold face lie.

And I have  a habit of not trusting proven liars.

But… BUTTT!!!!… We be talking international war. We have been here before. Are we repeating history, again, and again, and again…

Where are we? What are we doing here? Who out there does not understand that we are living in an era of conflict?

My neighbourhood is pretty cruisie.  I can leave my doors unlocked. I ma lucky.

But I know neighbourhoods that are not. Check this out for a bit of a look at our world in conflict… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:21st-century_conflicts

We have no scope, no concept of the unspeakable horrors so, so many innocents endure.

One quick modern example: The Kobanê Massacre was a combination of suicide missions and attacks on Kurdish civilians by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant on the Kurdish-held city of Kobanî, beginning on Thursday, 25 June, and culminating on Friday, 26 June 2015.^[6][7][8] The attacks continued into 28 June, with the last remaining ISIL militant being killed on the following day. The attacks resulted in 223–233 civilians dead, as well as 35–37 Kurdish militiamen^[4] and at least 79 ISIL assailants.^[5] It was the second-largest massacre committed by ISIL since it declared a caliphate in June 2014.^{[9]      https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koban%C3%AE_massacre}

We (I) sit and watch the various news services.

I am a centrist. I do not support a political team. I do not/ can not encourage the actions of either the LEFT or the RIGHT. I hear rhetoric. I hear Rhetoric. I hear RHETORIC. I hear little else.

The President of the US of A ordered missile strikes on airfields in Syria.

I know from intimate experience that throwing a punch, “Throwing A Punch”, is not something one does lightly.

Is your punch is thrown inappropriately? Even wrongly?

I know that you can, I can appropriately throw a punch. There are situations that warrant and even demand an appropriately thrown punch.

But I have, I confess, throw inappropriate punches. I have had my arse kicked in the streets more than once. I have a dead nerve through my face from one such testosterone poisoned party. My story (and I am am sticking to it) is there we at least eight big RenBel boys packing into a little car. I remember one guy came out swinging a heavy-footed microphone stand.

Its all started because of an inappropriate punch. Well, there was a girl involved too.

So we balme it on testosterone poisoning.

What do we blame this recent Aggressive Action on?

Assad being a murdering sumabitch? Trump being trigger happy? Obama being a pussy.

Before the NEWZ came in I was going to right about happy things…

This picture is giving the scale of the space I have to squeeze into in order to fight the leak coming into ICE through the rudder shaft. To th right of my foot, and under the hydraulic ram operating the rudder is a tiny, cramped place where I need to use tools and make things happen. I have found the appropriate “bilge-yoga” poster that allows me to actually sit down and take a reasonable amount of time to do the job. 

This is a picture of David and Jackie Fegan. Having lunch on a Sunday in Honiara.My son, Don, with his pigs. Yes, Don went to school in Iowa and loves his livestock.

Don’s daughter, Dawn, and I…

looking toward Gizo town…

Pat Purcell on ICE…

Ice and Pursuit tied up at Gizo…

Best fish n chips in the world… Gizo, Solomon Islands…

Moving onto ICE. A lot of cleaning was done…

Full moon night, DD ICE @ Gizo, Solomon Islands…

Luv the Solos… Commuters @ Gizo Harbour…Gizo lagoon…

Sitting up on the hill, enjoying the placid blue of Iron Bottom Sound. About 1030am and maybe 24c/ 80f. Sunday morning coming down in the Big Mango.

Yesterday I had a relaxed morning with a meeting scheduled at a local cafe at 130pm. SO I puttered and read through the morning then went to the Mendana for lunch. After the past 10 days in Gizo I thought a fancy sit down club sandwich would do me. In Gizo I lived on the fish and chips. Each pub or eatery had their own version. Some was better but all were good. Fresh Kingfish or Tuna is grand. but my favourite is Hump-Head Maori Wrass… who out there has feasted upon this fin delicacy? A CETIS listed endangered species… The fish is listed as Endangered on the IUCN Red list and in Appendix II of CITES.^[12] Species numbers for the humphead wrasse have been declining due to a number of threats, and very tasty indeed…

A dingy lil over-the-water affair in the old KHY waterfront, I think it’s called the Sea Front,  sells a massive feed of the best, THE BEST, fish n chips I can recall. Big fresh chunks of endangered species with a pile of honest kumara chips and a salad. All for about 10.00USD.

I rate this as one of the best meals I have had in ages and ages.

Any one near Gizo should make an effort and check it out. Mockson is the owner of the place. It is dingy and a bit unwelcoming. It is a waterside bar first and foremost. A desperate array of nefarious looking personages hangout there (most are my family), but there is an upstairs dining area away from the bar. Breezy and bright, I highly recommend it.

I depart from this trip with a sense of positivity, an optimism, if you will. For the first time in years and years… for the first time in a long time, I see a positive change here.

Most dramatically, the streets of Honiara are cleaner than I can recall. Gone are the piles of plastic and greasy papers that normally punctuate the urban landscape. No longer  are the old oil drum rubbish bins full to overflowing. The rubbish is being collected. By whom I am uncertain. It is the why that I tried to understand…

Why is the rubbish being picked up. Why are the streets reasonably tidy.

The answer appears to be rather simple… The Tourist Ships are back. The first weekend here I saw 2 vessels arrive and depart. While in Gizo I saw one ship arrive and depart.

Amazing what a change a bit of tourism can make.

My faithful hounds lie about in a confused array of postures…

We have 5 Rodeasian Ridgebacks here… Bean, Iowa, Lauru, Scarlet, and Rhett. They have a tough life, no doubt.

I have been 17 days in these islands. I had forgotten, over the past 16 months, how down right beautiful it is here.

Considering I spent 10 days on DD ICE (DD stands for “Diesel Duck”), working pretty much every day cleaning and fixing, I can say I feel better, happier and smarter than when I showed up. Maybe I was getting a bit too retired down in Aus, over these past many months. Maybe I need more to challenge and drive in me. Maybe, but I do know I enjoyed being on ICE and have throughly enjoyed my time here. I will be back soon.

ICEBound photos… 

The stern/ rudder-tube area where I spent much time doing Bilge Yoga and my office onboard – nice view, eh?

Pat Purcell hanging and the view from San Bis jetty…

Local commuters in Gizo harbour and The Fegan with Abraham after a long day of fun.

Life is good

Where are we? Somewhere in mid-February.

It is a quiet, warm night here in Qland. I sit out side by the pool… 

The critters of the night buzz, hum, and click. A constant cacophony of chaotic critter noises, eh?

I smile.

I recently was discussing the nasty topic of “politics” with a compadre. Now, my bud and I do not all the times see eye to eye. But we are buds. And as buds do you piss each other off. Sometimes we – either or- exaggerate for effect. Some times -either or- end up with sensibilities bruised.

Our topic was the questioning – right or left – of the political persuasion of a person in your life. And the effects therein. Golly, these past few months of political overload have sure been divisive.

I think of a niece of mine. Educated, professional, smart- smart, best mom in the world kinda gal. With strong liberal leanings. When she posted one of those “made to insult” sorta’ ersatz news items stating that we could blame the “red necks” for DJT. I had to point out to her that the majority of her male-blood-relatives were then blameable. (and a few of her female-blood-relatives too)

We are all in the same small boat. Being rude don’t work a’tall.

I am from the flatlands. Iowa. It is a good place. A good place to call “home”. And I acknowledge that there are many, many places throughout the USofA, where honest folk work hard for an honest wage. I learned respect at a young age. I know what an insult is and I know being insulting is rude. I know that rudeness can lead to an arse kick’n. I know that rudeness can lead to tears. In the right neighbourhood, rudeness can lead to lead poisoning.

Is one president that much better than the other? I know a good administration can be more desirable than a bad administration. I know that bad leadership normally do not end well.

I think of being at sea. Or better… on the Starship Enterprise… Capt. Kirk do not put decisions up for a vote. He do not make a committee meeting out of it all. no, he asks his various advisors/ specialists/ Spocks/ Scottys for their relevant assessment. From the info supplied by his advisors he makes any and all decisions.

Speaking of being at sea… Packing to travel soon to board and enjoy ICE.

A chart I am getting ready… What is there about going to sea? preparing for the sea? Shaazaammm! Dunt know but there is something special in the air.

Maybe its my 52/52 Triton? 

Just pulling her out from a long hibernation…

6T 395480 – From everything I can glean this number is a fake…(Like much of the newz these days) Somewhere in this old gal’s past her engine numbers were filed off and new numbers given. Everything about her mechanically makes her a 52.

The frame numbers are difficult to read. The research I have done leads me to believe the frame is a 52 wide-line Norton featherbed.

What is a 52/52 Triton, I hear you ask? Oh, and what is a featherbed? And, oh, I say, who really gives a shit?

About politics or motorcycles…

I do. About bikes, anyhow… This is a really rare beast. You get a triton when you combine the fantastic frame, called the “featherbed” made by Norton Motorcycles, with the ever speedy 650cc Triumph engine. The 52/52 is of course a designation for its year of production. So both frame and engine appear to be 65 years old.

Tritons were not a factory build. Every Triton on the planet was built in a small garage by a group of guys who loved speed. Frames from one bike, engines from another. No two Tritons are the same.

The fact that the numbers here appear to be faux, kinda makes sense. In years gone by many an engine or frame were “found” in unlikely places by unlikely peoples. If an engine’s history was a bit suss, you could change it by giving it an new identity, a new serial number.

You built a Triton for one reason only… for SPEED.

I have had this machine on the back burner for some time. To get the right “tins” for her I had to stand in line and wait for a master tin maker to produce what I required.

And they are ready. I’ll have them soon. It’ll take some time to get them sent over from the States. So I prepare the 52/52 to head up to Genius Jim’s place. He is going to start making this ol britt babe all shiny and new.

I do look forward to it.

The night sky here is rather quiet. Gemini and Cancer in the sky. Mars and Pluto setting. The sky is inky dark.

The pool is warm.

Life is good.

Monday morn here in the land of Aus.We are watching the Packers v the Cowboys playoff game. So far it is quite entertaining.

I wish to report that I did my full day of 2wheeling Saturday. Left here about 8am, got home about 3pm. It was hot, hot, hot. I covered 600ks, stopped 3 times. Simply rode my bike.

I got home sweaty, dehydrated and sore. I weighed in 3kgs less than i left in the morn. 12 litres of beer and water remedied the weight loss. My leg muscles and gluten are very sore.

And life is good…

More vroom later

Mars, the star of the eve this eve, floats brilliant n bright to the west. He shall shine bright n long tonight. Neptune and Uranus accompany him into Aquarius.

The sky is rather quiet tonight.

It has been a long hot day.

Did I mention, Friday the 13th? Ring a Bell?

I completed my Australian motorcycle licence saga today. I can now, after a few months of being unlicensed, ride my bikes.

It is a long story… I swapped over from my Solo licence to an Aussie licence and in between  ended up without a bike licence for about 3 months. Have not really been on a long ride for fucking ages!!! Damn I miss riding!

So I sit here, 730pm on Friday the 13, 2017. A new year rings in and our superstitions continue.

A resident kookaburra makes noise down in the drainage. Frogs, very small frogs, add a vibration to the air. Fruit bats do their commute inland.

I find frogs in my pool. About the size of my thumb nail, some bigger, I am certain many species are around. It is interesting that the pool kills the toads ( we all dislike toads) but not the frogs. I rescue and release the frogs.

So after a frustraing past few expereicnes, I am happy to report that I have proven that I am a good poodle. This recent saga of jumping through hoops and wagging my tail and being polite and smiley in order to be legally licensed to ride my bikes… All I can say is “woof”.

It all began in September when I finally got my full-time, ol fart, retirement visa for Australia.

Another long story, but I had been hassling over my status in Aus for 6 year or more.

So I get my ol fart visa and then go into the local transport office to swap my licence over. To become a proper card-carrying Queenslander, MATE!

It was not easy. I had to pay some money and pass a test before I could pay more to apply to take the next text which included a road test. So I paid and applied and tested and got a Qlander licence. But only for automatic cars.

Now for these past 6 years I have been stopped, and I have been allowed to drive on my Solo Licence. Both cars, trucks and bikes. My Solo licence has been well recognised to  allow me to drive, ride and operate.

Not now, not after I got my first, basic, learners licence as a Qlander.

As soon as I went on to Qlander plastic, all else was null n void.

So I took a test to be fully certified to drive a car. Then another test to drive a car with a manual transmission. Took 4 trips into the local Transport Office. But I got my “open” for cars.

That was the easy part.

The bike licence was a drama. Normally one must wait and progress over 2.5 years to go from learner to open for bikes. For me that was tragic news. BUt I was patient, and friendly and had enough info to allow the TRFolks to exempt me through the draconian time requirements as I did my dance for them…

That was where I learned I was an exceptional poodle.

Golly, how many times have I been in the Transport Offices looking forlorn and cooperative. I am good at wagging my tail.

And jumping through hoops. To get a bike licence was pretty intensive…

I paid a fee then did 2 days of training and got my Learners licence. Went to the TROffices and got the paper work done. I did another day of training, paid a fee and did my provisional licence. Went to the TROffices and got the paper work done. Today I did another day of training and was issued my “open” bike licence, after I went to the TROffices and got the paper work done. I did not pay a fee because the guy doing the training and I got friendly and he commiserated with my drama so today was free.

I bought him a good bottle of whiskey as a present.

And I am buggered. So I sit here in the cool Qland air. The wind chimes giggle. The wind rustles the foliage. The Wolf Moon was full last night. It shall be bright and clear here, soon. Moon rise is 935pm.

So the first full moon of 2017 behind us. My MOJO has been messed up these past few days. I think it is because I do not take instruction well.

but tomorrow I shall remedy mu MOJO by going riding ALLL DAYYY…

More later