Bikes

A couple of Sundays ago, I took myself out to the deep forests of Buckland to photograph Enduro motorcycle racing. This wasn't my first time photographing bikes, yet the exhilaration of watching riders hurtling through areas where masses of trees created a path no wider than a metre, was pure and precarious enjoyment. There are risks, and as a photographer, I too had to sign an indemnity form against my injury, but what's the point of living if you aren't doing what you love, risks and all. 

My introduction to motorcycles occurred during my youth in the small rural town of Bagdad, and although I feared for my life when faced with a 50cc bike no higher than, well, a beanbag, the feeling was incredible. Soon after I'd started riding at a friend's property on the other side of town, my parents informed my twin and I that they had a motorcycle of their own, which they'd stored away. This bike was the source of hours of adventures around the farm we lived on. I loved nothing more than riding it up ridiculously steep dam walls, often stalling halfway up and sliding back down the wall, which was more often than not laden with thistles. 

Anyway, riding through the streets of sleepy Hobart, navigating traffic and remaining constantly vigilant gives clarity like nothing else. Driving in a car, my mind tends to relax, and whilst I'm not suggesting that I'm a bad driver, the challenge of riding and the satisfaction of a good gear change or corner feels great. There's a whole lot of feelings in this post, but hey, do stuff that makes you feel, be it exhilarated or challenged, it's all good. 

Chasing

It's roughly been a year since I last wrote anything here, but having a view over this thing last night reminded me how it can sometimes be interesting to read over the past, but then, this blog isn't a diary, I stopped leaving diary entries on line when I stopped using myspace, back when I was such a typically dissatisfied and rather frustrated student at the Hobart art school.

I've been busy lately, in good ways and bad. There's way too much demand for me at my workplace, and I'm struggling to submit myself to all sorts of ridiculous tasks in order to maintain the friendliness of the place. There's one particular car which I've found cannot be driven without holding one's breath. I've devised a way to park the car which involves a series of steps aimed at minimising time spent inside this stagnant and sickening vessel. Firstly one must open the door, hold one's breath and turn the key in the ignition. The idea here is to start the car without getting inside it. Then, take a step back and allow your lungs to be filled with the fresh air of outside, once your lungs have expanded, hold your breath deeply, dive into the car, and get it into a vacant space as quickly as possible.

I have begun actively protesting against parking cars which make me physically sick, there ain't many of them, but I feel that being inside them violates the terms of a clean working environment. I'll keep up the fight and see where it leads me.

Over the course of the 3 months I've spent at uni this year, I've made some very valuable friends, and one of the purposes of this post is to reflect upon how good it is to constantly meet people who add so much to your life. Maddie, thanks for always being one step ahead with the German homework, one day I'll have bought you enough coffees to repay you.

Anyway, time to go and give the old ladies their weekly conversational excitement. You do your worst Poker Machines, but i'm going to make sure these people remember how to interact with the young and energetic.