Travels
with kids
The often-used
means of transporting our offspring - motorcycle - has regularly drawn the disapproval
of more senior members populating the family tree. However the elders are getting
more relaxed about the whole idea as the kids turn into adults and look less
cute.
Misses M and A junior have shared countless riding adventures over the years.
As pilot you cop the planning, the bills, plus that awful responsibility to
keep them alive.
There was that time when I tossed Morag into the chair, which we still own,
but it looks very different now, and she burst into tears one hour into the
Melbourne to Brisbane and back trip. Suddenly she was missing her mother. Chocolate
fixed that, but sixty minutes later I was fighting for control as the chair
hit a diesel slick and snapped onto the wrong side of the road. Facing a very
large Toyota. Travel with tin lids is not all feathers and free chocolates,
to quote a famous person.
Morag (at sub-three in 1987) had her views on how the journey should be run,
and forced a different schedule. Instead of dad's usual manic let's-get-to-the-next-town
push, we had to think about finding a park at the next fuel stop, use the swings
and local ice-cream emporium. Now 18, she seems to be over swings. A shame,
really, as I got quite good at them.
It's some 16 years since we did our first big bike trip together and, during
January's Melb to Briz effort on Mac the Valk, I couldn't help noticing some
changes. Ice-cream has lost much of its attraction, as a modern 18-year-old
woman needs to watch her weight, apparently. Stops involve clothing shops rather
than swings, and her idea of a park is doing the walking tour of Darling Harbour
in Sydney at night, rather than playing on some dodgy playground equipment.
We now fight over the music. She hates Bjork's latest album (the kid has no
bloody taste, if you ask me), but will tolerate Eminem in short bursts. And
she'll happily live with a 900km day in the saddle.
Weirdly our ride on the Moggill ferry in Queensland, which has an entertaining
history involving coal barges and colourful racing identities, was a highlight
and I enjoyed played tour guide around Sydney and Briz - meeting people and
showing some old haunts.
If you can live with the idea of losing control of the schedule for much of
the time, travelling with kids on a motorcycle is terrific. When they demand
a stop they're right - they need to sit, eat, play, sleep, shop, whatever, and
so do you. If it means an extra night on the road, so be it.
The best tip I can offer is to build some time into the schedule (I added a
day for the latest trip), and live with the idea that you're not necessarily
in control. Then you'll enjoy it, and the little perisher(s) will keep you alive
by their presence, and their joy at experiencing things you were taking for
granted. It's a truly symbiotic relationship.
My greatest thrill is that, at 18 and 16, the gals still want to come riding
- we've had 16 good years of it so far. The pity is that I'm just getting good
at it, and they'll have other priorities soon. If you were hesitating, try the
adventure with your offspring before they get too old. There are no second chances...
Guy "Guido" Allen
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