Pleasuring
They're a lucky lot in Sydney, but I wonder how many of them know it.
It was while hooting down the Putty Road on Bimmer's demo R1100RT, that this
struck home. I was in pursuit of a lost photographer at the time, which meant
I ended up riding the same windy stretch thrice – oh dear, what a pity,
never mind.
This was all part of a little discovery with tour operator Bikescape, which
was brave enough to invite a writer along on its three-day exploration of Syd's
nether regions.
We wandered around the Hunter region having 'done' the old road aka Pacific
Highway north. As usual, brushing up against a district saturated with vignerons
ended up costing me a bomb, because I always fall victim to the tastings and
buy a case. Thank god we only went to two wineries, or I'd still be working
my passage home.
Then it was over to the Blue Mountains via the Bells line of road. It's a legendary
route, but is a suburban crawl these days and heavily policed at that.
The run to Picton, then past Wollongong and back up the coast was mostly a hoot.
Particularly the break at the park on the heads above the 'gong, which has become
a popular ice cream and chin-wag stop on a Sunday afternoon.
It's a regret that, while I lived in Sydney for a while years ago, I somehow
missed many of those roads probably because I didn't have folk near at hand
able to make the introductions.
Apparently I'm not alone. Because the three paying customers on the tour with
us were all Sydney residents and, in some cases, had seen even less of those
roads than I had. Jenny, Steve and Phil are all occasional riders, two of which
currently own a bike, and all of whom are just too damn busy to get behind the
handlebars unless they book the time ahead and commit to forgetting work for
a while.
They are all capable and safe, but lack of regular experience means that the
three-day sojourn was as much about getting the reflexes back into gear as it
was about kicking back and playing tourist for while.
While my own motorcycling skills are somewhat different to theirs - riding daily
and playing test dummy on mags does that - I felt a lot in common when it came
to the idea of just following the tour leader around and letting whatever happen.
Planning and preparing for a trip is fun, if you have the time to spare. Sometimes
it's just nice to pack the bag, strap it to the bike, and go wherever someone
else tells you to - if you trust them.
I've done this with mates before: just joining in after another bod has already
planned the route and schedule. But doing it with a commercial operator was
a new experience. And I've been on the sharp end all too often, planning the
adventure for others.
It's a great stress-relieving exercise. Acting dumb, stopping for fuel at pre-chosen
points, and turning left when someone else tells me to. Why? Where? Who cares?
Eventually we'll end up somewhere with a roof, and the biggest decision of the
day is what I'll eat/drink next.
The trick with this, though, is not to think about work or whatever the hell
else a responsible citizen normally does when their mind isn't filled with short-term
rubbish like where you're actually going. Instead your scone fills with stuff
like, "Look, isn't that sky blue," or, "What a nice corner, I
wonder which is the best line?" About now someone reading this is muttering
"very Zen" to themselves. Mutter away, friend, though I call it, particularly
after a schooner of Old, relaxation.
There should be more of it and, with practice, we could all get very good at
it. Now there's a thought – a relaxation olympics. Or perhaps start small
with a mind-pleasuring event at the Commonwealth Games.
Pleasuring? It's in contrast to some of the popular and dodgy corporate retraining
exercises someone I know describes aptly as "mind fucking". The same
large-breasted woman who delights in wearing a T-shirt emblazoned on the front
with the legend "If only these were brains".
Guy "Guido" Allen
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