tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37407563667147487022024-03-05T14:02:57.657+10:00Snapshots: photography, experiences, life, youth, politics & bikes by the Clayfield Cowboy.The Life & Times of Mark Taylor C.P.P. The first 60 years.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-4314575878951810342021-09-26T13:23:00.002+10:002021-09-26T13:23:36.863+10:00My Grandfather's Watch came home....<h4 style="text-align: left;">So my late maternal grandfather Bill Butcher passed away in November 1969. </h4><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I remember my mother's tears on that night still to this very day. His collection of worldly goods was distributed around the place, and my mother ended up with her father's watch.
A Dupont, made in Switzerland for the French luxury goods retailer.
Mother kept that watch in her jewell case and looked at it now and then.. and I have no doubt she was remembering happy times with her father. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6TsVsQ5rhhZFFauPFtlsnF_an-I34v3HB3diz6JYtSihfnpdrL_gpeu-0L0JX4TI_EZFZ3uED2tHNVHHsn6cWfD9JOnLU4iIUwdgjpeWr-9TPZt5slOSJ9EvFLEJTr2lIJ8ihyphenhyphenTW0TE/s2048/FIN_GrandParents_B%2526W_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1638" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6TsVsQ5rhhZFFauPFtlsnF_an-I34v3HB3diz6JYtSihfnpdrL_gpeu-0L0JX4TI_EZFZ3uED2tHNVHHsn6cWfD9JOnLU4iIUwdgjpeWr-9TPZt5slOSJ9EvFLEJTr2lIJ8ihyphenhyphenTW0TE/w400-h320/FIN_GrandParents_B%2526W_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Maternal Grand Parents</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div> Time marches on and in 1998, mother herself died and I inherited that jewell box containing Bill Butchers watch. For 22 years it has sat on the desk in the studio work rooms both at Clayfield and here in Hendra. Looking at that watch nearly every day I decided it had to be passed along....
My cousin Graham Butcher has sons that carry the Butcher name onwards still. So it seemed to me only natural that he should have grandfather Bill Butcher's old watch for posterity to be handed down as a family heirloom.
Now after after being in the Taylor's possession for some 52 years, today was the handover day for the watch. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6JP7laltXsIU5IbXpxwGVbyiaeZ2uNKJB6YiOmKNNIckSACEPPQahRJ3qgVdJVYPeVJE4B-3_IOZtdOe-StdIsiCW-m7ej_qjQMFP4hWUgjdiEVli5M50vI2AULDdc0GwNGb8n2g8Ic/s2048/IMG_3285+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6JP7laltXsIU5IbXpxwGVbyiaeZ2uNKJB6YiOmKNNIckSACEPPQahRJ3qgVdJVYPeVJE4B-3_IOZtdOe-StdIsiCW-m7ej_qjQMFP4hWUgjdiEVli5M50vI2AULDdc0GwNGb8n2g8Ic/w400-h300/IMG_3285+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousin Graham Butcher with our Grandfather's watch.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Brother Paul and Graham and I had lunch at the Shingle Inn at Chermside and I am sure this is the first time Graham had seen that watch since our grandfather passed away. Graham wound it up and away it went.. still working over 52 years since it was last worn.
Felt good for the 3 of us to be there in the moment with that link to our late grandfather.
And it felt awesome to give it to Graham too.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-67991312304370144672020-12-30T19:39:00.000+10:002020-12-30T19:39:04.429+10:002020. Man makes plans and God laughs.<p>Well what a bastard of a year was 2020? A really shit time for the planet. </p><p>Whoever stated that a single person could not change the course of the world had never met that Chinese guy who ate that bat!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYrCAMSg9OjLc7U52OIosJcKkgE8P12b0asLxRB0077X6lDKgjVJhPw9RgQ_Xq7Ha9KhzVQnA1jfwwIY2ZVq4T7C1vUPToIEGa0u8FnF1-BTkRl1YMXVtFYEVU7uiU6UOXzcc7LYUGi0/s693/Screen+Shot+2020-12-30+at+19.25.46.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="693" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBYrCAMSg9OjLc7U52OIosJcKkgE8P12b0asLxRB0077X6lDKgjVJhPw9RgQ_Xq7Ha9KhzVQnA1jfwwIY2ZVq4T7C1vUPToIEGa0u8FnF1-BTkRl1YMXVtFYEVU7uiU6UOXzcc7LYUGi0/w400-h233/Screen+Shot+2020-12-30+at+19.25.46.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Turning the clock back.. this time last year, we were looking forward to 2020 with a lot of enthusiasm. The studio had been busy in November and December and I was pleased with its progress. I caught a note in the paper about some virus in China and thought not much of it.</p><p>My year's plans were being laid out on my yearly planner. Because of the bushfires in NSW my late spring trip back to the Snowy Mountains had been cancelled and I was keen to mount up and head off on the BMW. But by late February, it was pretty plain to see that a trip down there might find me locked out of QLD. So no trip and the big bike was locked down along with us in the house.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuVrX9xm5WbdeRUPbrT_RdwbGZL3XHf3aDStyDVtfPQAbI6hGBcLAycLZ6s8ySs7ZYCC2gmottExr_O-efCW290jygAlhApshKmKLLHqcczT8bwvwzocnDKdG3AEXXl_C-MElelr-QIM/s2048/AMPF4384+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuVrX9xm5WbdeRUPbrT_RdwbGZL3XHf3aDStyDVtfPQAbI6hGBcLAycLZ6s8ySs7ZYCC2gmottExr_O-efCW290jygAlhApshKmKLLHqcczT8bwvwzocnDKdG3AEXXl_C-MElelr-QIM/w400-h225/AMPF4384+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big German girl in the Snowy in 2019</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Debra's asthma issues meant we had to avoid at all costs her coming down with COVID-19. At the time it had the capacity to put the fear of God into people. And so we were locked down for around 6 weeks. Her beautiful staff member Helen, held the fort for us and boy did she work hard. Finally Deb felt confident to go back to work, lots of hand wash and face masks followed. Customers would steal the hand wash from her fitting rooms. Talk about living in weird times.</p><p>One noteworthy event was that on a drive down to Redcliffe during all of this, Debra's mighty Z4 turned over 20,000 km. Now at 22,201 km. Not bad for a car 16 years old.</p><p>As the year rolled on we did have lots of political candidates through the studio for the head shots for their corflutes and that kept the wheels of industry ticking over. All managed in our small studio with social distancing in mind too! Plus some on site images too!</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4ohT4MxkDqAWgWg5uzgAEfLQAoIBXhif6fbK40AJdtrMBnZq0yjNAJk81eqvxCv8OOh14CfX3C55EpwA96FgEaBChZbM6XBckCNCOCi3jv6bh3mzDrbcolDsZitzHjF6vd2u4vhMyPE/s1250/Centor_+20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP4ohT4MxkDqAWgWg5uzgAEfLQAoIBXhif6fbK40AJdtrMBnZq0yjNAJk81eqvxCv8OOh14CfX3C55EpwA96FgEaBChZbM6XBckCNCOCi3jv6bh3mzDrbcolDsZitzHjF6vd2u4vhMyPE/w400-h320/Centor_+20.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many thanks to Bobby Pearson Electrical</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Now Debra had intended to fly to the USA in July to catch up with her dear friends Len and Pat who live in Pennsylvania. Well that plan sure went west. And right now we have not made any plans to go anywhere... (our last trip was Bali in 2019) well how can you in light of all of this ongoing drama? </p><p>So July rolled around towards us and we usually have a "Clayfield Studio says G'Day USA" lunch around July 4. It covers my birthday (July 3) and also gives us a chance to drink American beer, eat ribs and hotdogs etc. And we also get a USA themed cake. Usually in the shape of the Stars and Stripes USA flag. Usually our token Yank, Monte Hubesch does the quality control and counts all the stars to be sure it is correct in every way. So should we do one this year?</p><p><br /></p><p>What would John Wayne do? Hell yes, let's do this.</p><p><br /></p><p>So off we toddle to order the custom cake... many $$$$, but worth it.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hVFk9xzWnIDxLnEFqUK87vn7GbRrj4yyPDEWdBHan3nhyphenhyphenHY7dTcSbZvOANShMALRrNma1wAXqm9jNM2MLPUXbQXcTa4ut2_hhUMOVXMFu6ra2sgrBiKD74S6kwcIiJS8unLqqeK-aZw/s2048/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hVFk9xzWnIDxLnEFqUK87vn7GbRrj4yyPDEWdBHan3nhyphenhyphenHY7dTcSbZvOANShMALRrNma1wAXqm9jNM2MLPUXbQXcTa4ut2_hhUMOVXMFu6ra2sgrBiKD74S6kwcIiJS8unLqqeK-aZw/w400-h400/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So you got to have a US Muscle car and flag on the day!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>And then God starts to laugh again.....</p><p><br /></p><p>The next Sunday after we place the order, I head out for a ride on Maxine and I end up at the wrong place and at the wrong time.</p><p><br /></p><p>Bang! A lady in a Toyota hits me on a roundabout and I end up in hospital. Poor old Maxine is a write off and I come out with just a lot of thankfully relatively minor injuries. Still trying to sort my head out, I am terrified still when driving or riding. Working on that. Cannot go into too much detail as a third party case is pending. I rang Debra from the ambulance....</p><p>"Hi honey, guess where I am?"</p><p>"In a coffee shop drinking coffee?"</p><p>"Um.. I am in an ambulance"</p><p>"WTF? S*&(*) **&%$ *&^ etc etc. (Cannot write it here.)</p><p>The treatment I got from everybody, the coppers, the ambos, the nurses and Doctors at RBH was amazing and they were all very kind. Cannot say enough good things about them. My protective gear worked well and even the good Doctor commented on how much the jacket and pants had saved me. I did get gravel rashed on the arms and face though plus a good dose of whiplash.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXZJdgPZrgbmVi-DjAnvXWjApowAORVN9Z2Cx_HAQyJykXxpnrwdZ7uau2BUWVF-Rajkmp9sniWiWqY0PW9b1izzOOQbmXdKVC4GwsZb8lUg_ENyub8QqBB97S06RXmu2ak-tckM3ZwY/s2048/MBT_Accident_200621+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXZJdgPZrgbmVi-DjAnvXWjApowAORVN9Z2Cx_HAQyJykXxpnrwdZ7uau2BUWVF-Rajkmp9sniWiWqY0PW9b1izzOOQbmXdKVC4GwsZb8lUg_ENyub8QqBB97S06RXmu2ak-tckM3ZwY/w320-h400/MBT_Accident_200621+1.jpg" title="I felt so very old when this was taken" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt so very old when this was taken.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Deb takes care of me at home and I get to enjoy lots of (painful at first) physiotherapy for many months. And then there is the story of making an insurance claim. Bloody hard work. Eventually I get some cash from the insurer and order a new bike. And that is interesting too. First bike arrives ex south and is assembled. Seems to be short in height. Thankfully good friend Paul Hughes can interrogate the BMW Motorrad VIN code and yes.. the bike has lowered suspension. With very helpful input from Jason Anderson at the dealer, the bike is exchanged for the correct one. And I changed the plate from MAX20 back to MAX11. Superstitious am I. Just need to learn to get back on the big thing and ride it.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVYRDRcNNKB45HByA4S9cwhl4wlVE5WgkZNsctor_axkUUIOWL0gFKQ8CTk0PpNyjvS8sHBL6nrlxQjvgRSzI1BiuaEnBFGDW-YO7_Ghpwc_NtnlK3DsEGcfr2eeU5bnea-6tWt39TWk/s2048/1250_Tenterfield_Color.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1151" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVYRDRcNNKB45HByA4S9cwhl4wlVE5WgkZNsctor_axkUUIOWL0gFKQ8CTk0PpNyjvS8sHBL6nrlxQjvgRSzI1BiuaEnBFGDW-YO7_Ghpwc_NtnlK3DsEGcfr2eeU5bnea-6tWt39TWk/w400-h225/1250_Tenterfield_Color.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New bike R1250 GS Adventure. Maximus Obesus.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Slowly as the year gets towards the end I shoot some small jobs in the studio although I struggle lifting cameras, tripods and lighting gear. My right biceps appears to have been damaged in the prang. Had to forfeit some big jobs as I was simply not up to them. But Debra's boutique is humming along well.</p><p><br /></p><p>We mange a long weekend at Noosa but the roundabouts leading into the place terrify me after my accident. Deb is cool and calms me down. It was good to spend a day with our holiday friends Mark & Libby. Just like being on holidays with them again. </p><p>And then...</p><p>Debra rings her elderly father every Sunday. A few weeks back she gets off the phone and tells me he seems much more confused than ever. Five days later he is diagnosed as having had a stroke. Debra jumps in the Calais and in heavy weather drives to Gympie. She sits by his bedside for three days as slowly the life force goes out of him. Right before Christmas too. </p><p>Just when things were grim, God laughed again...</p><p>The afternoon Deb leaves we are promised heavy rain. So I go out to drain some water from the pool. The pool pump assembly explodes and showers me in water. Luckily another great mate Brian Wakefield lends me his submersible pump and all night long I go down and pump water out of the pool in torrential rain every hour. On the Monday the thick end of $900 sees a new pump installed. It's only money.</p><p>The sun comes out, Debra returns and all is well as we cruise into Christmas. Then the solar system spits out another panel. That will be two panels and one inverter this year. Really green suff this Chinese PV junk. On the upside, still covered by the 20 year warranty. So there is that. And also I have managed to catchup with some old friends from the FCCQ from over 45 years ago. Geoff Frohlich Wayne and Lyn Porter, Peter Scott etc. And I find my half sister is still going and going well at 99! Catch up coming! All good stuff there, so I guess that is a bonus.</p><p><br /></p><p>My late dad always said to me, "These things are sent to try us!"</p><p><br /></p><p>And RB, wherever you are, ain't that the truth.</p><p><br /></p><p>Happy New Year everybody.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-17531507039605836312020-04-26T14:29:00.001+10:002020-04-26T18:38:09.667+10:00Looking for Neville Pt 1.So being the youngest of Ethel May's 5 boys has its many pluses and minuses too. The difference between us all spanned 23 years.. and two marriages. Neville was the eldest. And my earliest memory of him is my mother telling me that that Neville was coming up from Sale to visit us. I was about 3 at the time and I still remember Neville and Colleen coming to our home at Chermside and he gave me a toy US Army Jeep.<br />
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I was over the moon. Mum get him back more often!<br />
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<i>Neville never talked much about his early years, even to his own family. One of his daughters regularly writes to me for more information about her father. (Nev died in 2006) So trying to peel back the years to learn more about my eldest brother has become a sort of mission. This is part 1.</i><br />
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So Neville Lance Boland joined the RAAF, probably to get away from home I reckon and in the following years I found a picture of his 21st birthday cake. It had aeroplanes on it, naturally!<br />
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Most of my memories of Nev are hazy until he left the RAAF and came to work with Max at Max's Speedo Electric Service at 87 Logan Road, Woolloongabba in the early sixties. Eventually prior to discharge he was posted to Amberley and I have memories of catching the train to Ipswich with mother and Collen coming to pick us up to have lunch with them. Nev would dart home from the base and join us. He also used to send me B&W pictures of aeroplanes to Clayfield when I was at primary school. Now I never thought about it much at the time, but looking back he was a really good brother.<br />
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So, moving forward, during the Zombie Apocalypse I have been sorting though boxes of family photographs and documents and I came across a letter from my mother to Nev telling him about the preparations for his 21st birthday bash at Hamilton Road Chermside. Off course, I was little more than a gleam in my father's eye then as it was more than two years before I was born.<br />
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So here is mother's letter and the cake.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhV_qrU9_u5h9tQZBzPYIR1AEBYu_3BFNbJgBwIPkFE4dvVWMkeHeuiePVJGy1qPmMKSTZ5noD1-xpB3JwISs0jwPTIlARLGkC7OOq6vajNE5b0Jv4I5UjSs95OMPs88qguL1166fa1hs/s1600/NLB_Malta_1953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1164" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhV_qrU9_u5h9tQZBzPYIR1AEBYu_3BFNbJgBwIPkFE4dvVWMkeHeuiePVJGy1qPmMKSTZ5noD1-xpB3JwISs0jwPTIlARLGkC7OOq6vajNE5b0Jv4I5UjSs95OMPs88qguL1166fa1hs/s400/NLB_Malta_1953.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shot in Malta C1953</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijbBUjHQHdvWx4A94FS5kCMeZ_OTaXQJhUYQM8q7shz6pjVYf1P5o7gslyk2vhxRhZW_hy8li_qxmLKF8VLsyp20dd_b6vSFbIvBUxdPIanl4rNFzEnUWsFhabWZUxH5aNwPm9bsGuxHI/s1600/NLB_187392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijbBUjHQHdvWx4A94FS5kCMeZ_OTaXQJhUYQM8q7shz6pjVYf1P5o7gslyk2vhxRhZW_hy8li_qxmLKF8VLsyp20dd_b6vSFbIvBUxdPIanl4rNFzEnUWsFhabWZUxH5aNwPm9bsGuxHI/s400/NLB_187392.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RAAF ID card</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJA7DDQko-13k5rTF01sUOVwyx2u8CCcuJ7Ozx3fQzxSCI-IQCAzFD7hGe_N5ZV68r2ZdRNFizxgwPogkF8-gYZpuLZjOZWqt1ypgYdc1zWIxjALnUb29CUsFpOUS5sVwBhwzE0IQF2w/s1600/LRB_NLB_AVIATORS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsJA7DDQko-13k5rTF01sUOVwyx2u8CCcuJ7Ozx3fQzxSCI-IQCAzFD7hGe_N5ZV68r2ZdRNFizxgwPogkF8-gYZpuLZjOZWqt1ypgYdc1zWIxjALnUb29CUsFpOUS5sVwBhwzE0IQF2w/s400/LRB_NLB_AVIATORS.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out Nev and his cool glasses.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuvuCbwEVbpnzJMAuJApeRcdrH9QVphSyNDSRMoHscwP5OnVyKhfYgCHmM7wK44bWzRdK5cHDsHQLCQDtcW85s0oyL5Lv2rO373ZvNOaiY5qGoQNrvXjKyW-Vf8T8jsasTWw_n8HzHvs/s1600/EMT_NLB_1951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuvuCbwEVbpnzJMAuJApeRcdrH9QVphSyNDSRMoHscwP5OnVyKhfYgCHmM7wK44bWzRdK5cHDsHQLCQDtcW85s0oyL5Lv2rO373ZvNOaiY5qGoQNrvXjKyW-Vf8T8jsasTWw_n8HzHvs/s400/EMT_NLB_1951.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double click to enlarge.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuAfppP4Xn76tzVEogdWofA_puvS1FEWOVjaso3TpmYaF38_LpYGHomAgpw160dG54AKl52pjYOQbIt7DFzj-bV1eOvBzA4h-8dFoQnAKBNcpwaXdYa44IzX9aH58KBIw9xG15J14IuU/s1600/EMT_NLB_1951_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGuAfppP4Xn76tzVEogdWofA_puvS1FEWOVjaso3TpmYaF38_LpYGHomAgpw160dG54AKl52pjYOQbIt7DFzj-bV1eOvBzA4h-8dFoQnAKBNcpwaXdYa44IzX9aH58KBIw9xG15J14IuU/s400/EMT_NLB_1951_0001.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a swell party it must have been.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-rmfJuSqDa1OAgcdWG182bZ0s1LgxE3e4j1rCHCYKAEXW6RUihVDr8sC_WhB3SyBtJ_1oVX-Z_0BOIeH5U1Cm62VKNL6GOY_Vro6EE3YmSqL98kC__3bFO51hWRmbcRwkCHt5xvBhWI/s1600/NLB_21_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-rmfJuSqDa1OAgcdWG182bZ0s1LgxE3e4j1rCHCYKAEXW6RUihVDr8sC_WhB3SyBtJ_1oVX-Z_0BOIeH5U1Cm62VKNL6GOY_Vro6EE3YmSqL98kC__3bFO51hWRmbcRwkCHt5xvBhWI/s400/NLB_21_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aeroplanes, I see my mother's hands here.</td></tr>
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There will be more to come, Nev had an amazing life in and after the RAAF.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-17041130546851882722020-04-13T06:00:00.001+10:002022-03-27T19:49:27.931+10:00On Black Friday, April 1990 a phone call changed my life forever.Over Easter, 1958 my family moved from Hamilton Road Chermside to our "new" home in Armagh St at Clayfield. A giant house that frankly terrified this nearly 5 year old. My father thought it would be a good idea for my mother to walk me around the block and see how perfectly nice it all was.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_W__WG4DF24Zm2jFuVLrMpDIoXv8DlM6KrDsHptyWlQts5ZlAtIFXygc2p2VxpPK0R0lB9uBg3Bz2xmJmFQt1INuCG81plkQ_UdnxeiUbPMbvglLpnQ48WcmZHDUr0PTrN0GrbvNuWk/s1600/EXT_2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_W__WG4DF24Zm2jFuVLrMpDIoXv8DlM6KrDsHptyWlQts5ZlAtIFXygc2p2VxpPK0R0lB9uBg3Bz2xmJmFQt1INuCG81plkQ_UdnxeiUbPMbvglLpnQ48WcmZHDUr0PTrN0GrbvNuWk/s400/EXT_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My former family home as the house was many years later in 2015</td></tr>
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And so, a few weeks later on a sunny Saturday morning mother and I set out. Down at 100 Bayview Tce there was a man gardening and he had a hat on I remember. Mother introduced herself and explained we were new to the area. He introduced himself as Victor Brand and called a boy over to the gate. "This is my son Ken. Ken, say hello to Mrs Taylor and Mark"<br />
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And that was how I met Kenneth Robert Brand.<br />
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Now I didn't see much of him except at school the next year where he was in grade 3 and I in grade one. And then the year I turned 7, I was given a Cyclops scooter by my parents. And it had pump up tires which was a big deal back then. I was riding around the block and stopped to show Ken. He was amazed at the pneumatic tyres on the scooter. To this day I still remember him saying to his dad... "Look dad, Mark's scooter has pump up tyres."<br />
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So the years roll on, we both like taking pictures with plastic cameras now and then. We also like model railroads. Ken had a Ferris electric train set. And it was something. I ended up with a Triang model railway on a large table with a mountain range and a lake. We both used to waste hours playing with that too.<br />
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It was Ken who introduced me to chemistry sets and Bunsen burners. We both had "Kay" brand chemistry sets and I used to send my mother mad by taking over the gas stove in the kitchen at Clayfield to hook up the burner and stink her kitchen out with the experiments in the "Kay Recipe Book." Then there was physics. How far could a large bunger blow an empty pineapple tin into the air? Well we had to find out. So we let one go at the bottom of our front stairs.. up and up it went and then down and down until it crash landed on our roof with a hell of a bang. It rolled over the edge of the gutter and came to rest at our feet. At this point Ken wondered if 2 bungers would send it higher. Away we go.. and just after it launched, my father appeared to see what the hell is going on. Ken suddenly looked skywards and said.. "Mr Taylor I would not stand there if I was you!" And just as dad got out of the way the can came down right where he had been standing. And we won't mention the home made gunpowder. To this day I am amazed that my father (and mother) took all of this so well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP-VjTDzYPsDMqyB5KXoSicAw-Vj5Dy2QotrN3cavIHFvhXvweAw6AbpkTrDmTANZd3trNRbDFTusZfG8J7NogzGTTbf0MPeH18GIFtFSbIpQqsxobjDIJ9pknF9sERL_1FTOnynBmZk/s1600/Kay2.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="1098" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP-VjTDzYPsDMqyB5KXoSicAw-Vj5Dy2QotrN3cavIHFvhXvweAw6AbpkTrDmTANZd3trNRbDFTusZfG8J7NogzGTTbf0MPeH18GIFtFSbIpQqsxobjDIJ9pknF9sERL_1FTOnynBmZk/s400/Kay2.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wonder we didn't blow ourselves up.</td></tr>
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Then the new thing was steam engines. Ken was given a Mammod twin cylinder steam engine for his birthday. It was amazing. The base was drilled to take Mecanno and it wasn't long before Ken had built a Ferris wheel (designed by Mr Ferris don't you know) and had it turning with power supplied by the steam engine. Of course, the steam engine should always run on distilled water, so Ken knocked off about 15 litres of the stuff from Mrs Eldershaw's tanks next door. (Her grand daughter was simply stunning) He used a pyrex laboratory beaker to measure out the exact amount of water into the boiler each time he fired it up.<br />
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I still have that pyrex beaker. It is stored in the original box that the steam engine came in.<br />
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Alongside the steam engine itself. That steam engine is something I cherish to this day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-h-RDDGmFEu9m4JmHo4w4mJPa9f-l-LOvtcUTb0QcaF3LCLAc_JQJUyJRz6d7_qpMfkdcmCdshLviMzeaAgtqX-fzJejpivlkoodqzVWNj9MqEpPLgKn3IRPgPXJ1XNSJe6dR6L3QkuE/s1600/Mammod.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-h-RDDGmFEu9m4JmHo4w4mJPa9f-l-LOvtcUTb0QcaF3LCLAc_JQJUyJRz6d7_qpMfkdcmCdshLviMzeaAgtqX-fzJejpivlkoodqzVWNj9MqEpPLgKn3IRPgPXJ1XNSJe6dR6L3QkuE/s400/Mammod.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mammod twin cylinder perfection.</td></tr>
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From all of this the world turned and we were riding bicycles. Not just any bicycles. No these had 3 speed Sturmey Archer gears, front and back side pull brakes and a dynamo lighting set. We used to ride around and around underneath the Clayfield Bowling Alley car park as it was sort of dark.. and we could see our headlights shining on the ground. When we ventured further we often rode to the old airport for a milkshake and even to Luggage Point Sewerage Works. God only know why. They used to have this tall above ground open drain carrying the "waste" post processing into the mouth of the river. I remember all of the tidal bushes had toilet tissue all over them at low tide. Anyhow Ken decided to use a branch across the drain to cross to the other side. It very nearly ended in disaster. We were lucky to get home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwXkjbePj6r-ARrOshirsU8Lu76dERpEIAKnk4sK_e_q2UcuoBs2pcxHRcMyd9iaisY17gmHJjx4uHYBFBKi2K25Tlzg5GZVI7ob-tSkDOUHilJPlOxayWC0C2jktmP_-BiYyXVGpQzI/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Massey_1967.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwXkjbePj6r-ARrOshirsU8Lu76dERpEIAKnk4sK_e_q2UcuoBs2pcxHRcMyd9iaisY17gmHJjx4uHYBFBKi2K25Tlzg5GZVI7ob-tSkDOUHilJPlOxayWC0C2jktmP_-BiYyXVGpQzI/s400/FIN_LoRes_Massey_1967.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Massey bike. Shot at Clayfield with my new TLR. 1967</td></tr>
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The world turned some more... Ken had achieved 8 "A" standard in Grade 10 and then all "7" in Grade 12. My friend was smart; really smart. I realise now he was genetically gifted and I believe all really clever people are. Ken is driving and we terrorise the place in his mother's 1963 Morris Major Elite. One day out on Bunya Road when it was all dirt and farms were everywhere, Ken's enthusiastic driving caused an unplanned off road excursion in the Morris. Severe, unexpected oversteer can do that to you. The front of the Morris is ever so slightly embedded in a barbed wire fence. Eventually with me pushing and Ken driving we get it back on the road.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VXEL8H4L0iczv7ONgsGz98omVuzH9807wnm0AF5zwgDuPhtoKt-Bj6BYHwCSOfBLoyVdN3O8mwX6ItfaznyYU4GZIIeA3lzuJ08Te40mNa3WmV5fxj6XeF3r6za7wCef9haodX9rkEs/s1600/FIN_LoRes_November_5_64.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VXEL8H4L0iczv7ONgsGz98omVuzH9807wnm0AF5zwgDuPhtoKt-Bj6BYHwCSOfBLoyVdN3O8mwX6ItfaznyYU4GZIIeA3lzuJ08Te40mNa3WmV5fxj6XeF3r6za7wCef9haodX9rkEs/s400/FIN_LoRes_November_5_64.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken on his 13th birthday, 5/11/64</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPEqr4mubjRgWyI_uUSzbF6g9tkOAkHqWMMyBhjKgUZc5lDcSdo_9F3looI7r6DYCAiAof_8EqPEt7Cs1yybR5IiZR9T-r5bh7ssKefKm4sjjKmKbSnUihLPgNhnSm9PEOT5YDu6Z0G0/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Tammy_63.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPEqr4mubjRgWyI_uUSzbF6g9tkOAkHqWMMyBhjKgUZc5lDcSdo_9F3looI7r6DYCAiAof_8EqPEt7Cs1yybR5IiZR9T-r5bh7ssKefKm4sjjKmKbSnUihLPgNhnSm9PEOT5YDu6Z0G0/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Tammy_63.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken and Tammy 1963</td></tr>
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Career planning... "What would you choose Mark, Engineering or Medicine?" Shit. All I ever wanted to do was become an auto electrician and work with my brothers. Anyhow he chose medicine because "It's as close as you can be to yourself." Grade 10 biology was a doddle when you can ask a first year med student to help you. The question that nobody else got right and enabled me to top the class in term 2 exams was... "Name 4 ways the human body loses heat?" I had no idea. Asked the Apprentice Doctor (my bother Neville's nick name for Ken) and it was obvious.<br />
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1. Respiration, 2. Perspiration, 3. Urination, 4. Defecation. (Yuk)<br />
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Nobody could get more than two. Yes.. aced it.<br />
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So more turns of the world and I am a first year apprentice auto electrician working with my 3 brothers. One night I am in my bedroom listening to the radio and the door opens. It's Ken. "Come and see my new car!". What a bloody ripper. Brand new Torana GTR in Daytona Bronze. I just cannot believe what a hot rod this thing is. In looks and grunt. Over the years, until some bastard stole it from UQ in 1976, we had some amazing adventures in that car. On new year's eve in 1970 I met the now late, Terry Lewis Jnr for the first time. We became great mates. He told me that this bird he went to school with at State High had a boyfriend who was a medical student and drove a Torana GTR. And what are the odds of it being the same person. Yes, it was Carol.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifOLrWfVZSwf0eEY8WxW0bAnZgA7UP2_V5i83a_Ox_V0Rw6GQAA_gavoyUoZ1iI9oufbwgUNLYeBfgBHym77FA3WALFI54aMXMNyV8jmIHU75J3eKHOlxNdVewbHQQZU28X_Rw3IDzys/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-09+at+14.30.21.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="810" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifOLrWfVZSwf0eEY8WxW0bAnZgA7UP2_V5i83a_Ox_V0Rw6GQAA_gavoyUoZ1iI9oufbwgUNLYeBfgBHym77FA3WALFI54aMXMNyV8jmIHU75J3eKHOlxNdVewbHQQZU28X_Rw3IDzys/s400/Screen+Shot+2020-04-09+at+14.30.21.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daytona Bronz with black upholstery. Horn machine.</td></tr>
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Ken meets Carol on a trip out west with a youth group and they become a couple right to the end. Lots of good times with them follow. Then early in 1972, Ken decides we should spend a week or so in Sydney. I am all of 18 going on 19 and so hit Max up for some holidays. What follows is a blur of fast driving, too much booze and some "interesting experiences" in Kings Cross. A side trip to Canberra and a whole lot more. We shared the driving and for most of that trip that little Torana sat on 80 - 90 MPH. Somewhere down the New England we are drag racing an E Type Jag, then later Ken had a go at a Monaro 350. We beat the Jag on the windy stuff but the Monaro driver had more horsepower and bigger balls. We let him go. As we drove into King's Cross, American Pie was playing on the car radio. Every time I hear that song, I am back in the GTR heading into King's Cross. A week of total excitement follows. Strip clubs, sex shops and the famous mock auctions. At one mock auction we were both turfed out by organised crime. Long story. At one sex shop, they were selling a pressure pack product. It was called "Dr Skinbax Miracle Horn Provoker" obviously a forerunner to viagra. Ken bought a tin because he was taken in by their money back guarantee. "If this product does not work for you, return the unused portion of the can and we will return the unused portion of your money." It was in fact just repackaged Airozone household air freshener.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WYy0K-zb8vbYsETvGqj_HfUv-olShJAshIruOTdqwHeXwMjjPWuIHjnYboY7LJ26CgXtKHGdgYDRsm9aTJKpw2-JtDm44gjaabLJMkZy3eUPNVgcJA1UsLrCEyHj5NoR5dcgmnOUXvQ/s1600/FIN_Ken%2526Carol_1973.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WYy0K-zb8vbYsETvGqj_HfUv-olShJAshIruOTdqwHeXwMjjPWuIHjnYboY7LJ26CgXtKHGdgYDRsm9aTJKpw2-JtDm44gjaabLJMkZy3eUPNVgcJA1UsLrCEyHj5NoR5dcgmnOUXvQ/s400/FIN_Ken%2526Carol_1973.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken and Carol at Bramston Tce 1973</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRezgjS2tdfTZJ6FyJoxtscykCftSrJyYsUwnSI8EZkvrzmho-JuSpPnHXcTkrk8iE0-Clau_o-lbsrBAXdQJ5aj0r0FUTLrLym0I3z_emQXaBbpQn7PtB8y35JRDCg8TYYlTM6fMUXoo/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Dr_K_R_Brand_MB_BS_74.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="833" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRezgjS2tdfTZJ6FyJoxtscykCftSrJyYsUwnSI8EZkvrzmho-JuSpPnHXcTkrk8iE0-Clau_o-lbsrBAXdQJ5aj0r0FUTLrLym0I3z_emQXaBbpQn7PtB8y35JRDCg8TYYlTM6fMUXoo/s400/FIN_LoRes_Dr_K_R_Brand_MB_BS_74.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr Kenneth Robert Brand MB BS 1974</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGNYbgW-XW4fqcbWqIm3LENzLMRzXem5zSHaGWLbWBhw7t6qmpULPAsi1LdbB5CuS9cur02BA1sumqLda3u5B63SwgYXKdUKbemlQBaFjrXb2qTSkRKrA-HSF-XNES0_UHt-6sZYmxyU/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Carol_1974.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="888" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGNYbgW-XW4fqcbWqIm3LENzLMRzXem5zSHaGWLbWBhw7t6qmpULPAsi1LdbB5CuS9cur02BA1sumqLda3u5B63SwgYXKdUKbemlQBaFjrXb2qTSkRKrA-HSF-XNES0_UHt-6sZYmxyU/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Carol_1974.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Doc and his best girl.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV0MRT-y3ueXrNkNW2-tA1C-oRNJPzc1RWQJMjIVdYEHq9kUgj1fbrYuaSiuGelaWoeVW9LNd_p4VqNWVXTvMvSl6wvJsyMkXFhmliNdAUdcgQfqW9popCU15m2Hau2CGBDBGT_7K2B4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2020-04-11+at+09.10.41.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1322" data-original-width="988" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV0MRT-y3ueXrNkNW2-tA1C-oRNJPzc1RWQJMjIVdYEHq9kUgj1fbrYuaSiuGelaWoeVW9LNd_p4VqNWVXTvMvSl6wvJsyMkXFhmliNdAUdcgQfqW9popCU15m2Hau2CGBDBGT_7K2B4/s400/Screen+Shot+2020-04-11+at+09.10.41.png" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr Robert Gow. (See below)</td></tr>
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Then there was his stereo. Ken designed and built the speaker boxes himself, also designed with a slide rule the cross over networks and wound them with copper wire from Max's Speedo Electric Service. He built the cabinet to hold the Sansui AU555A Amp and also the Micro turntable. I got the job of screwing each of the 3 Peerless speakers into each speaker cabinet. Long before electric screw driver guns. Hard Yakka! While we were doing this, Robert Gow who lived across the street in Bayview Tce wandered over. He had decided to do medicine the following year. He was having trouble filling in his enrolment paper work for University. "Ken can you help me do this; I guess if I cannot fill in the paper work, I might have trouble doing the actual course." Ken had a laugh, assured Robert he would do well and become a good Doctor and then went back to Robert's place to help him enrol. I don't really remember seeing Robert since. But how did he get on at University?<br />
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-weight: normal;"><i>"Dr. Robert Gow is a graduate of the University of Queensland and trained in paediatrics at the Royal Children’s Hospital, Brisbane and in cardiology at the Hospital for Sick Children (Sick Kids) in Toronto. After 3 years at the RCH in Melbourne, Dr. Gow returned to Toronto and was Director of the Arrhythmia Service at Sick Kids from 1989-1998 and Chief of Cardiology at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO) in Ottawa from 1998 to 2005. Currently Dr. Gow oversees the general and inherited arrhythmia clinics and the device clinic at CHEO, as well as providing care in the Inherited Arrhythmia Clinic at the University of Ottawa Heart Institute. His main interests are the management of children with inherited arrhythmias, and sudden death in the paediatric age group. He is a Professor of Paediatrics at the University of Ottawa"</i></span></div>
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Ken encouraged everybody! Always!<br />
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Now this hifi thing was loud and sounded so good. His folks were not keen on the noise so he built a room under his parent's house. The "Dungeon" he called it. A couple of couches, chairs, wild stereo system, a bar fridge and of course UV fluorescent tubes for effects. Many a wild night down there. One night I remember things were well and truly rocking, everybody well socially lubricated and some of the girls were dancing to Creedence Clear Water Revival's "Heard it through the grapevine". Ken's father suddenly appears at the door. He walked straight in, saw absolutely nothing and told Ken that "Trevor is on the phone for you." Then he turned, again saw absolutely nothing and walked out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-1vjYa_IBeK9zK7owSU7syz3oJyPoORCsaxuiFPcVJYA99CKGtZcbZS0-6WGOYMptOnmxwtChoIEprBQkwlfQCsJJ3cqtMS7gtKyHPsLcbU_6V5MJWzHUv_5CXWlVs8-f8zaDTDC5fQ/s1600/sansui_au-555a_amplifier.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="800" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE-1vjYa_IBeK9zK7owSU7syz3oJyPoORCsaxuiFPcVJYA99CKGtZcbZS0-6WGOYMptOnmxwtChoIEprBQkwlfQCsJJ3cqtMS7gtKyHPsLcbU_6V5MJWzHUv_5CXWlVs8-f8zaDTDC5fQ/s400/sansui_au-555a_amplifier.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mighty Sansui AU555A. About 4 weeks average pay back then.</td></tr>
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We also went bushwalking. The Stinson wreck, Buchanan's Fortress, Running Creek Falls, Mt Barney. We just loved those border ranges. Freezing in flimsy tents in the rain forest, what a buzz. Not forgetting a savage night on the turps with the lifesavers at Pt Lookout on Stradie. But that's for another day. Still cannot drink Captain Morgan Rum. These are from our second bush walking trip in December 1969.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0kHw99GmACeAOpAmJJvUN5ttVI8cwNDihB9aw-YAczuhY0rsG2NC6Z4kghNUDlOSJekanywPOr3eHcodk6J6nBVBV27VFLrP71v7yfBvGnx9a13k7Lr8AJCA2X6-CwkGsWK7GFOXnfY/s1600/FIN_LoRes_MtBarney+1969_0001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0kHw99GmACeAOpAmJJvUN5ttVI8cwNDihB9aw-YAczuhY0rsG2NC6Z4kghNUDlOSJekanywPOr3eHcodk6J6nBVBV27VFLrP71v7yfBvGnx9a13k7Lr8AJCA2X6-CwkGsWK7GFOXnfY/s400/FIN_LoRes_MtBarney+1969_0001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 10.81920051574707px;">Camping at the outrider's hut 1969. Mt Barney.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKpwDhFPmWbICzilrTGMaqQwDuJ4eFM9-_gos6rpRi8lusrz1pDTgReYoKojwby46fBczNLTfMfuIMRPE8etypewK-kDuBcIiCI-y8gjVgTTMX5-wKedrPkGzWBFXcP1wHYLiD6iI_wQ/s1600/FIN_LoRes_MtBarney+1969_0001B.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKpwDhFPmWbICzilrTGMaqQwDuJ4eFM9-_gos6rpRi8lusrz1pDTgReYoKojwby46fBczNLTfMfuIMRPE8etypewK-kDuBcIiCI-y8gjVgTTMX5-wKedrPkGzWBFXcP1wHYLiD6iI_wQ/s400/FIN_LoRes_MtBarney+1969_0001B.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Checking the share market. 1969 Mt Barney</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch break walking up to the portals. Mt Barney 1969</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhXqTSTn-5EjInUvbHQpAAOkbBamuaUesFM47RYteY_rHBuwbEV5RknDuaoC3Rno8CVD150QPpjOrioAed0iUMH2V3WCbKakQzVTqpP69eE8T9iSSXQuF1rperZ1ZmSByxQFzhVqcQYc/s1600/FIN_LoRes_KRB_Snake_1970.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhXqTSTn-5EjInUvbHQpAAOkbBamuaUesFM47RYteY_rHBuwbEV5RknDuaoC3Rno8CVD150QPpjOrioAed0iUMH2V3WCbKakQzVTqpP69eE8T9iSSXQuF1rperZ1ZmSByxQFzhVqcQYc/s400/FIN_LoRes_KRB_Snake_1970.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken & the things you find rock hopping up Running Creek. 1970</td></tr>
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Later in the year, the good Doctor in training decides it would be a good idea to replace the hydraulic lifters in the GTR with solid ones so he could rev it higher. He does this with the skills of an A grade mechanic. The Torana now records its highest ever recorded speed with Terry Lewis Jnr on board as a witness. But the engine is really noisy now. So Ken reverses the operation. However... he has put the hydraulic lifters in a box and not marked where each one came from. A a result, the Torana is much quieter..... but now has some mechanical noise from the lifters not being in the original place and so mated to the break in wear on the camshaft. Ken was smart, he soon knew the odds of getting them back in the right order (do the maths) so gave up.<br />
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Sometimes late at night I would be in bed and hear Ken drive down Bayview Tce and blow the airhorns on the Torana. This was a signal! A signal for me to get up, get dressed and get out the front. Usually a high speed trip to the Milky Way near Caboolture followed. World's best milkshakes at midnight while we discussed life on the drive each way. He was always trying to work out what made the human condition tick. I remember one night we even discussed competitiveness at kindergarten. Get in first to get that big truck!<br />
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Of course in 1972, I get the company Escort 1300 to drive and Ken discovers trail bikes. We both had learned to ride on Wayne's Honda 90 in Kalinga Park. His first bike is a Suzuki Honcho. All of 80cc and a dual range gearbox. Easter Saturday we leave nice and early to go to Mt Cootha. Ken finds a dirt track near Channel 9 and gives the Suzi the beans. He is out of sight and I hear the ring a ding ding of a two stroke having its neck wrung and then the cash bang tinkle. Shortly after he reappears with the blinkers broken off and hanging by the wires. It didn't take long for Ken to realise he needed a "real" trail bike. Luckily race diver Bruce Allsion's father has a DT2 Yamaha for sale. I drive Ken out to pick the bike up at Mt Gravatt. Once I rode that 250 for the first time.. I was in again to dirt bikes. Those 250 2 strokes were quick. Over the years our favourite place to ride was around the Lake Manchester area. Then state forest and entry to everybody was banned as it was water catchment. We loved it because we got the place to ourselves. It is now national Park.. walker and mountain bike only allowed in. The entrance was from the Mt Glorious Road. Farmers used this road to come up from the Fernvale side and get to Brisbane quickly. So at the locked gate was a series of padlocks in a row. The key to any one lock would open it. Fortunately, we had a Telecom padlock from a truck that had been left behind at MAX Instruments. It was even stamped Telecom. So one night we drove up there with bolt cutters, cut out one link of the chain and inserted our paddock into the padlock chain. Nobody ever removed it in our time as they all thought it was offical Telecom stuff. Ken rode quickly too, faster than me. "Come on Mark, ride faster, ride faster" he would say on our way home from each ride. As usual the days got away from us and the bikes had lousy headights.<br />
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Early 1973 and Ken and I attended the Brisbane Sporting Car Club navigators' course. Ken picked it up in a heartbeat. Me.. well not so much. A few weeks later The Datsun Car Club run an overnighter. I enter the Escort with Ken as navigator. A magic night follows as we speed through forests with the Lucas Flamethrowers picking out the route for us along the way. It all ends around 5:00 AM the next morning at Moores Motors at Tweed Heads. Embarrassingly for all the Datsuns entered, it seems we are the winners. Then a protest is entered by another team. (The cynic in me says that a non Datsun cannot win a Datsun event) We end up second place but first in the "Non Datsun" category. We both get a trophy. Mine is a silver cup. The only cup I have ever bloody well won. Still have it now in the kitchen cupboard.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8IC25oU2PkLxAvq81SKpxZGv04ouuilzoh-k03ecNN8GKaXitdsmzUrg-lCQmicCa3xhdhsTmQAyVOaIxuzPxgx6mRv1zJYVJ25Hh-RA-Kp1KYSioHTAlVzDY8vKRElypP5tZZlNzyM/s1600/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8IC25oU2PkLxAvq81SKpxZGv04ouuilzoh-k03ecNN8GKaXitdsmzUrg-lCQmicCa3xhdhsTmQAyVOaIxuzPxgx6mRv1zJYVJ25Hh-RA-Kp1KYSioHTAlVzDY8vKRElypP5tZZlNzyM/s400/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken on his DT2 Yamaha Boxing Day 1973</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgA4v7WYL9ZamDmGJBQMuvRSO0MxsYfvYEsfE1Dq6IoxaEkonox_90rYx5FIk5XSorN8wC12lwjP_Z7FIfoh4QnSTH-22jFheCPXbW6G-H82TMj8ajl-wHCacxYbiINFHze3tdosV5_w/s1600/FIN_loRes_Carol_DT2_1973.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgA4v7WYL9ZamDmGJBQMuvRSO0MxsYfvYEsfE1Dq6IoxaEkonox_90rYx5FIk5XSorN8wC12lwjP_Z7FIfoh4QnSTH-22jFheCPXbW6G-H82TMj8ajl-wHCacxYbiINFHze3tdosV5_w/s400/FIN_loRes_Carol_DT2_1973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now it's Carol's turn on the bike.</td></tr>
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The world turns some more, Ken and Carol marry in 1974 after a holiday on Fraser Island for Easter and I am a groomsman at the wedding. In 1976 I marry my first ex wife and Ken is my best man. Lots of good times follow. Ken found our first house, designed and helped me build a pergola and was always around. We gave up the bikes for a while but then got back into them. Those really were salad days. Still young and every day both at work and home was an adventure. Most Sundays found Ken and I out riding while the two wives played squash. Then a great get together for a meal on a Sunday night while Ken marked on a map where we had been.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Doc and me and our Land Rovers. Fraser, Easter 74</td></tr>
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Not all Land Rover trips went well. In 1974 on the way to catch the ferry at Inskip Point, Ken's Land Rover had a fuel line melt and the engine caught on fire. Naturally.. none of us carried fire extinguishers. Luckily Doc David Hart leapt out and smothered the engine with wet beach sand. A bit of re-plumbing from the auxiliary tank hose and away we all went. On a "shake down" trip just before that, we were driving south on Teewah beach having been to see the Cherry Venture. A lot of sand had been washed away by the cyclone that caused the 74 floods in Brisbane. I was picking my way over the rocks.. I asked the front seat passenger what was in front of us as I was looking out the driver's window. And Beverly said, "Nothing." And she meant nothing! Which I thought meant, "You're right to go!" Poor old Land Rover fell into a hole. For former members of the FCCQ, note John Carnell "holding" the Land Rover up. A quick bit of winch work and we're out. Ken is seen standing in the background near the middle of the image.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This got my adrenalin flowing I can tell you.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridal party. L-R: Mark/Robyn/Dr Ken/Carol/Sally/Dr Hart</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePAXYdXkReZVosQBZmMcMoeJSsI5YYLTQzs1UO3qGM43RRd7JiCkXrYJQ2QOUIyYlDhHN5Xy4fnPPunr8cqPQVn5YLEbEvf8cdW3iP4I8LxDmbKQ0a9Gky3PK1uGD9qgoB_dc5KWWtXI/s1600/FIN_LoRes_RB%2526EM_Taylor%2540KR%2526CA_Wedding_74.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="1250" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgePAXYdXkReZVosQBZmMcMoeJSsI5YYLTQzs1UO3qGM43RRd7JiCkXrYJQ2QOUIyYlDhHN5Xy4fnPPunr8cqPQVn5YLEbEvf8cdW3iP4I8LxDmbKQ0a9Gky3PK1uGD9qgoB_dc5KWWtXI/s400/FIN_LoRes_RB%2526EM_Taylor%2540KR%2526CA_Wedding_74.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ron & May Taylor at Ken & Carol's wedding.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMM6ya2TjU3MgrrdktUspHXcV0JMe_zFqQj971N2smauoYNnwwWYIHDJ0ywx3dpFvrkLLmN3vUQ4IBUQSAjB0DZebm9KZrWYu3ktqjAcONVaRfN4FQ506fBAk-b7ai8uhQqWPdoTw_RbQ/s1600/FIN_LoRes_MBT_02.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1250" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMM6ya2TjU3MgrrdktUspHXcV0JMe_zFqQj971N2smauoYNnwwWYIHDJ0ywx3dpFvrkLLmN3vUQ4IBUQSAjB0DZebm9KZrWYu3ktqjAcONVaRfN4FQ506fBAk-b7ai8uhQqWPdoTw_RbQ/s400/FIN_LoRes_MBT_02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Manchester again. 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vDelwA-Q2YltSVpNp2Rb94zXAEufLX3Je-HnhUbCdXaS-1vosB8jjjQfhDKvVv2WzZbmyO48oteosaQPZ-4_2HkNsJP01CnrWsF7ONiTALlJ1kewWnFOR-Lzxp-SxNo4WfM3_Lw8djI/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Upper_Kedron_1982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vDelwA-Q2YltSVpNp2Rb94zXAEufLX3Je-HnhUbCdXaS-1vosB8jjjQfhDKvVv2WzZbmyO48oteosaQPZ-4_2HkNsJP01CnrWsF7ONiTALlJ1kewWnFOR-Lzxp-SxNo4WfM3_Lw8djI/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Upper_Kedron_1982.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken found an orange tree at Upper Kedron 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKlfvZ1EutqHeLdnRM620XoU4PXA2UgAD_-MdOh_ydHkD-LDCjzHXuOp3xuaGBVZqCmPKHx8vKyv4Nxx7_UZJ6m1JfzHGrQP2_Dqda2MZODd_4LWXQzhSGSbG4MT1nXOL2tGZ9ltKsP0/s1600/FIN_MBT_02_0002.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKlfvZ1EutqHeLdnRM620XoU4PXA2UgAD_-MdOh_ydHkD-LDCjzHXuOp3xuaGBVZqCmPKHx8vKyv4Nxx7_UZJ6m1JfzHGrQP2_Dqda2MZODd_4LWXQzhSGSbG4MT1nXOL2tGZ9ltKsP0/s400/FIN_MBT_02_0002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feel the serenity. Climbing back up the range. 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJX3jGVrvqAC22XaEO8H82jeyl7IUDLA6Es4DdlmuDKR4NJRrIwX1HM4RtNou6jMuuNe71iH3XYD6ts1-Xb72tdDZWU4IQvd9f6ox9JRw8lTyaRKAa1wcpvx49dSvhlksW7F1MeZ2VeqM/s1600/KRB_MBT_XT250G_1981.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJX3jGVrvqAC22XaEO8H82jeyl7IUDLA6Es4DdlmuDKR4NJRrIwX1HM4RtNou6jMuuNe71iH3XYD6ts1-Xb72tdDZWU4IQvd9f6ox9JRw8lTyaRKAa1wcpvx49dSvhlksW7F1MeZ2VeqM/s400/KRB_MBT_XT250G_1981.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Manchester waiting for the billy to boil. Near water! 1981</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmqzhqXB19Lj8v8fSE2EIygEGdSSvksGiKjzvP378WRX0KcBaUlrUwF1EF-8i5_e0d1T9Efelf7KyktLzA1sOIQal71YKIkArkJ91-FAbfWj-awBOUzABvryEd0iw-ORhNxyeZ3_xyIc/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Two_Old_Mates_1982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmqzhqXB19Lj8v8fSE2EIygEGdSSvksGiKjzvP378WRX0KcBaUlrUwF1EF-8i5_e0d1T9Efelf7KyktLzA1sOIQal71YKIkArkJ91-FAbfWj-awBOUzABvryEd0iw-ORhNxyeZ3_xyIc/s400/FIN_LoRes_Two_Old_Mates_1982.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two old mates. Lake Manchester 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtplRBCIQnUyL7XCjyeWkf2jxzP2rVUra0Ac5fW-d1c0QXyOMwnlIyJU7OXpxml_GzhyphenhyphentkTpiwh_6Jgojq3LtQcCNmN2AxWSshB05C4fvKNL7QsnjIND2r7xymeE66opscdqPLl7mI15o/s1600/FIN_LoRes_KRB_XR_XL_82.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtplRBCIQnUyL7XCjyeWkf2jxzP2rVUra0Ac5fW-d1c0QXyOMwnlIyJU7OXpxml_GzhyphenhyphentkTpiwh_6Jgojq3LtQcCNmN2AxWSshB05C4fvKNL7QsnjIND2r7xymeE66opscdqPLl7mI15o/s400/FIN_LoRes_KRB_XR_XL_82.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doc Ken, the trusty navigator. Location unknown. 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1l0cf3RO3RUQQyMQCnQ1G6utWXyMN6NG3G4qpFausGaLHq2XaRoe5W764BEQSoOcBiDWNKAOluWCZwsVZMp1_0XuhehmZrk1DNfn6MnyKC2WfKPt3oMr-WQ10O66-sZ93Hd_5DylfhX8/s1600/FIN_Mark%2526Ken_1982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1l0cf3RO3RUQQyMQCnQ1G6utWXyMN6NG3G4qpFausGaLHq2XaRoe5W764BEQSoOcBiDWNKAOluWCZwsVZMp1_0XuhehmZrk1DNfn6MnyKC2WfKPt3oMr-WQ10O66-sZ93Hd_5DylfhX8/s400/FIN_Mark%2526Ken_1982.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dame Edna and Jed Clampet at my 29th birthday</td></tr>
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Operation Gooney Bird. 1979. "Come on Mark.. you'll love this." "Um.. OK, yes alright Ken!" It was not long after my father had died and as usual Ken was keeping me cheerful So Jetset Tours had done a deal with Bush Pilot Airways to have this trip in an old DC3. You got on the plane at Eagle Farm on a Saturday and then the pilots tried to get to get this veteran aeroplane to fly down to the coast over Beaudesert on an inland track. We then turned north out over the sea and came back just over the beaches and finally with a loop over Brisbane. We sat on the port side with me near a window clutching one of Geoff Gay's Nikons for some pix. Before we left they took a group photo of us and mailed us a postage stamp sized print. This explains the poor quality of the scan. I was watching the oil leaking out of the radial as we flew along and bounced all over the sky. I told Ken of the oil leak.. his response, "I reckon they'll just have enough for our flight mate." The turbulence was really bad flying north over the Gold Coast, Ken spent most of the trip clutching his stomach and wondering if they had enough sick bags on board. (I had taken sea sick pills.. been caught out before) It really was a great experience. Something to look back on with many memories. My bother Neville late of the RAAF told me to only worry when the oil stopped leaking out. Bother Max also late RAAF had experienced a dead stick landing in a DC3 at Amberley and said we would have been fine. Yeah.. right!! Once we landed they asked us to hand in our boarding passes as they were having a draw when this was all over. First prize was a two week tour of North Queensland on this very plane. Ken asked the hostess if second prize was a three week tour? Another guy asked if it was compulsory to enter the competition. Got a plane full of laughs. So thanks Ken for pushing me to do this, never would have without you being in my life. What a day<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkAqSoCL-rycgyUieUFAB9fWLCfasS_zrlXoZkBBYBLHyNxT6HIEyAwuWsCygPqSCl4p0tdBvAwlUJ4pYY7nzi4dcMr3KlTkenH_L0a_O-Jm79Rau52VU8sBQpOpbCmkWV5GUNLMW-9P0/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Gooney_Bird_1979.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="1500" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkAqSoCL-rycgyUieUFAB9fWLCfasS_zrlXoZkBBYBLHyNxT6HIEyAwuWsCygPqSCl4p0tdBvAwlUJ4pYY7nzi4dcMr3KlTkenH_L0a_O-Jm79Rau52VU8sBQpOpbCmkWV5GUNLMW-9P0/s400/FIN_LoRes_Gooney_Bird_1979.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark (back row 3rd from left and then Ken another 2 along. 1979</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4XZ4wexc2SAqP0poIocSLAYxPM7d6VtLCdd0R99SO4Dc60VucWbXaC_KNf95g3A79ahEpZUyEUcOLUGRAq0Vsf4qbf0py8GqgznCDT72dDkRwC3f1ffk4wa_-hcBorbfqr_XMkV3e5Y/s1600/IMG_0739+-+Version+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4XZ4wexc2SAqP0poIocSLAYxPM7d6VtLCdd0R99SO4Dc60VucWbXaC_KNf95g3A79ahEpZUyEUcOLUGRAq0Vsf4qbf0py8GqgznCDT72dDkRwC3f1ffk4wa_-hcBorbfqr_XMkV3e5Y/s400/IMG_0739+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The DC3 no longer is in the air. Now at QANTAS Founders Museum Longreach.<br />
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Also in 1979, we went on a drive and had a barbecue lunch. From memory there were about 10 of us all up. Ken was reading the Sunday paper and commented that John Wayne had just been diagnosed with inoperable metastatic cancer. We all commented on how sad that was. What we didn't know was that my father would be dead from an as yet undiagnosed metastatic lung cancer in just 5 weeks. At this picnic Ken left the door of his VW Golf open. The Good Doctor was not happy to find a goat had wandered out of the bush and was happily eating his leather steering wheel cover.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8AiA6_MqWC0IM3yI1aEjKeUyS6C-UZghzVDCOna2VWfuScrOwAdP-RZPntLQW2Fvu2hxHBZJXNKuX0xQ1kdkQ9Zsn52DAqRqHI4WJ48UrZOZjxNuGGJOdW8AAJDNmUlXeKx5-UtoXs4/s1600/FIN_LoRes_KRB_1979.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="849" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8AiA6_MqWC0IM3yI1aEjKeUyS6C-UZghzVDCOna2VWfuScrOwAdP-RZPntLQW2Fvu2hxHBZJXNKuX0xQ1kdkQ9Zsn52DAqRqHI4WJ48UrZOZjxNuGGJOdW8AAJDNmUlXeKx5-UtoXs4/s400/FIN_LoRes_KRB_1979.jpg" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's our Ken on a picnic.<br />
Note the can of beer to wash down the chocolate cake.</td></tr>
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Later in 1979, Ken finds us a house. It's at Wavell Heights and only a couple of blocks from his house. "Mark this house is for private sale and Wavell Heights isn't too bad, I mean we live there." So 8 Wirega Street belongs to an old returned digger. I negotiate $500 off and we do a hand shake for $28,000. The old bloke said.. "Son, you've bought yourself a house." He had paid $1400 for it in 1949. He couldn't believe it had gone up 20 times in value since then. In fact he still owed $75 on his War Service loan. We sold it for $56,000 some 5 years later. Had I had of known what was to befall me in less than two months time when we sold it, I would have kept it and sent the ex packing. But the 5 years we were there were by and large magic fun times. Lots of dinner parties and summer barbecues on Saturday nights with those close to us... and a Honda in the shed in the back yard. High tide and green grass indeed. Saw a lot of Ken.. often he would drop in for a coffee or I would head up the hill to his place. We both liked Scotch whiskey and always had a glass or three when we got together on an evening. I particularly remember drinking fine whiskey at Ken's home at Wavell Heights after his father's funeral in 1980. A warm discussion over the vagaries of life. Once when I having some issues sorting out some work related problems at the office, I told him on the phone I needed a script for the Elixir of Life. That night I found a real script from the good Doctor in my letter box for "500ml Elixir of Life. Take as required".<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiox4JTP_pC3f0e7YaLdq5rCjkYwRfNWYC5w68CECtDrtpEKiK_rTc5XueV3Pnni63fNM91J9dOgYgyBCd22D2_2hWgotOP7r-jw1DmRmnI2NnmJSbGJPss7zkHFpJDsMVEkVxp_Gsr5Zo/s1600/FIN_LoRes_8_Wirega_St_1981.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="1250" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiox4JTP_pC3f0e7YaLdq5rCjkYwRfNWYC5w68CECtDrtpEKiK_rTc5XueV3Pnni63fNM91J9dOgYgyBCd22D2_2hWgotOP7r-jw1DmRmnI2NnmJSbGJPss7zkHFpJDsMVEkVxp_Gsr5Zo/s400/FIN_LoRes_8_Wirega_St_1981.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lounge area Wavell Heights</td></tr>
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When Holden released the Commodore Ken was over the moon. Zupps loaned him a V8 SLE. He brought it over to Alderley to show me. God it was nice. But he held back and did buy one later, but just a base model and I don't think he was ever really happy with it. No power steering and I thought he may have been looking to recapture the magic of his GTR. It had a vacuum gauge next to the speedometer. I was on business in Melbourne at VDO so picked him up the OEM VDO tachometer while I was there. $36 from memory. We took the Commodore over to MAX Instruments on a Saturday afternoon and pulled out the instrument cluster and fitted the tachometer into the dash. Then he understood just how fast that 202 didn't rev. Heavy steering and a faulty clutch not far out of warranty sealed the car's fate. This is the only picture I can find of that car, a winter's picnic in Toowoomba.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFbeH7GslCGuRGbfw8aTdoE8zVkm1W1SrEjsp9J7Vz4c-0vLpw734TVkBvEnl1XegNFZ7iJgNh4cno1TRV7nVWdkNHsYfZuy0Wyo7qWQNlYGz49W5Qwc13Ftw8l8eNZ1kgC4Zt-sBoNU/s1600/LoRes_K%2540Toowoomba_1981.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFbeH7GslCGuRGbfw8aTdoE8zVkm1W1SrEjsp9J7Vz4c-0vLpw734TVkBvEnl1XegNFZ7iJgNh4cno1TRV7nVWdkNHsYfZuy0Wyo7qWQNlYGz49W5Qwc13Ftw8l8eNZ1kgC4Zt-sBoNU/s400/LoRes_K%2540Toowoomba_1981.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor picture, but the only one.</td></tr>
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1982 rolls around and Ken finds a new car to buy in the Wheels magazine. A Mitsubishi Starion Turbo. And for its day it was a quick car, before the change to no lead petrol and much less performance. Many high speed trips in this car. And I used to borrow it for dates sometimes during the in-between years. This car had the fully functional Borat Pussy Magnet in it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkd0dirXmPkgrc94vYnDZo1KphrzV5oW0qrbfjYBPL61NG6YssTPVnoJ_pBbwlVH24113Y129vscc_OC8WXM0UtSY3GVAaWQ836YO0n3nIYcvYQyIPXQZ_-i7MNaCaJQzItNzXLMNVE0/s1600/The_Doc_%2526_his_rocket_1982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmkd0dirXmPkgrc94vYnDZo1KphrzV5oW0qrbfjYBPL61NG6YssTPVnoJ_pBbwlVH24113Y129vscc_OC8WXM0UtSY3GVAaWQ836YO0n3nIYcvYQyIPXQZ_-i7MNaCaJQzItNzXLMNVE0/s400/The_Doc_%2526_his_rocket_1982.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Doc and his rocket. Some days were diamonds.. 1982</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor7Iyb5Zms8VYerUk9JHxJPje1RwfeOh3XD3xxmYj2in16rBKRuaVaxIkeKI8sp6ME8STSDM9i-6_c5EhZmx8i7mm6yCOjDs3RJUFNqPfRYqyZEC4LwmK412_jCZDsUxnLThXuovCx_U/s1600/LoRes_KR%2526CA_Brand_1983.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor7Iyb5Zms8VYerUk9JHxJPje1RwfeOh3XD3xxmYj2in16rBKRuaVaxIkeKI8sp6ME8STSDM9i-6_c5EhZmx8i7mm6yCOjDs3RJUFNqPfRYqyZEC4LwmK412_jCZDsUxnLThXuovCx_U/s400/LoRes_KR%2526CA_Brand_1983.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out to a BYO for dinner. 1983</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqc9k5Um6u1Mum4DlCsX2eiOSwvCxXz8k4Z_QHGctcLzFud2kFseOdO0zkPAj2Ygc_g4U30KukB_yaenhHjE22qsY78FYVIvGmsYW6zrKcW-3PfuFIlafiokjsmzy9xuMOMUwRP-cgNY/s1600/FIN_Ken_Mark_1982.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqc9k5Um6u1Mum4DlCsX2eiOSwvCxXz8k4Z_QHGctcLzFud2kFseOdO0zkPAj2Ygc_g4U30KukB_yaenhHjE22qsY78FYVIvGmsYW6zrKcW-3PfuFIlafiokjsmzy9xuMOMUwRP-cgNY/s400/FIN_Ken_Mark_1982.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Days in 1983</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojFI1YOOSRL-FFzhXYLNbPuT6gqiOEyEpwRCjIcjvYDVuE7Kb-C5Pu_OGfaIxi-VKOWQf53gftwzUmGl3tX0yyi_RJVKUXCDt743Ga6tJBWgtDB94cQ6lNQjeN8fml0EG1z4ncM6kfNs/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Carol_Aspley_1984.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhojFI1YOOSRL-FFzhXYLNbPuT6gqiOEyEpwRCjIcjvYDVuE7Kb-C5Pu_OGfaIxi-VKOWQf53gftwzUmGl3tX0yyi_RJVKUXCDt743Ga6tJBWgtDB94cQ6lNQjeN8fml0EG1z4ncM6kfNs/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken%2526Carol_Aspley_1984.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The GP and his receptionist relaxing at home. 1984</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Then the rain started down in my life with no warning in late 1984 and I was looking down the throat of a divorce. The hardest pill I had to swallow that year was realising that I meant nothing to the woman who meant the world to me. Without going into details, I divorced my now ex as soon as our 12 month separation was up in 1985 as she had taken off with a work mate. Ken was shocked at my formally severing the ties at exactly 12 months. But I said, she is LMF and I am not some person's second prize. Time to build a new life.. somehow. And Ken and Carol (and a lot of other great friends) supported me through all those rainy days. They were truly family to me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM53f7ErKHTr0Jn_zDlNe1thDALkwNDKrtnEmmkHRNs1UewRbb9z4YlHVn6AXK4rGgd6M1y-kXmOlXxqggh5BDzyvb-oqfGm_a9mbkTOLH11jS2PoCaQblMc6_2BYVNEdaDMGi0WokPgc/s1600/FIN_LoRes_MBT_33.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="833" data-original-width="1250" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM53f7ErKHTr0Jn_zDlNe1thDALkwNDKrtnEmmkHRNs1UewRbb9z4YlHVn6AXK4rGgd6M1y-kXmOlXxqggh5BDzyvb-oqfGm_a9mbkTOLH11jS2PoCaQblMc6_2BYVNEdaDMGi0WokPgc/s400/FIN_LoRes_MBT_33.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My surprise 33rd. Meryl, Mark, Geoff, Suzy, Ken and Carol 1986</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaC7eIBzRoW41MderQowvqHbPmfpDHUa8cwmJ1SRd8HanVJRw4j_7PN2rEmzPefVZDJ-btXWuR2xcLVgB2g5XXNywjRRkHYdY1SVzMY1-JsDpyxCWfkUInhUvmL-J7ulwThLqA8z_ehI/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Geoff_1985.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaC7eIBzRoW41MderQowvqHbPmfpDHUa8cwmJ1SRd8HanVJRw4j_7PN2rEmzPefVZDJ-btXWuR2xcLVgB2g5XXNywjRRkHYdY1SVzMY1-JsDpyxCWfkUInhUvmL-J7ulwThLqA8z_ehI/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Geoff_1985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken and Geoff Gay with Ken's Rocky at Mt Mee Forest.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoRVeEnHutVfKtQ4unG5e48OLIdhTI-KDWTkCulEbGtkzcZrSvYCUzIqodQUhrBXa5cFyc9gtw7H6rF9T7u3Oy0ZCzFJZG00kaPbLMggaYtnvwU9-rth9oqz0TzPZharOWHokSeRf2tI/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken_1985.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoRVeEnHutVfKtQ4unG5e48OLIdhTI-KDWTkCulEbGtkzcZrSvYCUzIqodQUhrBXa5cFyc9gtw7H6rF9T7u3Oy0ZCzFJZG00kaPbLMggaYtnvwU9-rth9oqz0TzPZharOWHokSeRf2tI/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken_1985.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken in Chris Osborn's studio 1985. A great Sunday!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5sXF02veLZubzLIspMQ_f2QaWct013B87zVgj-gAxlPhdYUVm4vpQ5bHlBKSx3OJF12tncuy4M-878S7A6uZibgyIUmNULyK2PL_q6VUV7Y_ot6iSXGn0tlHgurkt1zuJjCnWY8kcT4/s1600/LoRes_Carol_85.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5sXF02veLZubzLIspMQ_f2QaWct013B87zVgj-gAxlPhdYUVm4vpQ5bHlBKSx3OJF12tncuy4M-878S7A6uZibgyIUmNULyK2PL_q6VUV7Y_ot6iSXGn0tlHgurkt1zuJjCnWY8kcT4/s400/LoRes_Carol_85.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carol from the same session.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Of course, the elephant in the room always was Ken's health. Ken sadly had cystic fibrosis. And he fought it with every ounce of his being. Some days he was sicker than the patients who attended his clinic at Sandgate. But he would get knocked down by an infection, spend some time in hospital and then bounce back.<br />
<br />
But through all of this he managed to build a holiday home on Moreton Island and spend many happy weekends there. It was also around this time he wanted to learn to fly an ultra light aircraft, but the then DCA would not let him train because of his CF. He was bitterly disappointed.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeHPK5i02zuAFRUmEkX2QkiWg0X-YnxvksQWTNIsILUTOlnaNBx988SFhxf-qywjvRM8Eu2WaE8YxgQopfps9vBWknIMRqTnvQtv1Gc-sXAvBO8n1yk900xRO_zyx_vQkPgwmrt7rQ5g/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Morten_1986.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeHPK5i02zuAFRUmEkX2QkiWg0X-YnxvksQWTNIsILUTOlnaNBx988SFhxf-qywjvRM8Eu2WaE8YxgQopfps9vBWknIMRqTnvQtv1Gc-sXAvBO8n1yk900xRO_zyx_vQkPgwmrt7rQ5g/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken_Morten_1986.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The solar and gas powered home on Moreton.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It was through Ken that I met Don and Ann Anning. Wonderful friends and so generous to this day. Put me up in the UK a couple of times and like Ken and Carol accepted Debra when she came into my life in 1987 and embraced her. That was comforting for me and all part of my healing and recovery. In fact the two families went to Paris for a week in 2000. It was a magic week indeed. And here are some of Don and Ann's pix.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hqNmjU1Cr6tXjl52DIiiOMID6p-SczkazNPNZQGsg9-BeFJF-ab-elaswg_3JIhGJFmrVBDGeV5qGbhK6dnU-ZzncG6CImdo25OblNsZubRTnh7bxVNwfpF3atMoYd0-e7SjjgsTHpg/s1600/FIN_LoRes_GTR+and+my+Fiat+128+at+the+Texas+caves.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1250" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hqNmjU1Cr6tXjl52DIiiOMID6p-SczkazNPNZQGsg9-BeFJF-ab-elaswg_3JIhGJFmrVBDGeV5qGbhK6dnU-ZzncG6CImdo25OblNsZubRTnh7bxVNwfpF3atMoYd0-e7SjjgsTHpg/s400/FIN_LoRes_GTR+and+my+Fiat+128+at+the+Texas+caves.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don's Fiat and Ken's GTR at the Texas Caves</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3UbOuTBEDYbYLOTCH-bmm_3C_NmaCTPMFPXPXxXeqQXTqzh1GRPVzHfYl4ehlKnFGvsZ_BnUA4t_Qk2ADQpgkR7faHP7IxwYr2dQr7E5pqMXLqw4K93AlCgp1LFewQczypoDrr9otAw/s1600/FIN_LoRes_Ken+inside+one+of+the+Texas+caves.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1250" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3UbOuTBEDYbYLOTCH-bmm_3C_NmaCTPMFPXPXxXeqQXTqzh1GRPVzHfYl4ehlKnFGvsZ_BnUA4t_Qk2ADQpgkR7faHP7IxwYr2dQr7E5pqMXLqw4K93AlCgp1LFewQczypoDrr9otAw/s400/FIN_LoRes_Ken+inside+one+of+the+Texas+caves.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken inside one of the caves at Texas.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSbBOeeXN53CACYvRTmGuuTw3R4dSaWdlQEDeivlBUTRAb7Kjrob_OakriKLu-I3Ss9QaQ76UkQXq_yNvgVAadr_gHteL035U6TrXCEp8dHW_qTme_dzijl-nnwSYwsVaWQ-b07qaX3o/s1600/FIN_Ken+at+Rosewood+for+maiden+flight.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSbBOeeXN53CACYvRTmGuuTw3R4dSaWdlQEDeivlBUTRAb7Kjrob_OakriKLu-I3Ss9QaQ76UkQXq_yNvgVAadr_gHteL035U6TrXCEp8dHW_qTme_dzijl-nnwSYwsVaWQ-b07qaX3o/s400/FIN_Ken+at+Rosewood+for+maiden+flight.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain Don, Luke, Paul and Ken for the maiden flight at Rosewood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
So eventually as Ken's disease progressed his health started to really fail and he had to give up his last beloved trail bike. His means to an end in exploring the countryside. Don ended up with it on his property.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDap-AY7WJm4QIuJGJepYYd2zcCLUAq3odjXO_ab2DThI486vjrfWfPV2u_0UV2Esy6giYy0a_Xp_hR4kvppNdEktGguXZTZ94ntZaxuxfKt5dIh1b9hwouy68F3e6hqNNSx6U1_OX74/s1600/FIN_LoRes_CDCK_1988.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="1250" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDap-AY7WJm4QIuJGJepYYd2zcCLUAq3odjXO_ab2DThI486vjrfWfPV2u_0UV2Esy6giYy0a_Xp_hR4kvppNdEktGguXZTZ94ntZaxuxfKt5dIh1b9hwouy68F3e6hqNNSx6U1_OX74/s400/FIN_LoRes_CDCK_1988.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debra, Christina, Carol and Ken. Summer's night meal in the studio 1988</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
In 1989 Ken was in and out of hospital a lot, he had given up his medical practice and had just built a new home for himself and Carol at Aspley. Boxing Day 1989 a large group celebrated a post XMAS event on the verandahs of this beautiful home.<br />
<br />
Ken was obviously not well. So my camera stayed in the car. No pictures of Ken that day.<br />
<br />
We all go back to work in the New Year and Ken is in hospital yet again. Don calls into MAX Instruments one day, so he and I go up to the RBH to see our mate Ken. He tells us he is feeling better and might soon be going home.<br />
<br />
And he does in fact go home.<br />
<br />
By this time he is on oxygen at home and not doing much at all. He rings and leaves messages on my home answering machine. "No photos today thanks!" So I call him back for a chat. Clearly he is very unwell.<br />
<br />
And then the week leading into Easter 1990, 30 years ago, he is back in hospital and is not well at all. Debra pops into see him on the Thursday night. I collect her from RBH... she tells me straight. "Ken is so sick I don't think he will be coming out."<br />
<br />
I put it out of my mind, Ken always comes home.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Good Friday; Black Friday, April 13, 1990.<br />
<br />
At 6: 45 AM the phone rings.<br />
<br />
I answer it in the bedroom. (Funny how you remember the details)<br />
<br />
"Hi, It's Mark!"<br />
<br />
"Mark, it's Beverly Brand here. (Ken's sister) We just lost Ken at 6: 30 this morning"<br />
<br />
For the first time I am speechless. This cannot be right... Ken always comes home. Always!<br />
<br />
At his funeral, Beverly comes over to me and we hug. She says, "We're just going to have to learn to get along without him somehow." Carol is devastated as you would expect. Debra and I are trying to keep it together. I am his best mate and I am supposed to be strong, not a hope.<br />
<br />
The funeral service was a warm celebration of this young Doctor's life. David Mitchell, his brother in law delivered the eulogy. And I was fine.. well sort of, right up until they wheeled the coffin out of the church. As I watched it being wheeled past me, the tears fell like rain from from my eyes. Debra took me outside and comforted me; even my ex wife seemed concerned for me. But we didn't speak.<br />
<br />
And from that day onwards, my life has never been quite the same. Ken had been on almost every adventure with me. When I joined the Escort Car Club (later the FCCQ) in 1972, Ken came along to the functions. Like me he had gone to school with fellow member Peter Scott. The club members warmed to his incredible personality, his humour and compassion. He and Carol came to lots of club parties and dinner dances. The fact that he drove a GTR Torana didn't matter. They were all good people.<br />
<br />
And in turn I had shared in most of his adventures. Bush walking, trail bikes, the speed boats and the big launch too. Sitting around the wood fired kitchen in Ken and Carol's first house at Coorparoo on winters nights. Drinking coffee and making pineapple fritters to eat. The fancy dress birthday party for Carol where another Doctor turned up at the door dressed in white and with a white hood over his head. In his hands a flaming cross, KK style. (Ross you looked great mate!) The cop across the road rang his work mates to do a drive by. The old Kombi van Ken bought to convert into a camper in early 1970. It caught on fire on his front lawn while we were inside having lunch one Saturday. Mrs Whitehouse next door rang him to tell him and we went out to find the ammeter wiring had shorted out. Lucky the first year apprentice auto sparky knew how to simply remove it all. Fitting the air horns to the Torana, the driving lights and the tow bar plug. All good fun. Ken was always dreaming up new places to go and new things to do. Like crossing every river crossing over the creeks that would be flooded by Wivenhoe Dam when it was finished. It never ended.. until now.<br />
<br />
But much more than that amazing friendship we had for over 30 years, was his ability to be a stabilising force in my life. The voice of reason that toned down my sometimes "ambition exceeds talent" ways. Always encouraged me to do better, reach for the higher things and always supported me on the rainy days (like when my father was dying of cancer) and helped me celebrate the many sunny ones too. If I did something he thought was crazy, he would admonish me and his standard line was, "Mark, have you taken leave of your senses?" He was wickedly funny, had a twinkle in his eye and sometimes played up like a second hand lawn mower. We were indeed each other's best mates.<br />
<br />
To say that I miss him is a huge understatement. Often when confronted by a big decision I still ask myself, "What would Ken do?" I just wish I could hear his answers to me now as I sort out our strained business finances in the age of COVID-19. Ken always knew what to do.<br />
<br />
In November of that year, 1990, a small group including me, Don and Ann and another, accompanied Carol to a place we used to ride the bikes. Back then it was a dirt road down the Western side of Mt Glorious, now a smooth bitumen connection road. We knew it as Northbrook Creek Road, it was originally pointed out to me by Les Flood at TJM. "Just look for the wild tobacco plants at the turn off." And we did just that on our Hondas years before, flying down that road and back up again at some speed. But now we gathered there on a sunny morning and walked down from the bridge and along the banks of Northbrook Creek. Here we scattered Ken's ashes. Although it was a sad moment for us all, especially so for Carol, this really was Ken's happy place on his trail bike being out there. Eventually we turned to leave and Ann suggested we all collect a river stone each. This way, every time we would look at that stone, we would think of our friend Ken.<br />
<br />
Kenneth Robert Brand MB BS, an exceptionally talented Doctor and an even better friend. Friends like Ken only come along once in a lifetime. He packed a lot of living into those years in his life.<br />
<br />
When trail riding he only had 2 rules.<br />
<br />
Rule 1. You must always have your lunch by water.<br />
<br />
Rule 2. You can never turn your bike for home until you see what's around the next corner. (It made for a lot of late endings.)<br />
<br />
On the way back home that day, I had this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKQ0F37LhpM" target="_blank">song</a> playing on the <i>Silhouette's</i> stereo. We had both seen Easy Rider together in 1970 at the Eldorado at Indooroopilly and he loved this song from the movie so much when I played the LP soundtrack at Clayfield<br />
<br />
Flow river flow.. take care of Ken.<br />
<br />
So thirty years ago today and as my dad used to say, life moves on for all of us.<br />
<br />
Yes my life has moved on, but it has never been the same for me since that phone call 30 years ago today. I very rarely drink whiskey now; my whiskey mate has gone you see.<br />
<br />
Post Script: Ken had an incredible mind trapped in a frail diseased body. His genuine compassion and gentle bedside manner endeared him to his patients at Sandgate. Some of them cried in the street at hearing of his passing. His fellow mates from the Class of 74 told me he was a brilliant diagnostician; again that incredible mind. From dressing a wound on my foot when I was 13 and had stood on some broken glass at Kalinga Park, to helping me with my father as he lay dying of cancer some 13 years later, Ken was an amazing Doctor and a very special friend. For those of us fortunate enough to have known him, our lives are far, far better for having his friendship visited upon us. As a Doctor he must have known what lay ahead for him as he aged, and so he packed about 3 lifetimes into his short 38 years. I often ride along roads we used to haunt on our trail bikes way back then and wonder if he is up there somewhere looking down and laughing at me.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"Come on Mark, ride faster, ride faster."</b></i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yDvrj3plA48Stmky8crrDUhJYHvMHJxbCHpC6MVwC3fuoARCUCjz4oUo1F0pn3xwASE89v0uq658AOX1j2os0yI_71DvYL4bKlRLA3Tk2NUsPSMlm9MFKlOUUHfKo85HXbmYnHfBddM/s1600/River+Stone+1987+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yDvrj3plA48Stmky8crrDUhJYHvMHJxbCHpC6MVwC3fuoARCUCjz4oUo1F0pn3xwASE89v0uq658AOX1j2os0yI_71DvYL4bKlRLA3Tk2NUsPSMlm9MFKlOUUHfKo85HXbmYnHfBddM/s400/River+Stone+1987+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A simple river stone, a symbol of a great mate sorely missed.</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-7726843198519835902019-07-02T10:20:00.000+10:002019-12-31T17:46:29.423+10:0050 years later; that July afternoon is etched in my mind forever...<h3>
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<h2>
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<i style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">"We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organise and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win, and the others, too." JFK 1962</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
</span></h2>
<br />
<i>And then, 9 years later....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"But the world all stopped to watch</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>On a July afternoon</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Watched a man named Armstrong</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Walk upon the moon"</i></div>
</h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2pXLn8f2fsjeOf55nYoh32_o7dj8u6DuQv__FoHwZHgo5gWKhBIX8qXAPK8nJ2_Mcn_9xPLRsw2AfsoexB9tiTu4SKbekaazJI6jLah_bmm_SPzJFhPReb6jh4VugNPMxH3t2Dupigg/s1600/Appollo+11+crew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="649" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2pXLn8f2fsjeOf55nYoh32_o7dj8u6DuQv__FoHwZHgo5gWKhBIX8qXAPK8nJ2_Mcn_9xPLRsw2AfsoexB9tiTu4SKbekaazJI6jLah_bmm_SPzJFhPReb6jh4VugNPMxH3t2Dupigg/s400/Appollo+11+crew.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arguably the bravest men the planet has produced.</td></tr>
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<h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tGgTlp2cI2eZZt4KNdjHvBf9nYaW7sBEXuuK-3nDu4oKLaFt6VacnITeNwsm7CpZQfQsTPaVhFM9roL-gik5fahMQoWG9gUC-cxv0VqyfHTAqcFdRHbFYRlPEAvP-DdjDdWdWPYLSL4/s1600/Appollo+11+logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="224" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tGgTlp2cI2eZZt4KNdjHvBf9nYaW7sBEXuuK-3nDu4oKLaFt6VacnITeNwsm7CpZQfQsTPaVhFM9roL-gik5fahMQoWG9gUC-cxv0VqyfHTAqcFdRHbFYRlPEAvP-DdjDdWdWPYLSL4/s400/Appollo+11+logo.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mission patch designed by Michael Collins.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Reg Lindsay nailed it with that song....</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Back in 1969 when I was a student at Power Coaching College in East Brisbane, life was magic for this just turned 16 year old. Magic music, fast cars and motorbikes to lust after.. and great school </span>friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Talk about high tide and green grass. My last year at school and my best ever school year. Now, the school was housed in an old house (still there today) and we had everything.. except a TV set. As an amateur astronomer I was fascinated by the Apollo missions, especially Apollo 11.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_femUN5N7eDHmKlBYV0sC3vMxMJwF4Pl-8I6bGiZ6MQYKtaxyNuNgh3r_Bp80UuXaRbjpX3_40rHDWwMQf_6PwV5o8eejGG5YVJFD3P8ssASW3rtYB493acCUcgvtZMpPl7rhnOwjOg/s1600/Appollo+11+launch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1503" data-original-width="1041" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_femUN5N7eDHmKlBYV0sC3vMxMJwF4Pl-8I6bGiZ6MQYKtaxyNuNgh3r_Bp80UuXaRbjpX3_40rHDWwMQf_6PwV5o8eejGG5YVJFD3P8ssASW3rtYB493acCUcgvtZMpPl7rhnOwjOg/s400/Appollo+11+launch.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Appollo 11 lift off.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">I just could not believe this; we are going to the moon. I remember thinking at the time it was sort of like Cook heading off to find the great southern land.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZyqWIckVJNqkr7rvR8HIMrDKiYB7y0WpIO15PKdeREhfjO-_RXkNekrxNVIvrOaYI9KPqEpdElu15fx89ihhb3kqzoFlf7IxlE41Poj_YuOlVeB1yHyILrvrO7BI72IK5iHeUrxGpVU/s1600/FIN_Appollo+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="1001" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZyqWIckVJNqkr7rvR8HIMrDKiYB7y0WpIO15PKdeREhfjO-_RXkNekrxNVIvrOaYI9KPqEpdElu15fx89ihhb3kqzoFlf7IxlE41Poj_YuOlVeB1yHyILrvrO7BI72IK5iHeUrxGpVU/s400/FIN_Appollo+11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This decal is on my BMW GSA1200</td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Into our class room walks our principal and tells our science teacher Mrs Ewart, (the best teacher I ever had) that we should all go home and watch the moon walk on our TV sets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">The bus trip to the city and then the train trip to Eagle Junction Station could not happen fast enough. I was just so excited.... even my father had come home from work early to watch this event.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLWw2IErGfVxkIFiyItH_HpLIh8ivtfcR_BqyJNvnE5Yr3ZLOvtV8GafPvrNR4bQii4Kk4B-qqSmmBM8IYaF1fVOJo_L17MxRK5JkgoK0WXQ0pAMuPx5JvxVG7UQTLCWI0iP0sMFMEWE/s1600/Aldrin_Apollo_11_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1591" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLWw2IErGfVxkIFiyItH_HpLIh8ivtfcR_BqyJNvnE5Yr3ZLOvtV8GafPvrNR4bQii4Kk4B-qqSmmBM8IYaF1fVOJo_L17MxRK5JkgoK0WXQ0pAMuPx5JvxVG7UQTLCWI0iP0sMFMEWE/s400/Aldrin_Apollo_11_original.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captured on film with a Hasselblad!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">And then on the 19 inch Healing, valve driven black and white TV set we saw those grainy, contrasty images of Neil Armstrong descending the stairs of that landing module. Sitting here the day before my 66th birthday I still can remember that feeling of wonder. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWDcOIErq0QoiuiDgrfMHDdU5oRhspibjpq_PRkKj-9CRlfaRL_D-9Z1lVslRFjfuYLvyRn9TVIZ2tuwvWWky4Fj-dkFKKN987T6sX6oM-0IxRtX_7nOHoeWVJpym8ptDQfoJpKzkGeI/s1600/Armstrong+on+the+ladder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="196" data-original-width="258" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWDcOIErq0QoiuiDgrfMHDdU5oRhspibjpq_PRkKj-9CRlfaRL_D-9Z1lVslRFjfuYLvyRn9TVIZ2tuwvWWky4Fj-dkFKKN987T6sX6oM-0IxRtX_7nOHoeWVJpym8ptDQfoJpKzkGeI/s400/Armstrong+on+the+ladder.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">History in the making.. and I saw it as it happened.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">"Look dad.. we have gone to the moon! Isn't this amazing?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">And my mother said, "I wonder if we will holiday on the moon one day?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Dad's reply.... "What's wrong with our house on Bribie Island?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">That night I set up my reflector telescope at the bottom of our front stairs. Focusing on the moon, I can even now feel the thrill that coursed through every part of me. It was just one of those moments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">My parent's comments are memorable....</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Mother, "Can you see Armstrong on the moon?"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Father, "If a farm boy from America can walk on the moon tonight, there is nothing your generation cannot do."</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zAu_hE2LtngCy5bj02xi-9HTCcm1YDKND2dU_Y_RaxbVXSzFYVap6mlpO29Yc_m2At94775fghH3864wgFVmJmqFbPJYTT0x-Bm4ZGCt7Jkv9LFbMtmcqujBUEjDqwsWwoI0ZmsG_VQ/s1600/Life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="838" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6zAu_hE2LtngCy5bj02xi-9HTCcm1YDKND2dU_Y_RaxbVXSzFYVap6mlpO29Yc_m2At94775fghH3864wgFVmJmqFbPJYTT0x-Bm4ZGCt7Jkv9LFbMtmcqujBUEjDqwsWwoI0ZmsG_VQ/s400/Life.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life cover shot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">And the funny thing is this.... some 50 years later this one event is etched into my mind as much as Armstrong's boot print was imprinted onto the lunar dust way back then. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5nJKGeN40kkt2yXnItswmU9Q7-t9wg2EWRGgYFvraYQ2umXrcjDyIynf6d34RaaBBjHzaEIAriV83w3qrOcbucSVFpndFkaUbCqWBhUwXMuo2PuxxaVT2qyDSQVUDMpdAmwQWsvxGSE/s1600/Lunar+foot+print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="1000" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5nJKGeN40kkt2yXnItswmU9Q7-t9wg2EWRGgYFvraYQ2umXrcjDyIynf6d34RaaBBjHzaEIAriV83w3qrOcbucSVFpndFkaUbCqWBhUwXMuo2PuxxaVT2qyDSQVUDMpdAmwQWsvxGSE/s400/Lunar+foot+print.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a symbol of man's dreams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">I think that it really is the greatest thing I ever have experienced in terms of technology. Yes, I know my iPhone has more computer power etc. </span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">But consider this...</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">When man landed on the moon, we still built cars with generators and not alternators, cars had carburettors, not fuel injection systems, drum brakes were still standard on many cars and we had rotary dial telephones, only 4 TV stations here in Brisbane. Technology was just not that advanced. Virtually nobody had air conditioning in their car let alone their home. Our music came from 7 inch singles or 12 inch LPs or the just newly invented Compact Cassette. But most of us just got our music from Mike Ahern on 4BC here in Brisbane.</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">And yet .... we went to the moon that same year. 1969.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.7px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So 50 years later, if I was a man of independent means, I would buy myself an Omega Speedmaster, the "moon watch" and strap it onto my wrist at the exact moment Buzz Aldrin stepped onto the moon's surface. (That would be 13:14 hours in BNE) Armstrong became the first person to step onto the lunar surface on July 21 at 02:56:15 UTC; Aldrin joined him 19 minutes later; Armstrong left his Omega onboard the LM and only Buzz Aldrin wore his on the surface of the moon. Now that would be a blast. I love that watch!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMRMO8amvHfztbI2nmLpP0nNcEfRA0XIYit9VwrYiAci_ZqXVVrEexlZDKCp0Es5C8L7idqUg3eRakZjyLkG8xiAWkUuJhF4UCq7VdmYLKLaQSIIWkP-yWdUN5eio57Xnd_2eUmnmsYw/s1600/omega-speedmaster-moonwatch-31130423001005-gallery-4-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMRMO8amvHfztbI2nmLpP0nNcEfRA0XIYit9VwrYiAci_ZqXVVrEexlZDKCp0Es5C8L7idqUg3eRakZjyLkG8xiAWkUuJhF4UCq7VdmYLKLaQSIIWkP-yWdUN5eio57Xnd_2eUmnmsYw/s400/omega-speedmaster-moonwatch-31130423001005-gallery-4-large.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The moon watch!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Here is a <a href="http://www.thepeoplehistory.com/1969.html" target="_blank">link</a> to some other stuff from 1969!</span><br />
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<div class="_5rpb" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); border-left-color: transparent; border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 0.1px; font-family: inherit; height: inherit; position: relative; text-align: initial; z-index: 1;">
<div aria-autocomplete="list" aria-controls="js_794" aria-describedby="placeholder-doetb" aria-label="What's on your mind, Mark?" aria-multiline="true" class="notranslate _5rpu" data-testid="status-attachment-mentions-input" role="textbox" spellcheck="true" style="-webkit-user-modify: read-write-plaintext-only; -webkit-user-select: text; font-family: inherit; height: inherit; outline: none; text-align: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; word-wrap: break-word;">
<div data-contents="true" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="doetb" data-offset-key="arf4u-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="arf4u-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: inherit; position: relative;">
<span data-offset-key="arf4u-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><br data-text="true" /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="clearfix" style="font-family: inherit; zoom: 1;">
<div class="_ohe lfloat" style="float: left; font-family: inherit;">
</div>
<div class="_ohf rfloat" style="float: right; font-family: inherit;">
<div data-testid="attachment-preview" style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
<div class="_3o1x" style="font-family: inherit; height: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="_3enz _3eo2" style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="_1j2v" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_1idc" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 12px;">
</div>
<div class="_16ve _7i31" style="border-top-color: rgb(233, 235, 238); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 12px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0px;">
<ul class="_16vg _1oxv" data-testid="collapsed_sprouts" style="list-style-type: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
<li class="_5xmp fbReactComposerAttachmentSelector_MEDIA" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 6px;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_6a _4mvf _fk5" id="js_799" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; width: 121.67119598388672px;">
<span class="_m _5g_r" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; position: relative;"><a aria-pressed="false" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="ignore" role="button" style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;"><div class="_m_1 _1pnt" data-tooltip-delay="500" style="background-color: #f5f6f7; border-bottom-left-radius: 18px; border-bottom-right-radius: 18px; border-top-left-radius: 18px; border-top-right-radius: 18px; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; max-width: calc(138px); position: relative;" uiconfig="[object Object]">
<i alt="" class="_4a0a img sp_0xj7TwbqHFI sx_8a37be" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v3/y4/r/JGglktpoUua.png"); background-position: 0px -1139px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 20px; left: 9px; position: absolute; top: 6px; width: 20px;"></i><div class="_2aha" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #4b4f56; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; height: 32px; line-height: 32px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px 15px 0px 35px; text-overflow: ellipsis; vertical-align: middle; white-space: nowrap; width: 121.67119598388672px;">
Photo/Video</div>
</div>
<div class="_3jk" style="font-family: inherit; height: 31.30434799194336px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; right: 0px; top: 0px; width: 121.67119598388672px;">
<input accept="video/*, video/x-m4v, video/webm, video/x-ms-wmv, video/x-msvideo, video/3gpp, video/flv, video/x-flv, video/mp4, video/quicktime, video/mpeg, video/ogv, .ts, .mkv, image/*, image/heic, image/heif" aria-label="Add Photo or Video" class="_n _5f0v" containerclassname="_5g_r" data-testid="media-sprout" display="inline" id="js_798" multiple="" name="composer_photo[]" role="button" style="background-color: white; bottom: 0px; color: #1c1e21; cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1000px !important; height: 300px; margin: 0px; opacity: 0; outline: none; padding: 0px; position: absolute; right: 0px;" tabindex="0" type="file" /></div>
</a></span></div>
</div>
</li>
<li class="_5xmp fbReactComposerAttachmentSelector_WITH_TAG" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 6px;"><span role="presentation" style="font-family: inherit;"><a aria-pressed="false" data-testid="people-sprout" href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><div class="_m_1 _1pn-" data-tooltip-delay="500" style="background-color: #f5f6f7; border-bottom-left-radius: 18px; border-bottom-right-radius: 18px; border-top-left-radius: 18px; border-top-right-radius: 18px; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; max-width: calc(138px); position: relative;" uiconfig="[object Object]">
<i alt="" class="_4a0a img sp_0xj7TwbqHFI sx_b06c7b" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v3/y4/r/JGglktpoUua.png"); background-position: 0px -761px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 20px; left: 9px; position: absolute; top: 6px; width: 20px;"></i><div class="_2aha" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #4b4f56; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; height: 32px; line-height: 32px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px 15px 0px 35px; text-overflow: ellipsis; vertical-align: middle; white-space: nowrap; width: 114.75543975830078px;">
Tag friends</div>
</div>
</a></span></li>
<li class="_5xmp fbReactComposerAttachmentSelector_MINUTIAE" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 6px;"><span role="presentation" style="font-family: inherit;"><a aria-pressed="false" data-testid="activity-sprout" href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><div class="_m_1 _1pnz" data-tooltip-delay="500" style="background-color: #f5f6f7; border-bottom-left-radius: 18px; border-bottom-right-radius: 18px; border-top-left-radius: 18px; border-top-right-radius: 18px; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; max-width: calc(138px); position: relative;" uiconfig="[object Object]">
<i alt="" class="_4a0a img sp_0xj7TwbqHFI sx_ecfef2" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v3/y4/r/JGglktpoUua.png"); background-position: 0px -698px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 20px; left: 9px; position: absolute; top: 6px; width: 20px;"></i><div class="_2aha" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #4b4f56; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; height: 32px; line-height: 32px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px 15px 0px 35px; text-overflow: ellipsis; vertical-align: middle; white-space: nowrap; width: 137.9891357421875px;">
Feeling/Activity</div>
</div>
</a></span></li>
<li class="_5xmp fbReactComposerAttachmentSelector_ELLIPSIS" style="display: inline-block;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a aria-label="More Post Options" aria-pressed="false" data-testid="ellipsis-sprout" href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><div class="_m_1 _1gr3" data-tooltip-delay="500" style="background-color: #f5f6f7; border-bottom-left-radius: 18px; border-bottom-right-radius: 18px; border-top-left-radius: 18px; border-top-right-radius: 18px; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; max-width: calc(138px); position: relative; white-space: nowrap; width: 44px;" uiconfig="[object Object]">
<i alt="" class="_4a0a img sp_0xj7TwbqHFI sx_fcceb8" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v3/y4/r/JGglktpoUua.png"); background-position: 0px -1916px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 20px; left: 12px; position: absolute; top: 6px; width: 20px;"></i><div class="_2aha" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #4b4f56; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; height: 32px; line-height: 32px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px 15px 0px 35px; text-overflow: ellipsis; vertical-align: middle; width: 50px;">
</div>
</div>
</a></span></li>
</ul>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div data-referrer="pagelet_prompts" id="pagelet_prompts" style="font-family: inherit;">
</div>
<div class="pagelet" data-referrer="stories_pagelet_below_composer" id="stories_pagelet_below_composer" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_4-u2 _100g _4-u8" data-testid="story_tray" id="fb_stories_card_root" style="background-color: white; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px; border-color: transparent; border-style: solid; border-top-left-radius: 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px; border-width: 1px 0px; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 10px; position: relative;">
<div class="_nyb" style="align-items: flex-start; display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; justify-content: flex-start; overflow: hidden; padding: 12px; position: relative;">
<div class="_42rg" style="align-self: stretch; display: flex; font-family: inherit; height: 16px; justify-content: space-between; padding-bottom: 12px;">
<a data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-content="Stories are photos and videos that are visible for 24 hours. When someone adds to a story, it'll be shown here." href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><span class="_2ms2" style="color: #616770; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 13px;">Stor</span></a><a class="_7jbn" data-onclick="[{"mod":"FBStoriesTray2","meth":"onSeeAllStoriesClick","a":[{"traySessionID":"bac6fee3-7778-49e9-9868-a3ac27997492"}]}]" data-onkeypress="[{"mod":"FBStoriesTray2","meth":"onSeeAllStoriesClick","a":[{"traySessionID":"bac6fee3-7778-49e9-9868-a3ac27997492"}]}]" href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="align-items: center; color: #385898; cursor: pointer; display: inline !important; font-family: inherit; justify-content: flex-end; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">See all</a></div>
<div class="_7h4u expanded" id="stories_tray" style="align-items: center; display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; justify-content: flex-start; width: calc(474px);">
<div class="_7h4v" style="display: flex; flex-direction: row; font-family: inherit; justify-content: space-between; width: 473.99456787109375px;">
<div class="_827c" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_7h4p _8lg9" data-onclick="[{"mod":"FBStoriesProductionActions","meth":"openProductionDialog"}]" data-onkeypress="[{"mod":"FBStoriesProductionActions","meth":"openProductionDialog"}]" style="border-bottom-left-radius: 10px; border-bottom-right-radius: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 10px; border-top-right-radius: 10px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; height: 201px; overflow: hidden; position: relative; transform: translateZ(0px) perspective(1000px); transition: filter 0.15s linear; width: 113px;" tabindex="0">
<div class="uiScaledImageContainer _7h4s" style="font-family: inherit; height: 201px; overflow: hidden; position: relative; top: 0px; transition: transform 0.15s linear, filter 0.15s linear; width: 113px;">
<img alt="" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" data-src="https://scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-1/s240x240/14716036_10153823659526105_4516498370765579438_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_eui2=AeFwrLMXLz-Nrak5Byt7BQKrF6UaWVO4ZLn_YZo3uSIC2bFw7VabcI22VJ6EDx-mOyEVavBUIVlv4Hv6TtGzmXTGIiHG45SEkfTvsVd1y5zguA&_nc_oc=AQkF-PTNlkl2PrGfY09Cwfe1UitSzoPfj5Z1iSmG0p1c1MV5HwiZMLSZ7h-XTbPnLBc&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=f08e7d6933ff334cfb4ef497579e588a&oe=5E6750DD" height="201" src="https://scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-1/s240x240/14716036_10153823659526105_4516498370765579438_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_eui2=AeFwrLMXLz-Nrak5Byt7BQKrF6UaWVO4ZLn_YZo3uSIC2bFw7VabcI22VJ6EDx-mOyEVavBUIVlv4Hv6TtGzmXTGIiHG45SEkfTvsVd1y5zguA&_nc_oc=AQkF-PTNlkl2PrGfY09Cwfe1UitSzoPfj5Z1iSmG0p1c1MV5HwiZMLSZ7h-XTbPnLBc&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=f08e7d6933ff334cfb4ef497579e588a&oe=5E6750DD" style="border: 0px; height: 200.99185180664062px; left: -43px; position: relative; width: auto;" width="201" /></div>
<span class="_7h4q" style="font-family: inherit; left: 8px; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; position: absolute; top: 8px; transform-origin: left top; transition-duration: 0.3s; transition-property: transform;"><div class="_26w4 no-border size-small" style="border-bottom-left-radius: 50%; border-bottom-right-radius: 50%; border-top-left-radius: 50%; border-top-right-radius: 50%; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: inherit; height: 40px; padding: 0px; position: relative; width: 40px; z-index: 0;">
<div class="_66a_" style="align-items: center; background-color: #f5f6f7; border-bottom-left-radius: 50%; border-bottom-right-radius: 50%; border-top-left-radius: 50%; border-top-right-radius: 50%; border: 1px solid rgb(218, 221, 225); box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; font-family: inherit; height: 40px; justify-content: center; position: relative; width: 40px;">
<i class="img sp_0xj7TwbqHFI sx_4fb27c" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/v3/y4/r/JGglktpoUua.png"); background-position: 0px -148px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 24px; width: 24px;"></i></div>
</div>
<span class="_7h4r" style="bottom: 8px; flex-wrap: nowrap; font-family: inherit; left: 0px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; right: 0px; text-overflow: ellipsis; word-break: normal; word-wrap: normal;"><div class="_mx9 wrap ellipsis light verbose" style="flex: 1 1 auto; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 8px; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap;">
<div class="_mxb" dir="auto" style="-webkit-user-select: none; color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 600; line-height: 16px; max-width: none; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; vertical-align: middle; white-space: normal; width: 97.01087188720703px;">
<span class="_nbt" style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">
Add to Story</div>
</span></div>
</div>
</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="_827c" data-onmouseover="[{"mod":"FBStoriesTray2","meth":"onMouseOverStoryTrayItem"}]" style="font-family: inherit;">
<div class="_7h4p _8lg9" data-onclick="[{"mod":"FBStoriesTray2","meth":"onStoryTrayItemSelect","k":"stories-tray","a":[{"item":{"__elem":1},"bucketID":"1632229750158084","traySessionID":"bac6fee3-7778-49e9-9868-a3ac27997492","index":0,"preloadImageURIs":["https:\/\/scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net\/v\/t1.0-9\/80583062_10221325894080626_1207869804363382784_o.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_eui2=AeGexMcOQokJC82D0PIOMMHuPIlZYksZuhkXgToL9qsYG8SRWd9vjrkVCIetLKXzWIXZmniBwPp-Wkrl6Xp5n-P05jdkwyVXNyx23f3aKYu8Cw&_nc_oc=AQmJQxOMEiUv6Hw-94ImMdwPRR9Qv3C55_KN61vuHCdC1Che-E3zb0lYiGSLivPpnhI&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=2ad7c2e669c2acfd05c11e568b70dfb6&oe=5EAFA39B",null,"https:\/\/scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net\/v\/t1.0-0\/fb10\/s235x350\/80764137_10221325894120627_5450984114817597440_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_eui2=AeGvu9gbHaF3nHYOREurjteyJ0d4bBG6a2hfrWywyt8w09V2Jr5UCiO3NGqtT9UuPFCWr0sI3w1Y9vxNzwOX1ti4_6MbMVKmFbjc72P79xDxXQ&_nc_oc=AQm-rsQqQEyI9yq98FqBU68jOEOEo4tJ6i8uB1ovrQwr_zKlsJoWFw9CV2yEyXSSSW8&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=1dd126a855c0d21e5e0d24e606a50b95&oe=5E9EA61A"],"preloadVideoIDs":[],"event":{"__event":1},"source":null,"trackingString":"{\"request_id\":\"4c55587b-b57f-4e9e-88e1-4f6231927d8e\",\"bucket_id\":\"1632229750158084\",\"owner_id\":\"1346280081\",\"scored_time\":0,\"ranker_join_key\":\"4c55587b-b57f-4e9e-88e1-4f6231927d8e\",\"raas_position\":2,\"raas_newly_scored_position\":2,\"random_rate\":0,\"usecase_id\":\"1\",\"viewstate_token\":\"{\\\"shardManagerScope\\\":\\\"prn\\\",\\\"snapshotId\\\":7146437655486318238,\\\"versionId\\\":0,\\\"creationTime\\\":1577777463,\\\"snapshotIndexWithinBatch\\\":0}\"}"}]}]" data-onkeypress="[{"mod":"FBStoriesTray2","meth":"onStoryTrayItemSelect","k":"stories-tray","a":[{"item":{"__elem":1},"bucketID":"1632229750158084","traySessionID":"bac6fee3-7778-49e9-9868-a3ac27997492","index":0,"preloadImageURIs":["https:\/\/scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net\/v\/t1.0-9\/80583062_10221325894080626_1207869804363382784_o.jpg?_nc_cat=108&_nc_eui2=AeGexMcOQokJC82D0PIOMMHuPIlZYksZuhkXgToL9qsYG8SRWd9vjrkVCIetLKXzWIXZmniBwPp-Wkrl6Xp5n-P05jdkwyVXNyx23f3aKYu8Cw&_nc_oc=AQmJQxOMEiUv6Hw-94ImMdwPRR9Qv3C55_KN61vuHCdC1Che-E3zb0lYiGSLivPpnhI&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=2ad7c2e669c2acfd05c11e568b70dfb6&oe=5EAFA39B",null,"https:\/\/scontent-syd2-1.xx.fbcdn.net\/v\/t1.0-0\/fb10\/s235x350\/80764137_10221325894120627_5450984114817597440_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&_nc_eui2=AeGvu9gbHaF3nHYOREurjteyJ0d4bBG6a2hfrWywyt8w09V2Jr5UCiO3NGqtT9UuPFCWr0sI3w1Y9vxNzwOX1ti4_6MbMVKmFbjc72P79xDxXQ&_nc_oc=AQm-rsQqQEyI9yq98FqBU68jOEOEo4tJ6i8uB1ovrQwr_zKlsJoWFw9CV2yEyXSSSW8&_nc_ht=scontent-syd2-1.xx&oh=1dd126a855c0d21e5e0d24e606a50b95&oe=5E9EA61A"],"preloadVideoIDs":[],"event":{"__event":1},"source":null,"trackingString":"{\"request_id\":\"4c55587b-b57f-4e9e-88e1-4f6231927d8e\",\"bucket_id\":\"1632229750158084\",\"owner_id\":\"1346280081\",\"scored_time\":0,\"ranker_join_key\":\"4c55587b-b57f-4e9e-88e1-4f6231927d8e\",\"raas_position\":2,\"raas_newly_scored_position\":2,\"random_rate\":0,\"usecase_id\":\"1\",\"viewstate_token\":\"{\\\"shardManagerScope\\\":\\\"prn\\\",\\\"snapshotId\\\":7146437655486318238,\\\"versionId\\\":0,\\\"creationTime\\\":1577777463,\\\"snapshotIndexWithinBatch\\\":0}\"}"}]}]" style="border-bottom-left-radius: 10px; border-bottom-right-radius: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 10px; border-top-right-radius: 10px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; height: 201px; overflow: hidden; position: relative; transform: translateZ(0px) perspective(1000px); transition: filter 0.15s linear; width: 113px;" tabindex="0">
<div class="_816s" id="u_ps_0_7_0" style="font-family: inherit; height: 1px; left: 1px; pointer-events: none; position: absolute; top: 1px; width: 112.9891357421875px;">
</div>
<div class="_46-h _7h4s" style="font-family: inherit; height: 201px; overflow: hidden; position: relative; top: 0px; transition: transform 0.15s linear, filter 0.15s linear; width: 113px;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-92212732965702681422019-06-17T19:31:00.000+10:002019-12-31T21:47:33.541+10:002019: A year of anniversaries... growing old is not for the faint of heart.<br />
<b><i>Note to my readers..... this blog is being added to as the year goes on.. it's a work in progress I would say. Come back now and then and have a look!</i></b><br />
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Seems like years ending in 9 have featured a lot in my life.<br />
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Funny thing that.<br />
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So this year, 2019 makes for a whole lot of anniversaries.<br />
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And to quote Peter Noone... "Let's take a look behind and see what we can find...."<br />
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<b>70 Years</b><br />
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<b>1949 </b>and on June 18, my parents were married. I think it is fair to say that they had an interesting marriage. Country girl marries London born WW1 veteran who literally was a well educated man of the world. Now mum was no fool, but born and bred in Mt Morgan with a short stint in Sydney made for a less than worldly view of things. (She voted Labor, the old man was a Conservative and in middle age my father's genes kicked in for me!) Mother came with 4 boys of her own and then I came along. Our first years were spent in that house on Hamilton Road at Chermside, with Neville leaving early on to join the RAAF. Every time I drive past over the years I look at it and wonder why it seemed so much bigger to me as a toddler. We moved to Clayfield in 1958.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBttyJQSa8KaTXD04kkknsZpp4uZrf4ldeS3bp6DNUJ6-aFHnkbwYyKBBK8WSflpfkEJ4sS9JFytP1eMLCGf5z5RBm1VEzQECx0BTbmvkeK7paB5IFXcEF_a3k5gqiRSojMFILnOnmfX8/s1600/12983182_10153390566251105_1194316501169028818_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1449" data-original-width="1600" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBttyJQSa8KaTXD04kkknsZpp4uZrf4ldeS3bp6DNUJ6-aFHnkbwYyKBBK8WSflpfkEJ4sS9JFytP1eMLCGf5z5RBm1VEzQECx0BTbmvkeK7paB5IFXcEF_a3k5gqiRSojMFILnOnmfX8/s400/12983182_10153390566251105_1194316501169028818_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My father always reminded my mother of the Anniversary of the battle of Waterloo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3y5eSSY1TmhrT_ibAeW3cO24AwZRs8UtAOaGbphugQjKbX8-eH37vydU3bi3vOsVp5BSG-DjVxKptWBWx1bz4Pmg6IwzGBcwihCCWUv0GoIcfivCazH3zsxR21LPacXyFjQPLesbOAlU/s1600/June+18_1949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3y5eSSY1TmhrT_ibAeW3cO24AwZRs8UtAOaGbphugQjKbX8-eH37vydU3bi3vOsVp5BSG-DjVxKptWBWx1bz4Pmg6IwzGBcwihCCWUv0GoIcfivCazH3zsxR21LPacXyFjQPLesbOAlU/s400/June+18_1949.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">18th June, 1949 at Romney Studio Brisbane</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCx6p8BWg7qEiK6jXUV_eRkvBT3yqtAM-kL7M5plQvB5zt0G-EDAojjqO_WPejgqFTeRADMZOl7bfA18u95VGFt-jVepGW55P5Cij1A4rbwfz1riB8mHveOOxuFlFkFwTXAsJM8iVYfeM/s1600/Max_Mum_Ron_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCx6p8BWg7qEiK6jXUV_eRkvBT3yqtAM-kL7M5plQvB5zt0G-EDAojjqO_WPejgqFTeRADMZOl7bfA18u95VGFt-jVepGW55P5Cij1A4rbwfz1riB8mHveOOxuFlFkFwTXAsJM8iVYfeM/s400/Max_Mum_Ron_001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad, mum and Max on the front steps at Chermside. C1950</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKdRaPfqondmGdRh02s41l9CXStak7SMwXIFI6ECLkdOO8T4o1ZHOMvNizNT_pqI1NiESCZ1eu4T8Lnv2B98Pt66J-N-dGX1Q247Unev3DFcnlLpH1ierHopkMNtC6JUuohWTYivz6ysI/s1600/RRBT+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1297" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKdRaPfqondmGdRh02s41l9CXStak7SMwXIFI6ECLkdOO8T4o1ZHOMvNizNT_pqI1NiESCZ1eu4T8Lnv2B98Pt66J-N-dGX1Q247Unev3DFcnlLpH1ierHopkMNtC6JUuohWTYivz6ysI/s400/RRBT+copy.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father at his desk not long after I was born.</td></tr>
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<b>60 Years:</b><br />
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<b>1959</b> and in January I start primary school at Eagle Junction State School. I remember clearly that first day. I was terrified and crying my eyes out as my mother dragged me in under the building. My mate from the age of 3 Stephen Hart was there. "Look.. Stephen isn't crying!" Of course that made a lot of sense to a howling 5 year old.<br />
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But on that first day.. I did meet Robyn Cook and for the next 7 years I was so keen to be her boyfriend. Always picked her at folk dancing.. I don't think she even knew I existed. Such is life. And from those days at EJSS I still have friends I stay in touch with. Stephen Hart, Russell Coleman, Roger Fulton and Heather Walker. (Nee Appleton)<br />
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All those years ago....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR1WTuz4PwYLfzBOe_CBYr3viQeJFxCzRwg5NmAvdX4qBV7I3pKJzak6T1yB05hPOW8Gkh8n75GxxBuP-rQyhvvxcaBlGcH9q60mNWkOWoDtVG_8R4h7j9R4YFlhsy340FFoz2tWNZddU/s1600/grade3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1600" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR1WTuz4PwYLfzBOe_CBYr3viQeJFxCzRwg5NmAvdX4qBV7I3pKJzak6T1yB05hPOW8Gkh8n75GxxBuP-rQyhvvxcaBlGcH9q60mNWkOWoDtVG_8R4h7j9R4YFlhsy340FFoz2tWNZddU/s400/grade3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is grade 3.. but we're all there!</td></tr>
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<b>1959</b> and on July 27 at 0800 hours, brother Max opens Max's Speedo Electric Service. Originally in Wellington Rd East Brisbane and then 87 Logan Road Woolloongabba (next to the Broadway hotel) and finally to 6 Deshon Street Buranda. That business morphed into MAX Instruments when we closed the auto electrical division and moved to 662 Beaudesert Road Salisbury to concentrate on instrumentation only. I joined on January 6, 1970 and just loved working with my three brothers, Neville, Max and Paul. For show and tell I told the class about the new fabulous Max's Speed Electric Service. Teachers response was to ask me to spell Woolloongabba. Somehow.. I managed it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVYJ6Y8ZF8ltxXENS73oKClZVy9AP9YAYDTRJ1_ZrrrK4ynjR8D4lFOMZJKGkTrDY14E4_BKXm28K7fBLNoD9IttBxSimHlyaKZY6BtoSraJZWkHoAtwchGBIsc8pfWkr7-moe2Lg7UI/s1600/11082193_10152626601821105_875626512422729625_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1018" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVYJ6Y8ZF8ltxXENS73oKClZVy9AP9YAYDTRJ1_ZrrrK4ynjR8D4lFOMZJKGkTrDY14E4_BKXm28K7fBLNoD9IttBxSimHlyaKZY6BtoSraJZWkHoAtwchGBIsc8pfWkr7-moe2Lg7UI/s400/11082193_10152626601821105_875626512422729625_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the phone number... our home number before the shop opened.</td></tr>
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<b>50 Years:</b><br />
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<b>1969</b> and I am in my last year of school at Power Coaching College located on Stanley Terrace, East Brisbane. It is an amazing year.. Julie Vanek.. wow was I infatuated with her. And then a great bunch of friends to spend your days with. Allan White, Greg Gibson, Louise Sweeney, Ignatius Kalatzis, Tony Harrington, Ben Zavelski, Harry Bolding, Julie Vanek, Selwyn Hasthorpe and so many others. A big year: Armstrong on the moon, Gough nearly wins Government, Colin Bond and Tony Roberts win Bathurst in a Monaro 350 after the GT Falcons run out of brakes. (Yess!!) Music wise we had Such a Lovely Way by the Group, The Real Thing, The Star and of course the album that dominated the year.... Abbey Road. And Mrs Ewart our science teacher. She was the one teacher.. yes that one teacher who could get inside my head and teach me. Best teacher I ever had. And told me a year later I was her best student. Really wish I could have gone back 20 years later and thanked her.<br />
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The year rolls on and motor bikes come into my life via Wayne Pinna. The entire world felt like it was opening up to me. To me it really was the dawning of the age of Aquarius. No idea what that meant but I was so happy. And happily I have managed to stay in touch with some of those old friends... Selwyn Hasthorpe, Tony Harrington and I always wonder where Julie is... actually I wrote about 1969 on my blog before. Look<a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com/2014/10/it-was-45-years-ago-september-26-1969.html" target="_blank"> here</a> and also <a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com/2014/05/life-one-of-my-first-loves.html" target="_blank">here</a>. And finally <a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com/2014/01/youth-my-favourite-years-1969-in-review.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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UPDATE: I finally managed to find Julie. In August, just before she left for an extended trip to the USA. It was awesome and we got to have about a half hour chat on the phone. Amazing! When she does eventually return to OZ.. we'll have a long catch up over lunch. I truly never thought I would ever see her again. Thanks to the universe!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicEoKIxHcBm9m3syKdKgGD0bU20ehoMNCpURnv0r_tpuy90259mLyAj-2Ujr7mgXLUv32m7FoJqnoD1miLfjSrKLwjzzHnvOCNxkgZS4jYSl0AqhaIzFf09slvh70HWoMqljTG_KaWWg/s1600/GTR_02.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="798" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicEoKIxHcBm9m3syKdKgGD0bU20ehoMNCpURnv0r_tpuy90259mLyAj-2Ujr7mgXLUv32m7FoJqnoD1miLfjSrKLwjzzHnvOCNxkgZS4jYSl0AqhaIzFf09slvh70HWoMqljTG_KaWWg/s400/GTR_02.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1969 and Holden release the GTR. Man what a car that was.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FG73pfRN2zIwjoXWi0CbhziR233GvyrexisGzSFzApl-mt0-n_rVfCy9Ip2k-TGWKn5B6APY3vZTN4y4TxnnYBgeudm8qNM171Eub8sd6u2fHiFBypu9aJCCZVvAd3DRPqY1V4ZmUTQ/s1600/CL90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="263" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FG73pfRN2zIwjoXWi0CbhziR233GvyrexisGzSFzApl-mt0-n_rVfCy9Ip2k-TGWKn5B6APY3vZTN4y4TxnnYBgeudm8qNM171Eub8sd6u2fHiFBypu9aJCCZVvAd3DRPqY1V4ZmUTQ/s400/CL90.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honda CL90, the bike I learned to ride on in Kalinga park at 15.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPla4cisxi1z9tPuIF4C9U-xW3tNuxP1YIAVY5FkryHvs8dB-eETP6asla-oG-fKcFC1ZzMSZzc5ys_ZpJDxXeHPtLyiRDPOqWjMbGm7J-UHH4RGdCYNkcCWex28P03gXfR5iSzpN_ks/s1600/FIN_Appollo+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="1001" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPla4cisxi1z9tPuIF4C9U-xW3tNuxP1YIAVY5FkryHvs8dB-eETP6asla-oG-fKcFC1ZzMSZzc5ys_ZpJDxXeHPtLyiRDPOqWjMbGm7J-UHH4RGdCYNkcCWex28P03gXfR5iSzpN_ks/s400/FIN_Appollo+11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cannot believe a half century had passed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzLNbCMUGaY4i2HtBpiibCMKpX1N4USqkcd98YMk71ecFdoV77y6RVhY-o0B_STibMJr2bRI8Qt8x3JGmXO8rCIGLg4AemXHP4_RonxrhflNTmjI3MvvW7dvaYXNAR5EAt0XtO_Jt4ys/s1600/Aldrin_Apollo_11_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1591" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzLNbCMUGaY4i2HtBpiibCMKpX1N4USqkcd98YMk71ecFdoV77y6RVhY-o0B_STibMJr2bRI8Qt8x3JGmXO8rCIGLg4AemXHP4_RonxrhflNTmjI3MvvW7dvaYXNAR5EAt0XtO_Jt4ys/s400/Aldrin_Apollo_11_original.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buzz Aldrin as photographed by Neil Armstrong.</td></tr>
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Last night I watched "The Dish" again. Brought back bitter sweet memories of that fine year. The music, the cars and the moonshot. I think that was the most technical achievement ever achieved by man kind that occurred in my lifetime.. so far. . And this just turned 16 year old got to see it all on a grainy TV set in the lounge at Armagh St. Also.. 1969 the first 747 flew in February and the QE2 went into service too. Man what a life lay ahead for me.<br />
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Then near year's end the Yanks put on Woodstock for us and the albums from that were amazing...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBXEuEPTWobwxoN7gcgejBB6ezMtjCEf7Jy-_blhVuTvvCCttdE15qdTpQwQwYYmf9GnwjjedAP7s4bClRdW_GW5g7xexEkbfWyZ_FMl5lGYijME7bQgaJ8DNqQddzEYpJbQaZlh9gJ4/s1600/woodstock.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="741" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBXEuEPTWobwxoN7gcgejBB6ezMtjCEf7Jy-_blhVuTvvCCttdE15qdTpQwQwYYmf9GnwjjedAP7s4bClRdW_GW5g7xexEkbfWyZ_FMl5lGYijME7bQgaJ8DNqQddzEYpJbQaZlh9gJ4/s400/woodstock.tiff" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By the time we got to Woodstock....</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>40 Years:</b><br />
<br />
<b>1979</b> and as January 1 rolls around I have no idea what a year of highs and lows awaits me for the next 12 months. By this stage I am the "Technical Services Rep" for MSES Pty Ltd which was the new name for Max's Speedo Electric Service. We are now located in 6 Deshon St Buranda. Neville and Paul have departed the business to seek fame and fortune elsewhere. In 1976 I have picked up Volvo Australia's truck factory for a client. And didn't they spend big. I spent so much time out there involved in the design of a new instrument panel that the pay lady became upset when she couldn't find my pay packet. "Sorry Mary.. I don't actually work here!" I had just come back from a holiday down Sydney way in the Daihatsu 4WD towing a Golf Camper. I returned the camper to Eagle Farm.. and the next day they closed up shop. Went broke. Well there went my security deposit. One Sunday I was at Clayfield visiting my father and he didn't seem himself. He had turned 80 the year before and all seemed well then. Come February I had a discussion with mother about dad and we ended up getting Dr Donahue to have a look at him. He decided that he was on too much medication for his crook heart. The idea was to put him back in hospital, stop all meds and then get him sorted. Long story short, he went into hospital on February 7 and died from undiagnosed lung cancer on March 7. For me that was a dreadfully stressful month. Trying to be supportive of him, mother and then trying to keep myself together. This 25 year old learnt a lot that month. Actually dad accepted his fate, mother struggled with it. Especially at the funeral. You see dad had cheated death twice before, World Was 1 as a 16 year old and again in the 40s with then untreatable osteomyelitis. He was fortunate to survive. <a href="https://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com/2019/03/40-years-ago-today-i-lost-my-mentor.html" target="_blank">Read more about my late dad here.</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjfUq1xmTEPiQ7lPli0MUwVakFlBl3lAOYfnVH7kJA0jwjEYxel_YZgS9d89gxFVtB_Nqw-m497k-P6-EpaK9rIO5JQ-O1AI2bsJbapWK3q4QeirG7fL9YHEup_7Pfc4fE2O9DYNgSmY/s1600/RBTG_74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjfUq1xmTEPiQ7lPli0MUwVakFlBl3lAOYfnVH7kJA0jwjEYxel_YZgS9d89gxFVtB_Nqw-m497k-P6-EpaK9rIO5JQ-O1AI2bsJbapWK3q4QeirG7fL9YHEup_7Pfc4fE2O9DYNgSmY/s400/RBTG_74.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A sibling reunion at BNE airport. L-R Dad, Bill, Tilly & Gus (1974) (4 of the original 10)</td></tr>
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The year rolls on, personal issues with alcoholic in-laws (who are our landlords) causes all sorts of dramas. And then come August I have had enough and decide it is time to buy a home. Good mate Dr Ken finds one for private sale in the paper. So on Exhibition Wednesday we all go to inspect this post WW2 box in Wavell Heights. Owned by a retired house painter and former digger it was built in 1949. He was asking $28,500 or near offer. I asked him... "Would you accept $28,000". He stuck out his hand... "Son you've bought yourself a house." He told me he was amazed at the price. You see he had paid $1400 for in in 1949... so in 30 years it had gone up 20 times.<br />
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And so.. we became home owners for the next 5 years.<br />
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A tiny little place with 24 perches of land and I added a tin shed out the back... for the bike.. of course.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9nHGGDCyTVMxgcsSfWbULJc9enKhOMotCYg7kf-wYgfl3SmIPWCSJA1N7bpr_85alP5TOGRTI9ew8KyjD4Oaib3MWhnZcb6NiBsyzZM_GowWdyPytDuz2aWEnOSM3D6EVCOc7SIPp78/s1600/1982XL250R.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9nHGGDCyTVMxgcsSfWbULJc9enKhOMotCYg7kf-wYgfl3SmIPWCSJA1N7bpr_85alP5TOGRTI9ew8KyjD4Oaib3MWhnZcb6NiBsyzZM_GowWdyPytDuz2aWEnOSM3D6EVCOc7SIPp78/s400/1982XL250R.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 82 Honda in the back yard at Wavell Heights</td></tr>
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Now around the same time, Max had a brain wave. Let's move the business to Rocklea (well Salisbury actually) and just do instruments. We had about 4 or 5 auto electricians in the shop and a couple of instrument fitters. Max offered the auto elecs that part of the business but they didn't want it. So in November 1979 Max Instruments opens its doors for trading at 662 Beaudesert Road Salisbury. All new office furniture and just the 5 of us. Joan as office manager, Barry Butler and Phillip Ross as the techs and me as the rep with Max on the front counter to start with. It was a really exciting time with Volvo's income supporting the move and then the truck dealers all over Rocklea just came in the doors... we were busy. So very busy.<br />
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An amazing end to a turbulent year.<br />
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<br />
<b>30 Years:</b><br />
<br />
<b>1989</b> This is the year Christina turns 6 and her first year at EJSS. Thirty years since I had started there. I still remember this tiny little girl with this giant bag on her back heading out the gate for her first day.<br />
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Also, with an escape from the clutches of the family court well behind me, Debra and I are literally growing our relationship. I had been swanning around Europe in 1988 with my good friend Allen O'Grady. And now Deb wanted to travel. So we pack up and head to Hong Kong for 2 weeks in June. Did we have a good time.. lots of new photo gear at big discounts, lens to lust after are now in my camera bag. Deb is just loving the culture, I had been there a couple of times before so had a buzz showing her "my" Hong Kong. Fine dining at night, sight seeing every other day and shopping in between. new Reeboks, new shirts.. man did we have some fun.<br />
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We also did a photoshoot with Deb using her former modelling skills and I wrote a story about Australians holidaying in Hong Kong. Came back and tried to sell it to various magazines.... most replies came back COD. Anyhow it was fun!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zmSHT55B2lf_04wsBqIuCugLzdlweiDpu37cNDgksDAvSyNZwJNnOWysnM9EXG5Lcx1WpLToiKVxJ8PwtHBctXGH0YN0-2FWaYhwSGMeDgJo4vOSKMtbmfH8YggMswavIevuDz83kbc/s1600/IMG_0887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1454" data-original-width="1088" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zmSHT55B2lf_04wsBqIuCugLzdlweiDpu37cNDgksDAvSyNZwJNnOWysnM9EXG5Lcx1WpLToiKVxJ8PwtHBctXGH0YN0-2FWaYhwSGMeDgJo4vOSKMtbmfH8YggMswavIevuDz83kbc/s400/IMG_0887.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So we rented a sampan for a while..</td></tr>
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MAX Instruments turns 30 and VDO fly up to see us and present us with a lovely certificate signed by the MD and Trade Sales manager. It's a big deal for Max and I and the crew. I still have that certificate although it is now somewhat faded.. especially Bernards signature signed with his Mont Blanc fountain pen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAi-ddoOLLhdutIZgKo71z0ibRs6dUNx4Lkym-uEkQY4aobi4pTL14eB0ow_6NjSja5_kPC6d1QELLAVUPXqeocqw6Bi2qfIb3DIXiVGFDoPnaLZKq_swfnKJlh-4t-HVpee8RkKVtfA/s1600/VDO_MAX_Ins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="987" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAi-ddoOLLhdutIZgKo71z0ibRs6dUNx4Lkym-uEkQY4aobi4pTL14eB0ow_6NjSja5_kPC6d1QELLAVUPXqeocqw6Bi2qfIb3DIXiVGFDoPnaLZKq_swfnKJlh-4t-HVpee8RkKVtfA/s400/VDO_MAX_Ins.jpg" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1989... a good year at MAX Insttruments.</td></tr>
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Despite the high tide and green grass in my work life.... it is around this time I start to question my desire to remain at MAX Instruments.... what else is out there for me? Every now and then that thought would pop up in my head... and I would push it down. By now I am a partner in the business and also the General Manager. I didn't know that in a couple of years I would be traveling to Singapore and Indonesia on behalf of the company. Also I noticed my dear friend from childhood Dr Ken Brand was in poor health. Having CF his health was never good, but now this was different.<br />
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Little did I realise he would leave this life in a few months in 1990.<br />
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And my life would never be the same.<br />
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<br />
<b>40 Years:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>1999 </b>Back in 1969, after man landed on the moon, Mrs Ewart our science teacher asked us to write about what life would be like in 1999 as we welcomed in the 21st century. I can remember doing the maths and thinking I would be 46 going on 47. And the funny thing is, as the years rolled by I never thought about what life might look like beyond my turning 47.<br />
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So 1999 was a really busy year at Clayfield Studio. We shot 35 weddings when we really only wanted to cover 25 per year. Our portrait shoots were busy thanks to our involvement with the PIM group with many thanks to Dave and Karen Paton and life was good. Lots of commercial photography and remember all of this on film cameras, no digital cameras yet. We did run a hybrid system where we captured on film and then digitised the images so we could work on them in Photo Shop. It was Christina's last year at high school and man as parents did we have some "interesting" times. I thought a lot about 1969 and wondered where my old school friends were.. little did I know I would reconnect with some of them.. soon. And in July... I thought again about that moon landing. It really had a profound effect on my life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6vDACc0ZmfAPWxuIHY4bqzKC3Fzkrvn7qcUc_gC8-3OZk5G7MAV8-9TKlFiaDWCxXlZRXq2F5p_XVUcmwb4cfK6aq81NU5JAJrEoos6oydxOmVW4NF7XUDKsQouzznG0_LmE7V7zlhg/s1600/6008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="500" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6vDACc0ZmfAPWxuIHY4bqzKC3Fzkrvn7qcUc_gC8-3OZk5G7MAV8-9TKlFiaDWCxXlZRXq2F5p_XVUcmwb4cfK6aq81NU5JAJrEoos6oydxOmVW4NF7XUDKsQouzznG0_LmE7V7zlhg/s400/6008.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An awesome weapon in the heat of battle at weddings in 1999</td></tr>
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<div style="font-size: 18.719999313354492px; font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">STOP PRESS:</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So here it is, New Year's Eve 2019. And what a magic year it has been. Fun with Debra in Bali, a week away with my German Mistress Maxine, lots of excellent and adventurous things to fill in recreation time. And also this: </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br />
One of my goals for 2019 (of many.. like losing 15kg.. only 25 to go) was to catch up with my class mates from 1969, my last year of high school. And I managed to do it. First there was lunch with Selwyn Hasthorpe and Tony Harrington.... and here we are in a picture some 50 years after we walked out the school gate for the last time. And i always wondered whatever happened to Julie Vanek. And so this year, 50 years later I found her. Hey Julie! We managed a 30 minute talk on the phone a few days before she headed Stateside.... but the coffee will be hot whoever she returns. Lots more to talk about. Happy New year old school friends. That year, 1969 was my happiest ever school year and you were all part of making it so!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where did those 50 years go?</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-29722782851991836082019-05-26T16:36:00.000+10:002019-05-26T16:36:05.692+10:00Two old mates meet over coffee....<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">A long time ago, back when I was 3 and a bit years old.. I met this boy who lived near my mother's shop in Adelaide Street at Clayfield. Stephen Hart was the guy's name. We just clicked. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">At his 50th birthday some years back his mother told Debra.. "These two met at 3 and a half years of age and were inseparable."</span><br class="" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">Stephen and I were mad on Roy Rogers, the Army, Hercules aeroplanes, toy soldiers (hundreds of them) running amok in Kalinga Park and on it went. Family picnics with the Hart family where they made me very welcome. Stephen's dad John was a WW2 veteran and had seen some dreadful things. But he was cheerful. And always made me feel welcome. (He even managed to get me out from being stuck under a swing at Mt Glorious as a 7 year old) The first time I heard Que Sera Sera was Stephen's mother Jean singing it in the kitchen as she baked wonderful chocolate slices.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">It was a time of innocence as two young boys explored the Clayfield area and had great adventures. By the time we were both 6 his parents had shifted to Junction Road at Clayfield and as we had a TV set (only 3 of us in grade 1 had a TV) every Sunday night Stephen and his older sister Meg would come over to watch Disneyland.</span><br class="" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">Then around the time I turned 9, the Hart family moved to the Blue Mountains in NSW. Two young boys were heart broken. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">We managed to stay in touch over the years with catch ups in Brisbane and Sydney....and then back in 1994 Stephen moved back to Brisbane. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">We reconnected.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">Stephen is an artist, an amazingly talented sculptor.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Hart Creation</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKPYtn2CxJkw9B8s6yOOJQQCkvsnmMzbQ3HLiP20sZ8wcf_7d_RWDlxA8FhObgrif5hQ6iesIb32qSwWlLfrPFbcqxIaJARAyVaRRjOey26vy1-7Z5Yo6HL02wkyCGpA1BkISnVg2Vfg/s1600/_CS20906+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKPYtn2CxJkw9B8s6yOOJQQCkvsnmMzbQ3HLiP20sZ8wcf_7d_RWDlxA8FhObgrif5hQ6iesIb32qSwWlLfrPFbcqxIaJARAyVaRRjOey26vy1-7Z5Yo6HL02wkyCGpA1BkISnVg2Vfg/s400/_CS20906+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Stephen's many men.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">So after months and probably years of threatening to do so.... today I went to his studio with a camera. I had grand designs of what I wanted to create. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">However the other artist in the room likes to draw. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">Sit down there mate and I will sketch you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">And so he did.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfi8bBPIJvrKxkutWwWTkwQKUKBRhZ_7IMkZOgCa5iheAD_SSmKUVd2W_e1HdNsVU2GrO8zrd5xJO4oBl7V0j1cL9mgS2mkibap8I0JmmCl0ZT0WhF82lx72eWNAGPsyaCptJRSf_yxk/s1600/IMG_8724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1198" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfi8bBPIJvrKxkutWwWTkwQKUKBRhZ_7IMkZOgCa5iheAD_SSmKUVd2W_e1HdNsVU2GrO8zrd5xJO4oBl7V0j1cL9mgS2mkibap8I0JmmCl0ZT0WhF82lx72eWNAGPsyaCptJRSf_yxk/s400/IMG_8724.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">God it's hard to sit still</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">But I did manage to get a couple of images of my former childhood friend in his creative space.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KY9kiU8nx8jJQAg5Kw5GmhiPkKCZUM4NV03a-_R77YF2py5F7MYfk7GEdAvsINPu4Oue4nQr7rtuPz2WaE7XKlcHr838iBG36EvjA45k1T8SXehvYTz8o1RP1ILSrMZXDUz-zmvYZi4/s1600/Hart2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KY9kiU8nx8jJQAg5Kw5GmhiPkKCZUM4NV03a-_R77YF2py5F7MYfk7GEdAvsINPu4Oue4nQr7rtuPz2WaE7XKlcHr838iBG36EvjA45k1T8SXehvYTz8o1RP1ILSrMZXDUz-zmvYZi4/s400/Hart2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Lift your right shoulder"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOc3Ic7pjoUPi3flwChzy9ypgTvWdYMndZPWiaicBndXoNoNxcsH-apnJfVXEr2VlQZI2QjN_RI6rtWgoMuIr0i8DMDuoOOOe9yjfTD53y66ykG9lIDvoNUKdqmm1T4ebCNDRPQuc2cg/s1600/Hart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOc3Ic7pjoUPi3flwChzy9ypgTvWdYMndZPWiaicBndXoNoNxcsH-apnJfVXEr2VlQZI2QjN_RI6rtWgoMuIr0i8DMDuoOOOe9yjfTD53y66ykG9lIDvoNUKdqmm1T4ebCNDRPQuc2cg/s400/Hart.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You look more like a movie star each day old mate!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">60 plus years later.. we are still close. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">And that became obvious today and we discussed everything from the meaning of life to the election outcome. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">It is still an amazing life of discovery and adventure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">To have a shared childhood forges an amazing bond. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;">Rock on Stephen.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-76071102020160890582019-04-22T11:16:00.001+10:002019-04-22T11:16:44.564+10:00A steep learning curve... 50 years ago.So leading into Easter 1969, good mate Ken Brand a first year medical student convinces me to go bush walking at the Lost World, South of Beaudesert. Being 15 and keen to go anywhere that involves car travel.. I am in.<br />
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Camping gear?<br />
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Who needs it?<br />
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Boots?<br />
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Nah.. old pair of black school shoes and a couple of pairs of socks.<br />
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Ken had a steel framed / canvas covered camp stretcher from Sherry's Disposals that I could sleep on under the stars. Might get cold... OK.. pinch an old eiderdown quilt from mum's spare room. Stock up on crap to eat, load it all into his mother's old Morris Major Elite and away the two of us go in search of adventure.<br />
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What could possibly go wrong?<br />
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How little we know at 15 it would seem.<br />
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Good Friday morning finds us loaded into the old car and heading south for the big event. Ken has no car radio but he does have a National Panasonic Transistor 8 on the dash and between the static and whine of the ignition system we get updates on the road toll form various car accidents over Easter. Half a century later I have forgotten the numbers, but at the time we are horrified to hear them.<br />
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Eventually.. the Lost World arrives.. or rather we arrive at the Lost World.<br />
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An amazing place... the famers had kept the grass between the creek and the road trimmed back so finding a camping spot wasn't that hard to do. Last time I was there about 10 years ago it was so overgrown so you could not leave the road. And finding a camping spot was easy. I mean back then we only had 1 million cars on the road in all of QLD. Now from memory it is in excess of 4 million.<br />
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So we make camp and then boil the billy. With hot tea in us we then decide what to do for the next 2 days.<br />
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Ken points out Buchanans Fortress way above us..... "We shall climb that tomorrow!"<br />
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"Yes mate.. let's do that.. how hard can it be?"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcum5CQUbbZ98O3MSOYkXdUMtCMxK6PJ-aNowyK_U5bPgBa2_IKA1wfFIdKms4Ch4XKn9VHkYYTYjG_FSzxaR5Smym_pIY8gLF4bOn9ookmvLB7Tt9De0pHxhib95TbRptYQ8-XgpipXg/s1600/Easter_69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="550" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcum5CQUbbZ98O3MSOYkXdUMtCMxK6PJ-aNowyK_U5bPgBa2_IKA1wfFIdKms4Ch4XKn9VHkYYTYjG_FSzxaR5Smym_pIY8gLF4bOn9ookmvLB7Tt9De0pHxhib95TbRptYQ8-XgpipXg/s400/Easter_69.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buchanan's Fortress.</td></tr>
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In the meantime we waste the day discussing all sorts of crap, cars, girls, motorbikes, girls, hifi systems, girls, any snakes around here, girls .. well you get it.<br />
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After a wholesome dinner of tinned spaghetti (yuk yuk yuk) we bed down. Me on my canvas camp stretcher in a pair of shorts and T shirt covered by an ancient eiderdown quilt. Shit I froze. And then it got colder and colder and colder.. so I had to find some more timber to build the fire higher. What a miserable night.<br />
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But.. tomorrow would be better.<br />
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Finally the sun came over the horizon and as I started to warm up.. I fell into a deep sleep.<br />
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For about 5 minutes.... "Wake up Mark.. time to get up!"<br />
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About a half hour later finds us walking through really high scratching undergrowth looking for the the way up. And the funny thing I learnt that day is this.... When you pick out an object in the distance and decide to walk to it.... somehow it recedes into the distance as you approach it. You walk and you walk and you never get closer. Well not for a few hours that is.<br />
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Long story short is that we did get to the top and back down way after sunset. I don't have any pix from the top because... I left my plastic camera on my camp stretcher covered by the bloody eiderdown quilt.<br />
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Easter Sunday we lay around the camp as we were both stuffed. Had no idea how hard that was going to be.<br />
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Late Easter Monday night we pull up at Armagh Street and I am home. Jump into a hot shower and man oh man are my legs reacting to the hot water. Talk about covered in scratches, blisters all over my feet and bits of skin missing everywhere.<br />
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Could not believe how warm and comfortable my bed was that night.<br />
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And to think it was 50 years ago this Easter, yet fresh in my mind like just last week.<br />
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After that trip I started to buy better gear including Paddy Palin boots. My bushwalking days with Ken continued with a trip to Mount Barney later in the year and then to many other places including the Stinson crash site.<br />
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He was a good mate taken way too soon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKIkIPRFeZZPyDYWGKGiZSB4Iul1UGn591H41ZYpP_UK0bg-Nk45NyVxmevnRX0wD8NVNRVlGjXj6YN6BLMv41jEk9RcCQZH1vATy-76hTyNjp5293ypWaLjayWsHIuzaoSRfmwlMUvQ/s1600/FIN_05_MtBarney_1970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKIkIPRFeZZPyDYWGKGiZSB4Iul1UGn591H41ZYpP_UK0bg-Nk45NyVxmevnRX0wD8NVNRVlGjXj6YN6BLMv41jEk9RcCQZH1vATy-76hTyNjp5293ypWaLjayWsHIuzaoSRfmwlMUvQ/s400/FIN_05_MtBarney_1970.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken at Mt Barney January 1970</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-5489329752133771212019-03-19T15:43:00.000+10:002019-03-19T20:19:38.572+10:00Why fly/drive when you can ride?So it all made sense... well sort of.<br />
<br />
Deb had some errands for me to run in Sydney and then Canberra.<br />
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Easy, fly to Sydney, rent a car.<br />
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Do the business there and then drive to Canberra.<br />
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Same there and then fly out of Canberra back to Brisbane.<br />
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But then a thought came over me.. why not take the bike?<br />
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Ride to Sydney, CBR and then home via the Snowy Mountains.<br />
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The Long way home!<br />
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Thing is... planes and cars are basically weatherproof..... one day I shall learn.<br />
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Packed up the GSA and man was it loaded. Didn't realise paper work could weigh so much.<br />
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Down the Pacific Highway and up over the range via Bellingen and Dorigo to spend the first night at Armidale. Brochure drop the next morning and then down Thunderbolts Way to the Pacific Highway. The first time I had ever travelled along that road. An amazing ride. Must go back for a look around in the car when holidays roll around.<br />
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Eventually I arrive in Sydney.. but along the way I took the Old Pacific Highway and had lunch at Pie in the Sky.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJy5yIiMO5KnNExRBcXay3wW0oaV20flpsnAF4ZF1lxdp3mo-DYwmkGXJrAltsFf7mnif3g1Og3SIBM7ESL-pqJicsrJmg-Hdo0mRcCY4rv7nqoR6cgVrMUzCN53KGT1kyL_S7O_U6Lc/s1600/IMG_2086+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJy5yIiMO5KnNExRBcXay3wW0oaV20flpsnAF4ZF1lxdp3mo-DYwmkGXJrAltsFf7mnif3g1Og3SIBM7ESL-pqJicsrJmg-Hdo0mRcCY4rv7nqoR6cgVrMUzCN53KGT1kyL_S7O_U6Lc/s400/IMG_2086+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Had one of the best meat pies ever here for lunch.</td></tr>
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Arrived in Sydney late that afternoon as storms hovered overhead. Checked into the motel and had an early night. This time I remembered to remove the lamb's wool seat cover from the bike before it rained. (Don't ask!)<br />
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An early start in the morning, a couple of people to see, one of whom was the <a href="https://autoexpert.com.au/" target="_blank">Auto Expert</a>, John Cadogan. His Youtube videos are legendary. And he is the place to go to buy a new car! John has been very helpful in coaching me on video production for the bride's shop's website. His knowledge of all things photographic is amazing and he is a mechanical engineer to boot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkY-CA1u6hfQYkHwuQMS5JLTaIH7WsMI363WkSSPzoXToAJfLjlQN3ryjMR3RHtlMprXBu_3RpaSM4M55y957BW__XjqwGAmCdBA483ykPmgk1DdPahb6Hq45fvLJd-T6cap6OWOhK2kI/s1600/IMG_2088+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkY-CA1u6hfQYkHwuQMS5JLTaIH7WsMI363WkSSPzoXToAJfLjlQN3ryjMR3RHtlMprXBu_3RpaSM4M55y957BW__XjqwGAmCdBA483ykPmgk1DdPahb6Hq45fvLJd-T6cap6OWOhK2kI/s400/IMG_2088+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You smile for the camera John and I will see what this button does!</td></tr>
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After a couple of the best coffees I have ever had, I bid my farewell to John and head to Canberra. Now the GSA has 2 GPS systems on it and I run them in parallel and of course.. they both had different ideas in how to get to CBR. Only one of them has an on screen map so I follow that one as I dice with Sydney traffic and big trucks and threatening skies.<br />
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Finally, Canberra bound.<br />
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Now this GSA is an amazing bike to tour on. Long range with a large fuel tank, cruise control etc. But sometimes even it needs fuel and my backside needs a rest. Stopped at a service centre along the way and filled the beast up. Filled myself up with V and a couple of Panadol and away I went. Debra's old school friend Cheryl offered to put me up for the night. Sadly when she came down to open the garage, she locked herself out of her unit. So a quick long way ride around via Uber to a friend's place to get the spare key was my start to a couple of days in Canberra.<br />
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When we got back.. the bike was still there (bonus!) so into the underground garage it went.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH_J_TYOFqCx0MTE2QRqHbDz4Z8CML76QLp1HdweOFq-la2C8FTSQD7QYJMmTb4usLfuW9ytn-jdzyzdqgbdGE6JBpkWo1QXcw3t3Jox5zV4VPyu6mPDbMydGHjeFVEg1m6i590Ylknk/s1600/54239212_2549532511728984_1433588885731934208_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH_J_TYOFqCx0MTE2QRqHbDz4Z8CML76QLp1HdweOFq-la2C8FTSQD7QYJMmTb4usLfuW9ytn-jdzyzdqgbdGE6JBpkWo1QXcw3t3Jox5zV4VPyu6mPDbMydGHjeFVEg1m6i590Ylknk/s400/54239212_2549532511728984_1433588885731934208_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheryl's FB pix.. "A man and his bike"</td></tr>
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A great steak that night at the local football club and the next day I had the morning free. So off we went in the Mustang to the Old Parliament House to see an exhibition of the best political cartoons of 2018. Some really good stuff there. We went our separate ways then as I had some business to do and later in the day I managed to catch up with old school friend Tor Fromyr. Now I saw Tor last year and it was the first time in 50 years. And it was as though we had just seen each other yesterday. I always kid Tor that he looks like a Russian Spy. Cannot wait to get him into the studio for some black & white photography when next he comes to Brisbane. In the meantime.... we had a quick catchup in this fabulous cafe somewhere in Canberra.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTU83JjPTt8Q4OWDzX9Bl12s5lvqLdHjKzZhb47yTz12N-MPYidT6wcRmKb5-jWAktKEDaX8IF176VdoiDRBGw3qUgtd2-WiLW4_ZZ-D5zT__paIKv-2UsX2JsWzeG775x_Q2ZtICJ_2o/s1600/IMG_2092+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTU83JjPTt8Q4OWDzX9Bl12s5lvqLdHjKzZhb47yTz12N-MPYidT6wcRmKb5-jWAktKEDaX8IF176VdoiDRBGw3qUgtd2-WiLW4_ZZ-D5zT__paIKv-2UsX2JsWzeG775x_Q2ZtICJ_2o/s400/IMG_2092+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talk about Euro feel cafe!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4agjx15OVY-v_2Dyjoc1OF5UP4HNmd8eGV74wFvfpuLaGIdShkUcEo8_cn0nbvsDjoncY1FEeZb-mrb4BbEfifpdAh7pSm2X51rCA-Y2JFYli8MAkwhIJBehz8BTBh0b1tyTdXewjHo0/s1600/IMG_2109+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1279" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4agjx15OVY-v_2Dyjoc1OF5UP4HNmd8eGV74wFvfpuLaGIdShkUcEo8_cn0nbvsDjoncY1FEeZb-mrb4BbEfifpdAh7pSm2X51rCA-Y2JFYli8MAkwhIJBehz8BTBh0b1tyTdXewjHo0/s400/IMG_2109+-+Version+2.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tor's comment was that I should take care with whom I associate with in the nation's capital.</td></tr>
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Recently I wrote about my late father. In my small collection of his "stuff" was a victory medal from I think WW1. It was not his. In fact I have no idea how he came by it, but I always thought I should try to find a home for it. Using the search engine on the War Memorial Site I could not locate the owner. But I did find my late Uncle Jack and my second dad, Allan Gay.<br />
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Seemed to me that this medal in the top drawer in my office was just a piece of metal. Imagine the joy for somebody out there being reunited with a long lost relative by receiving their Victory Medal? It had to find an owner. At this point I thought perhaps the folks at the War Memorial in Canberra could help. I emailed Dr Brendan Nelson and asked him for advice. I had photographed him for an assignment when he was a cabinet minister many years ago. He actually remembered that.<br />
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So Friday morning finds me in Dr Nelson's office handing the medal to him.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnKopoLD-GaxizwqcTmRscF0y1WVy0juw-aO5Y536lAYo84J-sZWQLEWJUUm95szD4UFaMQU4hBvANaTn1nMex3fHG0GayROvE2y-JA1YSADwRqb5MENvVSuRthey5NsFOW47AkFmQqQ/s1600/AMPF4362+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnKopoLD-GaxizwqcTmRscF0y1WVy0juw-aO5Y536lAYo84J-sZWQLEWJUUm95szD4UFaMQU4hBvANaTn1nMex3fHG0GayROvE2y-JA1YSADwRqb5MENvVSuRthey5NsFOW47AkFmQqQ/s400/AMPF4362+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope it finds a new home and brings some joy!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4svhGJfbdgiaa5uaKJ4VIVuuUxBirsI_ar5_EiGkeProfpxJ0FDTaaE7FuYDm4NdQGWnnSLuJ00KrAIGCzcSfQ-kbuFn-eroIM6RgfU-d7NxnslEFXIIfDw5vHDBTYEwEu82yW90uZI/s1600/AMPF4363+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR4svhGJfbdgiaa5uaKJ4VIVuuUxBirsI_ar5_EiGkeProfpxJ0FDTaaE7FuYDm4NdQGWnnSLuJ00KrAIGCzcSfQ-kbuFn-eroIM6RgfU-d7NxnslEFXIIfDw5vHDBTYEwEu82yW90uZI/s400/AMPF4363+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DR N and me... Deb was horrified by my wardrobe matching!</td></tr>
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Dr Nelson is (was) a keen motorcyclist and only recently sold his beloved white Hayabusa. He just loves the form of motorcycles and told me he would have two inside his house.. if only his wife would let him. Understand that.. makes perfect sense.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqIobxtY-IMsGY8oGGxdHpXRFKpKXIHouRsVivRKkLsCF7bZutbpCgiVGJ6eOTV95cLg8hmP29fewKTdrIdGmI9P2o7uhij8TLNW4CPd-BgmtfcJBDoueLgdA6ST0YVL9sDn8cu0nC34/s1600/2000000001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqIobxtY-IMsGY8oGGxdHpXRFKpKXIHouRsVivRKkLsCF7bZutbpCgiVGJ6eOTV95cLg8hmP29fewKTdrIdGmI9P2o7uhij8TLNW4CPd-BgmtfcJBDoueLgdA6ST0YVL9sDn8cu0nC34/s400/2000000001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now that's a bike!</td></tr>
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So while I was at the War Memorial I thought I would have another look around.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkRbVjqSeYySO4ew4dy5-75Ot5oUZX5Nm_8dsY0hvS7n5P_vh7U2MmdCet0tPwj90-kpz3MNRowIljY_JuQi5oYXSIb8Sg7hXansRoYo97w0Tjd1AskrlYrqOp9pxDUCxquHGboT2U-8/s1600/AMPF4350+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrkRbVjqSeYySO4ew4dy5-75Ot5oUZX5Nm_8dsY0hvS7n5P_vh7U2MmdCet0tPwj90-kpz3MNRowIljY_JuQi5oYXSIb8Sg7hXansRoYo97w0Tjd1AskrlYrqOp9pxDUCxquHGboT2U-8/s400/AMPF4350+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">G for George, what an aeroplane.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPK6eUjZZ-too8RMd845q2kSCn6rSR1CqWopUbcVWGiBMMRJ_YKxaI0-L6A00ajCXuV6GLSV6-MgxK1I2ehiMtK-sbGiuwSNvIeU6kuMFvf8hO2v2981Ki3ig35ghvFclyX4LaZoIMuw/s1600/AMPF4345+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPK6eUjZZ-too8RMd845q2kSCn6rSR1CqWopUbcVWGiBMMRJ_YKxaI0-L6A00ajCXuV6GLSV6-MgxK1I2ehiMtK-sbGiuwSNvIeU6kuMFvf8hO2v2981Ki3ig35ghvFclyX4LaZoIMuw/s400/AMPF4345+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a magnificent design even by today's standards.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHB1QNPwnSYq5gFRtyyVLx-oPj-4dyYtRCrpSrAC2_u7VxtMpyw-DoiDg8KfDibnVYGe7vzJJVSsEmTyJw-BUKr5hpOGHPz8MwJYBrARGAWZpXnkxrGqygl7CwXy67RGqOh6gL2QydWQ/s1600/AMPF4347+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHB1QNPwnSYq5gFRtyyVLx-oPj-4dyYtRCrpSrAC2_u7VxtMpyw-DoiDg8KfDibnVYGe7vzJJVSsEmTyJw-BUKr5hpOGHPz8MwJYBrARGAWZpXnkxrGqygl7CwXy67RGqOh6gL2QydWQ/s400/AMPF4347+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This aeroplane can tell some stories.... Google it.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBhIn-Ysq2LznUhaugNmHQYpNya0Y9eollRvRhxsf2WdGrhBiWHTNwctNsqcNEJGTTO5U3dU7imVBn-ZEyRe0xdn0d0miakGrjfOQ3WyLuNYeQZO3n6m0ICjgpgxnPA3zafZYwCOp0Gg/s1600/AMPF4338+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBhIn-Ysq2LznUhaugNmHQYpNya0Y9eollRvRhxsf2WdGrhBiWHTNwctNsqcNEJGTTO5U3dU7imVBn-ZEyRe0xdn0d0miakGrjfOQ3WyLuNYeQZO3n6m0ICjgpgxnPA3zafZYwCOp0Gg/s400/AMPF4338+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bridge of HMAS Brisbane, now resting on the bottom of the ocean.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWUKniLMYxyDb3GvcLD2bI1rMNuG8HC0McbboCSIhQc38MJC5KHnaY1WqSEdT8hNwvUkxcNiq3IGa4skhAiwg-QHBI9HX85hEF4d7UCfSrn4-n7kLqZre-b-YfMyscMR_GMpN8xyWZ_0/s1600/AMPF4334+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWUKniLMYxyDb3GvcLD2bI1rMNuG8HC0McbboCSIhQc38MJC5KHnaY1WqSEdT8hNwvUkxcNiq3IGa4skhAiwg-QHBI9HX85hEF4d7UCfSrn4-n7kLqZre-b-YfMyscMR_GMpN8xyWZ_0/s400/AMPF4334+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First time I have seen a centurion tank in the flesh. had a toy one as a kid.</td></tr>
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Now at this point, any normal person would drive to Canberra airport and fly home. No.. not me, I am going to loop through the Snowy Mountains and ride back to Brisbane. So I saddle up and head to Cooma for the night. If you ever saw Gold Finger, you might remember a scene where the Koreans put a giant mirror up and the reflection of Bond's Headlights confused him and he crashed the Aston Martin. So the motel I stayed at had this really long car park.... my room was at the end. As I rode along slowly looking for room numbers on the doors I looked up and suddenly saw another motorbike heading right for me. Talk about panic.. but no.. it was me looking at my own reflection. The end wall was all mirrors. Nearly dropped the bike...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDM7lFWFYg8EXlx_q9IdVytFyMXhzDzNuLGqXM8qBr8UpZ9BenuifigZnVjo9OxHKTXrY8yMeOgg6YsFZzv0nhzI6ZGSPe30SPuzfPYlCNAJ53mvP89kgv_KjWDR0ZgU9Q-xBV3itGuYc/s1600/IMG_2112+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDM7lFWFYg8EXlx_q9IdVytFyMXhzDzNuLGqXM8qBr8UpZ9BenuifigZnVjo9OxHKTXrY8yMeOgg6YsFZzv0nhzI6ZGSPe30SPuzfPYlCNAJ53mvP89kgv_KjWDR0ZgU9Q-xBV3itGuYc/s400/IMG_2112+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the mirror behind the bike!</td></tr>
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The next day was Saturday.. so a day of touring and then head for home. Up early and off to see the sights....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgRFf5zH5d4fARqhbPtxUK1ltqA2g629z-zTPGwjLm2bB-N2A3TUAsBS1bS-R_rG78QIa5z25awp8TupWuncz48W6kNjL2t081ZX-XMG1502ID9-Fm9nwNpKf1peZO_FugDiO8fOknHA/s1600/AMPF4368+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgRFf5zH5d4fARqhbPtxUK1ltqA2g629z-zTPGwjLm2bB-N2A3TUAsBS1bS-R_rG78QIa5z25awp8TupWuncz48W6kNjL2t081ZX-XMG1502ID9-Fm9nwNpKf1peZO_FugDiO8fOknHA/s400/AMPF4368+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabramurra at 1488 metres. It was 14C with a really cold wind blowing. </td></tr>
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First port of call was Cabramurra the highest town permanently lived in all year. Cold as a mother in law's kiss. That wind chill factor was something else.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz3Q3lZWB7OZdwO0wCHryCpSLIngg1mT0uVlin0_GLYIA1xELXdDLLG0pu7P4a8IAY9WxrkmVYmaNRy5zPcDGAgK68Z8tMrDn-g2cgDUIvlmQF8AQi3RLAkgUEKKtUDGLGVtJbtp3IpY/s1600/AMPF4371+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz3Q3lZWB7OZdwO0wCHryCpSLIngg1mT0uVlin0_GLYIA1xELXdDLLG0pu7P4a8IAY9WxrkmVYmaNRy5zPcDGAgK68Z8tMrDn-g2cgDUIvlmQF8AQi3RLAkgUEKKtUDGLGVtJbtp3IpY/s400/AMPF4371+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Had to park the bike this way so the wind didn't blow it over.</td></tr>
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Then it was down the mountain.. a full 10 C difference in temp to boil the billy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcop29owTDtmV7CQHBP_sObvuVUm9ITydfVO20f-2PRlGrZQUqvGzajjiAbjrsYIeZW1QII1FEOLy_-PLnB_7BxFEPX0vdpwWwrGlIQcQFxfmUn5WghUAMemmglrqBQczKjwoxzQSy-4/s1600/AMPF4377+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcop29owTDtmV7CQHBP_sObvuVUm9ITydfVO20f-2PRlGrZQUqvGzajjiAbjrsYIeZW1QII1FEOLy_-PLnB_7BxFEPX0vdpwWwrGlIQcQFxfmUn5WghUAMemmglrqBQczKjwoxzQSy-4/s400/AMPF4377+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The good old Aldi camp stove.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWnaEBRR_pTN79WRjBdq80CHpkCn4HUVNLbMEJH97eapP5e0bkC1ri_pyYfnnhVaYyKvcEwfFL-q889lg43HTrFq7ATOWs37bkYLSmo60mOd5aQryjnt_Is4ZvjeWNuEmhrWzHcR3yNY/s1600/AMPF4381+-+Version+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWnaEBRR_pTN79WRjBdq80CHpkCn4HUVNLbMEJH97eapP5e0bkC1ri_pyYfnnhVaYyKvcEwfFL-q889lg43HTrFq7ATOWs37bkYLSmo60mOd5aQryjnt_Is4ZvjeWNuEmhrWzHcR3yNY/s400/AMPF4381+-+Version+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice and sunny today!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGu5mXWOLrhjInQBvQsEd112bs-A7evApOuBs8xBVbXUcoxS0n2PpUoWZdUyJXSowRzAPp99QVlGHeI9zL5TOUBd-5UKwtC5eTgp7nH4vkm_unp8P_NoqjZHbhlYXSmHur_tDgUj_SXI/s1600/AMPF4383+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGu5mXWOLrhjInQBvQsEd112bs-A7evApOuBs8xBVbXUcoxS0n2PpUoWZdUyJXSowRzAPp99QVlGHeI9zL5TOUBd-5UKwtC5eTgp7nH4vkm_unp8P_NoqjZHbhlYXSmHur_tDgUj_SXI/s400/AMPF4383+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really freaky. Just a ramp down to the underground and lots of wind coming out.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4V_bWUggdIZCnkUh7qLx4I5vKVANdsMrrUEdKYBCDIszfTSIPSIoRl-Kud0n3WU4K8DujXkHXegbJVfEoavtMh_xq6aTRw1itvvPd41z7PlaBAhfmzNr9tGjx4_m-0DZtVsF8H2z9-tQ/s1600/AMPF4384+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4V_bWUggdIZCnkUh7qLx4I5vKVANdsMrrUEdKYBCDIszfTSIPSIoRl-Kud0n3WU4K8DujXkHXegbJVfEoavtMh_xq6aTRw1itvvPd41z7PlaBAhfmzNr9tGjx4_m-0DZtVsF8H2z9-tQ/s400/AMPF4384+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to head for home. And the last picture....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is the most amazing place. I need a good week's holiday down here. Saw wild brumbies, waterfalls and all sorts of amazing things. Need more time to take it in. Rode home in two days and managed to miss most of the storms once north of Sydney. I literally just got the bike locked in the garage, the door came down and then the biggest electrical storm hit Brisbane. Lightning, thunder you name it.. we had it.<br />
<br />
All in all an awesome trip....<br />
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GPS and telemetry data here.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrxTwZAKXVzoRhYVkOfwURMPV2M8pJX5BDyH6RKLJr0a1agSeUxjFoZonmxpkAsa8pkCldA2kipxXxvFM6l5EgTZl0k05iaOvEBHr7nOtilSLmC0Lx0wEgQb97Y8ROXkIB00ZX8SqUaw/s1600/IMG_2121+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRrxTwZAKXVzoRhYVkOfwURMPV2M8pJX5BDyH6RKLJr0a1agSeUxjFoZonmxpkAsa8pkCldA2kipxXxvFM6l5EgTZl0k05iaOvEBHr7nOtilSLmC0Lx0wEgQb97Y8ROXkIB00ZX8SqUaw/s400/IMG_2121+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GPS trip computer </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPxY8K_zFZr0IpELha4fm6lgS9g-wRVjUM1NPYSPNMvNh5uBbMAcPdaBkt4FdjcXUtebbpDdrBycbIU6pr1CfnVt4a-lIfpcfZq_NzZRVMf_WyEcBcQc_AsIpFk-CGnQ1WjZGuuRkLf0/s1600/IMG_2117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtPxY8K_zFZr0IpELha4fm6lgS9g-wRVjUM1NPYSPNMvNh5uBbMAcPdaBkt4FdjcXUtebbpDdrBycbIU6pr1CfnVt4a-lIfpcfZq_NzZRVMf_WyEcBcQc_AsIpFk-CGnQ1WjZGuuRkLf0/s400/IMG_2117.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telemetry 1.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWT-l3u6kooH9Ej7-WLuBB3PIvb8M8C3bKlZeapPIDbI0rNm8ZBPDZnqQul9uU6QvErhXwwhDeb0vUWWd3qtI6-b3PO530ECYw2cLnNFvPmPeucQAueoNEeZmMliNBSuW6kyxshU1xMMg/s1600/IMG_2118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWT-l3u6kooH9Ej7-WLuBB3PIvb8M8C3bKlZeapPIDbI0rNm8ZBPDZnqQul9uU6QvErhXwwhDeb0vUWWd3qtI6-b3PO530ECYw2cLnNFvPmPeucQAueoNEeZmMliNBSuW6kyxshU1xMMg/s400/IMG_2118.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telemetry 2.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFasi2ofu6w2CHSAEy14-NPhwtywTFJhjRHV1RB_6ygaQcq58CF2x6EoT_Xd9ntmVB6nJ3BAu9xwfMePpAiqHUBE4-gnYlWTzyBdnAjOiLDzbLKKPjwS9cur3f8apeCUBtWpFhBd_3GLg/s1600/IMG_2119+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFasi2ofu6w2CHSAEy14-NPhwtywTFJhjRHV1RB_6ygaQcq58CF2x6EoT_Xd9ntmVB6nJ3BAu9xwfMePpAiqHUBE4-gnYlWTzyBdnAjOiLDzbLKKPjwS9cur3f8apeCUBtWpFhBd_3GLg/s400/IMG_2119+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telemetry 3.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Amazing stuff. And all 50 years since man walked on the moon. Now even motorcycles have telemetry.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-26413204711716972082019-03-07T12:11:00.002+10:002019-03-07T18:59:20.136+10:0040 years ago today, I lost my mentor.<br />
I remember it so clearly.. the phone rang and awoke me from a troubled sleep.<br />
<br />
I looked at the bedside alarm clock... 4:15 AM.<br />
<br />
"Hello, this is Mark."<br />
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"Mr Taylor, it's the Royal Brisbane Hospital here. I am sorry to advise you that your father passed away at 4:00 AM this morning!"<br />
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I knew it was coming, but it still hit hard.<br />
<br />
"Please leave dad where he is.. I want to come and say good bye. I will be there in 15 minutes".<br />
<br />
I rang my mother and sister in law Pam answered the phone.<br />
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"He's gone Pam."<br />
<br />
She said she would bundle mother up to the hospital .<br />
<br />
Quickly I dressed and drove the Toyota the short distance from Alderley to the hospital. Parked in the first spot I found and headed up in the lift. Friend from childhood Dr Ken Brand had told me that when this moment came, I should go and see him and say good bye.<br />
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The ward sister met me on the verandah.... she asked if I was OK and I sort of mumbled yes. My then wife elected to wait it outside, fair enough.<br />
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I went into the ward and saw his bed surrounded by curtains. I gently opened them and stood next to my father in his death bed. They had combed his hair straight back, the way he never wore it. And both of his arms were under the sheets. The things I still remember, I stroked his head and he was still warm. I said my good byes and thanked him for being a great father. Again I apologised for being a crappy son during my teenage years... yes I really was that bad.<br />
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Strangely I didn't cry. (Little did I know that would wait for his funeral!)<br />
<br />
Out onto the verandah I walked as my mother walked in. She was very teary. She cried by my father's side and apologised for not being with him when he passed.<br />
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So 6 AM finds me back at Armagh St, the family home. I stood at the top of the back stairs watching the day dawning and felt like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Dad's suffering was over. And did he suffer that last week.. especially the night before when I sat by his side holding his hand and talking to him. Pam brought me a cup of tea and I can still taste that sweet white tea even today.<br />
<br />
The next 40 years seem to have flown by.. until today when I went to the cemetery to "visit dad" on the 40th anniversary of his death. <br />
<br />
So many questions never answered, so much advice on life that I could never get from my father.<br />
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Recently I had this discussion with good friend Tim Roberston who lost his dad at 22 and he made similar comments. My father's business acumen was legendary and I really could have done with his mentoring during my early years in business.<br />
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My father lived a great life. A WW1 survivor (he went to war at 16) he also beat a post op infection that nearly killed him in 1944. There are buildings in Brisbane that still stand today thanks to his incredible vision and optimism to convince his group to build them for a growing city.<br />
<br />
A charter member of Brisbane West Rotary he got a new lease on life at 67 as he helped to build that club. At his funeral it was said that he was granted a long life in which to live his Christian philosophy of service before self.<br />
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And that was Ron Taylor to a T. Always service before self.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCz4CUxTyrSXfYGp4n7QY6aoRtpv5xINaMjBqKkeARivKehNxE2w4HNYZKrZwbZ05jpvD6VULhvA2Fi67jVYv8CnxsPRMNSyFU7PdaIA6XvL6sg7cvhJFlHl2fgUtpFoHigkLl-dgxXA/s1600/RRBT+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1297" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCz4CUxTyrSXfYGp4n7QY6aoRtpv5xINaMjBqKkeARivKehNxE2w4HNYZKrZwbZ05jpvD6VULhvA2Fi67jVYv8CnxsPRMNSyFU7PdaIA6XvL6sg7cvhJFlHl2fgUtpFoHigkLl-dgxXA/s400/RRBT+copy.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RRBT at his desk in the Buffalo Lodge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
On my 21st birthday he told me that success in life can be achieved by understanding these 4 things:<br />
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1. Nothing of any value is ever achieved without some sacrifice.<br />
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2. Life isn't fair, get used to it.<br />
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3. Take advantage of every opportunity that comes your way.<br />
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4. Service before self. Always!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggS_zxVLK9JTLZD5QcIhKOrzhb9pl-rNBaIQ_bxvwu-LCClORB_Ngly9Z59ckZg5Bl_P04yMuVS_4ePh-wiZ7FI4hqbU9k3w3zzOTf8ScowkpCYU6A9NsEPPihXM_fP3Ot-nE4u_qub4/s1600/IMG_2080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1280" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggS_zxVLK9JTLZD5QcIhKOrzhb9pl-rNBaIQ_bxvwu-LCClORB_Ngly9Z59ckZg5Bl_P04yMuVS_4ePh-wiZ7FI4hqbU9k3w3zzOTf8ScowkpCYU6A9NsEPPihXM_fP3Ot-nE4u_qub4/s400/IMG_2080.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great to see you again dad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The funeral was a celebration of his life, yet very sad as well.<br />
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I am so sad that Debra didn't get to meet dad, he was always keen to see women to do more than be housewives. To that end he set my mother up in her own business, Commercial Supplies Unlimited.<br />
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He would have thought the world of Debra and how she takes care of women who have been through the anguish of breast cancer.<br />
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Perhaps he is looking down.....<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-35950901634010397662018-10-24T21:32:00.003+10:002018-10-28T19:45:16.958+10:00Ghosts of QANTAS past.... and other things.So one of the great things about doing the "repping" for the bride's boutique is that I get to travel to country destinations.. so I usually take the bike!<br />
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It has been sometime since we did a marketing run out to Tambo and back.. so Tambo was selected, brochures prepared and stored on the bike.<br />
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And then there was nothing left for the leaving but the going itself.<br />
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(To quote Ewan McGregor)<br />
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Always good to have company so I conned great mate Frank into accompanying me on this voyage of sales and discovery....<br />
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We headed out into off and on again rain until we got slightly west of the GDR and then it was sunny and hot. Day one at sunset found us overnighting in Miles. Debra and I had been there before for a BCAQ rural workshop where she spoke of just what Spirit of Life does.<br />
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A quick meal at the pub, early night and the next morning we packed up and headed to Tambo.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpviI415Wyo-rKlopH6YjuLSmKx46VALeTAOINZRkr3MgpHVvFrhdNiJLh4vSK3Og35vldj9AkQTu3pVTrgbwVluK8VSzpffPeMJCMaOie_zRLWeaSNi-e2GhVkx7muDty8Mi60VGHBtM/s1600/AMPF4197+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpviI415Wyo-rKlopH6YjuLSmKx46VALeTAOINZRkr3MgpHVvFrhdNiJLh4vSK3Og35vldj9AkQTu3pVTrgbwVluK8VSzpffPeMJCMaOie_zRLWeaSNi-e2GhVkx7muDty8Mi60VGHBtM/s400/AMPF4197+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the stickers on Frank's panniers. Three months + in the USA!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The GSA carries enough fuel to get to Tambo with only one refuelling stop.. but the stopping along the way to allow Frank to refuel his GS was magic as it gave me a break and time for a cold drink along the way. Our lunch stop was McDonalds in Roma. It was so hot. I had my Fuji X-Pro 1 kit in the top box and was a bit concerned about internal temps in the sun. Packed a towel in on top of it as insulation. Will have to find a fix for that. Along the way I drop brochures into rural health services and country hospitals. The end of the line being Tambo.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQN1gP5ITHP4iRa67w35SD8AMpIF5lRhQBI4IjMQdtvMFrd8NVV6Z6I9Tdsb6_F_OyEoPsR436ZlokCTFe-50SDeLxzQfozDVbRoYU6kkeq6n3nI16GkBGikmllJK_RluKl2E70kWXfuQ/s1600/AMPF4216+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQN1gP5ITHP4iRa67w35SD8AMpIF5lRhQBI4IjMQdtvMFrd8NVV6Z6I9Tdsb6_F_OyEoPsR436ZlokCTFe-50SDeLxzQfozDVbRoYU6kkeq6n3nI16GkBGikmllJK_RluKl2E70kWXfuQ/s400/AMPF4216+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last time I was here was in the Discovery 3. Brochures in hand and...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We checked into the Mill Motel for 2 nights to have a rest. That afternoon their flag was flying at half mast. We wondered what was going on.. the publican told us the motel owner had died in his sleep overnight. On the following morning my AC unit had also died so they shifted me to a new room. With an AC that worked! Bonus!!!<br />
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Now if you have seen the movie Rainman, you would be aware that QANTAS gets a good mention in it about being a safe airline. However in 1927, the mighty QF had a fatal prang right here in Tambo. We decided to go have a look at the site. Not much there but a plaque on a tree stump. Very sad all the same though.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXxa55Hdc7yd7ILTh4iJOL5UCG_2lXuDcIGJx5e0NxtVRDesFzWs7RuwkNBOEu71UGZ-qicnreplMrS7vCZnsqoMK5P3E1fmdC1iIqgHgLgjwDHPQvGM291l31rDfU7FG-KCTKNCM8t0/s1600/AMPF4208+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXxa55Hdc7yd7ILTh4iJOL5UCG_2lXuDcIGJx5e0NxtVRDesFzWs7RuwkNBOEu71UGZ-qicnreplMrS7vCZnsqoMK5P3E1fmdC1iIqgHgLgjwDHPQvGM291l31rDfU7FG-KCTKNCM8t0/s400/AMPF4208+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All that is there now...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIG_MEoBuC3Fhy2cpMQRQzXBc_t71YXFBebFVRmESHONTHgvJMM6OMi2AkPninpWa9qb_NglBBH_W5d5sd9fbxQ_JTwe5XVUQUSu69QAbeXk4CsJigSYt4TO91ZsaSKIbQtF6qsufDiag/s1600/AMPF4201+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIG_MEoBuC3Fhy2cpMQRQzXBc_t71YXFBebFVRmESHONTHgvJMM6OMi2AkPninpWa9qb_NglBBH_W5d5sd9fbxQ_JTwe5XVUQUSu69QAbeXk4CsJigSYt4TO91ZsaSKIbQtF6qsufDiag/s400/AMPF4201+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plaque at the site.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9kCbeGZLiYq8Pd_4USudmsfUIy0j2tMRX1BBmpx3TzHqlASfCoTIj75QWWoiZgkyf7hWZluR_qveG-i7bzxxDftODlj7OlM58vN_lCRUy8zC4260mQmgjKQvqJsj3l5-24yh5bAEsug/s1600/AMPF4211+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9kCbeGZLiYq8Pd_4USudmsfUIy0j2tMRX1BBmpx3TzHqlASfCoTIj75QWWoiZgkyf7hWZluR_qveG-i7bzxxDftODlj7OlM58vN_lCRUy8zC4260mQmgjKQvqJsj3l5-24yh5bAEsug/s400/AMPF4211+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank at the crash site car park.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Now Frank has been to Jackson in the USA. And he has a sticker to prove it. All day long as we headed west he would tell me at random times through the helmet comms.... "I've been to Jackson!"<br />
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About a million times he told me that!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQQPR01e41LaP82z6heynPBXfLWA_MwxhMKWLrd9H5hRe6EQAv19EU1wxr8w9wEzO8Tf4R5Yhd8g5ItgmWRlTRETbr1XfntgumurGcrCrkTCV3FfY7hsVjj3E90ASXExORI0AWlDd3xE/s1600/AMPF4212+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQQPR01e41LaP82z6heynPBXfLWA_MwxhMKWLrd9H5hRe6EQAv19EU1wxr8w9wEzO8Tf4R5Yhd8g5ItgmWRlTRETbr1XfntgumurGcrCrkTCV3FfY7hsVjj3E90ASXExORI0AWlDd3xE/s400/AMPF4212+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"See.. I've been to Jackson!"</td></tr>
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Late last year Debra and I took the mighty Calais out to Barcaldine for a BCAQ rural women's education event. Deb spoke about just how Spirit of Life helps women get back to normal post breast surgery. On the way back we stopped in at Fanny Mae's cafe in Tambo where we met this lovely lady who owed a property.<br />
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"Next time you're passing through.. come visit us"<br />
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So Frank and I thought... why not?<br />
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"Just ride 10 k out of town, turn right and then ride another 10 k and you come in through our front gate."<br />
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Sounded great.. after lunch we headed off.... except the last 10k was really deep gravel and also a lot of black soil. And deep gravel and a GSA made for a lot of "interesting" riding. But eventually we got there. This property is 45,000 acres where 3000 head of beef cattle graze. It is actually 2 properties now joined together and so they have two homesteads. Isaroy and Stirling Downs. And didn't they make us welcome.<br />
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Afternoon tea on the verandah and then a tour by Land Cruiser of the property.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJs98jIU-yf17ShyxkTi3oh6if6Pqq15thma9Xgv_AJdj9aXX3jumnBryg4bCDzS_pTnYNlaY5MvhfetDppOdqZhK_yeK0ARGDcIsGnXnhZr2oq74neHzagWQxP1d2Lg6tsjfmo-pHSJ0/s1600/AMPF4225+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJs98jIU-yf17ShyxkTi3oh6if6Pqq15thma9Xgv_AJdj9aXX3jumnBryg4bCDzS_pTnYNlaY5MvhfetDppOdqZhK_yeK0ARGDcIsGnXnhZr2oq74neHzagWQxP1d2Lg6tsjfmo-pHSJ0/s400/AMPF4225+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Man that tea was great. So were the biscuits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaEhYyjn_F1fAew8z24xDm2dwhRpviar0HGb7DAhLS6QUF8xdmiOuQos2xBQov6xwoRMs3m35SopELMD2w39D21rsGnN0K-C9-MwnOCZ9KG72LfLLCzV0OkyvWEWWFFxqZk3PstdVSrWs/s1600/AMPF4220+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaEhYyjn_F1fAew8z24xDm2dwhRpviar0HGb7DAhLS6QUF8xdmiOuQos2xBQov6xwoRMs3m35SopELMD2w39D21rsGnN0K-C9-MwnOCZ9KG72LfLLCzV0OkyvWEWWFFxqZk3PstdVSrWs/s400/AMPF4220+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Jenny and some of her newly born pups.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMV2BW9mlSuKY2oRhD0L6P6ADltHlmd5GIn6j8RAiBBgXjtonL6mSIkEitLFBGC_EblLrinOjAvEkidcWKpUkl4PTIGDKgOnQbehmPGO0BtOEFULZkFoNN6oN6FXPcYSf-DSdsC8Bw0E/s1600/AMPF4222+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMV2BW9mlSuKY2oRhD0L6P6ADltHlmd5GIn6j8RAiBBgXjtonL6mSIkEitLFBGC_EblLrinOjAvEkidcWKpUkl4PTIGDKgOnQbehmPGO0BtOEFULZkFoNN6oN6FXPcYSf-DSdsC8Bw0E/s400/AMPF4222+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The GSA right out in the bush!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4_NG2e_A2txD5SF5J3z_nTyu5t-IKOug5UhgsbUFRluJ13_4dxzm4lICA6nIT0sI7c9j8FG2yhxg_cXFIYByMzARfCAvYAK1VHsTlotgPRDsTfDE2V2AXqn2JlTeTsdbeD3G6cLdNcA/s1600/AMPF4229+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4_NG2e_A2txD5SF5J3z_nTyu5t-IKOug5UhgsbUFRluJ13_4dxzm4lICA6nIT0sI7c9j8FG2yhxg_cXFIYByMzARfCAvYAK1VHsTlotgPRDsTfDE2V2AXqn2JlTeTsdbeD3G6cLdNcA/s400/AMPF4229+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These guys had been dropping stock feed around the place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Wiz6kvv35SZbX0LEqlJCfmDNsZUtEFRuVZOdM2INCLVZW6F7YyhP-1pqXU4dW1pJuygPQE4uTpeLnf8YvLzNFXIkd0VZog0QjuuFM-Lrq8jMOQFj9DX6mdVFD29p_Mo7bUHbM4LxRK8/s1600/AMPF4237+-+Version+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Wiz6kvv35SZbX0LEqlJCfmDNsZUtEFRuVZOdM2INCLVZW6F7YyhP-1pqXU4dW1pJuygPQE4uTpeLnf8YvLzNFXIkd0VZog0QjuuFM-Lrq8jMOQFj9DX6mdVFD29p_Mo7bUHbM4LxRK8/s400/AMPF4237+-+Version+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny and Jim. (And a pup! Everybody loves pups!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmvoFyTuMXBdj8jtboZSd7GoQyBK5KyR_kqRizdff1JAeJIMDV4RBXO4_RYybQr93fOjA7e3CPWS-qDFjj6qgm89no_qNmH4EaCkLhvFZGRyYfZdjbzbwW26TAr_yfg0IHzkWHeLPzho/s1600/AMPF4243+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmvoFyTuMXBdj8jtboZSd7GoQyBK5KyR_kqRizdff1JAeJIMDV4RBXO4_RYybQr93fOjA7e3CPWS-qDFjj6qgm89no_qNmH4EaCkLhvFZGRyYfZdjbzbwW26TAr_yfg0IHzkWHeLPzho/s400/AMPF4243+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their new "Dear John" tractor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMECTSZDwQexZkxjBn20rLTVFXq4SxJoNb9KcQ1fl2ObOn-U2cNE00K-S-876uVJv2B7R3Eb32goPIpdHsiQSqPaKWCrGN6aDJAdxez1DU7QnkIYrCV-VtaWN0rCNC4b43cfJazRpmpXY/s1600/AMPF4241+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMECTSZDwQexZkxjBn20rLTVFXq4SxJoNb9KcQ1fl2ObOn-U2cNE00K-S-876uVJv2B7R3Eb32goPIpdHsiQSqPaKWCrGN6aDJAdxez1DU7QnkIYrCV-VtaWN0rCNC4b43cfJazRpmpXY/s400/AMPF4241+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim & Frank chewing the fat!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7UOXQyyFi7lajqA2_bqn5dxqqSt3jQJpIanmfxC7Lufc28ziR3IE_4NqEKhFOZW9PXhRzhgcTub3ermxBLBxZRyuBHOZyY2HnwJPj9YKwjRg9NM9PHScYLyukrtZdzY-ojIOAmZPDdQ/s1600/AMPF4245+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7UOXQyyFi7lajqA2_bqn5dxqqSt3jQJpIanmfxC7Lufc28ziR3IE_4NqEKhFOZW9PXhRzhgcTub3ermxBLBxZRyuBHOZyY2HnwJPj9YKwjRg9NM9PHScYLyukrtZdzY-ojIOAmZPDdQ/s400/AMPF4245+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This dog is amazing. Jumping up there while still feeding.</td></tr>
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Jenny took us for the royal tour across to see the original homestead. And what a place it is. Would make an excellent movie set. Until 1974 they had to generate their own electricity. A gen set (32 volt DC) and storage batteries did the trick. Even had their own butcher shop.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N534-EGBvsJXqokgmHy-Ds_6EnrBeA1fw3MZSBoYlajkKCRLrQdCiYuPCDydIqtuTS8IuBNmUy37Sx-i4_ml-8Tz20Lv_-OqASEGhiIa7kdAYsiwzOBtrh2PycjRad0JES9KkXJ9GXg/s1600/AMPF4262+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N534-EGBvsJXqokgmHy-Ds_6EnrBeA1fw3MZSBoYlajkKCRLrQdCiYuPCDydIqtuTS8IuBNmUy37Sx-i4_ml-8Tz20Lv_-OqASEGhiIa7kdAYsiwzOBtrh2PycjRad0JES9KkXJ9GXg/s400/AMPF4262+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny at the old homestead, Stirling Downs.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7LfLG-r0baGNzU465GJUzgJSMrfHWnkKGLIe74oJGVg8GPTPw3t39t6N1ABJjxRPVH2D0YBy_ih7W72oS6JnhZTxm6oeJVZxAx1sYQa642eYOYQfveVWB8_QIfTNNnM7rlXQ3Gjnwhw/s1600/AMPF4263+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7LfLG-r0baGNzU465GJUzgJSMrfHWnkKGLIe74oJGVg8GPTPw3t39t6N1ABJjxRPVH2D0YBy_ih7W72oS6JnhZTxm6oeJVZxAx1sYQa642eYOYQfveVWB8_QIfTNNnM7rlXQ3Gjnwhw/s400/AMPF4263+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bottle tress planted in 1934</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bBM6UUgErIcRbvd6R7EIoFiggdqDZ8DMKS6nuZeH1KNV-ehXxisYn-Q5XQ4gmTzeQ1840bCmqSxC4WeLswU64claf_6lS9WmOz3VXkHmeJE99vJdQWjDvnv8cwyQ7KOz4d9mtG3p7wA/s1600/AMPF4265+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bBM6UUgErIcRbvd6R7EIoFiggdqDZ8DMKS6nuZeH1KNV-ehXxisYn-Q5XQ4gmTzeQ1840bCmqSxC4WeLswU64claf_6lS9WmOz3VXkHmeJE99vJdQWjDvnv8cwyQ7KOz4d9mtG3p7wA/s400/AMPF4265+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barbed wire hearts; decorations for Jenny's significant birthday!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNn2SIPymC4YoknwIYxt6_X33yue45Mg-dBT4nt7zrlural9uhUhp0C8Qd2Kx5WzRcDs-H2-Hrvc9Mc80oyGey5EgrUZntsASVzyBVNQW-osIAD0JDu5XIpMStZZI2GK2bvMdojCFHXY/s1600/AMPF4266+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNn2SIPymC4YoknwIYxt6_X33yue45Mg-dBT4nt7zrlural9uhUhp0C8Qd2Kx5WzRcDs-H2-Hrvc9Mc80oyGey5EgrUZntsASVzyBVNQW-osIAD0JDu5XIpMStZZI2GK2bvMdojCFHXY/s400/AMPF4266+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine a cold drink here after playing tennis...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3DsEpBrxHo39xn6uqNCsBXiKjA4o6nv5CWqZphp8FTuiqbeuP4rRt5VeORYuGpDGd2YsFjO7QvpgWht5YQnkL9ZA6tH4VGDFc55mbGaUCXqEqtFq1i1WbKy0p4AIRNCFxhUkUD23qjM/s1600/AMPF4269+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3DsEpBrxHo39xn6uqNCsBXiKjA4o6nv5CWqZphp8FTuiqbeuP4rRt5VeORYuGpDGd2YsFjO7QvpgWht5YQnkL9ZA6tH4VGDFc55mbGaUCXqEqtFq1i1WbKy0p4AIRNCFxhUkUD23qjM/s400/AMPF4269+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone for tennis?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrt8a6G45RJfZMM2azi8Pylz7un_sB1AYVQoTpIAUSBtZhZ_Y3ZfmbyjGnPbFxuA7e497dYSLrmAatheU78eFLkJM1-2vEyqDQqxFZMfJ05eEiegVjcUu5PlH5Vioa9tLky193XmGr5tg/s1600/AMPF4271+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrt8a6G45RJfZMM2azi8Pylz7un_sB1AYVQoTpIAUSBtZhZ_Y3ZfmbyjGnPbFxuA7e497dYSLrmAatheU78eFLkJM1-2vEyqDQqxFZMfJ05eEiegVjcUu5PlH5Vioa9tLky193XmGr5tg/s400/AMPF4271+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny and those fabulous bottle trees.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOA3KlRn_uvrVX7Ob8_TK0rYSrYCYX1ojWn6VHZFPpxmHAlvxmGGigUfX0bZh0qY5Ry7FJiH-y3fX1n_csgFcL8zSj9yI49-0a_0OTNjq9gdH8WM77WMAHVC55YHRE_InMtXOTLXqJ-BY/s1600/AMPF4223+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOA3KlRn_uvrVX7Ob8_TK0rYSrYCYX1ojWn6VHZFPpxmHAlvxmGGigUfX0bZh0qY5Ry7FJiH-y3fX1n_csgFcL8zSj9yI49-0a_0OTNjq9gdH8WM77WMAHVC55YHRE_InMtXOTLXqJ-BY/s400/AMPF4223+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking from the house yard at Isaroy back towards the road in.</td></tr>
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So by now the sun was starting to get low in the sky, lightening was in the distance and we had to get back to Tambo. So back to the other homestead, and a quick photo before we headed out. We hit the dreaded gravel as the sunset and the lightning came along behind us. And before we were half way along we were in total darkness. Riding along at 70 km/h standing on the pegs and balancing the bike as it bucked all over the road was bloody hard work. Especially in the dark. But we knew we had to be off that road before any rain fell or the black soil would halt our progress.<br />
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Finally we turned left onto the bitumen road back into Tambo just in time for the evening parade of kangaroos. Managed to miss them and get back under the motel cover as the rain began to fall. With two undamaged BMW bikes and two riders left over. Bonus!<br />
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Later that night Jenny and Jim came to town and we all had dinner and a beer at the Tambo Tavern.<br />
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All in all a rather quick trip. Out on Tuesday and back home Saturday afternoon.<br />
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Planning another marketing run up to Rockhampton and then out to Longreach next year. (Last did that 2 years ago.. they must be out of brochures by now.)<br />
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But I think I will return via Tambo again.<br />
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Want to see more of that country.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-42393504148585024852018-06-13T21:51:00.000+10:002018-06-14T11:04:24.548+10:00Ich bin ein Berliner.<h3 style="text-align: center;">
The story of MAX Two Point Zero's emigration to Australia.</h3>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">So around 55 years ago, JFK uttered those immortal words. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">June 26, 1963 actually. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">And these days, most tourists to Berlin want to see where the wall was and Checkpoint Charlie and all of those other terrible reminders from the past. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">A past where the Nanny State meant a life lived in miserable oppression.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I remember in our German class back in 1966, Miss Dunbar (not Ms Dunbar... it was 52 years ago) telling our class all about "the wall" and how some had successfully crossed over.. and survived. The one that sticks in my mind was the low slung sports car, with windscreen removed and doors filled with cement. This car was able to drive under the barricade with the driver leaning right over.. while the cement "additions" kept the lead poisoning away.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">But these days in a brave new world, the thing of interest for me in Berlin, is the factory of BMW Motorrad. This is where the BMW GS and GSA motorcycle models are made. I have been looking at these bikes for a few years now. And have really started to look closely at the design, the thoughts behind the design and the amazing technology built into each bike.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">In a world of automation, they are basically hand assembled by these highly skilled German craftsmen. As an example the tolerance on the bore for the pistons is 0.001MM. That is simply amazing. All CAD design and CNC machining no doubt. And on some models the pin striping is applied with a fine brush held by a very steady Germamic hand</span></span></div>
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Check out these videos....<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD6kGafB2to" target="_blank">The engine factory here.</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrWA9vrxhyE" target="_blank">And the bike assembly here.</a><br />
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And the finished product looks like this.....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Until I examined these bikes closely, I thought they were ugly.</td></tr>
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So after nearly 6 years aboard MAX-11 (Fat Max) a Yamaha Super Tenere... the attraction for this finely crafted German machine finally overcame my senses.<br />
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Like the Lorelei on the rocks singing to call the the sailors, seeing these bikes everywhere, with their Germanic principle of form follows function design... well they called me in too, and caught me.<br />
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I weakened, I gave in, I put my money down.<br />
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So these fine craftsmen (or craftspeople if you're a PC sensitive type) have been building my new Motorrad in Berlin and now he's finished and is emigrating by boat to Australia as I type this.<br />
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Actually to Brisbane.<br />
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And in the long tradition of MAX number plates since 1980, this one will be MAX20.<br />
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(MAX Instruments was a big part of my life and I like to be reminded of it by these plates)<br />
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Spending money on an expensive new motorcycle can be daunting... but by pouring over spreadsheets, a purchase decision was made including accessories.<br />
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Now that all of that is locked in firmly and in the past, the maps are out.. the long trips are being planned.<br />
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With sweet anticipation I look forward to welcoming this fine upstanding German immigrant to Australia.... and my garage!<br />
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<span class="s1">And to help with parking another BMW in a compact garage, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YF_sNujjYX4" target="_blank">Dynamoto</a>.</span><br />
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Ich bin ein Berliner.. yes, at the moment Max, but soon you will say I'm an Aussie mate.. lets go explore this wide brown land together.<br />
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He's a bloody beauty!<br />
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Yesssss!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-8837104165243312242018-06-04T11:56:00.000+10:002018-06-05T08:19:26.846+10:00Hendra Motors.... a trip back in time.<style type="text/css">
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<span class="s1"><i>“It's astounding</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Any baby boomer would recognise the opening lines to Time Warp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And there truly is a time warp in an old service station in the inner northern suburbs of Brisbane. Hendra Motors is a jump to the past for any casual observer or customer. This small suburban petrol station is a snapshot of what the Australian automotive service industry was like 50 years ago.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A real workshop! A rarity these days at service stations.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Drive into Hendra Motors and as your car crosses the airlines, the bell beeps inside announcing your arrival. From the depths of this establishment, a smiling face comes to greet you. You wonder in amazement as your car is filled with fuel while your oil, water and tyres are checked. Next it’s your windscreen being cleaned. And you think to yourself.. when was the last time I experienced this?</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An excellent way to file suppliers business cards.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-waN4xDNtm7HDnkwkfbRsnErGxU3bRNKeMdZ1YGOpv_TqSLqCTWu7AFfkaJ1OxSLDHdNIBOnXGFAHJOLOpRDLkjIzHSKUyO7OhucV8uizAw13ym-qboVOejaAj0VtASjz0rwzGLICB5o/s1600/Hendra_Motors_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-waN4xDNtm7HDnkwkfbRsnErGxU3bRNKeMdZ1YGOpv_TqSLqCTWu7AFfkaJ1OxSLDHdNIBOnXGFAHJOLOpRDLkjIzHSKUyO7OhucV8uizAw13ym-qboVOejaAj0VtASjz0rwzGLICB5o/s400/Hendra_Motors_22.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A welcome site when your gauge reads low fuel!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And it gets better; when you go into the office to pay for your fuel, you notice supplier’s business cards glued to the walls & lubrication guides for cars long turned to rust on the walls of the lubratorium. Long empty glass jam jars now holding nuts, bolts and small fittings. Endless dusty shelves hold myriads of spare parts for the cars they service here.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And they do service a lot of cars here. In this time of economic uncertainty, the Hendra locals know good service when they see it. Just look at their cars parked everywhere.</span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abboud and son Ray in the office!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark.. we don't fix bikes... get that bike out of here!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">But the amazing thing about Hendra Motors is the staff who make the place tick! An incredible collection of dedicated and clever people who know their cars.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray and Alex at the console... personalised service to the max!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spare parts everywhere.. very old school!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Born in Syria and growing up in Sudan, motor mechanic Abboud Saggal arrived in Brisbane with his family from London in late 1988 looking for a better life for his family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon after he arrived he started as a mechanic at Hendra Motors. He came to love life in Australia and purchased the garage from the retiring owner in 1995. His son Ray says of their immigration to Australia, <i>“I was just ten years old when we arrived here. I don’t have much memory of London except that we lived in the North and I still remember the post code. I just love the outdoors here and cannot imagine living anywhere else.”</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crew: Abboud in front and son Ray second from left.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Ray, a married father of two, who is now the business manager, s</span><span class="s2">tarted at Hendra Motors in 1994 as part time driveway attendant while studying a business degree. He took on the roll as business manager in 1996 Like his dad, he too loves the outdoors and the Australian bush. He built the FJ40 Land Cruiser which features in the business logo. As his father says, <i>“</i></span><span class="s1"><i>I am so glad my son Ray came on board. The customers love him and he is a real driver of this business now. I can trust him to do the right thing and also it gives me the chance to take some time off now and then too. Having him as manager is the best business decision I have ever made.”</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklLMDuLZu1jCS9uR5VLysOxsKtdyK-Off0I9Y1IEDUk2EVpZpQJZZHio7p_4-bTm-Ui3eHKJpS-UVi88jcuzvMS6uyv5znZkggiRTsBLtwFPcBmJytDB1M24ffWbqaBjOD13cIG2PEhE/s1600/Hendra_Motors_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklLMDuLZu1jCS9uR5VLysOxsKtdyK-Off0I9Y1IEDUk2EVpZpQJZZHio7p_4-bTm-Ui3eHKJpS-UVi88jcuzvMS6uyv5znZkggiRTsBLtwFPcBmJytDB1M24ffWbqaBjOD13cIG2PEhE/s400/Hendra_Motors_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always a car on the hoist, always busy.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Keen runner Peter Miller ran Millers Mechanical at Hendra for 20 years before retiring. He soon missed being on the tools and so he came out of retirement in 2015 and joined the team at Hendra Motors. <i>“Well it gets me out of the house and I still like working on cars. So why not come back to work?”</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvBuoj3MhARGw458cmB-HmzR8ISS3iCP8Yj7orrYMRehLe-7UAr228tOnMMeW4ynMbMlRKVSdFFiwkL28x-xVkX1jgZHKq23_6jTdkpVB8gEvGn2mQHxw6p1yoivmOhsh6_xsHJu6sII/s1600/Hendra_Motors_23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvBuoj3MhARGw458cmB-HmzR8ISS3iCP8Yj7orrYMRehLe-7UAr228tOnMMeW4ynMbMlRKVSdFFiwkL28x-xVkX1jgZHKq23_6jTdkpVB8gEvGn2mQHxw6p1yoivmOhsh6_xsHJu6sII/s400/Hendra_Motors_23.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter.. retirement is not for him!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Former architect, Alex Sinibaldi is the shop & driveway manager and originally from El Salvador. As Ray and his dad say, <i>“His good looks are not wasted on the local ladies and he is always smiling! The customers love him.”</i> He joined the team in 2012 and just happens to be Ray’s father in law.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vf1yBUcZPTrmlXN6V3CuASy5yuKA5SaLcLpAFrq6nJhLdnePHZezgNiQGcyfA_BfdhGqV8NInFPUZLyTz9rvdhS4aE1C4N1p6iXP_-Fo61M06U1jFgS_G0Ha6dN0DFZ4UJR2NnsotCE/s1600/Hendra_Motors_24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vf1yBUcZPTrmlXN6V3CuASy5yuKA5SaLcLpAFrq6nJhLdnePHZezgNiQGcyfA_BfdhGqV8NInFPUZLyTz9rvdhS4aE1C4N1p6iXP_-Fo61M06U1jFgS_G0Ha6dN0DFZ4UJR2NnsotCE/s400/Hendra_Motors_24.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex.. keeps that petrol pumping!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">And final word goes to local business woman Debra Taylor, <i>“At last a place that will fill my car with fuel so I stay clean. For me, loving Hendra Motors is as simple as that.”</i></span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-55941697170565489072018-04-19T20:50:00.000+10:002018-04-29T16:07:06.705+10:00So farewell Fat Max.. but he could be yours!<br style="caret-color: rgb(20, 20, 20); color: #141414; font-family: "Droid Sans", "Open Sans", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px; margin-top: 0px;" />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
After a few years together.... it's time!</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "droid sans" , "open sans" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;">It's time for Fat Max to find a new home... care to adopt him?</span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2izdFMBeXStauJN7-B4deJRydf1_3LmTUTKnebu_n419mVGFpdFqE7lAjoLkeQcjvLtLhk8nxi47sXtjb4u_uk9aRi3_tD6b_hSbDaSH-BXzZOnkymnWGBkLrnUZfQMjuLXq8CuWV6VE/s1600/Lo-Res_S10_4_Sale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1440" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2izdFMBeXStauJN7-B4deJRydf1_3LmTUTKnebu_n419mVGFpdFqE7lAjoLkeQcjvLtLhk8nxi47sXtjb4u_uk9aRi3_tD6b_hSbDaSH-BXzZOnkymnWGBkLrnUZfQMjuLXq8CuWV6VE/s400/Lo-Res_S10_4_Sale.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max could be yours.... bring cash!</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #141414; font-family: "droid sans" , "open sans" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.666666984558105px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-weight: normal;">This bike is set to go as a long distance tourer. Just add your clothes, tent and fuel!</span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Just the facts folks:</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Sold new to me by Dalby Moto September 2012</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Travelled approx 44,000 km.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Serviced by dealer/mechanic every 10K with oil changes by me every 5K in between.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">40K service which was valve check etc had the cam chain tensioner changed to the later type.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">New Bridgestone Battlaxe A41 tyres fitted at approx 40,000. </span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Options fitted:</span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Altrider crash bars.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Altrider sump guard.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Altrider side stand foot extender.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Altrider rear rack.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Touratech ABS sensor protector front and back.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Touratech rear mastercylinder protector.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Touratech rear axle nut cover.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Touratech locking GPS mount mounted to generic S10 GPS mount I picked up in Germany.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Garmin GPS with life time maps. (This will bluetooth to your phone and helmet)</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Yamaha OEM panniers.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Yamaha OEM headlight guard.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Yamaha OEM heated grips. </span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Staintune stainless exhaust. (Awesome note!)</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">DS Protection (Spanish) locking toolbox mounted in behind RS pannier.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;">(Standard tools now stored in tool roll in this box)</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Merit 12VDC outlet on dash.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">LED driving lights. Outer ones mounted on Touratech mounts. (Can be switched to run as DLRL)</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Bags Connection tank bag on mounting ring affixed to fuel filler.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">In really good condition as I like my bike to look new!</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Registered in QLD till September and is at Brisbane north side.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Every trip, even to the corner store has been recorded in my log book.. happy to show to prospective buyer.</span><br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">So show me the money and she is yours!</span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">Contact me for details.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">mark@clayfieldstudio.com</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-25629090189685462532018-04-14T21:00:00.000+10:002018-06-07T13:59:39.366+10:00Fat Max's farewell tour, a violinist called Tor, the amazing Cheryl and the Man from Snowy RiverSo around this time last year, I decided to take Fat Max to Melbourne and home via the Snowy Mountains. But it rained, and rained and rained.. so no Snowy Mountains. <br />
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<a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com.au/2017/04/maximus-obesus-goes-to-melbourne.html" target="_blank">You can read about it here!</a><br />
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Anyhow.. time passed, the weather Gods promised better weather so I saddled up Fat Max for his farewell tour. You see Fat Max is for sale and is looking for a new owner. For nearly six years we have had adventures together and it is time I moved on..... all will be revealed in the fullness of time.<br />
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So the plan is simple, ride the big Yamaha to Cooma in the Snowy Mountains and base myself there for a few nights. This would allow me to have a couple of day trips around the area. And in sunshine if the forecasters had it right too!<br />
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The end of day 1 finds me in Armidale at a motel.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzxwK9DNVHvRmLiM_wF4auuNDbNmuACSzHpVcgCJ-Ju9x7Ggd7Njr0eNrQqmuBQJIFw8EWmwaswTNQi2YV8i-HUIqK9rlJgWzxGBFwp-y5sU716JtmMCQIPOGOnH6uiYEh43njcZBSGc/s1600/AMPF3865+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghzxwK9DNVHvRmLiM_wF4auuNDbNmuACSzHpVcgCJ-Ju9x7Ggd7Njr0eNrQqmuBQJIFw8EWmwaswTNQi2YV8i-HUIqK9rlJgWzxGBFwp-y5sU716JtmMCQIPOGOnH6uiYEh43njcZBSGc/s400/AMPF3865+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can recommend this place... excellent service and good room!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2_k2_QdvaxKydmSV3r3V-KnQqySN5ml2G2wz3LzX3Z5K3Iq96oxmGt2SNNlHkKB1DxCsqpT62eMfZk_dID-q79kkL45MEBOczoAGzp0ht6bhsjLXvcN_2QFzmsqAIfNJkjrTzPcGLxE/s1600/AMPF3867+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2_k2_QdvaxKydmSV3r3V-KnQqySN5ml2G2wz3LzX3Z5K3Iq96oxmGt2SNNlHkKB1DxCsqpT62eMfZk_dID-q79kkL45MEBOczoAGzp0ht6bhsjLXvcN_2QFzmsqAIfNJkjrTzPcGLxE/s400/AMPF3867+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And right next door.. was dinner and breakfast!</td></tr>
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An early start on day two and eventually we pull up in Dubbo for the night. What can you say about Dubbo.. except I spent a week there one night.<br />
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But along the way I decided to visit the Sidings Springs Observatory. In my teenage years, school mate Rob Fysh and I would sit out all night on the front lawn at Clayfield and gander at the stars with my telescope. And I still am fascinated by all of this.... so off to the observatory we go. And while sitting outside their tourist centre, an old car pulls up and a young lady hops out with a tray of cakes that she takes inside. I looked at the old bloke next to me.. "Now that could be a scene from The Dish."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N1wsTxIa31jVWU3F6S28Dp72reOqH11hXl3QhbFsFvdnWhbjmCRS9yu7MMy38sfCRcol_EVND8-XEllhMhKiFvrb-vlwDaI-400vv9gr1wmJ1H9fCeWkK8OZrC_-klhsdTxHfLL60Uc/s1600/AMPF3868+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N1wsTxIa31jVWU3F6S28Dp72reOqH11hXl3QhbFsFvdnWhbjmCRS9yu7MMy38sfCRcol_EVND8-XEllhMhKiFvrb-vlwDaI-400vv9gr1wmJ1H9fCeWkK8OZrC_-klhsdTxHfLL60Uc/s400/AMPF3868+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An imposing sight as you come up the hill.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbfXvD12VVErCvMI2Ws6yqCMSwrzpPwaUwMInSmVSS-ZCYhpx9n8QWcJWCmq4CZL-wVrtSTfQjd1MU6-l7w17-q470mTpcHUAccJnXvtaXl6AQ0ai5pq7y3P7MQ1BUdh2kJePpcsy8VI/s1600/AMPF3871+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxbfXvD12VVErCvMI2Ws6yqCMSwrzpPwaUwMInSmVSS-ZCYhpx9n8QWcJWCmq4CZL-wVrtSTfQjd1MU6-l7w17-q470mTpcHUAccJnXvtaXl6AQ0ai5pq7y3P7MQ1BUdh2kJePpcsy8VI/s400/AMPF3871+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now that's a telescope. Took 2 years to get the wave right on the mirror.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHjuqPVBjaQej99PtdVHmeCWBJa3x61SQTmhYrid03hhavMFwcO2EJPyAP74lMXZW_op2Umh6r3Vr9Q4MacKmPr7eldTParfWKHt0GBULkxWKdW3tnxsgUMIej2ZQ-aEJ_MRkeURaeko/s1600/AMPF3879+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHjuqPVBjaQej99PtdVHmeCWBJa3x61SQTmhYrid03hhavMFwcO2EJPyAP74lMXZW_op2Umh6r3Vr9Q4MacKmPr7eldTParfWKHt0GBULkxWKdW3tnxsgUMIej2ZQ-aEJ_MRkeURaeko/s400/AMPF3879+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their second smaller observatory!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVm5OWPE2sTR4R41lLp65GYAuxJyvGqD-fACcmnW56TCemvcMW56KaqTBpnBSsHOSzZ1kIFtYGJ7zlkfbztdg4ZZVk_SNUvrZ4Jue4cMYcQUYswGQT9gEKoWD_8Wi57rQrtryo5P69V7o/s1600/AMPF3874+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVm5OWPE2sTR4R41lLp65GYAuxJyvGqD-fACcmnW56TCemvcMW56KaqTBpnBSsHOSzZ1kIFtYGJ7zlkfbztdg4ZZVk_SNUvrZ4Jue4cMYcQUYswGQT9gEKoWD_8Wi57rQrtryo5P69V7o/s400/AMPF3874+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views up here are good too!</td></tr>
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Now if you have read other episodes in my blog, you would know about my years spent at Hendra High School. It really was staffed by demented people.. and I hated the place. But I did make some good friends there. One of whom is Tor Fromhyr who is now a lecturer at the ANU School of Music. A very talented concert violinist, Tor has worked with Frank Sinatra, The Bee Gees, John Denver, Cat Stevens etc etc. We both had the same violin teacher 50 years ago.... sadly I lost interest.<br />
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Anyhow.. I haven't seen Tor for over 50 years, so as he lives in the country outside Yass... well it was a time for a catch up and to discuss what the past 50 years had been like for both of us.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB5m2ORwg2j1483KdTbC5c54ScU8bP_yXKbjP8ZcUWc95aDzmKGd_gMcpZT04JjLmiqidsd4_-s82eR-MrOfojHlj6P9i3L7Yue-7Z6RDoDLD4ASW2Ejd4b99HF3LktIGeG7vSmCyUqI/s1600/IMG_1712+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWB5m2ORwg2j1483KdTbC5c54ScU8bP_yXKbjP8ZcUWc95aDzmKGd_gMcpZT04JjLmiqidsd4_-s82eR-MrOfojHlj6P9i3L7Yue-7Z6RDoDLD4ASW2Ejd4b99HF3LktIGeG7vSmCyUqI/s400/IMG_1712+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After 50 years it was though we had only been apart a week!</td></tr>
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Tor lives on this amazing block of land. He and Leanne and their 3 children made me feel so very welcome. They have built their own home, planted a thousand trees, built a barn with a granny flat.. for granny and have the most eclectic mix of things to see.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ApmJu94RgEIxXjE3nJEjonIhOaU7xzZ3_64vZQKgh3rM_AQHOpFt3G_PFfTogQbG0ORS6JtADLUiMlQxJhfLXxQMWBtjqIE_-D6pg5Su6MDquHL1d3_t15Yqqz8d005xMaifIHuu9vI/s1600/AMPF3881+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ApmJu94RgEIxXjE3nJEjonIhOaU7xzZ3_64vZQKgh3rM_AQHOpFt3G_PFfTogQbG0ORS6JtADLUiMlQxJhfLXxQMWBtjqIE_-D6pg5Su6MDquHL1d3_t15Yqqz8d005xMaifIHuu9vI/s400/AMPF3881+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The amazing home with yard space for Rosie the pooch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYe48ntgWvh8povrDSsCBpv9dZo8i91kysrk2NNhAb_c0FCKbKZbfgfpkkOoSKE4gzxVQSuhH5gIVHJ4oP1ng92NYAbxeVGs4ZRWCRhW4en2eTlYGZ1TDFoIhFCi3zjtZ9NyaWZ9GBYE/s1600/AMPF3887+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYe48ntgWvh8povrDSsCBpv9dZo8i91kysrk2NNhAb_c0FCKbKZbfgfpkkOoSKE4gzxVQSuhH5gIVHJ4oP1ng92NYAbxeVGs4ZRWCRhW4en2eTlYGZ1TDFoIhFCi3zjtZ9NyaWZ9GBYE/s400/AMPF3887+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosie with Max and Tor's amazing Mercedes!</td></tr>
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The Friday night I arrived, Tor took me into Canberra to collect his son Gabriel from high school and drop him off at the ANU for his cello lessons. Like his dad he is a gifted player. The ANU music school is amazing right down to the piano stools in the lift!<br />
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Saturday dawned really foggy... but I enjoyed it all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEjAtTb-wb8ZDgNvqDOCHDH_JMww7Q44akecSvlONSYnRAWMtS8lrM103Brx6r7cFEoqNdoNdpRwYGeYc8GFv0krgintHI109ZT33WQnVFOuKM725z7YIe3V8VKDuVjveeBSwMl49ZbM/s1600/AMPF3897+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEjAtTb-wb8ZDgNvqDOCHDH_JMww7Q44akecSvlONSYnRAWMtS8lrM103Brx6r7cFEoqNdoNdpRwYGeYc8GFv0krgintHI109ZT33WQnVFOuKM725z7YIe3V8VKDuVjveeBSwMl49ZbM/s400/AMPF3897+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor old Max lost in the fog!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-edizNgyXwp35gHwYpppMRr97IHSJtrzZwPeNZsmUROoV4qNlFllFTsBLHAFT9Pnt5oNSGjI50Q6XozLEaOPA6h8-QMzj0toDiEVhhh68pwpXuGU4UJKZiRS2ewHcSjYTjdgZ12gFNM/s1600/AMPF3905+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK-edizNgyXwp35gHwYpppMRr97IHSJtrzZwPeNZsmUROoV4qNlFllFTsBLHAFT9Pnt5oNSGjI50Q6XozLEaOPA6h8-QMzj0toDiEVhhh68pwpXuGU4UJKZiRS2ewHcSjYTjdgZ12gFNM/s400/AMPF3905+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such a magic spot to live!</td></tr>
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On Saturdays young Gabe makes coffees in Yass at the amazing little cafe. But the Chinese cafe next door tickles my fancy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMnZrk4Ym8hV0v-S3O27M0FuN4yPun9lS9FWF3ttVyrPmGiZCAAwdH_SooAP4yNYF08xUe2Ag7UXqlwbMpGp6aO55bddf0rn6DWDp4pz0mbasQMJ0jAXLVCV6iY6PDijnY2DirU0ot5Q/s1600/AMPF3908+-+Version+2+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbMnZrk4Ym8hV0v-S3O27M0FuN4yPun9lS9FWF3ttVyrPmGiZCAAwdH_SooAP4yNYF08xUe2Ag7UXqlwbMpGp6aO55bddf0rn6DWDp4pz0mbasQMJ0jAXLVCV6iY6PDijnY2DirU0ot5Q/s400/AMPF3908+-+Version+2+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well.. Fook Me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGKIgOsKHKGhG_fTp902sJod-O3pGbxmPFQF-7lcN5vVLvlddanAAGqcCv484vVJiqfcS3OeG4VXGkS3VbMh-8MbKMtDRA3URsr_zXaSgFZk1gLyl_bPG0mUUlh_nGMc8eiyWCGBgyX64/s1600/AMPF3910+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGKIgOsKHKGhG_fTp902sJod-O3pGbxmPFQF-7lcN5vVLvlddanAAGqcCv484vVJiqfcS3OeG4VXGkS3VbMh-8MbKMtDRA3URsr_zXaSgFZk1gLyl_bPG0mUUlh_nGMc8eiyWCGBgyX64/s400/AMPF3910+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Court Hose in Yass is impressive. Like a Masonic Lodge!</td></tr>
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Saturday afternoon finds me punching out ZZZZeds and relaxing totally. Right on dusk I wake up so go out to have look at Gabe's home-made bike. Take one bicycle, add a $90 Ebay petrol engine and away you go. Just fabulous.. would have loved one when I was a kid.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJ6v3ZtaAHpzUOFRfC8ZGxeMKeuyquduuRzAR89ZJDf6FQ_v6wMP52r7hWAtpszw4_JS9NdO4pvP33c2tBPtvdkRlYiS4xwlH7L1-cdLDxMIeYkuXB2dl7dh0QL7TXgXarYJxX477gtk/s1600/Gabe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1600" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJ6v3ZtaAHpzUOFRfC8ZGxeMKeuyquduuRzAR89ZJDf6FQ_v6wMP52r7hWAtpszw4_JS9NdO4pvP33c2tBPtvdkRlYiS4xwlH7L1-cdLDxMIeYkuXB2dl7dh0QL7TXgXarYJxX477gtk/s400/Gabe.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a talented young man!</td></tr>
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All too soon it was Sunday morning and time to head into Canberra to see the War Museum and the incredible Cheryl.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSpK4GJ9SQxk9EU7COxtdzq0vY5P8mTNhuq2o-3UgpFOuJwDjXh15210sy5QVcqKipmCBt3ZSWALdTh-Psq4ocRqYrEJwgxRHrVsLUB05-cDl5jjUPmrRejhbNRZUgZqnNdIsTjRLSN0/s1600/G-George.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1600" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSpK4GJ9SQxk9EU7COxtdzq0vY5P8mTNhuq2o-3UgpFOuJwDjXh15210sy5QVcqKipmCBt3ZSWALdTh-Psq4ocRqYrEJwgxRHrVsLUB05-cDl5jjUPmrRejhbNRZUgZqnNdIsTjRLSN0/s400/G-George.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">G for George. What an aeroplane. If only it could talk.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmhsMyW0kqCe5lwbwFlb6MQrbe2sqPn1E45zdLGUJs6ilHUPRs6bsiR_eWO5D96PakLMyPzw_TKv31SMWZj2gBeOXpzM_eHzBTla9R0IxRkZovEuCsZL20MY4FgbjHoaIuoEstVYXP5k/s1600/GFG_UK_WW2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="966" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmhsMyW0kqCe5lwbwFlb6MQrbe2sqPn1E45zdLGUJs6ilHUPRs6bsiR_eWO5D96PakLMyPzw_TKv31SMWZj2gBeOXpzM_eHzBTla9R0IxRkZovEuCsZL20MY4FgbjHoaIuoEstVYXP5k/s400/GFG_UK_WW2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">G for George after the last mission with air and ground crew at Binbrook Lincolnshire</td></tr>
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The Lancaster "G for George" was the main thing that attracted me to the museum. I have always been interested in war birds, but this particular aeroplane is something else. With nearly 90 missions over occupied Europe, that is a record in itself. Over 220 men crewed George with 70 of them later being killed in action. Hard to imagine the odds of surviving as air crew in WW2. My late friend Allan Gay who Captained Halifax heavy bombers out of Pocklington in Yorkshire in WW2, told me that when he finished his tour of duty, he was the only one left from his multi engine conversion course in Canada prior to serving in the RAF. He like the men who crewed G for George were heroes in every sense of the word. Talk about the right stuff!<br />
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The other thing I like is the view back to Capitol Hill and Parliament House from here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIfqJ2pxZfxSQycRPDTpByYjn50w6Q9vZFMo59JhJUeLSuwppHy8lqNixBmZ8umSKWbZZbrKYh0DrPSmop38GIh9tnKVirbqSU8xyTop1mVv6pyv5dFRjGRXp13V4wwkHTfDV609kr7Y/s1600/AMPF3936+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIfqJ2pxZfxSQycRPDTpByYjn50w6Q9vZFMo59JhJUeLSuwppHy8lqNixBmZ8umSKWbZZbrKYh0DrPSmop38GIh9tnKVirbqSU8xyTop1mVv6pyv5dFRjGRXp13V4wwkHTfDV609kr7Y/s400/AMPF3936+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the great views in Oz!</td></tr>
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After a quick brunch at the Museum, it was time to catch up with Cheryl. Now Cheryl and Debra were childhood buddies and they lost contact over the years. But by an absolutely amazing chance, they were able to reconnect about 10 years ago. A diary left in our studio contained a photograph of Cheryl and the diary's owner. Amazing stuff and so it was all sorted there and then. Cheryl has worked in all media; print, radio and TV and also as chief of staff in Political offices. What a talented lady. She took me to Old Parliament House in her Mustang and gave me a tour. The stories are amazing. Cheryl has a Mustang GT for an every day drive and and HSV for her Sunday muscle car drive experience. After a tour we went to the local sports club to see her football team win. And had a magic dinner later. Many thanks for putting me up Cheryl.. or perhaps I should say putting up with me?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZpdmwyTgtqlJM9b8mBmYi9DDVZttF3Ps_fdEjj0pR3kWDyAsc2j3TaHSVdcjO4etUXJRDpXSm5cKKizVaf-bjZl6WdDPfKwttceqeegifO5fTH_wu_7Y2j-W-JpsLE8JY37t3s_Lk6Y/s1600/AMPF3937+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZpdmwyTgtqlJM9b8mBmYi9DDVZttF3Ps_fdEjj0pR3kWDyAsc2j3TaHSVdcjO4etUXJRDpXSm5cKKizVaf-bjZl6WdDPfKwttceqeegifO5fTH_wu_7Y2j-W-JpsLE8JY37t3s_Lk6Y/s400/AMPF3937+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheryl standing where her desk was when this was Malcom Fraser's office.</td></tr>
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Monday Morning dawns fine and clear... so off to Cooma go Max and me to see the Snowy Mountains.. again.<br />
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Sans rain thank you!<br />
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Arriving at Cooma I rent an apartment as the motel rooms are all booked for bus loads of pensioners.... awesome!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCwmD6yfuSQYE95fJl2MeHWQSF3CeQG9g7MCKoMLXYYzra2C3zi0SUTcgJQBmVf0SNJwg017641YwPxDQIr08RccCvFlr1WP1lqkcnQxGQIcA9UQ21fRGsuFUQoqXgp1pZiIBodwa1vo/s1600/AMPF3944+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCwmD6yfuSQYE95fJl2MeHWQSF3CeQG9g7MCKoMLXYYzra2C3zi0SUTcgJQBmVf0SNJwg017641YwPxDQIr08RccCvFlr1WP1lqkcnQxGQIcA9UQ21fRGsuFUQoqXgp1pZiIBodwa1vo/s400/AMPF3944+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max in the car park. Waiting.......</td></tr>
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I decided today is a day to explore Cooma in detail so Max is locked down and shank's pony takes me around town. They have an amazing bakery here.. but I am good and only visit once. Otherwise I wouldn't fit in my bike pants and jacket. Cooma is a lovely town and a special place to visit.<br />
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So the next day finds me up early and away on Max to discover Lake Eucumbene. This lake can hold 9 times the volume of water as Sydney Harbour. That is a lot! At 1160 metres elevation, it certainly is an alpine lake. I rode around and across the dam wall past a coach load of pensioners who alighted from the coach.. and then blocked the road. They just strung out like cattle on the long paddock and watched as I approached. Like rabbits blinded by the lights! Except it was daylight. Don't know if they thought I was some sort of sideshow.. but eventually the driver had to point out to them they were standing in the middle of a road. If I get like that in another 20 years.. please shoot me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ7xZAw9AbkJjlFPa82tJ1mE2mhfhZ9esgSl9HPHGfJ84LqzTXknBf661zwwHmLGZBA9U4QAgmUbOKzD_XtUwV768DMomh24U1D29OrzA7doRzNI8V4bRhFuZXVwobGnYIDLZAxrw6ZY/s1600/AMPF3948+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ7xZAw9AbkJjlFPa82tJ1mE2mhfhZ9esgSl9HPHGfJ84LqzTXknBf661zwwHmLGZBA9U4QAgmUbOKzD_XtUwV768DMomh24U1D29OrzA7doRzNI8V4bRhFuZXVwobGnYIDLZAxrw6ZY/s400/AMPF3948+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max on the dam wall at Eucumbene.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1kh99tIBcTtufUhBx-PncITuV1qoW5X4SUv4e4zuujx-uRMkBCN8YElkcNbsfbdygdZmHmH-w3iZLwfUeMQYOnKT5fwfYmwB5INzVkpUiSHI4z6tVrSH75b2fQ6pQqDFx0hv-twrJG0/s1600/AMPF3951+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1kh99tIBcTtufUhBx-PncITuV1qoW5X4SUv4e4zuujx-uRMkBCN8YElkcNbsfbdygdZmHmH-w3iZLwfUeMQYOnKT5fwfYmwB5INzVkpUiSHI4z6tVrSH75b2fQ6pQqDFx0hv-twrJG0/s400/AMPF3951+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drive across the dam wall... or not if the pensioners are there!</td></tr>
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On the way along one of the many roads of the high plains, I came across this old church literally in the middle of nowhere. Just had to stop for a gander. Located on a rise, the view from the front door must be amazing when the snow is falling in winter.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0gRYmGT3nJrrdN1JJG3KddUL6lzoziFGI64C3FsrxXFWXPr91LIMn_v1odBfm_D8VWjBDb-pNG6V2giGR_EBET6Xg3qw_Nua0DLAvMs0g-c8iYQ9RjTs2S2ZwMwfdNscKIk6nkUMtVc/s1600/AMPF3957+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0gRYmGT3nJrrdN1JJG3KddUL6lzoziFGI64C3FsrxXFWXPr91LIMn_v1odBfm_D8VWjBDb-pNG6V2giGR_EBET6Xg3qw_Nua0DLAvMs0g-c8iYQ9RjTs2S2ZwMwfdNscKIk6nkUMtVc/s400/AMPF3957+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just so beautiful in the middle of nowhere.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmOBszAFDR4HoGu99k7Imy9QpMVyQ9-OeVnXXvp2FT-rngOFFzK6SebNvZiY0rRO0GWQ_wjaG3RS4Ynq9h61HfYtfS4st-tERDuX7etrAcZZ46chF4QM_R-glf3IJacsD1V6AlQQa758/s1600/AMPF3962+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmOBszAFDR4HoGu99k7Imy9QpMVyQ9-OeVnXXvp2FT-rngOFFzK6SebNvZiY0rRO0GWQ_wjaG3RS4Ynq9h61HfYtfS4st-tERDuX7etrAcZZ46chF4QM_R-glf3IJacsD1V6AlQQa758/s400/AMPF3962+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the Uniting Church flock.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsByeieg1xk9cz5jkSqQOrhhRyMWznnJl0ZzpXHDs9wHEU1WJe_QozVmLVu16gVbfcGLaG3c0eIyw_TakR5MOLZQK6vvlEca2tI7lTv4-4HO1M9DXAuaHcfx26Frnq-dS-uCfCbkXaytk/s1600/AMPF3960+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsByeieg1xk9cz5jkSqQOrhhRyMWznnJl0ZzpXHDs9wHEU1WJe_QozVmLVu16gVbfcGLaG3c0eIyw_TakR5MOLZQK6vvlEca2tI7lTv4-4HO1M9DXAuaHcfx26Frnq-dS-uCfCbkXaytk/s400/AMPF3960+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The road going past the church!</td></tr>
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The road going past has this amazing right hand sweeping bend.. just the place to give the big Yamaha the berries.. until an errant wombat wandered out onto the road. Ended up with one surviving wombat, one undamaged bike and the rider left over. Bonus!<br />
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So along the road I go until I come to a Snowy Mountains History Museum. First time in my life I have used my Senior's Card. Saved $1 off the $6 admission cost. Awesome! Lots of interesting stuff in there. The men and women who built this entire thing must have been amazing people. Cannot see it being done again. For a start Sarah Hyhpen-Young and her crew would object to blasting tunnels through mountains. Upset the spirit or similar I reckon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFNMqyDBB1C3l7dam82fyMqKPJF0AQ2EkIaLSTNAdTPdtgha2uDLzDp5AmzJhhO8ajtf1vUAdSNbQJI7Tws-7ixT650QXj_GomQm2xMXpvFyYfMChvBaArqrhiuBET-Kx3C3wZxk3tbo/s1600/AMPF3969+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFNMqyDBB1C3l7dam82fyMqKPJF0AQ2EkIaLSTNAdTPdtgha2uDLzDp5AmzJhhO8ajtf1vUAdSNbQJI7Tws-7ixT650QXj_GomQm2xMXpvFyYfMChvBaArqrhiuBET-Kx3C3wZxk3tbo/s400/AMPF3969+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Think it stopped here when it broke an axle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxolhC0ItkLQcgIPohik8QKL2TohBl3OzKD3mGRmEQl6786aC2isnxBDweJaDYiPgtJNE8dlzhVNRmq7erCgfDBhPUxFWXyVhdEFgqih7sDIhs4vKVxwq9kSzO_sv28h-KvCHMjBfF7Q/s1600/AMPF3970+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxolhC0ItkLQcgIPohik8QKL2TohBl3OzKD3mGRmEQl6786aC2isnxBDweJaDYiPgtJNE8dlzhVNRmq7erCgfDBhPUxFWXyVhdEFgqih7sDIhs4vKVxwq9kSzO_sv28h-KvCHMjBfF7Q/s400/AMPF3970+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This EK ute was restored. Part of the original motor pool.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jpnvvs35HH2q5vEGK_QoCTMuX6xUfp1k8R9I9gx4HLnwCgIvKoLDqjwFUPlnoUp4IsiUtmVAYljDeWVl-IuaEIUc4avZHFfjcEdKRbVUXZVXJHFq1CUJVCNnSMrmDGG8nR9QoJ-OHmE/s1600/AMPF3971+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jpnvvs35HH2q5vEGK_QoCTMuX6xUfp1k8R9I9gx4HLnwCgIvKoLDqjwFUPlnoUp4IsiUtmVAYljDeWVl-IuaEIUc4avZHFfjcEdKRbVUXZVXJHFq1CUJVCNnSMrmDGG8nR9QoJ-OHmE/s400/AMPF3971+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All wheel drive fire engine!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_KhTMhxD-c-ccpVptiDG_JMGwyDrFKG_NHXFckFYxzP3TrhS3WQu1rNIvqMSV4oLuCRmiDcDycqNAdj-yVxO8jb4eaHAIwNU7-bqvWiP5ZazD-mnuveBUKQcxALRS4qquaETxPuWsYY/s1600/AMPF3973+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_KhTMhxD-c-ccpVptiDG_JMGwyDrFKG_NHXFckFYxzP3TrhS3WQu1rNIvqMSV4oLuCRmiDcDycqNAdj-yVxO8jb4eaHAIwNU7-bqvWiP5ZazD-mnuveBUKQcxALRS4qquaETxPuWsYY/s400/AMPF3973+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learnt tech drawing using stuff like these from Mr Miller in 1966</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember overhauling a CA45 starter from one of these back in 72.</td></tr>
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So after this wander around it was back to Cooma, a fill up on fuel for tomorrow for a big day out. A Chinese meal for dinner and and early night.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-kw4pNCRte7YHDkq0tOV1ZdIN_YuOE1p7kRo6nmOZTYXyCFuDezKq9x_USiX7hKKjJrx7e268mkd6OeAnazzagjhHKgZr_agklYLrCie9rZyFNivftJ0wWZis_6JyA8LlCUAWo0wx1k/s1600/TOURING-ROUTES-MAP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="620" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-kw4pNCRte7YHDkq0tOV1ZdIN_YuOE1p7kRo6nmOZTYXyCFuDezKq9x_USiX7hKKjJrx7e268mkd6OeAnazzagjhHKgZr_agklYLrCie9rZyFNivftJ0wWZis_6JyA8LlCUAWo0wx1k/s400/TOURING-ROUTES-MAP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This shows my next trip, a loop from Cooma to Khancoban and then back.</td></tr>
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Thursday morning and I am awake very early. A quick breakfast at McDonalds (try their BLT McMuffin with an egg) and away we go. Riding in the mornings is cold, so I bought a long sleeved top the day before at Target to wear over my T shirt under my jacket. Seemed to help a lot. Now the destination for today is Murray 2 hydro station. It is the only one open to visitors. Murray 1 is normally open, but the individual turbines are being overhauled. And the figures.. $10,000,000 per unit to overhaul and one year in time. And.. there are 10 units at Murray 1. Murray one feeds its water post power generation down to Murray 2 after which the water goes into the Murray River.<br />
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The road to Jindabyne is easy going but as I leave Jindabyne, the GPS goes nuts and turns me towards the coast. Then it gives me an error message. Pull over, reboot the stupid thing and away we go. The ride goes through the National Park and there is an admittance charge, $7 per day for bikes. But if you are going through as I was.. no charge. The country here is stunning. Really beautiful alpine scenery and once past the turn off to Thredbo does the road become "interesting".<br />
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Lots of steep climbs, steep descents and very tight corners. I think I am riding sensibly but a lot of corners have light up "Slow Down" signs that I manage to activate as Max powers up and down those alpine roads. I need to be at Murray 2 by 11:00 for the tour. GPS says ETA is 10:30 but all the signs I see say I have more time needed and will arrive just after 11:00. There are no cars going in my direction but less than 10 pass me coming the other way.. including a Winibago... climbing the hills like a slug!<br />
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Eventually I am down out of the hills and there is the turn off to Murray 2.<br />
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This place s amazing. The facts that were spelled out during the tour are as follows:<br />
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1. Snowy was designed as an inland irrigation project. The power generation part was to raise money to pay for it all.<br />
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2. Snowy 2.0 is not a new idea. Has been kicking around for years.. not viable before, perhaps now with final figures to be released later this year. Snowy 2 will require electricity to pump the water back up.. and they have to buy it from the grid, just like us. So if it happens.. only when power is cheap.<br />
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3. Lake Eucumbene is around only 30% full. Never been this low. Snowy Hydro was built to supply power when needed at peak times. A hot summer combined with the closure of Hazelwood power station led to high demands on the Hydro over XMAS. Once the water has passed through the turbines.. it's gone. It might be renewable but until the next winter and the following snow melt... water is low.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These pipe walls are 15mm thick at the top and 35mm at the bottom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temporary Visitor Centre while Murray 1 is closed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the water exits post power generation.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like a scene from Dr No. The unit nearest the camera has been upgraded.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This water is Murray bound.</td></tr>
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Tour over and the next stop is Cabrumurra.. the highest town in Australia. A Snowy Hydro town, there is no visitor accomodation but it does have a nice cafe... apparently. I pointed Max at the hills again and twisted the throttle. Always love the power of a 1200. Light blue touch paper and stand well back. I wanted to get up there and then back down and across to Cooma before the light started to fade. Too many wallabies and roos out and about. I just missed two very small scrub wallabies the day before coming back from the lake.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highest town in Australia gets a visit from Fat Max!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of dead bugs on the screen now!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talk about a well laid out town... or village perhaps!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Possibly the highest helipad in Oz too!</td></tr>
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So after visiting this wonderful world of alpine intrigue... it was off back to Cooma. Refuelled Max and then worked out my homeward journey for the next day. Debra was having internet dramas at the boutique and as the account is in my name, I had to get to an Optus shop and sort the mess out. The next morning I left Cooma at 07:00 hours and headed into Canberra just in time to join the peak hour traffic. From there to Sydney and the M7 crawl to Pennant Hills I was so hot that I stopped in an emergency lane and took my long sleeved top off. Pacific Motorway was next and finally Newcastle appears on the GPS map. Refuel here and push on to Port Macquarie for the night. By the time I arrived I could hardly walk.<br />
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Checked into a motel, had an Italian meal and hit the sack early. Friday early I am on the road again and on towards Hendra. I needed two refuelling stops to get home.. but around 13:45 I pulled up in the drive at Grant Street.<br />
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I was stuffed, Max was filthy.. but ready to do it all again! Shame I couldn't! What a bike.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaoiHgnxR4OUvq-EIQGoGp-2d-MRFj-wWc8HvByPJIawV-LSSQCbyitxxs42AlwPY2DYlvOCilwo9fazcS5uzSPLLjb-WM5fsEeGUFpI_v3MVT68lp5YuYU6mfwwX68T8_X02DfaBv-c/s1600/IMG_1728+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaoiHgnxR4OUvq-EIQGoGp-2d-MRFj-wWc8HvByPJIawV-LSSQCbyitxxs42AlwPY2DYlvOCilwo9fazcS5uzSPLLjb-WM5fsEeGUFpI_v3MVT68lp5YuYU6mfwwX68T8_X02DfaBv-c/s400/IMG_1728+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final trip details.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hi lights of the trip were spending time with old school mate Tor and meeting his family. And also chatting with Cheryl and learning more of her time in the media when based in the Old Parliament House. Thank you to both.<br />
<br />
And.. the Snowy Mountains. What a place. Just something magical about those alpine areas and the magic of that scheme. Blasting tunnels through rock to divert rivers. No pipes in there... water just flows through the rock tunnels.<br />
<br />
At primary school we were taught a lot about the Snowy Scheme... to actually see it all working is something else. I just wish Australia could be that great again instead of all of our politicians getting caught up in every day rubbish that doesn't do anything to advance our great country.<br />
<br />
<br />
And Fat Max....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS893nsjwRL2QWKUg_j_KfqQW81B0S7gbU9ZVjB73u0Wqx4169IQS-TdmQva6Hzr0TWe1VUfE5XG3EjKOBvyvNejPaMPZpbvV7LHRKV2fQyOKoOhV8ofVimCSOIyrvnxx8iWR1h3xaPeQ/s1600/AMPF4024+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS893nsjwRL2QWKUg_j_KfqQW81B0S7gbU9ZVjB73u0Wqx4169IQS-TdmQva6Hzr0TWe1VUfE5XG3EjKOBvyvNejPaMPZpbvV7LHRKV2fQyOKoOhV8ofVimCSOIyrvnxx8iWR1h3xaPeQ/s400/AMPF4024+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At home.. post trip and covered in bugs and crap.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Considering he is just a machine (and a better one according to Yamaha) I am really attached to this motorcycle. I will be sad to see him go but I have plans for Max 2.0 in July. In the meantime I have to catch up on paper work at the shop and the studio and then give Max a rub and tub and prepare him for his new owner.<br />
<br />
And what a deal he/she will get. All set up for touring with GPS, factory panniers, Staintune exhaust, crash bars and sump guard, LED driving lamps plus a whole mess of extra farkles I have fitted over the years to make touring a pleasure on this bike.<br />
<br />
Bitumen or dirt.. Max doesn't care... he just goes... and quickly too.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned for another instalment on my blog when I get myself back together after this amazing trip.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-23786514492637976262018-03-01T16:48:00.000+10:002018-03-01T21:02:10.410+10:00The day we went to Mr Chicken's farm.<br />
So my late dad had a mate in the Buffalo Lodge and his name was Don Chicken.<br />
<br />
And he was a farmer.<br />
<br />
True!<br />
<br />
Around this same time I was about 4 years old and going to Mrs Henzle's kindergarten at Nundah. It was a big old Queenslander and I hated the place. If you were naughty (like me.. saying the word "bum") then you got your tongue painted with a mixture of castor oil and soap. And then the old bag would turn off the taps really hard so you couldn't wash your mouth out.<br />
<br />
I think she may have had a Phd in the torture of small children.<br />
<br />
We were made to drink luke warm milk that the milkman brought each day.<br />
<br />
I hated the milkman's semi sour milk and I hated him even more when he ran over Mrs Henzle's dog and killed it.<br />
<br />
You see the dog was the only thing I liked about the place.<br />
<br />
Actually, twice I ran away from the place with David Lentz, son of Earl Lentz and what an adventure that was. My first motorbike ride.<br />
<br />
But that is for another day.<br />
<br />
Anyhow... dad decides it would be good if all the kids could visit Mr Chicken's farm. So the day came and we all boarded a bus for the bush of Pine Rivers.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now at the farm there were lots of things to see, chickens (and not just the Chicken family) and cows and even some horses. The kids were in seventh heaven.<br />
<br />
And then I spied the tractor. It was what I now know to be TEA Fergy. I just would not leave this tractor alone. I climbed on it.. was ordered off and sent to feed the chooks. But as soon as no one was looking, I headed straight back and jumped up in the saddle of the tractor. Not an easy thing for a 4 year old to do I might mention.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLH5gINq2IbKzdeeeEPb9BiAr1udDl53bCCnXhrjmbk0-K7-viQi9nhaEmNowWZteNyOtkeQwixGz3geqYf7a4B7CWPsBjkFHKSrXXMb3uRqO5JE7WwK1jvAk7v53OysOAbBidSPqNCI/s1600/MF_TEA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLH5gINq2IbKzdeeeEPb9BiAr1udDl53bCCnXhrjmbk0-K7-viQi9nhaEmNowWZteNyOtkeQwixGz3geqYf7a4B7CWPsBjkFHKSrXXMb3uRqO5JE7WwK1jvAk7v53OysOAbBidSPqNCI/s400/MF_TEA.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd love one now!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Day's end came and we all headed back to the bus and back to Nundah from where our folks collected us.<br />
<br />
The next day at kindergarten, we were all asked to talk about the farm visit... almost a deposition really.<br />
<br />
What sort of sounds did you hear at the farm yard ?<br />
<br />
One boy said.... "cluck cluck" of the chooks.<br />
<br />
A girl piped up with "moo" from the cows.<br />
<br />
"What about you Mark" asked the old biddy?<br />
<br />
"I told you before, get off that fucking tractor!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Yep.. well that's me.<br />
<br />
Please note: While this really happened in 1957, the story may have been enhanced for the reader's enjoyment.<br />
<br />
<br />
Don Chicken's farm went under with the North Pine Dam construction. His son Lindsay has a farm stay at Kobble Creek. In the late 90s I shot many weddings there.<br />
<br />
You can stay there too. <a href="https://www.airbnb.com.au/rooms/15916679" target="_blank">Check it out!</a><br />
<br />
But.. stay off the fucking tractor.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-72217776671677477972018-02-17T21:05:00.000+10:002018-02-18T12:19:57.363+10:00So what is it with scars.... ?A few years back I am swimming in a friend's pool. As I get out and start to towel off, he notices the 8 x 5cm rough looking scar on my upper leg. How on earth did you get that he asked me.<br />
<br />
(I have other scars on me too... but that one is a stand out.)<br />
<br />
A warm sunny day in July 1988 and a 35 year old me is standing on the flight deck of the USS Nimitz, all 1090 foot of aircraft carrier, photographing jets involved in war games in the Mediterranean. A Tom Cat is loaded down in the catapult, both engines screaming towards maximum thrust ready for take off.<br />
<br />
Without warning, the starboard engine has an uncontained compressor fan failure and shards of high speed metal rupture through the side of the aircraft and spray the deck. A piece of metal hits my Nikon F3 hanging around my neck and smashes it to pieces.. but the camera has prevented the flying object from punching a hole in my chest.<br />
<br />
My upper left leg is not so lucky and a smaller chunk of metal punches a 2 inch hole in my leg. Blood everywhere and me in shock.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwG6p0BocsafLZYOMlIpGkvJQYr89vJQQsWRvK_0i8rQJ_vVTtzEiUAc0L0F7nCTnanvJUZAtng9xLiRVwbO_tI4L-u09zG_kvf0JiQknucm9qAZlvpjsk8ZTZPOgiy1NObp1WYqkmxE/s1600/USS_Nimitz_%2528CVN-68%2529+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbwG6p0BocsafLZYOMlIpGkvJQYr89vJQQsWRvK_0i8rQJ_vVTtzEiUAc0L0F7nCTnanvJUZAtng9xLiRVwbO_tI4L-u09zG_kvf0JiQknucm9qAZlvpjsk8ZTZPOgiy1NObp1WYqkmxE/s400/USS_Nimitz_%2528CVN-68%2529+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">USS Nimitz. Entered service in 1975</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At this point my friend says.. "Bloody hell.. that is an amazing story."<br />
<br />
Well.. there could be another explanation.....<br />
<br />
I am visiting my brother Viv and his bloody red cattle dog runs at me and literally chews a hole in my leg. Destroyed my new dacks I bought in the US of A and just missed my wedding tackle. Came back for another go at me so I shoved an Ericson mobile phone in its mouth.<br />
<br />
By this time Viv had grabbed the dog (which had form on attacking people) and dragged it away. A trip to the Doctor followed, shots of antibiotics etc and a post treatment infection.. all good fun.<br />
<br />
So the truth is...<br />
<br />
The dog bit me... but the first story sounds a whole lot more adventurous, even romantic. In fact I did photograph the jets leaving the Nimitz.. but with a telephoto lens from a harbour wall in the Med.<br />
<br />
But now with time, that scar has faded.. but do we not also carry scars in our hearts?<br />
<br />
Do they ever fade?<br />
<br />
Flashback to 1963 and in our school reader there is a story of a man going away on business. He tells his son to behave for his mother, and gives the mother a piece of timber and some nails. "Every time you are naughty, your mother will drive a nail into the timber... and I will see them on my return. But if you do something nice for your mother, she may remove a nail.. or two".<br />
<br />
So away goes the business man and the small boy gives his mother grief, but then redeems himself.<br />
<br />
Father returns a week or so later and asks to see the piece of timber. No nails.. and he says to his son... "Son, I am glad to see there are no nails in the timber. But I can see where 4 were in there, and then removed. So obviously you were naughty and then made it up to your mother. And see the holes left behind, these are like the scars you have left on your mother's heart when you were naughty and upset her."<br />
<br />
At around age 10 this had an amazing effect on me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtWbeHwsJRuglqMjfT4MQyrNRdLmLuEG2ebaUGRV56WnvYBP7YfYKAc_7SbL_KQQWwWE3iZfFb9BcKy4vHp7VOejySBiCqqX9fSlTnQSwChqlkv46411p1exGnBKRpll7dCsa1bPdM1M/s1600/Hammer%2526Nails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtWbeHwsJRuglqMjfT4MQyrNRdLmLuEG2ebaUGRV56WnvYBP7YfYKAc_7SbL_KQQWwWE3iZfFb9BcKy4vHp7VOejySBiCqqX9fSlTnQSwChqlkv46411p1exGnBKRpll7dCsa1bPdM1M/s400/Hammer%2526Nails.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can drive them in... but the scars remain when you pull them out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Some time around then, I bought a small electric motor from the local toy shop... and ran it night and day using up a king's ransom in batteries. Sunday night it is getting cold and the motor won't go. A very overtired boy who badly needs a bath asks his father to repair it. Now remember my father at this stage is 65 years of age. He takes it down under that big old house at Clayfield on a cold night and in poor light, he solders new copper wires to the terminals on the motor. I get shuffled off for a bath by mother. When I come out of the bath, I try the motor and it won't go. (The reason is the varnish insulation on the wires.. but as it is still some years until I become an auto electrician.. I don't know this)<br />
<br />
So this overtired boy yells at his father who is in front of the TV set and throws the motor at him. It hits his cheek and draws blood. That man must have loved me.. he just said.. "You are overtired son, go to bed!"<br />
<br />
So now after his cheek heals and there is no sign of the cut, he is carrying those scars in his heart and as I grew up I found I had them too. In 1979 as he lay on his death bed in the hospital, I reminded him of that and begged his forgiveness. I think I cried.<br />
<br />
His answer surprised me.... "Son... you were but a boy and I never gave it another thought. Your mother had asked me to put you in the bath and send you to bed when you came to me with that motor. That is what I should have done".<br />
<br />
And he went on to say.. "When you were seventeen, I never said a word to you either when you hit a kangaroo in my car and didn't tell me!"<br />
<br />
How on earth did you know I hit a roo in your car?<br />
<br />
"Ford told me it had kangaroo skin and fur jammed around the sump drain plug when they serviced it. It could only have been you.. your mother doesn't drive."<br />
<br />
Why didn't you say anything?<br />
<br />
"Well, no harm was done.. apart from the demise I assume of a kangaroo!"<br />
<br />
And now nearly 40 years after he passed.. I still carry that scar from throwing the motor at him.<br />
<br />
Of course there are also scars inflicted on me by life in general. Finding a mate's body after he has been dead for a few days, losing close friends and family to death.<br />
<br />
It ain't all pretzels and beer you know.<br />
<br />
And scars inflicted by other people I was close to. People whom I trusted, but turned out to be untrustworthy and they betrayed me. From those traumatic events, scars remain, possibly the nails too... but they have served to toughen me up. A lot!<br />
<br />
Possibly too much as I now find I don't suffer fools gladly. As Debra herself says, "I am just telling it like it is!" But I change that to "I am just telling it as I see it."<br />
<br />
Other more regular scars are my right thumb.. where I hit it with a bloody big hammer while using our speedo cable squaring machine. Left arm where Wayne and I fell off a large 3 person billy cart in Roseby Avenue at Clayfield in 1967. Back of my hand where an I.V. drip was installed when I was hospitalised in 1973. All still there... but fading away quietly as I head into old age.<br />
<br />
And what I have learned about scars after 6 decades on the planet is this.<br />
<br />
The scars all fade.... eventually.....except the ones you carry in your heart.<br />
<br />
They never fade despite the fullness of time and make you who you are.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-51283550844480239102017-09-08T21:50:00.000+10:002017-09-09T15:06:24.590+10:00...... and now there is one.In past blogs I have spoken about my old mate Wayne Pinna. Check it out <a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com.au/2016/07/my-times-spent-in-waynes-world.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>! So in this ramble I want to take you back to a sunny but coolish day in late June 1969. Everywhere the newspapers talked about the upcoming Apollo 11 trip to the moon, when they weren't reporting the bloody fighting in Vietnam.<br />
<br />
So on this sunny Saturday as I chatted with my father about all manner of things, our front door bell rang and there was Wayne. And looking past him and up that front path at 5 Armagh Street I saw this wonderful blue motorcycle parked on the street.<br />
<br />
"You've got it!"I screamed... and as fast as I could I made a dash to look at this wondrous machine. What a magnificent thing to behold. Mr Honda's 90cc Scrambler. Silver tank, blue frame and all of that chrome on everything else<br />
<br />
"Start it Wayne.. start it and let me hear its exhaust... rev it mate.. rev it!" It's a wonder I didn't pee myself. I soon ran inside and rang Ken brand.. he lived around the corner and was doing first year medicine. Quick as a flash Ken was there too marvelling at this Honda!<br />
<br />
Life was indeed rich. God.. I have to get one of these I thought.. even at 15.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULeEyYxnYByH5k-ymnTofoeZMjnXytRBi1eCfNIsAX3mIahsJ5xkNyRlvMBuGbSa4XmgESROdhSUdJQod9U1IufLkiJqFAo2Ga1_7ZDMl6lbp0957xIzd_FqxR1M5C0uD-K0z926jPJw/s1600/1969%252BHonda%252BCL90%252B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULeEyYxnYByH5k-ymnTofoeZMjnXytRBi1eCfNIsAX3mIahsJ5xkNyRlvMBuGbSa4XmgESROdhSUdJQod9U1IufLkiJqFAo2Ga1_7ZDMl6lbp0957xIzd_FqxR1M5C0uD-K0z926jPJw/s400/1969%252BHonda%252BCL90%252B1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wayne's Honda looked exactly like this one! Ripper Rita!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Now Ken was into bush walking, but sadly he had cystic fibrosis which made trudging long distances hard work. (Although, having said that we did a lot of bush walks together) He instantly saw the idea of taking a bike like this into those out of the way places along paths less travelled. He had been thinking of a motor scooter.. but he now saw the light and thought this was just the ticket.<br />
<br />
Of course; only Wayne could ride a bike.. Ken and I had never ridden a motorbike.<br />
<br />
Obviously we need lessons.<br />
<br />
"Hey Wayne, if we take this to Kalinga Park.. reckon Mark and I could have a ride?" Well silly Wayne said yes, so Ken and I jumped in his mother's old Morris and headed down to the park with Wayne following behind. This would be fun.<br />
<br />
Ken mounted up first.. Wayne showed him where the controls were.. and away he went. Up and down the park along the big expanse of grass there. Then it was my turn... and even right now as I type this some 48 years later......<br />
<br />
<i>I can still remember it all so clearly. The way the rubber hand grips felt under my fingers, the noise from the exhaust, the new paint smell and the smell of a new engine running a little hot as it runs in. I marvelled at how it soaked up bumps unlike our non suspended push bikes. And I rode that bike around that park for about half hour .. until it ran out of fuel. Wayne switched to reserve and took it to Shell Clayfield (long gone) to fill it up.</i><br />
<br />
So a full tank of juice and the next plan was.. Mt Glorious. With Ken and I chasing in the old Morris, Wayne was wringing the neck of this little bike all the way to the top. The exhaust header had turned a funny colour too when we got there.. and it smelt a bit warm. Sort of running it in and running it out at the same time.<br />
<br />
Coming back down the mountain and I hear the Archies singing <i>Sugar Sugar</i> on the radio and that is now forever locked in my mind. Whenever I hear that song.. I am back on Mt Glorious in 1969.<br />
<br />
But I digress....<br />
<br />
We all end up back at my place were mother makes us afternoon tea. We are three young blokes having a great time with things automotive.<br />
<br />
That night we go to a drive in movie in the old Morris.. and laughed and joked, talked cars and bikes and perved at all the young ladies in cars around us. What a magic day that was.<br />
<br />
And then.... time marched on. Ken bought a new Torana GTR in 1970, I bought a clapped out two stroke Mini in 1970 also.<br />
<br />
It's funny how time passes and the currents often drag friends in different directions; along different paths. Wayne graduated to a Ducati and an old Valiant with "fat wheels" and before you knew it.. we didn't see as much of Wayne.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to my MAX Instrument days and Wayne found me.. he would regularly drop in for a coffee as he was a rep on the road. Marriages, divorces and all of that stuff came along for us both.<br />
<br />
And then in 1990, Dr Kenneth Brand sadly succumbed to his cystic fibrosis.<br />
<br />
Wow! I didn't cry at his funeral, I nearly wailed. Comforted by Debra I just could not believe my best mate was gone. All of the crazy things we used to do together. You name it.. bikes, cars, midnight drives to Sydney, parties.. and the more serious stuff like supporting me through a traumatic divorce. And his wonderful sister Beverley said to me at his funeral.. as we hugged.. "We'll just have to learn how to get along without him!" Bloody hard to do, that.. tearing up just typing this some 27 years later.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZBZvlgbnU0R70qQd2Z2kIMhutJgGoHK7kxJxl2cg7HjiO_4ie9b37K98N0ql3JsGlizs_D52MTSPklZPiKKqJLOx0CEhLJiwwbhZJwX7S3X104L7UphFcgJG2kTLLHrQBbUaZJ3kxbM/s1600/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZBZvlgbnU0R70qQd2Z2kIMhutJgGoHK7kxJxl2cg7HjiO_4ie9b37K98N0ql3JsGlizs_D52MTSPklZPiKKqJLOx0CEhLJiwwbhZJwX7S3X104L7UphFcgJG2kTLLHrQBbUaZJ3kxbM/s400/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ken on his mighty DT2 at Beenleigh. Boxing Day 1973</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And so time moved on and through the magic of Face Book.. Wayne and I reconnected. We would email and chat on the phone. We'd talk about old days, cameras (he was a pro photog too) and all manner of things.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwjlQ-KkrCJ3RQp_r9PUZ6j97PICoNjZLfqAiwp9MzGYb1PdLeaaM0YViDjY6NSu1WtbpwK9yjcdILV4P6GtjYRpZcox_iBZik7GWoBv8ich_SUanU5WNreJsGGBf_QZLE4y8ik5VNY4/s1600/Wayne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwjlQ-KkrCJ3RQp_r9PUZ6j97PICoNjZLfqAiwp9MzGYb1PdLeaaM0YViDjY6NSu1WtbpwK9yjcdILV4P6GtjYRpZcox_iBZik7GWoBv8ich_SUanU5WNreJsGGBf_QZLE4y8ik5VNY4/s400/Wayne.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My old mate, Wayne Francis Pinna</td></tr>
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And then last year... he rang to tell me he was terminally ill.<br />
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By now Wayne was living at Glasshouse with his wife Christine.. so onto Fat Max and away I went to see him. It was sad to see him so frail. But he was cheery, positive and we had a rollicking good time remembering our childhood and youth. Like the time somebody else blew up our neighbour's letterbox. And when Wayne's mother heard about this.. she demanded Wayne go and apologise.. despite the fact he didn't do it!<br />
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At each visit with Wayne he would get his camera out and take a picture of me.. and I took some of him with my iPhone.. but I won't post them here. He was far from well and for those of you who didn't know my mate Wayne... I would rather let you imagine this skinny kid who used to ride his bicycle around Clayfield with me over 50 years ago.<br />
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Wayne had been given only short time to live... but he was his own man and rolled on way past that medically set expiry date to see another Christmas. I would wander up the highway, sometimes by bike and sometimes by car to say hello and chat.<br />
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God we used to get into trouble together as kids!<br />
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And Christine was wonderful to Wayne. She was soft, gentle, loving and nothing was too much trouble as she cared for him to the end.<br />
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Thursday night last week.... Christine called.<br />
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His suffering was over. His heart had finally called time and he left us in a peaceful manner. After that call, I sat in my study and remembered that mate from my childhood and I cried as I am want to do when sadness sweeps over me like a bloody fog.<br />
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Wednesday just passed was his funeral. It was funny, it was sad and a whole gamut of emotions passed over me. Happy to see his brother and sisters whom I hadn't seen in over 40 years but sad because of the circumstances. And because we had commitments in Brisbane that night.. as soon as the service was over; I had to leave. And I so wanted to renew aquaintences with Glen, Robyn and Bernie.<br />
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And I will still.. Glen your'e first on the list.<br />
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This afternoon driving back from the Gold Coast, I was thinking about the events of this week.... and I remembered that day in late June 1969; the Saturday the three of us spent together with that little motorbike and the Morris. What a day it was. Memorable as though only yesterday.<br />
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And although the moving parade moves on... it is sad to think now that with all of that excitement back on that day, we never even thought about what our futures might hold for us, and what might become of us.<br />
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Those two are gone, and now there is one.<br />
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But that June day lives on in my memory... and in this blog.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-76857230015317276522017-09-04T11:28:00.000+10:002017-09-04T17:04:39.450+10:00They have cradled you in custom.....<h2>
<i>They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching, </i><i>They have soaked you in convention through and through; </i><i>They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching —b</i><i>ut can't you hear the wild? — it's calling you.</i></h2>
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Part of a verse from the <i>Call of the Yukon</i> by Robert William Service.</div>
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Now outback Australia is a long way from the Yukon; but the same principle applies. It seems to me that one needs to get away from the noise, haste and shapes of grey that are the big cities on a regular basis. And as I spent last weekend in Western Queensland with Debra, at Barcaldine, I have been thinking about the bush a lot this past week.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0O9xrEMQQbEkO9RQVON7M9-snZgXt3jc1It3sFPd_QFWk7oLfpt-0K4pw56O8j3SAkTHUVyLXhgoLHaXCq6zpqJ64M8sDJsnH_1tiVTTSHf5tfoemho2jOJ2ZmfXruhQOgFNmVs8kUIA/s1600/AMPF3818+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0O9xrEMQQbEkO9RQVON7M9-snZgXt3jc1It3sFPd_QFWk7oLfpt-0K4pw56O8j3SAkTHUVyLXhgoLHaXCq6zpqJ64M8sDJsnH_1tiVTTSHf5tfoemho2jOJ2ZmfXruhQOgFNmVs8kUIA/s400/AMPF3818+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big windmill in Barcaldine's main street.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQHNejId20XMsNTvxrq21Uo-8OIhvLiyhbyQblxQsxYgQvwWMXVTrc8z_Jjgy2PEb9rLtBum1la-DoU-O00BLz-SiI3Yt0gd4Q0eDBf_DSCPYldF3yHcAE6zgGHPrOFkCVD7-CzrZdiY/s1600/IMG_1604+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrQHNejId20XMsNTvxrq21Uo-8OIhvLiyhbyQblxQsxYgQvwWMXVTrc8z_Jjgy2PEb9rLtBum1la-DoU-O00BLz-SiI3Yt0gd4Q0eDBf_DSCPYldF3yHcAE6zgGHPrOFkCVD7-CzrZdiY/s400/IMG_1604+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh do be careful out here! He's been drinking Red Bull me thinks!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_NQ4uW5Fa1zM3hiwi4dns7I1SzTLFzfhwSua9_kmdtG8ZNDbou0PlUKzjDl5apZQhjp2DByRI_HirZZAPy5pesLt9_g5h-nXkoQBKL983w_BevSI5kstJm32vXA78JlXfPkba8qiZ84/s1600/AMPF3813+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_NQ4uW5Fa1zM3hiwi4dns7I1SzTLFzfhwSua9_kmdtG8ZNDbou0PlUKzjDl5apZQhjp2DByRI_HirZZAPy5pesLt9_g5h-nXkoQBKL983w_BevSI5kstJm32vXA78JlXfPkba8qiZ84/s400/AMPF3813+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magic! At the Tree of Knowledge! Barcaldine</td></tr>
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And I have been reminiscing in my mind those trips of the past that have taken me out for my spiritual recharge. And I mean that sincerely, for my spirit does get a recharge from time spent in the bush. So it seemed to me to be an appropriate time to recall those journeys of my personal discovery and get them down in writing.....</div>
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My late friend Dr Ken Brand was mad keen on the bush.. and it was catching... bushwalking with him when I was 15 in the Lamington National Park. Did I learn a lot about the bush and myself up in those rugged rain forest covered ranges. Navigating from topographical maps and using a compass somehow seemed a world removed form algebra and Shakespeare back in the class room. And how cold were the nights... taking one of mum's eiderdown quilts and sleeping on a canvas stretcher somehow didn't keep the cold away. A very big learning curve indeed for this young bloke.</div>
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And then it was motorbikes.... small trail bikes and all of those tracks less travelled in the south east corner. Again Ken was the leader as he came up with places to go and he always.... and I mean always had to have lunch by water.. every time.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPPQhYXe54NsP-UUfyOMGOwyiz8yEot5mr67KvSNNCb6Uyyah6FCOzolJqlRWp0QHuJ2ZYLaZSRtjgqCK9jlDNPoHyr4Sufl2beFU4iZQe2G7Th9k8Er0oAkWt0L3Co5Njgs2VfAgFV8/s1600/KRB_MBT_XT250G_1981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPPQhYXe54NsP-UUfyOMGOwyiz8yEot5mr67KvSNNCb6Uyyah6FCOzolJqlRWp0QHuJ2ZYLaZSRtjgqCK9jlDNPoHyr4Sufl2beFU4iZQe2G7Th9k8Er0oAkWt0L3Co5Njgs2VfAgFV8/s400/KRB_MBT_XT250G_1981.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the billy to boil.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLAlGtn8mZ-Z9bzJM1CRDYhIE-973MXTmLc5azRW6NLrlfHxJkTbqXU1d1hBI2sLuKGy0DcaOZTcTCJ0TeT3q5MIwFGinBT2_Qr4wiYXhFHflTe-gNfxTEpqzDnkh29di72ZZ8SqKnCk/s1600/MBT%2526XT250G%2540LkManchester_1981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLAlGtn8mZ-Z9bzJM1CRDYhIE-973MXTmLc5azRW6NLrlfHxJkTbqXU1d1hBI2sLuKGy0DcaOZTcTCJ0TeT3q5MIwFGinBT2_Qr4wiYXhFHflTe-gNfxTEpqzDnkh29di72ZZ8SqKnCk/s400/MBT%2526XT250G%2540LkManchester_1981.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in 7th heaven with my Yamaha</td></tr>
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And.. we could never turn for home until he saw what was around the next corner. It made for some late nights as we headed home with those terrible little headlights on the Yamahas and Hondas.</div>
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Apart from motorcycles, a few four wheel drives have come and gone along the way too. Land Rovers on Fraser Island, Suzuki LJ50s up there too. Daihatsu, Hyundais and of course the Discovery 3. These vehicles allowed me to get out there.. and explore the road less travelled.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLxceANPWdjcthbVRKdgon06oqwxJDItSY1RqkmxusB7ZrAicVU3jdLsEDBMi2iwPQxR8KypoXeIE3pcFxGpf1ZcojoqLivN_-OPX0k8DDkVGYTvXbQD7R3SPZVVHa0_yAf3CG1YqN9k/s1600/SuzukiLJ50_1977_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLxceANPWdjcthbVRKdgon06oqwxJDItSY1RqkmxusB7ZrAicVU3jdLsEDBMi2iwPQxR8KypoXeIE3pcFxGpf1ZcojoqLivN_-OPX0k8DDkVGYTvXbQD7R3SPZVVHa0_yAf3CG1YqN9k/s400/SuzukiLJ50_1977_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Suzuki LJ50 at Spicer's Peak. (Now closed off to cars)</td></tr>
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Max and I even drove the original Holden Cruze to Kroombit Tops... amazing getting that little jigger up there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX3CDkA-s76jduORHsHU0wCM3Jcvn6t3vXmKK4IJZQboLFfPXwDUWpc-QJna7oWLxpWloMfIdGqCjlbnUNRyosL8Vc4Xa9bJJUWoQsdzSEJT9PNdDfRhvWZOvP9eqDqRKE8g8Jreb1SY/s1600/102+-+Kroombit+Tops04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX3CDkA-s76jduORHsHU0wCM3Jcvn6t3vXmKK4IJZQboLFfPXwDUWpc-QJna7oWLxpWloMfIdGqCjlbnUNRyosL8Vc4Xa9bJJUWoQsdzSEJT9PNdDfRhvWZOvP9eqDqRKE8g8Jreb1SY/s400/102+-+Kroombit+Tops04.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning tea on the way to Kroombit Tops</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFGuZ8Z_zgqhjxfRvYTehqn5koxqFTbAMxa4ZGSXZyg7_qCTvnIsHMsxai-qhgfskDGxgI-Z8A2QtxrREzWoOcZot6R5OQ_p9X74-zag0MOyYfS91EUgfidHt1D0xY6N0aYb8xTgDY6c/s1600/154+-+Kroombit+Tops04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFGuZ8Z_zgqhjxfRvYTehqn5koxqFTbAMxa4ZGSXZyg7_qCTvnIsHMsxai-qhgfskDGxgI-Z8A2QtxrREzWoOcZot6R5OQ_p9X74-zag0MOyYfS91EUgfidHt1D0xY6N0aYb8xTgDY6c/s400/154+-+Kroombit+Tops04.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brother Max with me at the Beautiful Betsy crash site</td></tr>
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Another place I visited and loved was Carnarvon Gorge. Have been there a couple of times.. but the great trip up there was with John Laverick. Hooked the camper onto the back of the Disco and away we went. Places like Carnarvon are so enchanting; almost like time has forgotten them</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6_UAWesUqC1ZjGiaoA28G5-qOmWiGgq0IiHuNI_uwTTF9Gg3VvEXkptMt3N7hJ5D2cYgrlcJKp0zDSD7767xHesffkhmkk5FwbSjoOLnmyLsdmQAsdJSeJMgXGA_Jj3jVdlbNV8QTwg/s1600/Tarakka_09+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK6_UAWesUqC1ZjGiaoA28G5-qOmWiGgq0IiHuNI_uwTTF9Gg3VvEXkptMt3N7hJ5D2cYgrlcJKp0zDSD7767xHesffkhmkk5FwbSjoOLnmyLsdmQAsdJSeJMgXGA_Jj3jVdlbNV8QTwg/s400/Tarakka_09+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Base camp at Tarakka bush camp - Carnarvon.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another camping trip with Christina in the border ranges.</td></tr>
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After lot of driving/riding in different areas; the place I have really fallen in love with is Western QLD. Debra and I have explored the area in our Land Rover all those years ago, but of late the journeys have been on a motorbike and accompanied by long suffering mate, Gregor Carr. The first really long run was Birdsville in 2011. The final ride from Windorah to Birdsville was incredible. Yes, very rough roads but the vastness of our land just spoke to me. WOW.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cooper where Clancy went!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mid trip refuel Windorah to Birdsville.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxLH4eO08fIf1Ez-otXkdUOaEdzUQ7Omhtt2d6O1iTU_10GjWUWQBWocerxHuEZGtadR2sqtYOmqhQH3-w7Z5k6yMfUUwOGYB0syE4DXIhEaK4_9qICCHtac7OVp_tRxCHCDhqfvGPOA/s1600/Birdsville1105+87+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdxLH4eO08fIf1Ez-otXkdUOaEdzUQ7Omhtt2d6O1iTU_10GjWUWQBWocerxHuEZGtadR2sqtYOmqhQH3-w7Z5k6yMfUUwOGYB0syE4DXIhEaK4_9qICCHtac7OVp_tRxCHCDhqfvGPOA/s400/Birdsville1105+87+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gregor feeling the serenity!</td></tr>
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<div>
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<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNGKhXuoRgyX8HuebSVbfah8c9wYd2WzQN8PL3GwnZDSS-FdCgOw0ZQ_rewBoyBBh0iL1oDBYS3HUEphza7pU1dBTeuCgMky1DWndtY4aij5018Qek135YRVryxMfQD56ouzUcxU1N3A/s1600/Birdsville1105+127+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNGKhXuoRgyX8HuebSVbfah8c9wYd2WzQN8PL3GwnZDSS-FdCgOw0ZQ_rewBoyBBh0iL1oDBYS3HUEphza7pU1dBTeuCgMky1DWndtY4aij5018Qek135YRVryxMfQD56ouzUcxU1N3A/s400/Birdsville1105+127+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That iconic picture that all who come here want!</td></tr>
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<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
That trip was pure magic.. the Kawasaki performed flawlessly but left me longing for a longer range/more comfortable bike. And so along came Fat Max!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7x4CsetwNp9046Eq9SxUloSpFBG9bsU6cLI0qdP2jI3-Dg9tcHs9yeeJ2JAo6S93_poETmemZYbYLpasbgHfnJ92mB_InWkNWJy1oHO_hLCKH0tSjLAHBHUlZvJXp7VIIFBEW7cQkdfw/s1600/ADV_131019_+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7x4CsetwNp9046Eq9SxUloSpFBG9bsU6cLI0qdP2jI3-Dg9tcHs9yeeJ2JAo6S93_poETmemZYbYLpasbgHfnJ92mB_InWkNWJy1oHO_hLCKH0tSjLAHBHUlZvJXp7VIIFBEW7cQkdfw/s400/ADV_131019_+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fat Max in a river bed outside Grafton NSW.</td></tr>
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<div>
<br />
<br />
Having Max in the garage tends to make you look further afield for your adventures, so Winton looked good in 2016. And it did turn out to be an adventure too.<br />
<br />
Read about it<a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com.au/2016/05/tales-of-adventure-in-search-of.html" target="_blank"> here!</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62yHmDFn6jWp3bnP1I32QWjbwTU3G90Gx8ofNbGyTDT4V3Hs_vpTQaFkRKo5EYXH9w_zw8OZE7lah2LaacGhyCK2rxyzSBmH3eqDgb6RuqQU5P7_z0kYvnP_iL8fgB7HIk6P7Gd3bYxg/s1600/IMG_1166+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62yHmDFn6jWp3bnP1I32QWjbwTU3G90Gx8ofNbGyTDT4V3Hs_vpTQaFkRKo5EYXH9w_zw8OZE7lah2LaacGhyCK2rxyzSBmH3eqDgb6RuqQU5P7_z0kYvnP_iL8fgB7HIk6P7Gd3bYxg/s400/IMG_1166+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
So what's next?<br />
<br />
Well on the way back from Barcaldine a week ago, by pure chance we met the owner of a 44,000 acre cattle property outside Tambo. Over morning breakfast and coffee I got to learn more about the property itself.<br />
<br />
Compared to business in the city, these words said to me really resonated...<br />
<br />
<i>"Out here, the only thing you have control over is the price you pay for your cattle!"</i><br />
<br />
I am intrigued about life on the land on such a large property and so will head back to visit the place with my cameras.... the only question is.. will I take Max or the Calais? I guess that will be answered when I see how I can condense my camera gear and laptop down to a minimum and pack it on board.<br />
<br />
Next autumn looks good.... Yes I can hear the wild calling me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="L296"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="L297"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="L298"></a></i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-2345338952567402017-07-24T21:18:00.000+10:002018-02-18T12:26:26.609+10:00The clock ticks, the hair goes from brown to grey to white.. The clock ticks, the hair goes from brown to grey to white.. I guess bringing us (well me) much closer to that long good night.<br />
<br />
Sounds a bit maudlin... but no, I am not thinking dark thoughts.<br />
<br />
But with another birthday passing and now the next big birthday will have a 7 in front of it... I have decided to stop along the way and think.. and plan.<br />
<br />
First the thinking. (I wasn't much good at this at school!) But tonight I am thinking about the past 6+ decades and all of the people and things that have come and gone in my life. Sort of like watching a big movie in my head really.<br />
<br />
Lots of sunny days.. but a few rainy ones too. I give thanks for the folks who shared the sunny days with me, and even more thanks to the ones who helped me through the rainy days.<br />
<br />
And forgiveness to those who caused the rainy days. From those dark days I came to learn that what doesn't kill you really does make you stronger. And that is all I want to say about the dark days.<br />
<br />
I was blessed to have an amazing father who was 55 years of age when I arrived on planet earth. And I got to spend 25 years with him until in 1979, the grim reaper came for him at 3 in the morning. The things my father taught me in that big old house at Clayfield, I still carry with me to this day. His knowledge of the human condition & his way of persuading others to see things his way in meetings was legendary. The great thing I either learned or inherited from him was his ability to write letters that get results. For me that is something that I do regularly and in 8 out of 10 cases I get the result I want.<br />
<br />
When I think about a 67 year old man rebuilding a bicycle for his 12 year old son with skills I didn't even know he possessed. (He actually learned how to do that in WW1 in the British Army) Or watching him restore an old coffee table for me at the age of 80 when he was riddled with cancer. I loved that table as it was the last thing he worked on under our family home... sadly no longer mine. The division of spoils by the family court saw to that.<br />
<br />
As he lay in his death bed, he talked business, gave me advice and also talked about the war. He said to me.. "Son, war changes men." At the time I was having issues with my father in law, a WW2 vet who along with his wife was an alcoholic. I was less than charitable to him.. but I did lighten up a lot following my father's passing. Dad was very stoic about his pending shuffle off this mortal coil. And would often quote Gray's Elegy. He had as a young man sat in that church yard and recited Gray's lines... but for him the first few versus were enough at this time of his life's end...<br />
<br />
"<i><span style="font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; text-indent: -1em;">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,</span><span style="font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; text-indent: -1em;"> </span></i><br />
<i> The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,<br />The plowman homeward plods his weary way,<br /> And leaves the world to darkness and to me.<br />Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,<br /> And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br />Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br /> And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;<br />Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r<br /> The moping owl does to the moon complain<br />Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r,<br /> Molest her ancient solitary reign.<br />Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,<br /> Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,<br />Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,<br /> The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br />The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,<br /> The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,<br />The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /> No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br />For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br /> Or busy housewife ply her evening care:<br />No children run to lisp their sire's return,<br /> Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. "</i><br />
<br />
<i>A</i>nd then he was gone out of my life forever.... to this day I miss him so much.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdAWdbFibm2VMvMRHYllGkPeKqrdOiUEhMLWVmifLzxX5t6TTMN6QhukrSDJEJpUy3tpNk_bY0D9cdWnW8-VxgqmsHpztfMbnMnfVTSxNa6bYLEk89Aog-7pn4nNgpOcNuX0wQj8uxVo/s1600/AMP_3964+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdAWdbFibm2VMvMRHYllGkPeKqrdOiUEhMLWVmifLzxX5t6TTMN6QhukrSDJEJpUy3tpNk_bY0D9cdWnW8-VxgqmsHpztfMbnMnfVTSxNa6bYLEk89Aog-7pn4nNgpOcNuX0wQj8uxVo/s400/AMP_3964+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That big old house where I grew up. Hard to leave.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Then there was mother.. she loved all of her sons to death. A less charitable person might say she was over possessive with her sons. For my 6th birthday in year one, she invited the entire class. I kid you not. Around forty or so 5 and 6 year olds tearing around the lounge room at Clayfield must have been quite a site. But later in life, bring a new girlfriend home and boy would she give them the third degree. Funny thing is.. she eventually came to love them too. Because of this weird attitude of hers, I tended to keep quiet about the girls I met. She had been a school teacher (English and Maths) earlier in life.. and it never left her. As a small boy she would educate me in the physics of metal fatigue at the age of 10. (Truly) And also explain how things got hot and cold. She didn't know it at the time but she was talking about the Laws of Thermodynamics. Specific heat, latent heat of vaporisation etc. Amazing to already know this when it popped up in year 10 Science B as it was called back then.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuXhQSUogCXotJIM5NBrwcXVm97fUQJdENCRui5gFjQF4aYgIrT9p_GgBXe3wDhuNSZLHL1lqiEKAfBn_YBtN7LimV7Gs9odiAIrB3ten8yRoecQLvmHSflmlJAkY8qSeqUbXZGVem2o/s1600/FIN_Mum_Fiji_1975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1600" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmuXhQSUogCXotJIM5NBrwcXVm97fUQJdENCRui5gFjQF4aYgIrT9p_GgBXe3wDhuNSZLHL1lqiEKAfBn_YBtN7LimV7Gs9odiAIrB3ten8yRoecQLvmHSflmlJAkY8qSeqUbXZGVem2o/s400/FIN_Mum_Fiji_1975.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mum sending the traders crazy in Nadi in 1975</td></tr>
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<br />
She sent me crazy with things to be involved in.. Methodist OK group on Friday night, Violin lessons on Saturday morning, Cubs on Saturday afternoon, Sunday school and church on Sunday morning and then homework on Sunday afternoon. As an 11 year old... I thought this was over the top. Eventually we just stayed with violin lessons until I wanted to change to guitar.. well that went over like a Lead Lancaster I can tell you. She (and father) hated Rock and Roll.<br />
<br />
Still she was there when I started my apprenticeship and made sure my work clothes were washed and cleaned. Welcomed my friends into our family home and I don't know how many times the Ford Car Club of QLD ended up having functions at our home. The day my father died I saw a sadness in her that she never recovered from in the remaining 19 years of her life. And now I look back on her with love and thanks and realise that like all of us.. she struggled with life at times.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfxzgqNdNo72uyE5ya770cYjvDDwxDWCdlWulySDHEQikmKhSIcjIL3pqgk7EJnaxuujwApG30F_wZvRGfZdpFu_-JjPmV5QwkF6hUZpGBiicBGjV9gDHnhZ0oYaT9ZdbYriVo9OBLok/s1600/June+18_1949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfxzgqNdNo72uyE5ya770cYjvDDwxDWCdlWulySDHEQikmKhSIcjIL3pqgk7EJnaxuujwApG30F_wZvRGfZdpFu_-JjPmV5QwkF6hUZpGBiicBGjV9gDHnhZ0oYaT9ZdbYriVo9OBLok/s400/June+18_1949.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A happy day.. May and Ron on their wedding in 1949. </td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWL02tb7qp284Y5fPleg_WYfZUt-Tm03YNWEk09rwKboryHPQz78kooF-9A4uz-9GiFRcNWuQy2JR0d3IQ3T_GlxyusHklfdmdi7PyNDaquZScLuHqfXbDSZ4ooancx8sJdtMD3BQDOi8/s1600/RBTG_74.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWL02tb7qp284Y5fPleg_WYfZUt-Tm03YNWEk09rwKboryHPQz78kooF-9A4uz-9GiFRcNWuQy2JR0d3IQ3T_GlxyusHklfdmdi7PyNDaquZScLuHqfXbDSZ4ooancx8sJdtMD3BQDOi8/s400/RBTG_74.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">40% of the siblings reunion in Oz. Dad, Uncle Bill, Aunty Tilly and Uncle Guss.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Of course life went on.. new cars (lots of them) new motorbikes (lots of them too!) and lots of friends. Some I met at school and am still in touch with today and some I met through MAX Instruments and also still in touch with now too. My friends all started to marry and in the fullness of time, so did I. As it turned out.. that was mistake. Not the marriage itself, but rather marrying the wrong person. I learned the hard way never to assume fidelity was a given in a marriage. And that is all I have to say about those 10 years.<br />
<br />
So in my 30s I found myself living the life of a bachelor in my little cottage at Albion. My bachelor mates and fellow divorced friends would drop in usually on a Friday night and the Sansui was cranked up and the music played. Sometimes the photographers would come and we would shoot our friends in the studio and print in the dark room those magic B&W prints till dawn's light.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmp5LVaeht1WjSXaITSeiqq_nFZCOCBY9G2rKG_gkK0Lv-m4nD46PTvoWqibRV6rNVzCDgNa2JuMFMDXEZy1Wb98UCftCxSs_yZ1Q_mq-E12DuC2xGQ3aUWYytJHX-OIxCn25MyDniMo/s1600/Honda+XLR250_Stoenleigh+Street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1285" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmp5LVaeht1WjSXaITSeiqq_nFZCOCBY9G2rKG_gkK0Lv-m4nD46PTvoWqibRV6rNVzCDgNa2JuMFMDXEZy1Wb98UCftCxSs_yZ1Q_mq-E12DuC2xGQ3aUWYytJHX-OIxCn25MyDniMo/s400/Honda+XLR250_Stoenleigh+Street.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We even shot the Honda in the studio... getting it out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And then one day, when I least expected it... Debra came into my life. My niece Toni and her now late ex husband set us up on a blind date.. just for a joke. They thought Debra and I were cheese and chalk. Well we were.. but something clicked. A passion for travel was the big thing that united us from day one, plus Debra's assistance at all of my weddings. The brides and the guys loved her. At one wedding at Indooroopilly Golf Club, one of the groomsmen got me aside and said.. "Your assistant is hot and I think she digs you. Play your cards right tonight and..." Funny as. She carried my camera bags, calmed the brides and designed some amazing shots for me to capture. What a girl. Talk about a keeper.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aecknn45nNMuLVZ0G-fbjVatca_Lz2r1iwI-YeEvhDx7tF0Oz2pTR4PA4j7Di0r6rE-2P5Bk7d7nA-plDsPpPWio5LrFPb2gwNlhaXFx_-kwiA0lbNQ1UBxOLFA9sziYgoy24ETgduM/s1600/Phuket_2012+2+-+Version+2+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aecknn45nNMuLVZ0G-fbjVatca_Lz2r1iwI-YeEvhDx7tF0Oz2pTR4PA4j7Di0r6rE-2P5Bk7d7nA-plDsPpPWio5LrFPb2gwNlhaXFx_-kwiA0lbNQ1UBxOLFA9sziYgoy24ETgduM/s400/Phuket_2012+2+-+Version+2+%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phuket in 2012.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NUoFaInH96NzsF0_jVFPysGpfQ1K9WMqzgcrwtuyN-S-bjNVbFKlkuY49HFzgx4VYJn-UEn6YHZq2AAP6S0yr-53lYjYkwrTime_EaMQurwwZzDiaSeTd-2uefvox1JbWnQl9AHiUgU/s1600/8x10_DSCN2224+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NUoFaInH96NzsF0_jVFPysGpfQ1K9WMqzgcrwtuyN-S-bjNVbFKlkuY49HFzgx4VYJn-UEn6YHZq2AAP6S0yr-53lYjYkwrTime_EaMQurwwZzDiaSeTd-2uefvox1JbWnQl9AHiUgU/s400/8x10_DSCN2224+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb's shot of me in Amsterdam in 2104</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Our travels have taken us on over 40 overseas trips in nearly 30 years. (One year was when we went to Scotland to get married. Well after 11 years together we figured it was time) We actually stopped counting at 40 trips ... and travel really brings out the best in us as a couple. These past 30 years have just flown past... and Debra has been so supportive along the way. When I wanted to leave MAX Instruments after 27 years and run the studio full time, she was fine with it. And when I wanted to get back into motorcycling, she was fine with it. In fact the last birthday card she gave me had written in her own handwriting.. "get back on that bike and get out there." We built a new house together. Now that was very important. The house I had when we met was picked by the ex wife, the one we recently lived in (Armagh House) was picked by my parents... but this one is ours. And we just love it. Our friends come and break bread with us and share a drink and fine conversations. We love them all and are so lucky to have and know them. Makes getting older fun!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Our life is rich! We are blessed and we know it and give thanks.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG_gfi2q5MPCmyr07sMIlJH7TP65uPt2v7hDFuiVMJtvreEEtY7aFuJMJQH5LhFeg1ahEmqOnPky4vopFvEa1gFdx0fqK8H2zhgYdHuOaYd6hOGP3XUdAfrG51Ay5CbCCnuxnf6kAbo8/s1600/AMPF3287+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG_gfi2q5MPCmyr07sMIlJH7TP65uPt2v7hDFuiVMJtvreEEtY7aFuJMJQH5LhFeg1ahEmqOnPky4vopFvEa1gFdx0fqK8H2zhgYdHuOaYd6hOGP3XUdAfrG51Ay5CbCCnuxnf6kAbo8/s400/AMPF3287+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new home under construction.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5gJVHOiGkBdX2qFkJ1UVqqMfYIXQq0Y95VY9X5MPd0oROiTf7MbD8G6l_aXD58I4laeYY4P62QCFoAoF7pJWp8njERiyuyBNlzUEue8JpM7f9FtUbg6FGQzUgYSkLilulq51KmX_C3c/s1600/AMPF3247+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5gJVHOiGkBdX2qFkJ1UVqqMfYIXQq0Y95VY9X5MPd0oROiTf7MbD8G6l_aXD58I4laeYY4P62QCFoAoF7pJWp8njERiyuyBNlzUEue8JpM7f9FtUbg6FGQzUgYSkLilulq51KmX_C3c/s400/AMPF3247+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting closer!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEi5n0siKdxEPWHTOZKm4yn0YiGI_oXHc0LJeXC1W83zBmFWP6V6fDHltT5Jglznw9jT3lLO5CMQnxcAGE3s2R61WgDA7S1SiU3j7mXGb5lYoXy2EZDpYJ-XaCzNlGc4cvfliP_0exuQ/s1600/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEi5n0siKdxEPWHTOZKm4yn0YiGI_oXHc0LJeXC1W83zBmFWP6V6fDHltT5Jglznw9jT3lLO5CMQnxcAGE3s2R61WgDA7S1SiU3j7mXGb5lYoXy2EZDpYJ-XaCzNlGc4cvfliP_0exuQ/s400/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here on independence day 2016</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVMeIbHEJlUeb_wqenZ81ChIcSVdF4fUhyWhPlLS1-3or9X1UlBMNhxo61S3k6E44rD4jHV9kj_79r9XVkZOFIKBe_HqiaOaXXUzJccnrvwzJj18IMe6OIVfJcCTYtT5Rhi27te5R_tc/s1600/AMP_5099+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVMeIbHEJlUeb_wqenZ81ChIcSVdF4fUhyWhPlLS1-3or9X1UlBMNhxo61S3k6E44rD4jHV9kj_79r9XVkZOFIKBe_HqiaOaXXUzJccnrvwzJj18IMe6OIVfJcCTYtT5Rhi27te5R_tc/s400/AMP_5099+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Stars & Stripes cake in the kitchen.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYp_HlGOWHrXgEYkXcxqI7D2YdPXox3qvFikFksSif9jUAcPffe0zDS-0Ii309rqRMQFbCHYNUC2cBwEN2-W-IirZXRRaZqwJ-uwVRGfXCtVyh6L5jM7tDi2e4sEtIS-twPFpQ6G701o/s1600/AMP_4489+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYp_HlGOWHrXgEYkXcxqI7D2YdPXox3qvFikFksSif9jUAcPffe0zDS-0Ii309rqRMQFbCHYNUC2cBwEN2-W-IirZXRRaZqwJ-uwVRGfXCtVyh6L5jM7tDi2e4sEtIS-twPFpQ6G701o/s400/AMP_4489+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debra designed the master bedroom. Magic!</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHAdI-3eWHrVxwH-EhuahvSvRDQyeFC_SVzO-Shv3oQ9L4jIom4wbao8XL1yXydx_mYW2N3jmQ_Pqba1bT_9fiARhxUeezKEdiShrOg32WfLeOGstILiKA758Y6ddUfLKpPwjm_9mlns/s1600/IMG_0571+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHAdI-3eWHrVxwH-EhuahvSvRDQyeFC_SVzO-Shv3oQ9L4jIom4wbao8XL1yXydx_mYW2N3jmQ_Pqba1bT_9fiARhxUeezKEdiShrOg32WfLeOGstILiKA758Y6ddUfLKpPwjm_9mlns/s400/IMG_0571+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb on Fat Max before the Winton excursion last year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So now after that burst of looking back.. comes the planning. How we spend our time.. well it's the currency of our lives and this isn't a practice run. It's game on! So the planning continues.<br />
<br />
Canada is on the list.. possibly next year for us both. Another assault on the Snowy Mountains for me on Fat Max when it doesn't bloody rain down there. And spending more time with our friends. And we both would love to return to the scene of the crime, Dingwell in the Scottish Highlands where we were married on a rainy Friday afternoon 19 years ago.<br />
<br />
Deb is thinking she would love a V8 Stang.. but her 12 year old Z4 roadster hasn't done 20,000 km yet. I am happy with the Calis v but am thinking of a new Fuji Medium Format Camera. We will see what the universe provides. Of course these are mere possessions and we really never own them.. after all we are only visiting the planet for what is a very short time it would seem.<br />
<br />
You know, it seems to me that most people aim for nothing and hit it with amazing accuracy. For Debra and I .. why not choose where life takes you? (Well as much as you can.)<br />
<br />
So looking at the calendar and planning is what I was doing tonight when I got this mad impulse to write it all down. I hope it hasn't sent you all up the wall.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers<br />
<br />
M<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-39158663683282589952017-04-03T15:06:00.000+10:002017-04-05T08:56:34.341+10:00Maximus Obesus goes to Melbourne.Well it seemed like a good idea at the time. Over a few glasses of beer sitting out by the pool, the idea of a tour to Victoria and the Snowy Mountains on Fat Max seemed like a great idea.<br />
<br />
But.... man makes plans.. and God laughs!<br />
<br />
The plan itself was simple, ride to Melbourne in 3 days, spend 3 or 4 days with my wonderful in-laws down there and then spend a few days exploring the Snowy Mountains. And, the Monaro Highway. Ever since I saw my first Monaro in 1968 at Westfield Toombul Shopping Town and was told it was named after the road.. well I had to go there. Actually always wanted to drive a Monaro on the Monaro... perhaps in the future.<br />
<br />
March was chosen as it was a compromise between a bit of rain and still not really cold temperatures. Max had his 30K service, new Bridgestone Battlaxe A40 tyres were fitted and all was well. Panniers with tyre repair kit, compressor and tools and also my clothes in a dry bag packed, GPS programmed, cash and plastic in the wallet and a camera with a fully charged battery.<br />
<br />
What could possibly go wrong I asked out loud?<br />
<br />
Debra had some ideas on what could go wrong... so I asked her to keep them to herself.<br />
<br />
So from my perspective, what could possibly go wrong?<br />
<br />
Let me put it this way, we really aren't in control.... of anything!<br />
<br />
As I headed out to mount up on the leaving day, good mate Brian Wakefield came across the road to wish me well. "This will be a great adventure"' I excitedly told Brian. I mounted up and headed into the Legacy Way tunnel to find a quick way to Ipswich Road and Warwick. The excitement was amazing.. finally the time when the rubber meets the road.<br />
<br />
Onwards and up... and hang on.. out of the tunnel I came, to find the Western Freeway bumper to bumper... doing around walking speed... and ..... bucketing down with rain. About an hour after I left Grant Street, I was finally on Ipswich Road.<br />
<br />
And wet.<br />
<br />
But it is supposed to be an adventure? Right?<br />
<br />
Around two hours later McDonalds in Warwick was a heavenly sanctuary that served hot chocolate.... and I tried in vain to dry off while I drank that warm chocolate.<br />
<br />
Walk outside and the rain has stopped!<br />
<br />
Excellent.<br />
<br />
Mount the bike, stab the starter button.. and somehow it is connected to the clouds.. down comes the bloody rain.. again.<br />
<br />
Next stop is Deepwater Bakery where they have the world's biggest cream donuts. But today I want a hot lunch. Of course.. it is one hour later in NSW and so when I arrive.. they have a choice of two things in the hot box.<br />
<br />
A meat pie (Ned Kelly special pie) or.. nothing. That is it, one miserable bloody pie left. Beggars cannot be choosers as my dad used to say so I settled on that and a bottle of water.<br />
<br />
Eventually I ride into Armidale and I decided it was time to give it away for the day. So no pictures because all the way along it has been bucketing down with bloody rain.<br />
<br />
The rest of the trip to MEL was rain, rain, speed cameras, rain, more rain and then it rained!<br />
<br />
Although I did find a great car museum in Shepparton. Amazingly ALL of the cars and bikes belong to folks who leave them on display here.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PqTrMTbhM1Ac3fi85M-yJx2LeaAFmd46oOgCUoPQ3lBFGhNftx8OaynNfhw-Z6InD4t1ieBzd8Lpmz_AXFuK5WGzPPyj3K0IpXDuJPv1gNXRuKTr2E1AVTqvNpTyeVgBBgJOZgLe6TQ/s1600/IMG_0892+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PqTrMTbhM1Ac3fi85M-yJx2LeaAFmd46oOgCUoPQ3lBFGhNftx8OaynNfhw-Z6InD4t1ieBzd8Lpmz_AXFuK5WGzPPyj3K0IpXDuJPv1gNXRuKTr2E1AVTqvNpTyeVgBBgJOZgLe6TQ/s400/IMG_0892+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2CV Bought one of these new in Paris in 1988 & drove it around Europe.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_DGYb-DUG6CCbslr4VA_hakb2woidQk94oQv98LY9h3BHen1VlzgpvoMj_K87NBrZ_r121_yO7fjgncc-G3Ra0Uy8E9OaU2sZGoStQ3ELSKK1HN_V_8AE-tlMNtisDav9wa2t8bbR0/s1600/IMG_0907+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVC_DGYb-DUG6CCbslr4VA_hakb2woidQk94oQv98LY9h3BHen1VlzgpvoMj_K87NBrZ_r121_yO7fjgncc-G3Ra0Uy8E9OaU2sZGoStQ3ELSKK1HN_V_8AE-tlMNtisDav9wa2t8bbR0/s400/IMG_0907+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HK 327. What can you say. Now worth north of $250,000</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGomSiOsM6hr7S8kaqxLZ04vtWJ9Axf979lyjvGH3Dt9OeaTc7iE4ZPyeQIC4rt90cOHNDAkTPMJDS2ln4NrO3OWygz3tOPClzL8prJ9b28HCgd_anxhR1yq8QV8TOcDNS-usSGHBRTHM/s1600/IMG_0909+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGomSiOsM6hr7S8kaqxLZ04vtWJ9Axf979lyjvGH3Dt9OeaTc7iE4ZPyeQIC4rt90cOHNDAkTPMJDS2ln4NrO3OWygz3tOPClzL8prJ9b28HCgd_anxhR1yq8QV8TOcDNS-usSGHBRTHM/s400/IMG_0909+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">XR GT. My favourite was the XT GT.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqU6nW7eMdwMM9lJj7wtlrxM7bYIpJGVtRSkXiSzDDcwmOpA8mx5ZQNUH_Pc-POTaOnA76GNucAJca5h_OIr_y59OzE0Hq0a2vNcfMeeDWEPo4JC3i4ATJ1TMo6uUesdSdbAARWGRYJk/s1600/IMG_0914+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqU6nW7eMdwMM9lJj7wtlrxM7bYIpJGVtRSkXiSzDDcwmOpA8mx5ZQNUH_Pc-POTaOnA76GNucAJca5h_OIr_y59OzE0Hq0a2vNcfMeeDWEPo4JC3i4ATJ1TMo6uUesdSdbAARWGRYJk/s400/IMG_0914+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cabinet of old valve radios.. just for brother Paul!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2UtOw-0vjqLkF1ARNfdR1n0Su-UmP-lKAxzYttMZaU5kr8iBIlCzlrDiiHqCQMhzUdlGLhK8OecS8iICiF8lwv9ibGdM9Sbe9N4FYyau49L_T1KuxK-LkB55lIAzB89VEqKDM81o5yE/s1600/IMG_0929+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2UtOw-0vjqLkF1ARNfdR1n0Su-UmP-lKAxzYttMZaU5kr8iBIlCzlrDiiHqCQMhzUdlGLhK8OecS8iICiF8lwv9ibGdM9Sbe9N4FYyau49L_T1KuxK-LkB55lIAzB89VEqKDM81o5yE/s400/IMG_0929+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mighty EH. Yes a lot of us boomers had them... second hand.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8D0XE9jG9560qMZ25tplOfVKuZ7ikwf97k8uMU4KaRh45dImu5YMmyZjedCEjNr6eF9jBpXQ508pk74OYPKuRi7vvVHTz33HnzYKBK1ydTjv4zyAIbWImd9ctxp3x5Y8NieEhGC3Uw0/s1600/IMG_0936+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8D0XE9jG9560qMZ25tplOfVKuZ7ikwf97k8uMU4KaRh45dImu5YMmyZjedCEjNr6eF9jBpXQ508pk74OYPKuRi7vvVHTz33HnzYKBK1ydTjv4zyAIbWImd9ctxp3x5Y8NieEhGC3Uw0/s400/IMG_0936+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite trail bikes, the Yamaha XT500</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
So gazing at cars and bikes was over.. time to hit the highway and play Russian roulette with the bloody speed cameras. They are bloody everywhere.<br />
<br />
Finally hit Melbourne and try my luck riding on wet tram lines... stayed upright. Bonus!<br />
<br />
Rolled into 40 Brunel Street on day 3 at around 15:00 hours.<br />
<br />
And really glad to get off the bike.<br />
<br />
So this was home until the following Monday morning.. 4 days of R&R.<br />
<br />
And the sun came out.<br />
<br />
Thursday finds me at the Victoria markets.. love that place. Picked up some stubby coolers and a nifty LED torch to carry on the bike.<br />
<br />
On Friday, John drove me to Footscray to meet up with an ADV inmate at Big Fish Art Studios. What amazing workspace and what a nice guy Alfonse turned out to be. He had recently purchased a spare Nikon Camera from me so I figured I should stop in and say hello while in Melbourne. Just love his studio.. lots of room to be creative!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAOqB7-YqfLh42iizvUGkces2szzrjS1rasLmAGHj0lQtDj9SWy_HRsHbi_CiZTZ7_fjQd1s9G4WRpU9FZND9xEzFOkyBwng7WJ0oLyH2Vy2V502466_AFfTT1MsHNw9pw2Y1UFdmUSo/s1600/IMG_0942+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAOqB7-YqfLh42iizvUGkces2szzrjS1rasLmAGHj0lQtDj9SWy_HRsHbi_CiZTZ7_fjQd1s9G4WRpU9FZND9xEzFOkyBwng7WJ0oLyH2Vy2V502466_AFfTT1MsHNw9pw2Y1UFdmUSo/s400/IMG_0942+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This must be the place John!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9oYI64KFopzTlKnZYdEybWNfIlDqIjf-dczdUNghrRvHP1Q8mQN0gf4KbTBWrfmU9LCvN5Z3_HcDOT3QVRzBZOAkn31HWpSrA4snG-ijslf67fdmwVbprguTvRkClgyiiGb9c-ykW2o/s1600/IMG_0939+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9oYI64KFopzTlKnZYdEybWNfIlDqIjf-dczdUNghrRvHP1Q8mQN0gf4KbTBWrfmU9LCvN5Z3_HcDOT3QVRzBZOAkn31HWpSrA4snG-ijslf67fdmwVbprguTvRkClgyiiGb9c-ykW2o/s400/IMG_0939+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got to keep the studio warm in winer.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdn0RvCdR4251_VSul2MCiMu53T0iR95-bnf_tsam3MC-N6GCLZgq78mB9Pi2zzcPXxPOBMqlGRgs2vjAb8CsjlO335PSKBKDbl3QxeodL6HuH1T69vIOwTSFF870KI3j5JVvbXmiu8VY/s1600/IMG_0940+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdn0RvCdR4251_VSul2MCiMu53T0iR95-bnf_tsam3MC-N6GCLZgq78mB9Pi2zzcPXxPOBMqlGRgs2vjAb8CsjlO335PSKBKDbl3QxeodL6HuH1T69vIOwTSFF870KI3j5JVvbXmiu8VY/s400/IMG_0940+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And motor bikes too! Bonus!</td></tr>
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<br />
Then we went for a bit of a walk after a coffee next door at a really arty coffee shop / cafe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJE0AoJHrisGS3lV5fqvrR_h5u0NPUzzspKFRp6y4b-alRnAuuZ4VvzFt2F2ytKyYcIejjiUZ5P52NcSZ6xm0z-9bu-tJXfj-9urNZmya8sZW_Exz7vKK5q-3rCUoRcTNyfedlE3RKBs/s1600/IMG_0946+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJE0AoJHrisGS3lV5fqvrR_h5u0NPUzzspKFRp6y4b-alRnAuuZ4VvzFt2F2ytKyYcIejjiUZ5P52NcSZ6xm0z-9bu-tJXfj-9urNZmya8sZW_Exz7vKK5q-3rCUoRcTNyfedlE3RKBs/s400/IMG_0946+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just love these old buildings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQrexfImmjRs2II-7AVppjP2FJ_KC-VKNkQUYakGBQepSoWWNvdKMA9kPeTCY5alBnZCg-9nXUs7AlqwNyLOFFKfXSPDqQqEq-bak5UWbsd9_pxoohzmtmYs3byFEexYphuXwCjaNNpc/s1600/IMG_0948+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQrexfImmjRs2II-7AVppjP2FJ_KC-VKNkQUYakGBQepSoWWNvdKMA9kPeTCY5alBnZCg-9nXUs7AlqwNyLOFFKfXSPDqQqEq-bak5UWbsd9_pxoohzmtmYs3byFEexYphuXwCjaNNpc/s400/IMG_0948+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love doors... just love them!</td></tr>
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Lots of good food with the in laws each night and then on Saturday, Steven (Deb's cousin) takes me to Williamstown. Love that place. Home port for Sea Shepherd and one of their ships is in. Also in port is a floating museum.. in the form of the former mine sweeper the HMAS Castlemaine. A good tour of this after lunch and what a day.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTojzzxKV6ikUwVl8oG-EiCkaYeZFu7d-Huh-bmNsKFEDtZNkVfa9_7c1lajSWRIdT_Go21nyoqOXuU1iU0Hw4I_pI4nOO4vD3owlek_5mNonMQ77DE4ZA6fuBTVxP5x0Hi4LS18r0NY/s1600/IMG_0974+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTojzzxKV6ikUwVl8oG-EiCkaYeZFu7d-Huh-bmNsKFEDtZNkVfa9_7c1lajSWRIdT_Go21nyoqOXuU1iU0Hw4I_pI4nOO4vD3owlek_5mNonMQ77DE4ZA6fuBTVxP5x0Hi4LS18r0NY/s400/IMG_0974+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steven manning the anti aircraft gun. Look out for Zeros mate!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zpTFuwxt4ud3gbI9FfPo1kZ9PDW_WYM4jVtqG0EgCsJLdYwoIA0kUD4VrqXYu8BgOxriet-qco_3uv9SSN_bpM6zca_b_ileAm-zKhhI0NtSKX_IzkSWvJcOjh1a9g8bToS4__7aeGg/s1600/IMG_0975+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zpTFuwxt4ud3gbI9FfPo1kZ9PDW_WYM4jVtqG0EgCsJLdYwoIA0kUD4VrqXYu8BgOxriet-qco_3uv9SSN_bpM6zca_b_ileAm-zKhhI0NtSKX_IzkSWvJcOjh1a9g8bToS4__7aeGg/s400/IMG_0975+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The good ship's main gun. Note Golden Circle muzzle cover.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkXMtEKM47VWUzAH8hxBTiApUZ0GIXPXZYHNVfCg7Wf6siG_mPWSHpn5ibLdAadZsUiLO_eh_c3_sk5H9MzhXi6Faw9nkJT7CUhUP1-lp9ObzMWD9c82fcnw2JUsFnKNcgEwXd3O-F_Y/s1600/IMG_0954+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkXMtEKM47VWUzAH8hxBTiApUZ0GIXPXZYHNVfCg7Wf6siG_mPWSHpn5ibLdAadZsUiLO_eh_c3_sk5H9MzhXi6Faw9nkJT7CUhUP1-lp9ObzMWD9c82fcnw2JUsFnKNcgEwXd3O-F_Y/s400/IMG_0954+2+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go get those bloody whalers guys!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvXD8e_YHTYKeaRDMH_tTwrUfbTaozyi4r2rejd4gSCUXR1r_cbRL68EOm0ZYlB-gkvzIxZMpot1OJjS4ADDt9Z7Dw3nkqJWxJY8Qz6Yf4hh8-Awtu9LgrdZaF1i93rS4DNkQLST6VrY/s1600/IMG_0955+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvXD8e_YHTYKeaRDMH_tTwrUfbTaozyi4r2rejd4gSCUXR1r_cbRL68EOm0ZYlB-gkvzIxZMpot1OJjS4ADDt9Z7Dw3nkqJWxJY8Qz6Yf4hh8-Awtu9LgrdZaF1i93rS4DNkQLST6VrY/s400/IMG_0955+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love their logo.</td></tr>
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If I was PM I would have black ops crew with a submarine... I would sort the Jap whalers out.. permanently.<br />
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I fell in love with this old tin shed.. a bit of judicious cropping and some tweaking and I had this.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5-yRvEb4Gh8knO6712Ci-kW6i3f0lPaRHcV17AMh37_fHyF721m5ZKO6lxo_2nkjPDVHR08gR4V8cF32q1n46-tJh8KFTXKjzuTHu2KIu6yld_udMpDReI3gAK1g6UoZwZV_LtaXCNU/s1600/Williams_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy5-yRvEb4Gh8knO6712Ci-kW6i3f0lPaRHcV17AMh37_fHyF721m5ZKO6lxo_2nkjPDVHR08gR4V8cF32q1n46-tJh8KFTXKjzuTHu2KIu6yld_udMpDReI3gAK1g6UoZwZV_LtaXCNU/s400/Williams_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These old buildings have character.</td></tr>
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Saturday night is barbecue night at Steven's home. And it is here I discover his arty Malvern Star. Slowly being consumed by the environment.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGtH0FEXzn-RluCZlq25pclGxmPWOcijTfbniPhDgzTwCmfe-1APLz0r6RyzWG1-RqlpYHWsKYX8SBxrkL4u43MWgb_7nRF14c5V7F22ytRGYK6ZOimMyG9g1djYjCh2ARY21RZkwygw/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGtH0FEXzn-RluCZlq25pclGxmPWOcijTfbniPhDgzTwCmfe-1APLz0r6RyzWG1-RqlpYHWsKYX8SBxrkL4u43MWgb_7nRF14c5V7F22ytRGYK6ZOimMyG9g1djYjCh2ARY21RZkwygw/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashes to ashes and rust to rust in rest.</td></tr>
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Sunday dawns and John is off to play bowls so Patrick (cousin Steven's son.. keep up with me here.. written test at the end) takes me off to make some pictures at an old abandoned warehouse. Sort of place crooks tie up villains in distress.<br />
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I make some pictures....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8aw91WxRSA3jdVr-HAU__WZv6yAhTqiXcKwrx8JlMKK_UmqYBxDRrdg257-U8xcyVxyuACltqNM0wdJINF4-iLZjzlQ6jUTDwQW8MJw9a2U5tsyZNh9DdFlGtZKiIy8fImD9DjOaMz4/s1600/IMG_0984+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8aw91WxRSA3jdVr-HAU__WZv6yAhTqiXcKwrx8JlMKK_UmqYBxDRrdg257-U8xcyVxyuACltqNM0wdJINF4-iLZjzlQ6jUTDwQW8MJw9a2U5tsyZNh9DdFlGtZKiIy8fImD9DjOaMz4/s400/IMG_0984+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Young Patrick... apprentice journalist!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2yJidNWENvLLNqQ_Tdu48vbrmJIjxcIu9ssnJ46INpjVd-4zxZ55j6kqu8hLtu27pQy0MxgSOac8GYpso_R2URFYYoUd-h9TjrbxrG1IEPgG84iV5qH3co6owfjLMVusX2bNoRqVypg/s1600/IMG_0980+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2yJidNWENvLLNqQ_Tdu48vbrmJIjxcIu9ssnJ46INpjVd-4zxZ55j6kqu8hLtu27pQy0MxgSOac8GYpso_R2URFYYoUd-h9TjrbxrG1IEPgG84iV5qH3co6owfjLMVusX2bNoRqVypg/s400/IMG_0980+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art for arts sake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsraQMPTnC79bj-72zN2Lfqk6NFV85mE7n6Y0St8SnAO-1jp7T_UiSdU71miwnLB0Xm3ViMV_UbPeeYSxCYI106IqxRbR6jkWVY177cPGIj81kD6NM-td8ngob4r7vlmoA_S5TU1r8nY/s1600/IMG_0995+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsraQMPTnC79bj-72zN2Lfqk6NFV85mE7n6Y0St8SnAO-1jp7T_UiSdU71miwnLB0Xm3ViMV_UbPeeYSxCYI106IqxRbR6jkWVY177cPGIj81kD6NM-td8ngob4r7vlmoA_S5TU1r8nY/s400/IMG_0995+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there is a Buddhist Temple near by too!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6GS6tef3tKCnfK8fC-QjWa8s3yf4Jz1pYxwGPOgU0oHels5rypWpgfSgHtDS3f9tgjzle1WpXNX0ptQrHh4aLYZry1iDp2Rouj0TdrIVYPwx9Wa5OOZqP1avo3PmV1wpArtHCts_S5w/s1600/IMG_1010+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6GS6tef3tKCnfK8fC-QjWa8s3yf4Jz1pYxwGPOgU0oHels5rypWpgfSgHtDS3f9tgjzle1WpXNX0ptQrHh4aLYZry1iDp2Rouj0TdrIVYPwx9Wa5OOZqP1avo3PmV1wpArtHCts_S5w/s400/IMG_1010+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With a public toilet.</td></tr>
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Finally Monday arrives.... saddle up the bike.. press the start button.. and.. it bloody well rains. Again! So following the magic GPS I am off to Marysville by a most circuitous route. But it's the journey, not the destination.. right?<br />
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This is the bakery at Marysville that I visited in the past, one year after the fires.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySQ2uDDzzhApGPgqiywPgoR1SLyJQpDBuOH6hPseimltqootNioPM-AKsK6is07H4VJLK-m-IeKtRYOdnqBDgESN-eeZeBcJ-IhYu3_1ysoNXb4M3ER5e-8lwnXVYdSyA4CXzUN9gnl4/s1600/IMG_1023+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySQ2uDDzzhApGPgqiywPgoR1SLyJQpDBuOH6hPseimltqootNioPM-AKsK6is07H4VJLK-m-IeKtRYOdnqBDgESN-eeZeBcJ-IhYu3_1ysoNXb4M3ER5e-8lwnXVYdSyA4CXzUN9gnl4/s400/IMG_1023+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So different to just after the fires!</td></tr>
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After a rotten pie (sorry bakery) it was off for a look see. Lots of rebuilding has occurred and the town seems like a magic place to live... when it ain't fire season. While looking for a dunny I found this sign....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0Tb1_JVQKwJFfHyKBuIJokkYXqlc5tAC1EcFQOlAzx8hh3Idi0ybmmnxirPJkggUATEpkDdRAf23JPC7LVERfeGrH6EAxi_G9tkNilUJox7jAGiqJTOGzEBRvOnSHkxBT0fcxj2pvsw/s1600/IMG_1016+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0Tb1_JVQKwJFfHyKBuIJokkYXqlc5tAC1EcFQOlAzx8hh3Idi0ybmmnxirPJkggUATEpkDdRAf23JPC7LVERfeGrH6EAxi_G9tkNilUJox7jAGiqJTOGzEBRvOnSHkxBT0fcxj2pvsw/s400/IMG_1016+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bloody hell!</td></tr>
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Readers of past posts on this blog will know about me and snakes.. time to go! Like now! But first a picture of Max!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC9iNL56yLp5-UJ0FW9TjSzQmVGXJMxTUrDn1fI9jwMhBV2SiJCCnnVXSTSBb2U19OTAQkSzh0s0XW-w3t-EjfNk8O5l30PaCsNhCmM5sP4R4q9FS20a4JiFLu_AFSL-ihZ3sDW-PTXc/s1600/IMG_1029+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC9iNL56yLp5-UJ0FW9TjSzQmVGXJMxTUrDn1fI9jwMhBV2SiJCCnnVXSTSBb2U19OTAQkSzh0s0XW-w3t-EjfNk8O5l30PaCsNhCmM5sP4R4q9FS20a4JiFLu_AFSL-ihZ3sDW-PTXc/s400/IMG_1029+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By now Max was very dirty!</td></tr>
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The trip plan now was to ride to Maffra to meet up with Dr AT. However when I got there, the town's motel was full so I ventured on to Sale. The ride down through the forests was pure delight.. apart from some wet leaves on the shoulders of the road.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPGQTGT2Uu0ytIsfCvXfQJSzHXJJuogEMUssI0ihWqZfcH7ZrBVSCr2lgx8GT2nUoDrw6zF6FxM6RXyISGDzm7SiWzgRSOLfKor97CPrvjTomB0wPLOsvXQthHOo-mNrgi2XSsJSNKLQ/s1600/IMG_1030+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPGQTGT2Uu0ytIsfCvXfQJSzHXJJuogEMUssI0ihWqZfcH7ZrBVSCr2lgx8GT2nUoDrw6zF6FxM6RXyISGDzm7SiWzgRSOLfKor97CPrvjTomB0wPLOsvXQthHOo-mNrgi2XSsJSNKLQ/s400/IMG_1030+-+Version+2.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view through the windscreen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzfy57U1NC58mU1MGvU4eyD_uCfNJEWisKQ3zOXKeg28L0J7NZGZrgstb6t-arzL1pH-CDPm7nPxf5xXNOFiaZNx7wWHYdWFEP5bDL1aR3Uu-PX9O5zgzPpiJz-FgcSak5HGjkPRCy_c/s1600/IMG_1031+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzfy57U1NC58mU1MGvU4eyD_uCfNJEWisKQ3zOXKeg28L0J7NZGZrgstb6t-arzL1pH-CDPm7nPxf5xXNOFiaZNx7wWHYdWFEP5bDL1aR3Uu-PX9O5zgzPpiJz-FgcSak5HGjkPRCy_c/s400/IMG_1031+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or if you were in a car.. this is what you might see!</td></tr>
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In Sale I stayed at the Pit DiFlea Motel.. but the people were very nice and the meals were great. No sat TV however so I missed Paul Murray live. More's the pity...<br />
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Tuesday morning arrives and it looks like it might stop raining. Dr AT picks me up in his old truck and we head for a consult in a more relaxing environment... his sailing boat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZHYya5K7_g5SEagqUG8QKZ5yy2xjS4bVgiDMBvwjOAAiPMCa725KI5Js8mfG9pSh6tei7px34GokeFXfTvODtHkJivQl9eazDBnXVzyYXA4rF_8ln7IY2hnZwYkqdyQvgYbt64pNsQk/s1600/Full-SizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZHYya5K7_g5SEagqUG8QKZ5yy2xjS4bVgiDMBvwjOAAiPMCa725KI5Js8mfG9pSh6tei7px34GokeFXfTvODtHkJivQl9eazDBnXVzyYXA4rF_8ln7IY2hnZwYkqdyQvgYbt64pNsQk/s400/Full-SizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr AT and the art of being still.. on water. </td></tr>
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Had a magic time with the good Doctor (for a Doctor is what he is) and detoured past Bairnsdale on the way back to Sale to get some new water proof (hopefully) bike gloves along the way. Thanks for the consult Doc.. catch up again soon.<br />
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So the next morning the plan is to ride up to Cooma in the Snowy Mountains and spend 3 or 4 days there exploring the area. But on leaving Sale... down comes the rain. And heavier than before. I ride up the Alpine Way towards the Monaro Highway. And even in this freezing, torrential rain, the Socialist Republic of Victoria have their unmarked speed cameras out ripping money from motorists. It is impossible to travel faster than around 80 and still the camera car sits there. In the middle of nowhere. Looking for targets. Speed cameras.. don't get me started.<br />
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<br />
Eventually I arrive in Cooma and find a nice hotel. Get my gear off and drying out in front of the reverse cycle AC and a hot shower and I am feeling better. Clean dry clothes and time for a walk around town. This place is magic and in a little thought bubble I could imagine retiring up here. Or.. perhaps not. Yes Debra.. I can hear you.. it ain't like the Italian Riviera. That night a great steak in the dining room.. but I do wonder why the chips arrive about 5 months after I have finished my steak and leaves. Yes leaves.<br />
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So let's get into this now. Whatever happened to iceberg lettuce? Everywhere I go in the Socialist Republic of Victoria, it is impossible to get a salad that has iceberg lettuce in it. Every single cafe and sandwich bar has a bowl of leaves they shovel onto your plate or into your salad sandwich. They look like weeds pulled out of the ground near the wall of an outside dunny. God I am so over this. I want iceberg lettuce.. not weeds on my meal. Is anybody listening????<br />
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Next morning dawns overcast, but no rain! Yippee!<br />
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Breakfast over, suit up and ride Max to the visitor's centre. A lovely lady compliments me on my matching outfit.. blue skivvy and blue glasses.. Debra you have trained me well. She gives me a map or two... I go outside to find a Highway Patrol Cop looking at the bike. Nice bloke and we get into a conversation about all sorts of things.. and yes mate.. your helmet camera is legal down here. Unlike Victoria where they need the money.<br />
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Mount up, stab the starter and the bloody rain falls down. GIVE ME A BREAK!!!!<br />
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<br />
So I ride across to Tumut stopping along the way to look at the Tumut #3 hydro power station. The roads up here are magic, highest point I reached was 1490 metres, fresh!<br />
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And it would have been magic to explore all of these roads on two wheels.<br />
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But the bloody rain just would not let go. Ended up riding down to Goulburn (Only been here once before in 1974 in my Celica to visit <a href="http://stephenhart.com.au/about/" target="_blank">Stephen Hart</a>, my first childhood mate) and the next morning slabbing it all the way home to BNE. A full day of 13 hours and 1150 km to Hendra. I did manage to make a couple of images from the Snowy Mountains. And the one thing that I did see was the wild brumbies. They are magnificent and I urge the Government to let them be.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTxZlNBV7OlNeayZHjFr3OSysrlzsNe1FCKxNWT4R09DxPm7TJoIfNuepUEpbUKbuCDqnDRmzCFhcaUFIKnxAQMzfG_bvvI6feyA4kyUHEqirpOvmTXy7Ypa1HQkwhdGUE3SOTFpmWJU/s1600/IMG_1044+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTxZlNBV7OlNeayZHjFr3OSysrlzsNe1FCKxNWT4R09DxPm7TJoIfNuepUEpbUKbuCDqnDRmzCFhcaUFIKnxAQMzfG_bvvI6feyA4kyUHEqirpOvmTXy7Ypa1HQkwhdGUE3SOTFpmWJU/s400/IMG_1044+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views up here are marvellous!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_iL5fjmCPTw2Cw1E5NWR9ep3zngsiWV_YzBJBI7kdl0YKeIFzwGckobKJunOUl83mnOBfgZ4ICoOBr8JFojqE8N0uqNfWO-jdRdgMh8vAYvELQJcKGb-NTBN5Wy3l-xOKETCciUR5js/s1600/IMG_1036+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_iL5fjmCPTw2Cw1E5NWR9ep3zngsiWV_YzBJBI7kdl0YKeIFzwGckobKJunOUl83mnOBfgZ4ICoOBr8JFojqE8N0uqNfWO-jdRdgMh8vAYvELQJcKGb-NTBN5Wy3l-xOKETCciUR5js/s400/IMG_1036+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just love this place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaQUSqEzaafMPyVBvr95WNOEZ153N8fyndH0XC1tpHb0XubNmfZDZx483SCxq9eNjuTs1ifMbwB_HIdKvPxlx-nw9V6P6CQqzU6YGSxgoADvO6dJ7-Tb_KRYGl0Cun2-Bp44KF1_QgBk/s1600/IMG_1034+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgaQUSqEzaafMPyVBvr95WNOEZ153N8fyndH0XC1tpHb0XubNmfZDZx483SCxq9eNjuTs1ifMbwB_HIdKvPxlx-nw9V6P6CQqzU6YGSxgoADvO6dJ7-Tb_KRYGl0Cun2-Bp44KF1_QgBk/s400/IMG_1034+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magic motorbike roads.... if the weather is sunny.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhWCYK25_QhAq7XwlTOC824KNVNEL71wYPvfVNUlYMvqObbQuyOkrxYp7wFgEYhgvUUar_gxqIrbe-4NIj0SQ8TLJ376ZZNR_M6t-nCvN235juN_VQqcwjN0Elbhwait_XRB6-5Thyck/s1600/IMG_1042+-+Version+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHhWCYK25_QhAq7XwlTOC824KNVNEL71wYPvfVNUlYMvqObbQuyOkrxYp7wFgEYhgvUUar_gxqIrbe-4NIj0SQ8TLJ376ZZNR_M6t-nCvN235juN_VQqcwjN0Elbhwait_XRB6-5Thyck/s400/IMG_1042+-+Version+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tumut Number 3</td></tr>
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The Snowy Hydro System.. what an amazing thing it is. Multiple hydro power stations some situated 250 metres underground. And built by an army of Australians. Many of them new Australians seeking a new life in Australia after World War Two tore Europe asunder. They all worked hard, bloody hard and they all got on together. No religious intolerance, no segregation where only those of a certain persuasion could live. These workers, and the engineers and leaders who made all of this possible, a 25 year project, the largest ever undertaken in the world at the time..... would turn in their graves to see Australia now. People worried about being offended, new Australians who refuse to assimilate and want the place changed to resemble the shit hole they came from. Political leaders who cannot lead, can only see the next election and throw up populist policies. Malcolm Turnbull and Bill Shorten. Imagine what the fathers of the Snowy Scheme would think of them.<br />
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And imagine what they would say.. stuff 18c. The would tell it like it is!<br />
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They would say what they thought.<br />
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A sad day for our country now when people are being told not to say what they think. PC gone mad!<br />
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The Snowy Hyrdo supplies water to 75% of all irrigated land in Australia. Imagine the Greens and imagine how the project would NOT have happened if they ran the place back when it was being sorted.<br />
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I will go back to the Snowy, either on Max or in the Calais as this is something that ALL Australians should see for themselves. What we can do as a nation when we put our shoulders to the wheel and get on with it!<br />
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And as for the PM's new Snowy plan.. according to an engineer, that was tried and booted about 20 years ago. Pumping water uphill to let it flow back through turbines costs about 20% in efficiencies according to the hydro engineers.<br />
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It contravenes the basic law of nature.. "There ain't no free lunch!"<br />
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Until next time....<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-18932959537590670142017-01-01T13:25:00.001+10:002017-01-01T19:29:00.721+10:002016, the year that was!Well sitting back on a hot day on the first day of 2017, my mind is thinking about the year that was. Sometimes I wonder how we all do so much in just 365 days.<br />
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First of all, this was for us the first year in our new home. We actually shifted in at midnight on December 18, 2015. Home was not completely finished.. no pool for last Christmas, but we loved it. And we still love it. Not a day goes by when one of us doesn't say, "I cannot believe this is our home!" We love the clean look, the tightly closing doors, lack of bugs inside, the air conditioning and we just love our pool. (Going to jump is a soon as I finish this).<br />
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Debra loves her end of the media room with her big TV and I love the other end.. my studio!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EIuzZsVieKuh-vuiaOq4_uQOQtvgcivm_X9Rf3qxn67dKD-HOP6iCdjNBjg2UMzj0IoGhlMr9i48Led_IZFlaZ-5naxgrmWEXMMX9Ii9nAQ-Vr5Ca1sI-oLl2w7zgeKDIx0mxQ-FQ5Y/s1600/AMPF3290+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EIuzZsVieKuh-vuiaOq4_uQOQtvgcivm_X9Rf3qxn67dKD-HOP6iCdjNBjg2UMzj0IoGhlMr9i48Led_IZFlaZ-5naxgrmWEXMMX9Ii9nAQ-Vr5Ca1sI-oLl2w7zgeKDIx0mxQ-FQ5Y/s400/AMPF3290+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well on the way!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRNX_x3Et2XFFKhNMFWXPhgbE08yiNWgut7DxB97qpDuC36zAVFf9eMeFhuPOJUpxVhL5Vz65zvXLv96mjEWr_rBBlXLGEjGy8-G8F3wpr2XfLdwDySsD4l_Zk3NdnJ8rI37Cei_jdbg/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRNX_x3Et2XFFKhNMFWXPhgbE08yiNWgut7DxB97qpDuC36zAVFf9eMeFhuPOJUpxVhL5Vz65zvXLv96mjEWr_rBBlXLGEjGy8-G8F3wpr2XfLdwDySsD4l_Zk3NdnJ8rI37Cei_jdbg/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished.. expecting Angela.. so Scottish flag flying on the day!</td></tr>
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Local Councillor David McLachlan is a good friend so when he called on us for some pictures, we were happy to front up with a camera or two!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtPmXIGzt6FbxbxUybHb2kwoT7QQTi4HEt5uuMhVhh0q9x2K8j1H_bwlk5-xK6WBWQPpAbo52yH_ZK6W1iP96kTE6ueo_MT6Ro86MedU6kHg5sPOLPu3TOtAB6QSWKSnToosHyEXjkAo/s1600/DM_151206_+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtPmXIGzt6FbxbxUybHb2kwoT7QQTi4HEt5uuMhVhh0q9x2K8j1H_bwlk5-xK6WBWQPpAbo52yH_ZK6W1iP96kTE6ueo_MT6Ro86MedU6kHg5sPOLPu3TOtAB6QSWKSnToosHyEXjkAo/s400/DM_151206_+11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fixing the roads in David's patch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80M2BPq2Mm9vl39HSXyBj7iL6RfuHKpN8odUrz9h33n5QeBL0lY718whr1SfGze9eALKYMKpArEb-niFTil3NcXtcqSVPCKuclbOL2rH4IzBkVCfgOphIAi0LKNLSz1s5zXOMw7qXvbg/s1600/DM_151206_+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80M2BPq2Mm9vl39HSXyBj7iL6RfuHKpN8odUrz9h33n5QeBL0lY718whr1SfGze9eALKYMKpArEb-niFTil3NcXtcqSVPCKuclbOL2rH4IzBkVCfgOphIAi0LKNLSz1s5zXOMw7qXvbg/s400/DM_151206_+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is that CAT machine again.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7uqyB77z-vYsQCJbhN_acMe_4u6keSx6fLgdKKhJzGKgaD-qftwNNPCQaqamFWuwneTzWrs_rPH52a-N-26tn2VXEYZCBmnWdmghSOq12qG0xG6LaLUHiP02CKciv-W0ONQKAju4idg/s1600/DM_151128_+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7uqyB77z-vYsQCJbhN_acMe_4u6keSx6fLgdKKhJzGKgaD-qftwNNPCQaqamFWuwneTzWrs_rPH52a-N-26tn2VXEYZCBmnWdmghSOq12qG0xG6LaLUHiP02CKciv-W0ONQKAju4idg/s400/DM_151128_+12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a new tyre store being built.</td></tr>
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<br />
So 2016 rolled along, Deb busy at her shop and me making pictures for clients. Then older brother Max turned 80... wow I remember his 50th like it was yesterday, so off to the Sunshine Coast we go to celebrate.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZlT0KrNIUIFToF0kNXJLQ_fhuamCD08XwrAXFCChZ31A0uVGEKFRS5Duvapvgd4LJGCtgQMJiAPL0aREuW3FbC-EDuq5uEmh7Z5cfearXazqtPlaDyq3Se-fQfKTm24RrKLA5dQFc-E/s1600/The+Aito+Elecs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZlT0KrNIUIFToF0kNXJLQ_fhuamCD08XwrAXFCChZ31A0uVGEKFRS5Duvapvgd4LJGCtgQMJiAPL0aREuW3FbC-EDuq5uEmh7Z5cfearXazqtPlaDyq3Se-fQfKTm24RrKLA5dQFc-E/s400/The+Aito+Elecs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Paul, Max & Peter Collins. The Auto electricians are ageing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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No sooner have we fished eating Max's Birthday cake and I am off with great mate Gregor for an adventure ride to visit Boeings and Dinosaurs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfUNnacEnzoxFlcqs-4r1N4D4OdYkxadxuXi8ay93kS5xpwF0UHL9-no0q4EAwppqA9nU-uBcdywyXDPp7z9lDshk1Pm70r1bit7SpMHTQUIeSPwOD6hknz84gw451HX5uOnVsI9iW-4/s1600/IMG_0569+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfUNnacEnzoxFlcqs-4r1N4D4OdYkxadxuXi8ay93kS5xpwF0UHL9-no0q4EAwppqA9nU-uBcdywyXDPp7z9lDshk1Pm70r1bit7SpMHTQUIeSPwOD6hknz84gw451HX5uOnVsI9iW-4/s400/IMG_0569+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T minus 10 minutes to lift off!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It was a great trip filled with unexpected adventure.. like me coming to grief on wet clay on Fat Max. <a href="http://snapshotsfrommark.blogspot.com.au/2016/05/tales-of-adventure-in-search-of.html" target="_blank">You can read about it all here if you are so inclined.</a><br />
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Back in Brisbane with my knee on the mend the year keeps ticking by.. Deb thinks that Hawaii would be a great spot for a week of R&R with good travel mates Mark & Libby.. so the planning starts.<br />
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Meanwhile, July 4 is creeping up so we decide to do a "Clayfield Studio says G'Day USA" at Grant Street. A lazy Sunday afternoon with hotdogs, spare ribs, Budweiser, Pepsi, Coke and Dr Pepper ensues. Lots of fun and Captain Ben even brings his spanking brand new Mustang to complete that USA ambience.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjJ6vV1EXbQkOROudug3HrJZSP_hhJl-IJjomA8YZtbJndj-Y4leROh3z7gfAWAqWWzj27Dnx5lFIXYC6pA33l9grvpnsVvSxHULiYqov7MCaZE13J5spMsH0i949Y2dAihQv15o9wCU/s1600/AMP_5099+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjJ6vV1EXbQkOROudug3HrJZSP_hhJl-IJjomA8YZtbJndj-Y4leROh3z7gfAWAqWWzj27Dnx5lFIXYC6pA33l9grvpnsVvSxHULiYqov7MCaZE13J5spMsH0i949Y2dAihQv15o9wCU/s400/AMP_5099+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How's this for a Stars and Stripes?</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWI01eIfijbtx_by9i6HmT6kgr0jsIqjZVdlzX_DuIfFDgUfgBP8ibKajrJuR_WlpQlFWyGx6GSlJx54fRtewPoConGNXNKlJzZQEU2aUsMp_1TO4CnLTgc4Gi8PdBxdmug1gUS-tqAYA/s1600/AMP_5096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWI01eIfijbtx_by9i6HmT6kgr0jsIqjZVdlzX_DuIfFDgUfgBP8ibKajrJuR_WlpQlFWyGx6GSlJx54fRtewPoConGNXNKlJzZQEU2aUsMp_1TO4CnLTgc4Gi8PdBxdmug1gUS-tqAYA/s400/AMP_5096.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's all the way with the USA here!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZcq8pjoo_LBk5l7k5hCBUL5iOACwNUS3Zf3aSC0f_Qyd0wgmr_yzZ5IU5pw9IZAQZSjeCrv-1I5uvGc9r8uwosMGUHTy4H7p2M7S2LBfCeYNY1zIET-N_buGcN0ZEp4WreH5Gn7B-aI/s1600/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaZcq8pjoo_LBk5l7k5hCBUL5iOACwNUS3Zf3aSC0f_Qyd0wgmr_yzZ5IU5pw9IZAQZSjeCrv-1I5uvGc9r8uwosMGUHTy4H7p2M7S2LBfCeYNY1zIET-N_buGcN0ZEp4WreH5Gn7B-aI/s400/AMP_5108+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now is this a Pony Car or what???</td></tr>
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But back to work, there are units to photograph and head shots for clients too. Got to keep those coins and cheques rolling in.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrRxRgKHPGZBokwWSJz3mUf-LmYVw7rUbB3ECdJ5JmjpxYkt2jmv2ZXY0hHWk0yOqmLbuVBwwcZwNpqUVJR5PRneqDm4I7xzB-7GKQPpgU4NKOXxH9rbKJ0EVi7OVbQcwLgOyDtXyBzw/s1600/Devcorp_150905_+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrRxRgKHPGZBokwWSJz3mUf-LmYVw7rUbB3ECdJ5JmjpxYkt2jmv2ZXY0hHWk0yOqmLbuVBwwcZwNpqUVJR5PRneqDm4I7xzB-7GKQPpgU4NKOXxH9rbKJ0EVi7OVbQcwLgOyDtXyBzw/s400/Devcorp_150905_+6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of Devcorp's Projects.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And then I had a project of my own too..... have actually written a magazine article on a garage that pumps your gas. A real 1950s time warp!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfIimP1dvvVBgVA94QWYDjlhDgWnr89RkLfOOSM7DzdAGVKBQOihH57v5jLqv7K-cX9pidSkuZ-PcFZJevEGatNJXSOCPDad44qIlynqqNtJ12ClIK5_KLxcGtBYEXO_Trui6EGgfGkA/s1600/Hendra_Motors_19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfIimP1dvvVBgVA94QWYDjlhDgWnr89RkLfOOSM7DzdAGVKBQOihH57v5jLqv7K-cX9pidSkuZ-PcFZJevEGatNJXSOCPDad44qIlynqqNtJ12ClIK5_KLxcGtBYEXO_Trui6EGgfGkA/s400/Hendra_Motors_19.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fat Max at Hendra Motors. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYQQGIazMhtDS_J8P99fIK1xnViWmgWhT5_C5qFwXoEO2Luya2vS8_LmGYXfrB6P6Qn-tSWuRtzpM2MHlgODBhHnaPepPnQpI0D1Kmx4YtFZb6tWQhXrGu3lRfWb6ADAmXoo6aN53UUA/s1600/Hendra_Motors_28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYQQGIazMhtDS_J8P99fIK1xnViWmgWhT5_C5qFwXoEO2Luya2vS8_LmGYXfrB6P6Qn-tSWuRtzpM2MHlgODBhHnaPepPnQpI0D1Kmx4YtFZb6tWQhXrGu3lRfWb6ADAmXoo6aN53UUA/s400/Hendra_Motors_28.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wonderful guys at Hendra Motors. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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One day melts into another, the weeks pass and before you know it we are Hawaii bound on a big jet. And we just know that with mark & Libby on board we will have a week of fun. Shopping, eating, drinking, sight seeing and on and on it goes... as it always does.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCxoy7FN99i3CI-6Ghftyy6wXnWlEuarRdutNKYbkW2vTJFeXt0PCfxSGbmEzEiKv4DTkfvbItdowyk5zZvCTnnW1JLiXcZmPN5caGrMYX86kUkILc5rBOeFXOoBgR-jikPObr-qXacc/s1600/CLSF2011+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCxoy7FN99i3CI-6Ghftyy6wXnWlEuarRdutNKYbkW2vTJFeXt0PCfxSGbmEzEiKv4DTkfvbItdowyk5zZvCTnnW1JLiXcZmPN5caGrMYX86kUkILc5rBOeFXOoBgR-jikPObr-qXacc/s400/CLSF2011+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark & Libby wanted to buy the car!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYztngJnntiRwP2l_aNz4s15f2dSMx0KWnHmuoGVHMPy4fw8s2NqElc91ogojZ3Xov59EXp9FyOUk-meq3hS0A9Rn5XIYMHOl2CqTASSnAdr8W9YCvL8XOWA-fbMITl0pzOxAhBYnS2A0/s1600/CLSF2043+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYztngJnntiRwP2l_aNz4s15f2dSMx0KWnHmuoGVHMPy4fw8s2NqElc91ogojZ3Xov59EXp9FyOUk-meq3hS0A9Rn5XIYMHOl2CqTASSnAdr8W9YCvL8XOWA-fbMITl0pzOxAhBYnS2A0/s400/CLSF2043+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The USS Missouri on board which the Japanese signed their surrender.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSwI3WNoVRtd7sarty7dmDuZbdvMH7HeRHmmhLUAMeO4aEsTPUsEPQ4NrrjErEuUV_H9dqMHneO_KNk6p2JkdsfYoWOqEKiaVkV3ZL1rL0dg_UNaP8p8AodjIRcxvExlH_kZQcVv-VnQ/s1600/CLSF2067+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSwI3WNoVRtd7sarty7dmDuZbdvMH7HeRHmmhLUAMeO4aEsTPUsEPQ4NrrjErEuUV_H9dqMHneO_KNk6p2JkdsfYoWOqEKiaVkV3ZL1rL0dg_UNaP8p8AodjIRcxvExlH_kZQcVv-VnQ/s400/CLSF2067+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mighty Mo and the Arizona Memorial</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlX86BSAnaP9o7vf95KkjNkLE3XOIF5i3hZdSv-wEYRwogbSD9tdBnfp_gbjGjGZTuVVAo9WMou-4nZ90Qxy-luJKaPTkfRp_hhoFSmlmckL_SSBGlvvZ1lTc8NXamvM1_X74m81KhwM/s1600/CLSF2070+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlX86BSAnaP9o7vf95KkjNkLE3XOIF5i3hZdSv-wEYRwogbSD9tdBnfp_gbjGjGZTuVVAo9WMou-4nZ90Qxy-luJKaPTkfRp_hhoFSmlmckL_SSBGlvvZ1lTc8NXamvM1_X74m81KhwM/s400/CLSF2070+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That famous photo now a sculpture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDgS5jmkB0swFlToyMy1rXrZWSJ7anXE2JIt9Ghs8ZOZRA7qjjGamS26gxURRTuc_ENG5b4Vgn-Xcg51dnQ8y0GINAQyvqCH9AHcxIzn8qrNo1POFiiyxnNbL8WSSq42jAisXx9sXLE/s1600/CLSF2137+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDgS5jmkB0swFlToyMy1rXrZWSJ7anXE2JIt9Ghs8ZOZRA7qjjGamS26gxURRTuc_ENG5b4Vgn-Xcg51dnQ8y0GINAQyvqCH9AHcxIzn8qrNo1POFiiyxnNbL8WSSq42jAisXx9sXLE/s400/CLSF2137+-+Version+2.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well see are on an island!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7N5Ad1No1rqPFG7SqFYRjr5qFhvo0qXHwPTZ2kUXqdFoNd4RDaKpFzcaGQD_2V_k0iFIcQUjzqPnYTQXne48qC_wuW56WdpmFHdTBg6WCd9AYnYxh0fjFCGxMOatEghLi2jcEaPaTn8/s1600/CLSF2157+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7N5Ad1No1rqPFG7SqFYRjr5qFhvo0qXHwPTZ2kUXqdFoNd4RDaKpFzcaGQD_2V_k0iFIcQUjzqPnYTQXne48qC_wuW56WdpmFHdTBg6WCd9AYnYxh0fjFCGxMOatEghLi2jcEaPaTn8/s400/CLSF2157+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waikiki beach... pure magic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTW5LMeLalyof8fLA0D_v5avDPQBSsKw0fCjlRqnrFBH5oSCfrHJgz1STrOrnu3PqXVGckmyOH91dJF6E6wwah93NbYFXb6kHFRhir9my2b0aVoEFsAcysBQlLrJc9iy5SpadF5XIs0xo/s1600/CLSF2177+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTW5LMeLalyof8fLA0D_v5avDPQBSsKw0fCjlRqnrFBH5oSCfrHJgz1STrOrnu3PqXVGckmyOH91dJF6E6wwah93NbYFXb6kHFRhir9my2b0aVoEFsAcysBQlLrJc9iy5SpadF5XIs0xo/s400/CLSF2177+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus tour continues.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOvNvtvlyTYGKK9k9pSEq8UNjimnwyjIVXMrVMX5aO4xGzAcaNM2-jWIkPVEWGZF_k3CvQJfnqJusZJ8tOkfTAo13aksbKW4vn9wDxZzoEia-SZzpQwLXXA1-N0ddlpLqBqDnlpghruM/s1600/CLSF2304+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOvNvtvlyTYGKK9k9pSEq8UNjimnwyjIVXMrVMX5aO4xGzAcaNM2-jWIkPVEWGZF_k3CvQJfnqJusZJ8tOkfTAo13aksbKW4vn9wDxZzoEia-SZzpQwLXXA1-N0ddlpLqBqDnlpghruM/s400/CLSF2304+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaii shares its runways with the military.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK7mwUexcjZN7yDTgTzHLtskRSkQFstTYJZH7650f6uoUSvJLXEJCSnktHS1FnlxZWqVad9rLvoGOHWj038RRzP-XGhQn1ldwCZ077sBervMB_EAlP3zqbWUrKL1Gtc5J0tunwPXS7Jk/s1600/CLSF2305+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK7mwUexcjZN7yDTgTzHLtskRSkQFstTYJZH7650f6uoUSvJLXEJCSnktHS1FnlxZWqVad9rLvoGOHWj038RRzP-XGhQn1ldwCZ077sBervMB_EAlP3zqbWUrKL1Gtc5J0tunwPXS7Jk/s400/CLSF2305+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pocket rockets waiting to fly!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kD564Z6wWCK0TLomfr523s9GsUDKY7IIMmxpbh26h8M4Jyb86KVElgtYO9x9SrDRXagooqdr0iJYcqU3VoIYRkA4UnAbA-rcbve4DgxX9B48YeRGwZsVIfwt8WG2p0JJRxE49BlkkLQ/s1600/CLSF2308+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kD564Z6wWCK0TLomfr523s9GsUDKY7IIMmxpbh26h8M4Jyb86KVElgtYO9x9SrDRXagooqdr0iJYcqU3VoIYRkA4UnAbA-rcbve4DgxX9B48YeRGwZsVIfwt8WG2p0JJRxE49BlkkLQ/s400/CLSF2308+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eat your heart our Magnum!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_jMF1E9SwIOgkAmaFgg9gyo91tmLX3BEmmwnFzlmp1lgH-t-vVNIuCNyWb-A5BlMMtg3zENSCSGjQ9fhfcHXFwjSStxKT6VTLE-11wn1o5_FJ2fDGrkyVIfzvKo_c9lLiCfrhE130Gs/s1600/REV_CLSF2047+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_jMF1E9SwIOgkAmaFgg9gyo91tmLX3BEmmwnFzlmp1lgH-t-vVNIuCNyWb-A5BlMMtg3zENSCSGjQ9fhfcHXFwjSStxKT6VTLE-11wn1o5_FJ2fDGrkyVIfzvKo_c9lLiCfrhE130Gs/s400/REV_CLSF2047+-+Version+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying over the Arizona Memorial.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
All good things must come to an end and so we headed back to Brisbane so I could shoot a job for the Brisbane City Council. I really like working with their team of people; always so polite and appreciate the work the studio does for them too,<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhxxqhGCmM2h6criS1YFBw2FmzrDqQmIJfbhkHegUsjT13ztQJ2QNVqqvmfgoU0sCa1QJ1QVg0buk-aPYPUbNrxG1CuyTDVU06NEBE8ZzlOmg2VhLPFKVTkvikrnTsSlBah5PGSqStvo/s1600/BCC_161026_+38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhxxqhGCmM2h6criS1YFBw2FmzrDqQmIJfbhkHegUsjT13ztQJ2QNVqqvmfgoU0sCa1QJ1QVg0buk-aPYPUbNrxG1CuyTDVU06NEBE8ZzlOmg2VhLPFKVTkvikrnTsSlBah5PGSqStvo/s400/BCC_161026_+38.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always love this final group shot!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Lord Mayor Graham Quirk is an easy person to work with and I photographed him a few times over the course of the year. Like on this CAT road making machine!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZNGaZ37IHovYCmVjvjXP2RfVkNXVXXBxEmksmHyPvIWI-YnaHWg9NLFHBo1R2W19Ka1FPWlt74erFzhKn-DqtK3nEkDGMdhRs3sK5b__R9qWpOUkJ0wYXvaP0YPuJgj7nQiCBc3tlH8/s1600/TQ_150909_13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZNGaZ37IHovYCmVjvjXP2RfVkNXVXXBxEmksmHyPvIWI-YnaHWg9NLFHBo1R2W19Ka1FPWlt74erFzhKn-DqtK3nEkDGMdhRs3sK5b__R9qWpOUkJ0wYXvaP0YPuJgj7nQiCBc3tlH8/s400/TQ_150909_13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever smiling Lord Mayor of Brisbane.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Other adventure rides happened through the year and I had a lot of fun with new neighbour (well we're new) Brian Wakefield and old mates Ian and Gregor. As well as Brian's brother in law Frank. We did a few trips including visiting Captain Heidi on her farm as part of a loop through Northern New South Wales.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gGVFNH6pjdhFoTYL7LwyWmmiWBVeMFtQHuF3tJICsWmQN0LGpjAeZ9iEaSgR8G8ioua0Oo2TnGR1RBJddZoVo1vS50NUuh8pO71HhVDqAvRa9agZrEy8K69CvtPsls6Yrk-LU3ZB00w/s1600/ADV_16-727_+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gGVFNH6pjdhFoTYL7LwyWmmiWBVeMFtQHuF3tJICsWmQN0LGpjAeZ9iEaSgR8G8ioua0Oo2TnGR1RBJddZoVo1vS50NUuh8pO71HhVDqAvRa9agZrEy8K69CvtPsls6Yrk-LU3ZB00w/s400/ADV_16-727_+8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look like Spitfire pilots waiting for the bell!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepT00gvYe8M-RMf_3_OPamQaLTnkHpqsF6HlUz2Y5AksyFzop-U_chXxxJjplkYH793w-h20fsoEjO9u8AZ3y3hMLsSt_QGW_cZNKRUstKfKd0Ac4ZmTXBO4KysBMbxUlfccLZpSWVFY/s1600/ADV_16-727_+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepT00gvYe8M-RMf_3_OPamQaLTnkHpqsF6HlUz2Y5AksyFzop-U_chXxxJjplkYH793w-h20fsoEjO9u8AZ3y3hMLsSt_QGW_cZNKRUstKfKd0Ac4ZmTXBO4KysBMbxUlfccLZpSWVFY/s400/ADV_16-727_+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank and Greg discussing something...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bXCNjFQzNf8U3LJPTXVfNTlkqm0oFEzFJhYOyGWXilOlTQ70c4GTv2WxNV9xwdY6aX7ZCaSEv8DBt1tvRC_79PWc0yUlrezkgWkpqVSkFVPsO5X4jB5dNrfRiwr6wvAUy3VW_0y-3Eo/s1600/ADV_16-727_+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bXCNjFQzNf8U3LJPTXVfNTlkqm0oFEzFJhYOyGWXilOlTQ70c4GTv2WxNV9xwdY6aX7ZCaSEv8DBt1tvRC_79PWc0yUlrezkgWkpqVSkFVPsO5X4jB5dNrfRiwr6wvAUy3VW_0y-3Eo/s400/ADV_16-727_+7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saddling up!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmVCYcbrUTuLq3-8nP2KSjfEVeFXEiLqy2Kq9TS1N4T4b02TYhVGwQsyI2M8eIQd8Jgk3vJsfd_dcsqxFAvhnIG4HDSzHSn1yLNw9lNK3V3ja1_SOiTx621Q24Z1vrRHAVqwwNFHnlKY/s1600/ADV_16-727_+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmVCYcbrUTuLq3-8nP2KSjfEVeFXEiLqy2Kq9TS1N4T4b02TYhVGwQsyI2M8eIQd8Jgk3vJsfd_dcsqxFAvhnIG4HDSzHSn1yLNw9lNK3V3ja1_SOiTx621Q24Z1vrRHAVqwwNFHnlKY/s400/ADV_16-727_+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside a magic cafe in NSW</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmNOuIMJnxJ2TuTtcW0_kGjwAEsUMVjj-1p3t2kGUmRn-S0j4dAMmAt6UDBrkytbXVtuc4mIsA6lk77FdDLSiKmuHtQFlTUnE01XJZu7eFFueU0uVrYRTOw-KN4BgWl4QLphpbQQo1H4/s1600/ADV_16-727_+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmNOuIMJnxJ2TuTtcW0_kGjwAEsUMVjj-1p3t2kGUmRn-S0j4dAMmAt6UDBrkytbXVtuc4mIsA6lk77FdDLSiKmuHtQFlTUnE01XJZu7eFFueU0uVrYRTOw-KN4BgWl4QLphpbQQo1H4/s400/ADV_16-727_+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian and his slice! MMMMMM!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhgW5nVxhlNXrjY4CXt0RMiqIrWMYBqtN2whYzpwORO5XkU5V-zpmgyI5ufhWDjoOU7efwpwfkLSMWuKOayjnV87ABsxL5boJhCwCbivRk_6tWCHjDcUzIddk4cedSzVQwAilGrkDfAA/s1600/ADV_16-727_+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhgW5nVxhlNXrjY4CXt0RMiqIrWMYBqtN2whYzpwORO5XkU5V-zpmgyI5ufhWDjoOU7efwpwfkLSMWuKOayjnV87ABsxL5boJhCwCbivRk_6tWCHjDcUzIddk4cedSzVQwAilGrkDfAA/s400/ADV_16-727_+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers Frank!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Breast Cancer Awareness Month also happens in October and as usual Deb and I have a few functions to attend. One of our enduring favourites is the Brisbane North Chamber of Commerce.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mvdMIWMbbH7xT7vzM9YHlBgJv9YbzxH22LZZ9i9LlB4AUh50mPq4Hu8LTh7Qmj4e_XmrHhg5FejvA8f76I9zLvzQj_X3J4VILZHgf06pbl6vlxqILmw3OgfoDvKC-MZWfbLOXOr-RR0/s1600/BNCC_160309_+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mvdMIWMbbH7xT7vzM9YHlBgJv9YbzxH22LZZ9i9LlB4AUh50mPq4Hu8LTh7Qmj4e_XmrHhg5FejvA8f76I9zLvzQj_X3J4VILZHgf06pbl6vlxqILmw3OgfoDvKC-MZWfbLOXOr-RR0/s400/BNCC_160309_+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debra and the always smiling Jo Hassan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioRwR0VRanMg0U9kUyiQVLTPpSxWox9EwYM0YE09L-wLPYktYDotREPNgO5Pqqx5nzaP4Ige2YfFYKuxDR-1i5jA8AqVPmpQai0R06Wshd3OeF5vsCSWSTafQKLPnM8MgkTBAvG9pmqdg/s1600/BNCC_160309_+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioRwR0VRanMg0U9kUyiQVLTPpSxWox9EwYM0YE09L-wLPYktYDotREPNgO5Pqqx5nzaP4Ige2YfFYKuxDR-1i5jA8AqVPmpQai0R06Wshd3OeF5vsCSWSTafQKLPnM8MgkTBAvG9pmqdg/s400/BNCC_160309_+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Councillor Norm Wyndham surrounded by beauty yet again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And before you know it.. Christmas has arrived.<br />
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For me this is a time to give thanks to all of those people who have made our lives just so wonderful this past year. To the bride Debra.. I am so thankful to have you as a life partner. Supportive of me and freely give me time to wander off on my bike.. no need to apply for a leave pass in this house.<br />
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So from Debra and I to all of our friends and relatives, both here and in the UK.. a big heartfelt thanks for your support and above all else, friendship this past year. We love you all and wish you nothing but many good things in 2017.<br />
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Rock on!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-91447200299147224102016-12-06T17:36:00.001+10:002016-12-06T19:51:54.537+10:00The stupid things you do when you are young!<div style="font-family: helvetica; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So back in 1977 I bought a new Daihatsu F20 4WD. ($5500 drive away!) And I had a mate, a lawyer who had a Suzuki LJ550V 4WD.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Moving on... we and our now ex wives decided to drive up to Spicer’s Gap on the Great Divide near Warwick and camp for the night. Now our golden rule was to always use the 4WD’s ability to get way off the road and camp out of sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Which we did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The wind howled that night so after a great meal we had a few wines and hit the sleeping bags about 20:00 Hrs. About 2 hours later I could hear voices. I went to investigate and found my mate was also outside his tent as he could hear them too. These voices would come and go depending on the wind and we were all getting the willies!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">His Suzuki had a CB radio with a PA on it and a horn speaker on the bull bar. So he fires it up and tells the “voices” to come out in the open and “show yourselves”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">No response.... all goes quiet and then we hear the voices again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">By this point the 2 girls want to break camp and piss off home back to Brisbane. But we had all been drinking wine, so not a good idea. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The next thing my mate has his 22 rifle out from the back of the little car and fires 2 shots into the air!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Bang! Bang!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Freaked me out... but, the voices stopped instantly!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Next morning after a sleepless night we go down the other side of Spicer’s Peak and as we are climbing up out of a creek crossing and on to a flat we come across a gazillion boy scouts camping. Their leader comes over for a chat. We stop and get out of the cars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">He said... “Did you folks camp up there last night?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Why, yes we did!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Did you hear anything unusual?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Well yes we did!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Well says the Senior Scout... “We had the boys singing around the camp fire last night when we heard two gun shots! So we packed them all off to bed in their tents and stood guard over them. Did you hear the gun shots?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Um.. actually no we didn’t!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Turns out the voices were the scouts singing around the camp fire miles out and below us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Shit hey! I wonder if they still talk of the night they escaped a certain death from a crazy person in the bush.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Same colour as mine!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mates was actually a hard top!</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-78904122651885735942016-11-19T11:26:00.003+10:002016-12-05T20:08:26.143+10:00My new nuclear powered bug zapper.<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">Bug Zappers! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">So at night time we are over run with moths down here by the edge of the swamp. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">So I ventured to the Hendra hardware store and bought a zapper. Trouble is, we have so many moths that they basically short out the zapper.. so it doesn't zap no more. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">The great guy at the store changed the unit over 3 times... and each time we got the same result. Then he suggested a unit made for acreage. </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">Yes.. get me one please. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">WOW! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">What a difference! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">This sucker totally nukes them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">My mate Russell came for dinner last night! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">He was impressed with the unit too! He christened it Frank! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">As in Frank Zapper! </span><br />
<br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: normal;" />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">We also toasted two little Geckos too last night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">Bless their little smouldering cotton socks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">By placing Frank away from the house, our moth intrusion is down to almost zero and the geckos stay away from the doors (ready to run inside) too! What a machine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">Tonight if you look towards Hendra you will see the mushroom cloud as Frank goes to work nuking those moths.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitU6bIeC-GzRNpi_adoYtfxnH1dRr2yciYNmnlQdok8OorT15gkX3r-eefNDeZFUvcRoLyMzIMnpA71bhZOLpQ3zU4i4VxA27Q-72bmRXP4BKQBJDOHfkvkdlZ3uXkbP69NHyCyfQBOm4/s1600/tsar-bomba1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitU6bIeC-GzRNpi_adoYtfxnH1dRr2yciYNmnlQdok8OorT15gkX3r-eefNDeZFUvcRoLyMzIMnpA71bhZOLpQ3zU4i4VxA27Q-72bmRXP4BKQBJDOHfkvkdlZ3uXkbP69NHyCyfQBOm4/s400/tsar-bomba1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740756366714748702.post-781800208896914012016-07-08T15:07:00.000+10:002016-07-09T07:10:55.960+10:00My times spent in Wayne's world!Around 50 years ago, an old Queenslander in Armagh Street was torn down and replaced with 3 homes. And in one of those then new homes settled the Pinna family from Melbourne. It wasn't long before one of the 5 Pinna kids and I were the best of mates.<br />
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Wayne Pinna was like me, a bicycle nut and we would ride for miles on our bikes. Brisbane airport for a milkshake and even a monumental ride with his younger brother Glen to Clear Mountain to my brother's piece of dirt up there. Back then the road was dirt all the way from the turn off just past the Cash's Crossing Bridge. In fact we boiled the billy at Cash's crossing for morning tea along the way.<br />
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We also built and crashed billy carts along the way too.. and saw Little Nellie from "You Only Live Twice" flying at Toombul Shopping Town as well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yAXBoE1HIYFjZkmziV4MenqCqQlERBGS9ZXQV5-UcMQCBuILoxPfn7dX5zSho4w1EHymS7PNWkbWqyYD2zv9Tedk3pHP6YLcKUpE0Hzlhl2pIJKrFS4o1kszSSQjqMZ_1GqFo1CrTIA/s1600/FIN_02_Benson_Gyro_Toombul_68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yAXBoE1HIYFjZkmziV4MenqCqQlERBGS9ZXQV5-UcMQCBuILoxPfn7dX5zSho4w1EHymS7PNWkbWqyYD2zv9Tedk3pHP6YLcKUpE0Hzlhl2pIJKrFS4o1kszSSQjqMZ_1GqFo1CrTIA/s400/FIN_02_Benson_Gyro_Toombul_68.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wayne, his brother Glen and I were wowed!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4PmLRxjgdhGUt0po_esPdXy7rVmOhpKjC7zMBv9sJ3u4Egi3BtKoV1Gz0vvo_pXJRP-1mlRDG7vmJ8fbFM9hapQ2kjdquXC3EYDdxw6k-6OkUVcvgnCwI451NNBaVP_S_EK4rLHHAlQ/s1600/Wayne+%2526+Glen+%2526+Ken+McGrotty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4PmLRxjgdhGUt0po_esPdXy7rVmOhpKjC7zMBv9sJ3u4Egi3BtKoV1Gz0vvo_pXJRP-1mlRDG7vmJ8fbFM9hapQ2kjdquXC3EYDdxw6k-6OkUVcvgnCwI451NNBaVP_S_EK4rLHHAlQ/s400/Wayne+%2526+Glen+%2526+Ken+McGrotty.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mighty go cart. Ken McGrotty, Wayne (standing) and Gen.</td></tr>
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Now every Sunday my mother would make apple pie for lunch.. I am sure Wayne could smell it.. truly! Because just as she would serve it up, we would hear Wayne's voice calling over the tennis court.. "You home Mark?" Well that's what kids did in the 60s.. just went out on the back stairs and yelled out their mate's name. Anyhow.. Wayne would be around in a flash and seated at the table devouring mum's apple pie and ice cream. He was always fun to be around. And we used to help each other wash our respective father's cars. HD Premier for his dad and HR special for mine. These truly were the wonder years, and all those happy summer days just melted into each other as we looked for things to do and places to ride our bikes.<br />
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Of course young boys grow (eventually) into young men. And we were the same. Wayne started an apprenticeship as a boiler maker at Eagle Farm at 16 and bought his first transport at 17. A Honda CL90. Oh wow! What a machine. All 90cc of power and a dazzling blue colour. He came around home to show it to me. I was amazed.. so beautiful. All of that chrome and an upturned exhaust. And it was a reasonable $325 on the road. Bargain. (Well it was if you had $325.)<br />
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That first Saturday he had it, Wayne and I and another mate, Ken Brand took this wonder to Kalinga Park where Ken and I learned to ride it on the big grassed oval. Even now some 47 years later I can still remember the sensation... the noise, the feel of the grips and the smell of that bike on my very first ever motorcycle ride. (Well I had been a passenger in a Police Sidecar.. but that is for another day)<br />
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Now Ken Brand was a medical student and he loved exploring the country side. So he soon saw the potential in having a small bike like this to explore his favourite parts of South East QLD. And that is how he and I got into trail bikes. It all started with Wayne's little Honda!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpz9riPmLpK8PX9PtPLmq-spH_dwkzfT3Wt0JW5Mu3GLn2g4ev9EP5vpV_yOZCzv2jt8f19A_Is22CSCHU2YcGnD9LuSS-lUzMt-3Upp02wMmNJppOAkd5lbtGGV7foFHMWVt2AzUOWcc/s1600/CL90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpz9riPmLpK8PX9PtPLmq-spH_dwkzfT3Wt0JW5Mu3GLn2g4ev9EP5vpV_yOZCzv2jt8f19A_Is22CSCHU2YcGnD9LuSS-lUzMt-3Upp02wMmNJppOAkd5lbtGGV7foFHMWVt2AzUOWcc/s400/CL90.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My love affair with bikes started with this little beauty!</td></tr>
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Soon I had a car, a clapped out Mini and one night an FJ crashed into the side of it. I did have the right off way but it didn't help. Wayne was with me that rainy night.. first car crash for us both! Luckily we were fine and even the Mini got repaired too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheL3mgdg9S6Zdvftv00t2d79w8hWP78aPuhmcqDHd3_7Fah_P0BR4Rp-8kHfa2iBFhJILzdm4icO03sPgPeXhUbWgkcUcTk0oGp0szZaM6WED7Q4yVciUrjA2MiRoTwgoP8zSbq5Bf2E/s1600/Mini63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheL3mgdg9S6Zdvftv00t2d79w8hWP78aPuhmcqDHd3_7Fah_P0BR4Rp-8kHfa2iBFhJILzdm4icO03sPgPeXhUbWgkcUcTk0oGp0szZaM6WED7Q4yVciUrjA2MiRoTwgoP8zSbq5Bf2E/s400/Mini63.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clapped out 2 stroke brick.</td></tr>
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Over the years we lost Dr Ken Brand who was one third of the bikie hit squad from Kalinga Park all of those years ago. He is sadly missed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTIHGkQA6pbbdj4mfpWCio3A9ZNP32NC2BKqGJg4WMMqdN4Q59S9awxIYljzgSfK7tN9gL0OUIJ9ZC_vjZEx3RQPPo8Z42nDV8i1dZYdTksRUQ2v84a96PCFgMWMbHFPetRhLJVBgWNc/s1600/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTIHGkQA6pbbdj4mfpWCio3A9ZNP32NC2BKqGJg4WMMqdN4Q59S9awxIYljzgSfK7tN9gL0OUIJ9ZC_vjZEx3RQPPo8Z42nDV8i1dZYdTksRUQ2v84a96PCFgMWMbHFPetRhLJVBgWNc/s400/KRB_DT2_1973.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr Ken Brand on his DT2 on Boxing Day 1973 on the farm.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">So the years roll by.. Wayne and I start to go down different paths but we meet up again years later and would you believe.. we are both working as professional photographers. Amazing.</span><br />
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Wayne's World.. it wasn't a movie to me.. it was all part of being Wayne's mate and part of his family as he was part of mine.<br />
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On Wednesday just passed I rode Fat Max up to Glasshouse Mountains to visit Wayne. He is not travelling all too well these days with his health.. but it was a good day out on the bike and wonderful to see him again. We laughed like kids as we recalled those early days of his Honda. And in particular the day we raced that little Blue Beauty up and down and around Kalinga Park.<br />
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Wayne old mate.. I'll be back to see you again really soon on Fat Max!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHLY6zXZ4IT9k8MuGkePO9ihWIZp0v_QO6ma_B9sLWnpnxZ7ACP-tYJZXt_iw5Ol9jRG4oMHcRSp2DqIuSLZdsKaqVTda_sVxCWd_-HwIDvjLo804L47ovh9uPURkq0XDwYlYKGBgFw0/s1600/Mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHLY6zXZ4IT9k8MuGkePO9ihWIZp0v_QO6ma_B9sLWnpnxZ7ACP-tYJZXt_iw5Ol9jRG4oMHcRSp2DqIuSLZdsKaqVTda_sVxCWd_-HwIDvjLo804L47ovh9uPURkq0XDwYlYKGBgFw0/s400/Mark.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If wasn't for Wayne.. then I wouldn't have Fat Max!</td></tr>
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And check out this<a href="http://motorbikewriter.com/passion-dirt-roads-started/" target="_blank"> Motor Bike Writer article.</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0