On the Bright side (pt 2)

Trav woke up long after the duck lost interest and waddled away. It was getting on towards mid afternoon and the sun was swinging around behind the trees on the other side of the stream. We were aiming for Corryong, which is a bit of a gateway town to the Snowy Mountains over the border in NSW.

We refueled and, after a minor navigational kerfuffle, we headed over the pass at Mt (she's a) Beauty and down into the valley on the other side. Stuck behind somebody who was obviously doing their tax at the same time as driving, Trav unleashed all eighty-something horses from the FZ and pulled off an overtaking move like no other. Caught in the resulting sonic boom, with a less powerful bike and smaller testicles, I opted to stick behind the octagenarians in their Daihatsu until we reached the lookout at the top. Trav and I were both nearly run over by a busload of pensioners in the carpark, which further reinforced my conviction that old people and altitude don't mix.

Unsatisfied with his gigantic breakfast, bakery conquest and subsequent picnic, Trav spent most of the time scoffing cashew nuts at the lookout. I felt for a moment like I was travelling with a motorcycle-riding squirrel.

In the valley, the roads opened out and the Reverend was far more in his element. Maintaining 100kph through all but the tighter corners, I was having a blast, cranking the bike over and flying along in the setting sun. At a rest stop, we chucked a frisbee and kicked the footy for a bit, carrying on like a couple of hooligans. Trav gave me the compliment of a lifetime when he asked which foot I normally kicked with, because I was so bad it looked like I was using the wrong leg. Thanks man.

Camp that night was at Colac Colac caravan park, in the luxury of a cabin so that Trav was assured of some shuteye. It was a beautiful little place, about 5 minutes out of Corryong.

That night we hit up the pub for some tea. Trav's homo-neuroticism kicked back into play when we waltzed up to the bar, realised we couldn't have any alcohol on the bikes, and ordered juice. I did offer to buy him a Bacardi Breezer, but he asked me, using some very short words, to cease and desist with this line of japery.

I had whiting and chips, while he devoured a roif n boif. Then it was time to play pinball. I love pinball machines, so when the latest Indiana Jones adventure was just sitting there unplayed I wanted to give it some love. Right near the end of the first game, which was going fairly well, we were approached by a local swamp donkey who claimed to have the high score. She was of roughly cubic dimensions and spoke like the child of a coal miner and a dock worker.

Before I realised it, she had commandeered the machine and wasted my remaining credit on a game of which Indy would have been ashamed. During all this, the walrus in pink invited us back to the bar, while insinuating that any refusal of her services would result in instant diagnosis as a homosexual.

Unable to drink and reeling at the sudden ambush, we couldn't even reply before another hosebeast crashed through the door frame and shouted, "Youse poofs comin for a beer with us real women or what?"

"..." we were slack-jawed, hypnotised by the layers of fat orbiting her, like the rings of Saturn.

"Well arntcha? Poofs?"

No. No we weren't. We were overwhelmed by two of these locals on their own, let alone the prospect of their friends in the back bar. We fled through the dark to the safety of our cabin.

The post-mortem was conducted over the usual sauvignon blanc and rounds of Jelly Car.

Next morning, there was a slightly sombre pall over our usually cheery camp. It was time for Trav to revert to the world of 8-5, riding all the way back to Melbourne down the mind- and bum-numbing Hume Highway. After so many adventures in such a short time, it was really sad to say goodbye.

At the end of the caravan park driveway, we sat astride the idling bikes and chatted to avoid having to leave. I didn't really have the right words to thank Trav for just, well, being Trav and investing so much energy in coming along for the ride. I wouldn't have had a fraction of the fun in Victoria without him.

He turned right; I turned left. Throttles rolled on, not looking back, we were back to our separate journeys again.