A valiant effort.

To further blanket myself in the technology I decided to test out a feature of blogging probably best reserved for the web's elite. This had been posted via text message from my mobile phone, however it split the post into 10 pieces and to add insult to injury reversed the order making the message incomprehensable. I will leave it to the pros, enjoy the post as a consolation prize.

When deciding what to post with my new found feature I came across an anecdote in the old noggin that I am sure I have never written down and rarely found a situation so hard up for conversation that warranted sharing it.

I had ridden on a few varied motorized vehicles in my youth, however the rides were few and far between. This helped me later in life, before I bought my first motorcycle, by not allowing me to know what fun I was missing out on. One summer day when I was about 10 years old my scout troop had taken a field excursion to a remote cattlestation outside of Alice Springs, Australia. While there we were exploring life on what was practically an alien planet, such as grocery shopping, daily chores, and the school of the air. I assure you these things were familiar to us in title only.

We had finished milking a cow that was anything but plump and healthy looking as those to which I am now used to seeing, and we were about to head back to the house. The trip was about a thousand yards from where we were and the group began it's hike. Now the kid that actually lived here had a little moped and planned to leave us in the dust and join us when we arrived hot and thirsty. Before he left I motioned for a lift and he waved me on. I swung a leg over and planted my self on the hot steel luggage rack that was bolted to the rear fender in place of a passenger pillion. I then endured one of the funnest and perhaps most painful to date expieriences that I can remember. It was all off road and far from smooth, but it was my first ride on two wheels.

I do have two children, but this certainly could not have helped.