Anyways the planned mode of transport involved a red 1984 Vespa PX125E modified with a Polini 177 kit and a Polini exhaust, and perhaps most importantly the iron cross tail light. Read on to find out my zany adventures in New South Wales....

My excited mounted and so was my scooter.

From then on, I made a mental note to myself to be a little more wary of trucks on the journey.

So there I am checking out the countryside, lapping up the sunshine, feeling at one with the bike and at peace with the world, singing along... "I hate commrrowwwrrooroowwrreescoooowwwrrmmmmmmm" I pull over and check the walkman cunningly located in Nike Bumbag on the waist. Vibrations had killed the tape something chronic... *another mental note... next walkman to buy to be shockproof, and have autoreverse mechanism so I don't have to pull over to turn the bloody tape over.

Stopped in Goulburn to get petrol. Problem arises. Petrol costed $3, cash in pocket amounted to $0, minimum Eftpos transaction was $10. Solution. Purchase $9 disposable camera and take photo of scoot in front of the da da da daaaa........ big Merino!!! Man that big concrete sheep sucks, I went inside it upstairs and you can look out its eyes, which turn out to be two scratched up perspex windows about the size of a shoebox lid, that you look out of and see the street below. I hate Goulburn, a town with fuck all but a police-training academy a gaol and a big concrete sheep... mmmm enticing place huh? If it's not the arsehole of the world, it's gotta be close to it.

So it's the highway after that until Marulan, nothing exciting here folks, just open throttle and a straight line until the turn off.

Marulan onwards was waaaaaay cool, all up through Bowral and Moss Vale, all these cool little towns. The countryside was soooo nice, streets lined with silvergums, passing through these little old places (resisting temptation to be a patronising city bastard and use the word 'quaint' here by the way in case you couldn’t tell), following the railway line. At Bundanoon, I pulled in and saw my old flatmate's parents for some refreshments. Aren't people's parents always good for that... apple juice and sangers... ahhh lovely.

Back on to the boring freeway at Mittagong and through the tollgates to get on to the M5 where I payed $2.50 for the privilege of getting to the city... Bastards... More boredom after that, and then I found out the real value of scootering... CARVING UP CITY TRAFFIC. Up the middle of lanes, up the outside of lanes, through bus lanes. I didn't give a ferk. Problem was, I was enjoying myself too much and ended up missing the turn off to me mate Sean's place and was right in the middle of the city before I realised it. So I'm in the city right, lost as can be, when I get the brainwave to find Pitt St, 'cos I knew Silver Rocket record shop was on Pitt St and I could check out records and ask Marek how to get to Stanmore. So there's Pitt St, a one way street. That sucked. There was roadworks. That sucked. No left turns. That sucked. Basically I was just riding around getting frustrated at every turn and watching my dwindling fuel gauge and flashing orange fuel warning light. So I ride out of the city. By now I was pretty confident on the road and starting to get cocky. A little too cocky. I ended up pulling out of a lane and nearly getting wiped out by a taxi driver. He pulled up beside me, the driver a man of middle eastern appearance,(advanced tan, bad porno mussy, a nose you could build to lock-up stage on). He gesticulated something at me and made sounds like he was choking on snot or something in my general direction. I just waved back and smiled.

Eventually I found a turn off to Newtown and made my way to Sean's house. It was cool. We ended up going to Resist Records where I bought about fifty bucks worth of 7"es and CD's, when who should drop by, but 'Iron' Kevin Thompson after his boxing training. After much nattering between Thommo and Sean about showers and such we headed off to Thommo's place where his flatmate Craig was listening to baaaad music and cooking fish. Then on to some Thai place for dinner followed by refreshments of a more liquid form across the road at the Duke of Somethingorother. Then onto Sean's floor where the black sleeping bag really came into it's own as something more than just a stylish fashion accessory...

Next stop was some seedy shop that sold and repaired second hand music stuff. Hedge Firstfailure was after some speakers for Jays PA so that they could have a show at the 111 house with the touring Melbourne bands and so Regular Boys Haircut could practice. The speakers sounded fine, but the PA sounded like it was going to shit itself. After checking out the size of the speaker boxes Fingers and Brett decided to walk home. There was no way that four guys and two speaker boxed were gonna fit in Hedgey's Camira. Why is it that all sound guys are the same? They are like rock stars that didn't make it because they were socially inept or something. Anyways $300 later we were trying to jam these damn big black chipboard mothers on to the back seat, one went in the back door, and the other one through the front window.

Back at 111 more porn. I was introduced to Mucky Mudhole a chick with a sphincter you could go fishing in, and the joys of the Shaolin monks who beat themselves regularly, on video that is. Then it was off to Newcastle to go and see some all ages hardcore show up there. I was mad keen to get up there because I hadn't seen my N-Town buddies for a long while.

Since I had absolutely no idea of where I was going, I followed Hedgeys car out of the city, and over the Harbour Bridge. Traffic sucks. The weather looked ominous. The highway from Sydney to Gosford SUCKED ARSE. Major freeway action, three lanes, high winds, plenty o'trucks and maniac car drivers who don't feel the need to indicate or overtake on the outside lane. After about five minutes of this palarvour, it decides to rain. I pull over and get my new plastic dacks out, my new gloves and the Smith family tartan scarf. There is no way to look dignified putting on a pair of plastic pants over your jeans and boots in the rain and wind on the side of a highway.

Back on the road again and the rain stops... of course. Next come the enormous hills, a bit daunting at first, but I soon got the hang of it. Just don't look down over the side, and brace yourself for windsqualls. So I'm flying down this hill and I start to overtake this truck. Guess what? Bastard truck decides to speed up. Not only that looming up behind me is his truck mate. He decides to overtake me. So there I am sitting in between two monster trucks at about 100kph in high wind on a busy wet freeway. This seemed to go on for a while, it sucked very much, one slip either way and I could have been bounced over by an eighteen wheeler. Eventually though the up part of the hill came and I got to leave them both behind, going ner ner nee ner ner.

Keen to get off the highway and leave those kind of fun and games behind, I hung a left to get to Gosford. Some real nice places from now on. Riding along the coast through a big inland salt water lake at The Entrance. Nice stuff. Getting kinda warm now with those placcy dacks on, but I knew that if I took them off it would rain. I could feel the grime building up on my jeans. Before I knew it I was in Newy with an hour or so to go before the show. Couldn't help but do the tourist thing, I spent the time going riding along the beach roads and checking out lookouts, a coupla photos of scoot with sea view, counted the freighters etc. Tres cheesy. I couldn't help it though. I love that town.

I arrived too late to see the Blurters and Regular Boys Haircut, the only two bands I really wanted to see, which kinda sucked. Apparently Fingers had let off a smoke bomb he got last time he was in Canberra, in the middle of RBH which had cleared the room. Missed most of Open Wound, Stamanech 640 (except Saaaaaaabuuuuuuu), and Next Step. Caught the full force of Bleeding Face however. Fuck me. Why are this band breaking up when they just released a split with Stamanech? They were fucking awesome, especially with the new bass player, the last one sucked sooooooooo bad. The young Cunt Ari Practice was like a singer possessed. Reminded me of a cross between Chris from Subversion (RIP), FD period 'Iron' Kevin Thompson, and Angus Young. Totally berserk mix. Bringing the danger back into punk rock. After these guys came the mighty AVO, the allstar NSWHC show. Brettario from the 'gong did remark that AVO should stand for All Very Old. Now featuring Bibs (ex Crank, Toe To Toe, Rocks, blah blah blah) alongside Sean (ex TTT), Thommo (ex FD) and Kas (RBH, Bleeding Face), they blitzed the loungeroom with their blend of street level, hard hitting 80's thrash style hc. The Jerrys Kids cover of 'Uncontrollable' was just that, with Sean's bass lead getting ripped apart and mad loungeroom circle action and pile-on mayhem occurring. Thommo's singing antics saw most people up the front move back a step as his steelcap gettagrips landed on a couple of peoples, toes, shins etc... Other highlights of the set saw Kas getting whaled by Hedgeys new PA speakers as Thommo went a little too troppo with the mic. Thommo's mic getting fucked up and having to use Kas's back up mic with about a foot long spike of steel gaffa taped to the end of it. Folks really started to move back in a hurry at that stage, even from the safety of another room. It was a scary sight. Fortunately the gaffa along with the spike was removed before continuing.

After the party it was back to Sean's to listen to more music before heading off to the pub for the nights show, which featured, wait for it, you guessed it, Stamanech 640, Bleeding Face, Open Wound, AVO, Next Step, with fellow Canberrans Mugshot arriving to vary the lineup a little. I was over it I tell you. Sat around and shot the breeze and got yelled at by more punk rock bands for a while. The best part of the evening was seeing the staff spinning out at the bands, shaking their heads and blocking their ears. By this stage, I could sympathise with them. Watched AVO and Thommo dedicated their song 'Trough Boy' to me, he really knows how to make an old friend feel welcome. I was soooo hungry and checking my watch, it was about 10:30pm. No wonder I was hungry, I hadn't eaten since brekky. It was pissing down rain now, and there was nowhere nearby to get anything to eat. I was bummed. Suddenly fingers shows up waving a key in my face... "You've got a licence haven't you?" he said. Great I was thinking, here's a guy that wants me to write him a character reference and he's gone and stolen a car. "No, he says its allright, it's my flatmates, he let's anyone use it." The voice of my hunger was louder than the voice of my reason and I took the key and headed to the carpark picking up a few strays on the way. After finding out that I was gonna drop Jay home first, the strays ejected themselves, and we were on our way to 111 and then Maccas (punk rock huh?). Right about where I'm in an unfamiliar dark street, in an unfamiliar car, in pissing down rain Jay says "Do you reckon that now would be a good time to tell Doug that he's driving an unregistered car?" In the middle of that sentence, a police car pulls out of a side street and starts to follow us. Greeeeeeeeat timing. We lost them after a while though, dropped Jay off and landed ourselves at the Golden Arches. Fingers, Mr Allergic To Wheat, Orders a Big Mac without a bun, after much kerfuffle he gets a Big Mac with a bun and proceeds to take the bun off and eat the rest with his fingers. It was truly one of the most grossest sights I saw on the whole trip, Muddy Muckhole and all. The four thousand kilowatt fluorescent lighting didn't do much for the place at all I must say. The nightclub sluts were there in various states of dress and undress. The place was full of heads rougher than a hat full of twisted arseholes. It was loaded with cellulite, zits, gel, lycra, high heels and way too much make up. The women too. I was soo keen to leave that place. It would've been easier if Achmed and thirteen generations of his family in three cars didn't decide to stop in the out lane and have a family dispute. After that it was back to Sean's to crash in the new sleeping bag.

Sean wakes up hungover and still drunk and has to go to work at like 7am or some shit. Poor cunt. More porn and 7"es... hehehe. Sean comes back and we go down to Enmore Road to breakfast up, joined by 'Iron' Kevin Thompson. Nice fatty sausages, bacon, mushies, tomatoes... the works mmmm. Then back for more punk rock stereo action while the boys wait for Bibsy to come around and pick them up to take them to the Wollongong show. In the meanwhile 'Iron' Thommo whips out a Sarah Lee carrot cake... just when I thought I couldn't fit another thing in hahahaa. The weather looked like shit- raining intermittently and the sky was as dark as the bags under Sean's eyes. I had planned originally to ride to the 'gong and catch the show there, but now I had my doubts. To see most of the bands I had already seen all weekend plus some more local grindslop bands? I wasn't into it that much. And the Bulli pass sucks in four wheels on a good day, let alone on two ten inch wheels in the rain. I wussed out of going to Wollongong, which turned out to be a good thing cos something ferked up on my scooter limiting it to a top speed of around 80-90kph. Of course it had to happen in the pouring rain. I decided sightseeing roads were out, and the freeway was the go so I wouldn't have to spend more time than was needed on the road, and so if I broke down I wouldn't be forty miles from the nearest backwater one horse town. A quick side-of-the-road stop and engine inspection revealed nothing to me, but then again I'm a bit what you might call mechanically challenged, but I took a photo with the tools out and the sidepanels off anyway, 'cos it looked cool. I did pay the NRMA another thirty nine bucks for extra cover which included free towing, so I wanted to be on the road with those little blue emergency phones on the side every few kilometres or so in case I seized the engine or something. At about Marulan or so the fog was thick and it was freezing cold and pouring with rain, and I was limited to 80 kph. About now I was appreciating the fact that I didn't go with the 'spring weight' gloves. I stuck to the left hand lane hoping that the cars and trucks could see my little red tail light that was half obscured anyway by my stuffed gearbag occied to the back. Visibility was down to about 10 metres or less at this stage. I did have thoughts of stopping at Goulburn and staying the night at a hotel and riding back to Canberra in the morning. Getting closer though I remembered exactly how much I hated the place and that spurred me to continue home. I ended up preferring a cold, wet, cramped and dangerous ride on a scooter to a warm, dry and safe hotel room in Goulburn. After that it was around Lake George and on to the home stretch. Warning. Warning. Flashing orange light. Running out of petrol. In my hurry to bypass Goulburn, I forgot to get petrol. If there's one more thing that would have sucked, it would have been running out of petrol just outside of Canberra... The straw that broke the camels back as it were. Fortunately it battled on with the flashing orange light for a fair while, long enough to get to the next servo. $4.87 petrol the most expensive fill of the whole journey.

Getting home was sooo good, and I dragged my limp, cold and cramped body into a hot radox bath with a hot mug of tea... awwww don'cha love a happy ending?

(Rollerzentrale is a german scooter shop that I ripped the animation off from. I just liked it so much that I had to have it. Visit their page.)