I've decided to get rid of the humongous (375 mg a day) doses of Venlaflaxine (trade name Effexor) I've been taking for around a decade.
I'm sure that when I was in a situation that caused/triggered/fed that bastard black dog, they saved my life.
But once the triggers were removed, I stayed with the drug, which I truly believe was a mistake.
The very thing that saves you in the fight against the black dog, hinders your ability to properly heal.
I am humbly indebted to Professor Saxby Pridmore who I have no doubt whatsoever saved me from suicide. His patience, caring and persistence is very, very much appreciated. Thank you, sir.
I was very wary of weaning away from this drug, as there are horror stories galore about it's ability to fuck you right up with withdrawal symptoms. But not this little black duck, no way. I will have my life again, or die in the attempt. For a life not felt, filled with the emotions of living, is not a life at all.
I carefully reduced the dose over 6 months. 5 a day, then 4, then 5 a day for two days, then 4, then 5, 4, 5, 4, 3, 4, 4, 3, 4, 4, 3. Then 4, 3, 4, 3, 4 etc, you get the drift.
Only side effects were the "sparking, short circuit" sensation in the head. I attribute this to the brain cracking the shits that it has to do the serotonin thing without help from drugs. Useless cunt of a thing, get over it.
The other was.. is, the weird sensation of "feeling" again.
That's both exhilarating and scary at the same time. for after a decade of suppressing emotion, in an attempt to survive, this emotion thing can be really fucked.
I embrace it, it is fucking awesome.
Now, there is no doubt that the black bastard dog will try and tear my throat out. But now I know I can feel the difference 'tween anger. frustration, hate and depression, well, the cunt's got no chance.
The world, that poor, unsuspecting entity has no chance.
I'm BA-AAAAACK!
Friday, December 2, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Behold the "POSTIE BIKE OF DEATH"
The original postie was donated to the most awesome place on "teh interwebz" BikeMe!
It was then stripped and the parts posted around Oz, to BikeMe! people. Where these souls replaced, modified, cleaned, made and returned the parts. It was reassembled by BikeMe! people and the result was then the prize of a "Guessing Competition" What you see was not scripted in any way, it just happened. Such is the synergy of BikeMe! people.
Here is video of the build, are these people not gods in human form?
I was lucky to have been blessed by the Moose to have guessed correctly.
So now I am the custodian of the "Postie Bike of Death". It will always be in the possession of a BikeMe! brother or sister, it will never be allowed to go outside the clan.
It is more than a brilliant piece of motorcycle customisation, it is the essence of my BikeMe! friends.
It is BikeMe! in motorcycle form (mark I)
Saturday, October 8, 2011
You meet the best people on motorbikes.
Every year I try to get to Phillip Island, around the time of the MotoGP, or the World Superbikes.
I care not one bit about the races, esp the MotoGP. The Superbikes are OK, esp the support races, but still not the reason I travel to "teh Holy Isle"
I make my personal pilgrimage to meet my friends. The races are the time that many of my friends are there.
Some of these friends I've never met face to face, they are from the wider community of motorcyclists that I have found on the internet. I used to think that the internet was for porn, but although useful for that, it's true reason for existence is to allow me to communicate with friends. www.bikeme.tv is the main access point for me.
This year has been a terrible year for finances and me. A fucken brilliant year for feeling fulfilled, for feeling worthwhile in my employment, but I've struggled to make ends meet. I have done without to make sure I have the boat ticket to Victoria and back, enough petrol money etc., so the pilgrimage will happen.
But I need a new front tyre, the current one will not last the distance to and from the island, let alone traveling around while there. Especially not at what I would call an enjoyable pace.
My friends, the reason for this post, have come to the rescue.
Unasked, unbidden, not one, but two tyres were found.
Near new Michelin Pilot Road II's.
My favourite flavour.
That's brilliant, and they were to be dispatched to me by urgent courier, so I'd be set to go to the island.
But no, the couriers wouldn't do a fast courier of tyres, as apparently they "damage the other freight."
What.
The.
Fuck.
I can get 90kgs of explosive paint n chemicals delivered, but not some inert rubber.
This is no issue for my friends.
Utilising ad-hoc logistical planning that would make Alexander the Great seem incompetent, the tyres were collected from Newcastle, picked up by another BikeMe! brother, taken to the father of another BikeMe! friend. This man, who I've never met, will be transporting them to Phillip Island, where I can pick them up and get them fitted.
No reimbursement will be considered by these people, except a thankyou by way of a cold beer.
These are good people, and not the only ones involved, many good folk were offering help, searching for tyres, transport and solutions.
You truly do not know what mateship is until you become part of a group like BikeMe!
BikeMe! people are Motorcyclists. A motorcyclist is not a person who just happens to own, or ride a motorcycle. A motorcyclist is a person who is willing to go to that extra effort to make a fellow motorcyclists life that little bit easier, that little bit better, for no reward other than to have helped.
I rarely here of c@r drivers, or pushbike peddlers, or anyone else continuously acting in such a selfless manner as motorcyclists.
You really do meet the best people on motorbikes.
I care not one bit about the races, esp the MotoGP. The Superbikes are OK, esp the support races, but still not the reason I travel to "teh Holy Isle"
I make my personal pilgrimage to meet my friends. The races are the time that many of my friends are there.
Some of these friends I've never met face to face, they are from the wider community of motorcyclists that I have found on the internet. I used to think that the internet was for porn, but although useful for that, it's true reason for existence is to allow me to communicate with friends. www.bikeme.tv is the main access point for me.
This year has been a terrible year for finances and me. A fucken brilliant year for feeling fulfilled, for feeling worthwhile in my employment, but I've struggled to make ends meet. I have done without to make sure I have the boat ticket to Victoria and back, enough petrol money etc., so the pilgrimage will happen.
But I need a new front tyre, the current one will not last the distance to and from the island, let alone traveling around while there. Especially not at what I would call an enjoyable pace.
My friends, the reason for this post, have come to the rescue.
Unasked, unbidden, not one, but two tyres were found.
Near new Michelin Pilot Road II's.
My favourite flavour.
That's brilliant, and they were to be dispatched to me by urgent courier, so I'd be set to go to the island.
But no, the couriers wouldn't do a fast courier of tyres, as apparently they "damage the other freight."
What.
The.
Fuck.
I can get 90kgs of explosive paint n chemicals delivered, but not some inert rubber.
This is no issue for my friends.
Utilising ad-hoc logistical planning that would make Alexander the Great seem incompetent, the tyres were collected from Newcastle, picked up by another BikeMe! brother, taken to the father of another BikeMe! friend. This man, who I've never met, will be transporting them to Phillip Island, where I can pick them up and get them fitted.
No reimbursement will be considered by these people, except a thankyou by way of a cold beer.
These are good people, and not the only ones involved, many good folk were offering help, searching for tyres, transport and solutions.
You truly do not know what mateship is until you become part of a group like BikeMe!
BikeMe! people are Motorcyclists. A motorcyclist is not a person who just happens to own, or ride a motorcycle. A motorcyclist is a person who is willing to go to that extra effort to make a fellow motorcyclists life that little bit easier, that little bit better, for no reward other than to have helped.
I rarely here of c@r drivers, or pushbike peddlers, or anyone else continuously acting in such a selfless manner as motorcyclists.
You really do meet the best people on motorbikes.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Axis of Weasel is no more.
Sadly, Snowy escaped.
My fault entirely, for he was in my care. Desperate door knocking, searching and local shop signs have not helped. He is gone for good.
I only hope a friendly home was discovered.
I miss the ferrets, they were my family
My fault entirely, for he was in my care. Desperate door knocking, searching and local shop signs have not helped. He is gone for good.
I only hope a friendly home was discovered.
I miss the ferrets, they were my family
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
OH&S Stupidity.
Snowy the ferret used to go to school with me. Unofficial mascot of the auto workshop.
I'd take him with me on yard duty, the kids loved him. Never a problem, never scratched, bit or harmed any child.
However, the OH&S droid has deemed him a risk, a child might be frightened, run and trip, get raped or suffer necrotic lesions, sue the school for pain, suffering and loss of potential income. So Snowy has to stay at home. Alone.
What complete and utter bullshit. What wank, what stupidity.
The cunt has obviously had a very sheltered and deprived childhood, I'm guessing a goldfish was the only allowed pet in his house. The ensuing discussion was not pleasant, but he does now at least know exactly what I think of him and his parentage.
I cannot believe how far this OH&S garbage has gone. We are producing generations of indolent fools that are being taught to never take any risk, or responsibility for their actions. When the shit hits the fan, they just have to say "Nobody told me" and somebody else will cop the blame.
Ridiculous, utter and complete fucking stupidity.
On another note, a van I use a training aid was left outside due to space issues.
Some people got into the school grounds and decided to go for a joy ride, leaving it a block away from the school. Not a bad effort as it has no brakes, steering, suspension, or engine, and it was left uphill.
The kids in teh first two periods were tasked to get it, but the OH&S droid declared that a police traffic control was required. So the police were called, and we shoved the van, across the intersection and up the road past one house and up the back driveway into the school.
The police were not happy at the loss of donut eating time, for essentially no reason at all.
I let them know the description of the OH&S droid, they will keep a special eye out for any traffic infringements he may make.
I'd take him with me on yard duty, the kids loved him. Never a problem, never scratched, bit or harmed any child.
However, the OH&S droid has deemed him a risk, a child might be frightened, run and trip, get raped or suffer necrotic lesions, sue the school for pain, suffering and loss of potential income. So Snowy has to stay at home. Alone.
What complete and utter bullshit. What wank, what stupidity.
The cunt has obviously had a very sheltered and deprived childhood, I'm guessing a goldfish was the only allowed pet in his house. The ensuing discussion was not pleasant, but he does now at least know exactly what I think of him and his parentage.
I cannot believe how far this OH&S garbage has gone. We are producing generations of indolent fools that are being taught to never take any risk, or responsibility for their actions. When the shit hits the fan, they just have to say "Nobody told me" and somebody else will cop the blame.
Ridiculous, utter and complete fucking stupidity.
On another note, a van I use a training aid was left outside due to space issues.
Some people got into the school grounds and decided to go for a joy ride, leaving it a block away from the school. Not a bad effort as it has no brakes, steering, suspension, or engine, and it was left uphill.
The kids in teh first two periods were tasked to get it, but the OH&S droid declared that a police traffic control was required. So the police were called, and we shoved the van, across the intersection and up the road past one house and up the back driveway into the school.
The police were not happy at the loss of donut eating time, for essentially no reason at all.
I let them know the description of the OH&S droid, they will keep a special eye out for any traffic infringements he may make.
Monday, July 25, 2011
ATO.. How I Hate Thee, let me count the ways.
I've been paying taxes since 1977, dutifully, honestly.
I don't make nefarious claims, just put on the form what I reasonably believe to be my income, and the allowed deductions to the cost of that income.
Due to many things, I'll take full responsibility for all of it, for I am an idiot with finances, I have ended up with a large tax debt. Divorce, failed relationships, a failed small business etc.
I would have thought that reliably paying tax for 34 years may have built some credit with the ATO, no, not at all. I have been treated with contempt, nay disdain and all requests for a "fair go" have been thrown back in my face.
Maybe even spending 21 years in the army prepared to die for this country would allow me to claim some cutting a bit of slack? Fuck off.
Now I was out of work for three months, but despite absolutely NO help from the gumbyment departments and programs, I managed to find part time work. It doesn't pay much, but it's very fulfilling work. The ATO wants more than their fare share tho. After rent, and them, and me dutifully paying back all moneys I owe, there is naught left to enjoy life.
I would have thought that being a loyal customer of a credit union, actually a share holder, no less, I may have been entitled to a bit of help from them?
I am silly, for they also said "fuck off fool".
Money, it is evil, a necessary evil, but still evil.
I don't make nefarious claims, just put on the form what I reasonably believe to be my income, and the allowed deductions to the cost of that income.
Due to many things, I'll take full responsibility for all of it, for I am an idiot with finances, I have ended up with a large tax debt. Divorce, failed relationships, a failed small business etc.
I would have thought that reliably paying tax for 34 years may have built some credit with the ATO, no, not at all. I have been treated with contempt, nay disdain and all requests for a "fair go" have been thrown back in my face.
Maybe even spending 21 years in the army prepared to die for this country would allow me to claim some cutting a bit of slack? Fuck off.
Now I was out of work for three months, but despite absolutely NO help from the gumbyment departments and programs, I managed to find part time work. It doesn't pay much, but it's very fulfilling work. The ATO wants more than their fare share tho. After rent, and them, and me dutifully paying back all moneys I owe, there is naught left to enjoy life.
I would have thought that being a loyal customer of a credit union, actually a share holder, no less, I may have been entitled to a bit of help from them?
I am silly, for they also said "fuck off fool".
Money, it is evil, a necessary evil, but still evil.
The demise of Silas.
Poor Silas, he was a character, that ferret.
When I travel around the place, short distances only, I place the ferrets in the rackbag, amongst sundry rags.
Well, I did, now I only place one ferret in the bag, Snowy.
Silas, after one trip to east Devonport to welcome a friend off the boat, decided that he wanted to view the world. Well, that's what we think. I got home later, and discovered where the zips had been firmly closed before, now there was a small (3 cm) gap, and only one ferret. Seems at some point the silly bugger had squeezed through the hole, wiggled around the closed flap and did a runner.
Snowy was happily dozing in the bag, as is his wont. He seems more content now, does Snowy. I'm wondering if Silas left by his own volition, or was he pushed?
Anyway, It's just Snowy and me now.
When I travel around the place, short distances only, I place the ferrets in the rackbag, amongst sundry rags.
Well, I did, now I only place one ferret in the bag, Snowy.
Silas, after one trip to east Devonport to welcome a friend off the boat, decided that he wanted to view the world. Well, that's what we think. I got home later, and discovered where the zips had been firmly closed before, now there was a small (3 cm) gap, and only one ferret. Seems at some point the silly bugger had squeezed through the hole, wiggled around the closed flap and did a runner.
Snowy was happily dozing in the bag, as is his wont. He seems more content now, does Snowy. I'm wondering if Silas left by his own volition, or was he pushed?
Anyway, It's just Snowy and me now.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Snowy (larger, black eyes) and Silas (smaller Albino) AKA "The Axis of Weasel" having a bit of fun.
Sorry about the poor video, but hey, I'm a teecha/mechanic not a film maker. Besides, the little buggers move too quick.
Snowy loves the sneak attacks from hiding, especially at the socks. He sometimes get s lazy and just lies down, it's kinda like hiding to him.
The bag they're playing in is an old helmet bag, perfect use for it really.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
I has a war-beast
A 5 month old ferret, funny little fucker, absolutely fearless.
Does awesome sneak attacks from hiding, followed up with a "runaway to fight another day!"
Snowy inspecting some suspicious sunlight.
Attacking the capitalist pig-dog trouser leg.
Attempting to bite the hand that feeds it.
I'm getting another next weekend, an albino that is called "Silas" (yup, after the albino murderous monk in the DaVinci Code)
The axis of weasel is coming together!
Phear the phearless phucking pherrets you phuckers!
Does awesome sneak attacks from hiding, followed up with a "runaway to fight another day!"
Attacking the capitalist pig-dog trouser leg.
I'm getting another next weekend, an albino that is called "Silas" (yup, after the albino murderous monk in the DaVinci Code)
The axis of weasel is coming together!
Phear the phearless phucking pherrets you phuckers!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
I find this interesting.
"You are never dedicated to something you have complete confidence in. No one is fanatically shouting that the sun is going to rise tomorrow. When people are fanatically dedicated to political or religious faiths or any other kinds of dogmas or goals, it's always because these dogmas or goals are in doubt"
Robert M Persig.. "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"
I think there is a lot of truth in that. Not completely true, as nothing ever can be.
It explains some of my own irrational behaviour at times, and goes in part towards letting me forgive others irrationality. Or at least, in moments where I wish to inflict some emotional revenge, lets me at least smile smugly and knowingly into the face of a zealots annoying tirade.
I think it may explain some of zealous safety peoples' need to make us all conform. They know there are flaws in the argument, they know they're "situating the appreciation" to get the proofs they need, but maybe, just maybe if they become so dedicated to the cause it will become true.
Same goes for my views I guess. I justify it to myself by believing that I'm only trying to fight for my individuality, in no way am I saying that everyone should be like me.
Why do people feel the need to make others conform to their way of thinking?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Why bother?
I teach Auto tech at a school. Not really teaching auto, more giving the kids an insight into the world of automotive technology, workshop practises, and a basic understanding of how things work. A good grounding for an apprenticeship should they want to go further.
My cunning plan for the classes was to get some older motorbikes donated (I have at least a dozen ready) for the students to either rebuild, or customise. The kids get to play with the bikes, learning about the systems/components, tools, and machinery, processes involved, customer interaction etc. The owner gets their bike back, working , restored, etc. The school gets the best of training aids, at no cost to them, as all parts are paid for by the owners.
WIN, WIN, WIN.
No, it''s not, you see, there's one of me, and 36 kids in two groups. I can't be at every project all the time. So I need time to inspect and maybe rectify the work kids do. I also need the time to do the work that the kids can't do themselves, as they aren't mechanics, and teaching them to be mechanics is beyond the scope of the school.
But nope, the OH&S droid, in his wisdom, and without any consultation, has denied access to the workshop after hours. I'm a Mechanic, been one for 30 years, I was a mechanic in the army, often working in the field, at night, alone. I have been, previously, an OH&S supervisor for 12 years, but this man, without any experience in auto, or qualifications, has decided I am either incompetent, or untrustworthy, or both, and has denied my access to the workshop to do my job.
So the school loses, the kids lose (and if it's not about the kids, what the fuck is it about?) I lose.
I still get all indignant, pissed off etc, but can't be fucked fighting anymore.
It seems for every good thing that happens in this life, there's always at least one event, or more often person, who creates a situation that fucks it up, and causes at least two negative events to follow.
Fuckwit OH&S/HR droid is the latest in my life. He's turning my finally found dream job into dull, process filled 9-5 work (Actually 8:20 till 3:00).
Aside from helping out mates with a workshop, I need the after hours access to do the work on the project bikes that the kids cannot do. I also cannot be at every bike all the time during classes, so will need time to inspect/rectify students work. That looks like it wont be possible.
So the "real life" projects, in all probability, are to be canned. The excursions to events, not worth the "process" involved to get off the ground.
I'm sick of having to fight for just the simple things. I can't do the "Office politics" anymore, I was never any fucking good at it anyway.
If the current decision stands, I'll give notice and slink away into the shadows, they can play their games on someone else.
Chalk up another victory to the Beige, another nail in the coffin of the individual, the people with the drive and passion to do things better.
I've had it, Just can't be fucked anymore.
Black dog! where fore art thou dog? come and embrace me. For at least you have passion.
My cunning plan for the classes was to get some older motorbikes donated (I have at least a dozen ready) for the students to either rebuild, or customise. The kids get to play with the bikes, learning about the systems/components, tools, and machinery, processes involved, customer interaction etc. The owner gets their bike back, working , restored, etc. The school gets the best of training aids, at no cost to them, as all parts are paid for by the owners.
WIN, WIN, WIN.
No, it''s not, you see, there's one of me, and 36 kids in two groups. I can't be at every project all the time. So I need time to inspect and maybe rectify the work kids do. I also need the time to do the work that the kids can't do themselves, as they aren't mechanics, and teaching them to be mechanics is beyond the scope of the school.
But nope, the OH&S droid, in his wisdom, and without any consultation, has denied access to the workshop after hours. I'm a Mechanic, been one for 30 years, I was a mechanic in the army, often working in the field, at night, alone. I have been, previously, an OH&S supervisor for 12 years, but this man, without any experience in auto, or qualifications, has decided I am either incompetent, or untrustworthy, or both, and has denied my access to the workshop to do my job.
So the school loses, the kids lose (and if it's not about the kids, what the fuck is it about?) I lose.
I still get all indignant, pissed off etc, but can't be fucked fighting anymore.
It seems for every good thing that happens in this life, there's always at least one event, or more often person, who creates a situation that fucks it up, and causes at least two negative events to follow.
Fuckwit OH&S/HR droid is the latest in my life. He's turning my finally found dream job into dull, process filled 9-5 work (Actually 8:20 till 3:00).
Aside from helping out mates with a workshop, I need the after hours access to do the work on the project bikes that the kids cannot do. I also cannot be at every bike all the time during classes, so will need time to inspect/rectify students work. That looks like it wont be possible.
So the "real life" projects, in all probability, are to be canned. The excursions to events, not worth the "process" involved to get off the ground.
I'm sick of having to fight for just the simple things. I can't do the "Office politics" anymore, I was never any fucking good at it anyway.
If the current decision stands, I'll give notice and slink away into the shadows, they can play their games on someone else.
Chalk up another victory to the Beige, another nail in the coffin of the individual, the people with the drive and passion to do things better.
I've had it, Just can't be fucked anymore.
Black dog! where fore art thou dog? come and embrace me. For at least you have passion.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
An insight into the mind of a Police Commissioner
It's not a very pretty sight, IMHO.
Have a read of this It's a concern, if they really think that way.
Mr Overland said.
So, he's so paranoid that he knows that a " totally benign " gathering has "the potential to undermine confidence in public institutions"
Riiiight, I'm gunna go and dob in the local little old ladies crochet club, I reckon they plan to send poison lamingtons to the mens lawn bowls team"
Then I'll start to worry about the local boy scouts, fair dinkum, anyone who goes under the pseudonym of :Akela or Baloo must be a subvertive I reckon.
When you gunna change your name to "Overlord", Mr Overland?
Get a fucking grip will you, paranoia is so yesterday.
Have a read of this It's a concern, if they really think that way.
Mr Overland said.
“Such gatherings, even when totally benign , have the potential to undermine confidence in public institutions - especially policing,''
So, he's so paranoid that he knows that a " totally benign " gathering has "the potential to undermine confidence in public institutions"
Riiiight, I'm gunna go and dob in the local little old ladies crochet club, I reckon they plan to send poison lamingtons to the mens lawn bowls team"
Then I'll start to worry about the local boy scouts, fair dinkum, anyone who goes under the pseudonym of :Akela or Baloo must be a subvertive I reckon.
When you gunna change your name to "Overlord", Mr Overland?
Get a fucking grip will you, paranoia is so yesterday.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Wasted Resources
I was hoping to be at the World Superbikes, Philip Island this weekend. Lack of the readies stopped me.
That was lucky it seems, as Victoria's "Finest" (allegedly) were out in force, pulling over motorcyclists, and motorcyclists only, for rego, license and compliance checks. So while a lot of bikes were given "Defect notices" for modified exhausts etc, which, you know is really really dangerous, there are rapes, murders, break ins and other, not so important things for the police to be doing.
Fucking fun police, numb nut puppets for the beige government and bureaucrats to enforce their own version of social compliance.
This place is going down the tubes.
That was lucky it seems, as Victoria's "Finest" (allegedly) were out in force, pulling over motorcyclists, and motorcyclists only, for rego, license and compliance checks. So while a lot of bikes were given "Defect notices" for modified exhausts etc, which, you know is really really dangerous, there are rapes, murders, break ins and other, not so important things for the police to be doing.
Fucking fun police, numb nut puppets for the beige government and bureaucrats to enforce their own version of social compliance.
This place is going down the tubes.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
More common sense.. what's happening?
Kansas House Approves Bill Allowing Motorcycles to Run Red Lights
Published February 23, 2011
| FoxNews.com
AP
A red light camera setup is shown Wednesday Sept. 29, 2010 in Los Angeles. An audit by the Los Angeles city controller finds that red-light cameras haven't shown to improve public safety. The audit released Wednesday blames police for not adequately compiling statistics at the 32 intersections where red light cameras are installed, making it difficult to conclude whether they are effective. (AP Photo/Nick Ut)
Ever been itching to run a red light that just won't change? Kansas lawmakers think motorcycle riders should be able to do just that.
The Kansas House on Tuesday approved a bill that would allow bikers to run a red light if the signal "fails" to turn green after a "reasonable period of time." The proposal leaves the discretion in the hands of the motorcyclist, but is aimed at ensuring riders don't get trapped in perpetuity at intersections because of signals that either malfunction or don't detect the motorcycles.
Motorcycle riders testified this month that their bikes were often not big or heavy enough to trigger the sensors that cause red lights to switch. For fear that riders would have to choose between being stuck on the Kansas tundra or running a light and risking a ticket, they urged the legislature to approve the so-called "Dead Red" bill giving them a free pass. The riders testifying in support of the bill belonged to a group known as ABATE, or A Brotherhood Against Totalitarian Enactments.
"Cars and trucks have no problem with it, but motorcycles have always been an issue," Crawford County Sheriff's Deputy Bob Peters said, according to Fox 14. "You may be on a section or roadway where you may wait for five minutes and there may not be other traffic along to trigger the sensor."
Though Peters supported the bill, it was opposed by Kansas police organizations that want their officers, not motorcycle riders, to have the discretion. One Republican lawmaker unsuccessfully tried to strip the red-light provision, saying, "I see no skeletal remains of motorcyclists sitting at red lights that never change," according to The Wichita Eagle.
The bill passed the House Tuesday as part of a broader road safety package. The other component in the package would prohibit local jurisdictions from imposing extra fines on drivers for seat-belt violations. The bill kept the statewide fine at $5 -- that would eventually rise to $10 or $60 depending on the severity of the violation.
The language in the motorcycle bill also covered bicycle riders.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Some UnCommon Sense?
In the current road safety climate, with everyone stuck on the speed kills paradigm, (or is that "Speed Pays"?)
here's an unusual article.
Unusual in that it actually adds a bit of common sense to the discussion.
Actually, in this discussion, it's "uncommon sense"
Article was found here, and reproduced below.
Let The People Decide How Much Safety Is Enough
David Leyonhjelm discusses how our 'speeding' laws ignore the evidence, and are out of step with community values:"When speeding laws say one thing and a large majority of people demonstrate they have a different view, it’s time to recalibrate".
Early each year we often see media stories about how many people were killed in road accidents over the holiday season and whether this is higher or lower than previous years.
The source of these stories is usually one of the government agencies responsible for road traffic issues, such as the NSW Roads and Traffic Authority, and invariably includes claims about excess speed, idiotic drivers and the obvious need for further measures to compel drivers to slow down.
The tone is typically patronising.
If only drivers would be more responsible or, like naughty children who refuse to behave, they must be caught and punished.
There are often lectures by police officers who tell us it’s all for our own good, while governments run advertisements trying to frighten us into slowing down with gory pictures of accidents or warnings of lifelong injuries.
There are two problems with all this.
One is that speed is nowhere near the cause of road casualties it is made out to be.
Second, the overwhelming majority of drivers know this and, through their actions, indicate they do not believe exceeding the speed limit is inherently dangerous, that they are at fault when they do so, or that enforcement measures are merited.
Speed limits are much the same as they were 40 years ago, yet road traffic deaths have declined dramatically.
Just in the last 20 years they have approximately halved, notwithstanding increases in car numbers and distances travelled.
The reasons for this decline have little to do with speeds, which mostly go up whenever enforcement is not apparent, but to improvements in vehicle safety (eg brakes, tyres, airbags, seat belts and electronic stability control) plus better roads.
This is confirmed by the fact that much larger declines occurred in many other countries over the same period, including some where speed limits are higher than in Australia.
That includes Germany and the UK, which also have fewer fatalities per 100,000 people.
The RTA claims speed is a key factor in over 40% of road deaths, but the data behind this is very flimsy.
Speed is often blamed by accident investigators whenever an alternative explanation is not apparent, even when lone drivers commit suicide by crashing into a tree at high speed.
Other countries tell a different story.
Official British road casualty statistics for 2006 show "exceeding speed limit" was a contributory factor in 5% of all casualty crashes (14% of all fatal crashes), and that "travelling too fast for conditions" was a contributory factor in 11% of all casualty crashes (18% of all fatal crashes).
Similar results were found in a study published in 2008 by the US National Highway Safety Traffic Administration.
Based on early and detailed post-accident investigations of 5,471 accidents, it concluded that driving too fast for conditions or too fast for a curve accounted for just 13.3% of them. (More than a third of accidents were found to be related to an intersection.)
In the absence of a speed camera or other enforcement, probably three-quarters of all Australian drivers would exceed the speed limit when they felt it was safe to do so.
Anecdotally, that includes most off-duty police officers as well as the journalists who write the stories discussing lack of compliance with speed limits.
At certain times, a car crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge would hold up traffic if it travelled below the speed limit.
This has led to enormous cynicism about the enforcement of speed limits and their contribution to state government budgets.
There is something inherently absurd about being told that travelling at 5 km/hr above the limit is dangerous while it is safe at 5 km/hr below it.
That raises an interesting question. When the law says one thing and a large majority of people demonstrate they have a different view, which prevails?
If the law is supposed to reflect the values of society, as is supposedly the basis of the common law and a key expectation of democracy, the law is clearly wrong.
Only in a dictatorship do we expect the ruler to insist the people are wrong.
The way some public servants and politicians talk, you could be forgiven for thinking that the policy objective of traffic laws is to reduce accidents and deaths to zero.
Yet that is clearly nonsense – accidents causing death and injury are inevitable at any speed above walking pace.
The road toll could be immediately stopped by reducing speed limits to 10 km/hr or by banning cars.
Clearly, there is a trade-off.
Explicitly or not, we accept a certain level of accidents as the price of convenient travel, as we do in numerous other activities.
What is apparent from the fact that so many drivers disobey the speed limits when they have the opportunity is that the trade-off needs recalibrating.
And rather than public servants deciding what it ought to be, the community as a whole should do it.
There is an internationally recognised method by which this can be achieved, known as the 85th percentile formula.
In essence, it involves the temporary removal of the speed limit while speeds are monitored.
At the conclusion of the period, a limit is reimposed at or slightly above the speed at which 85 percent of drivers travel.
The concept is based on the assumption that the large majority of drivers are reasonable and prudent, do not want to have a crash, and wish to reach their destination in the shortest possible time.
It is supported by statistical evidence, which shows that those who exceed speed limits based on the 85thth percentile).
Enforcement directed at these drivers thus has a positive impact on road safety while enjoying community support and avoiding perceptions of revenue-raising. percentile are substantially more likely to cause accidents (as are those who travel below the 15
If the formula was applied to Australian roads, speed limits would certainly be increased on our major highways, probably to European levels.
There may also be increases on some dual carriageways in metropolitan areas, although it is unlikely most suburban streets would change.
Given that most drivers are indeed reasonable and prudent, there might even be a few reductions.
Notwithstanding the flawed assumptions about speed and road accidents, an increase in casualties cannot be ruled out.
But if there was to be an increase, it would reflect the community’s choice of trade-off. Moreover, unlike the current situation where public servants and politicians set speed limits and are blamed for any increase in casualties, there would be nobody to criticise.
With choice comes responsibility.
It is high time governments stopped treating motorists like naughty children and a source of additional revenue.
Australia’s speed limits are not only lower than the rest of the world, but are out of step with community values. In a society in which the government serves the people, they should be updated.
David Leyonhjelm is the Outdoor Recreation Party’s candidate for the Legislative Council in the NSW state election in March.
Just in the last 20 years they have approximately halved, notwithstanding increases in car numbers and distances travelled.
The reasons for this decline have little to do with speeds, which mostly go up whenever enforcement is not apparent, but to improvements in vehicle safety (eg brakes, tyres, airbags, seat belts and electronic stability control) plus better roads.
This is confirmed by the fact that much larger declines occurred in many other countries over the same period, including some where speed limits are higher than in Australia.
That includes Germany and the UK, which also have fewer fatalities per 100,000 people.
The RTA claims speed is a key factor in over 40% of road deaths, but the data behind this is very flimsy.
Speed is often blamed by accident investigators whenever an alternative explanation is not apparent, even when lone drivers commit suicide by crashing into a tree at high speed.
Other countries tell a different story.
Official British road casualty statistics for 2006 show "exceeding speed limit" was a contributory factor in 5% of all casualty crashes (14% of all fatal crashes), and that "travelling too fast for conditions" was a contributory factor in 11% of all casualty crashes (18% of all fatal crashes).
Similar results were found in a study published in 2008 by the US National Highway Safety Traffic Administration.
Based on early and detailed post-accident investigations of 5,471 accidents, it concluded that driving too fast for conditions or too fast for a curve accounted for just 13.3% of them. (More than a third of accidents were found to be related to an intersection.)
In the absence of a speed camera or other enforcement, probably three-quarters of all Australian drivers would exceed the speed limit when they felt it was safe to do so.
Anecdotally, that includes most off-duty police officers as well as the journalists who write the stories discussing lack of compliance with speed limits.
At certain times, a car crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge would hold up traffic if it travelled below the speed limit.
This has led to enormous cynicism about the enforcement of speed limits and their contribution to state government budgets.
There is something inherently absurd about being told that travelling at 5 km/hr above the limit is dangerous while it is safe at 5 km/hr below it.
That raises an interesting question. When the law says one thing and a large majority of people demonstrate they have a different view, which prevails?
If the law is supposed to reflect the values of society, as is supposedly the basis of the common law and a key expectation of democracy, the law is clearly wrong.
Only in a dictatorship do we expect the ruler to insist the people are wrong.
The way some public servants and politicians talk, you could be forgiven for thinking that the policy objective of traffic laws is to reduce accidents and deaths to zero.
Yet that is clearly nonsense – accidents causing death and injury are inevitable at any speed above walking pace.
The road toll could be immediately stopped by reducing speed limits to 10 km/hr or by banning cars.
Clearly, there is a trade-off.
Explicitly or not, we accept a certain level of accidents as the price of convenient travel, as we do in numerous other activities.
What is apparent from the fact that so many drivers disobey the speed limits when they have the opportunity is that the trade-off needs recalibrating.
And rather than public servants deciding what it ought to be, the community as a whole should do it.
There is an internationally recognised method by which this can be achieved, known as the 85th percentile formula.
In essence, it involves the temporary removal of the speed limit while speeds are monitored.
At the conclusion of the period, a limit is reimposed at or slightly above the speed at which 85 percent of drivers travel.
The concept is based on the assumption that the large majority of drivers are reasonable and prudent, do not want to have a crash, and wish to reach their destination in the shortest possible time.
It is supported by statistical evidence, which shows that those who exceed speed limits based on the 85thth percentile).
Enforcement directed at these drivers thus has a positive impact on road safety while enjoying community support and avoiding perceptions of revenue-raising. percentile are substantially more likely to cause accidents (as are those who travel below the 15
If the formula was applied to Australian roads, speed limits would certainly be increased on our major highways, probably to European levels.
There may also be increases on some dual carriageways in metropolitan areas, although it is unlikely most suburban streets would change.
Given that most drivers are indeed reasonable and prudent, there might even be a few reductions.
Notwithstanding the flawed assumptions about speed and road accidents, an increase in casualties cannot be ruled out.
But if there was to be an increase, it would reflect the community’s choice of trade-off. Moreover, unlike the current situation where public servants and politicians set speed limits and are blamed for any increase in casualties, there would be nobody to criticise.
With choice comes responsibility.
It is high time governments stopped treating motorists like naughty children and a source of additional revenue.
Australia’s speed limits are not only lower than the rest of the world, but are out of step with community values. In a society in which the government serves the people, they should be updated.
David Leyonhjelm is the Outdoor Recreation Party’s candidate for the Legislative Council in the NSW state election in March.
It is also worth noting, that (in Australia) up to 1850 die per annum due to skin cancer, (ABS 2010 figures) the road toll in 2008 was 1465.
Add the second most common cancer Colorectal (or Bowel cancer), 3809 people died in 2006.
In fact all deaths relating to cancer in 2010 is believed to be 43,000 people.
Compared with the road deaths , for ALL reasons, being 1,465 in 2008.
According to the Australian Bureau of Infrastructure, Transport and Regional Economics (BITRE) road deaths are the lowest they've been since approx 1950, despite their being
14,000,000 more registered vehicles. That's one death per 10,000 vehicles as at 2008.
The figures also show that road deaths per 10,000 vehicles has been in steady decline (except for one "spike" at 1935-45) since the figures were collected in 1925.
Cancer, on the other hand, has seen an increase of 15,000 more deaths per annum than 30 years ago.
5,700 people die on the operating table every year, life saving operations are more dangerous than using an Australian road.
Doing nothing contributes to 6400 deaths per year in Australia according to Ausport.
So using an Australian road is safer than... sleeping!
So what the fuck is the real reason for this crap about speed kills?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Of learning about the road, and driving thereof
Learner drivers today, especially the younger learners, are they developing the correct skills, attitudes and knowledge by being placed in a comfortable cocoon?
Is placing young people in an environment that (appears to me, anyway) teaching the ethos of "I'm Ok, the crumple zone, seatbelt, airbag, <insert all claimed safety devices here> will save me" the right thing? Should we not be teaching them to be more alert, more aware?
We learn best from experiencing our environment, not from being protected from our environment.
I think it human nature, that when in our "comfort zone" we relax, become less aware, less involved in our surroundings.
I call it the "Volvo Syndrome", but it's not solely a Volvo issue now.
Potential Volvo drivers were fed a constant stream of information from the spin doctors that their cars were the safest on the road. You are safer in a Volvo, less likely to get hurt in an accident. Volvo drivers believed it, and they drove like people protected by divine intervention, hence the popular "bloody volvo drivers" phrase that became a testament to their poor skills, and disgusting attitude to others on the road.
Now every bloody car is a comfortable, safe haven, with nice lounge chairs, climate control, sound proofed, with brilliant entertainment systems. We're told we're "safe as houses" with ABS, side intrusion protection, airbags that deply from fucking everywhere, crumple zones, "stability control" and cameras and ultra sonic sensors so that the slug in the seat doesn't have to actually turn their head to see if their beloved spawn is behind the car.
Soon every lounge room on wheels will have "collision avoidance" systems, and alerts that tell you you're getting close to the road edge. Lexus already have computer controlled self parking on some models. FFS cars that park themselves.
What does this all do? It encourages the placid fool behind the wheel to go to fucking sleep with their eyes open. It encourages the attitude of "I'm safe, fuck the ones outside my cocoon".
I say get the young ones, with their minds still open and hungry for learning, to get on bikes and learn to survive. Not to get in a cocoon and learn to just... well... steer.
Get rid of the "fuck you I'm OK" attitude we now nurture.
For we are now at the point where the car driver lobbyists say "make them wear Hi-Vis, for I cannot be fucked looking for dull clothes, Make them put their lights on, it makes it easier for me.. You see it's all about "ME", not "how can I help you", but "you will make it easier for ME"
"Put barriers up 'tween me and the other steerers, so I don't have to worry about staying on my side of the road, as much."
"Gimme power steering, power brakes, power windows, climate control, automatic wipers and headlights cos it's just sooo tiresome having to think of all that stuff while I'm driving."
What was those song lyrics? "They amused themselves to death"?? Well, we're going in that direction.
Is placing young people in an environment that (appears to me, anyway) teaching the ethos of "I'm Ok, the crumple zone, seatbelt, airbag, <insert all claimed safety devices here> will save me" the right thing? Should we not be teaching them to be more alert, more aware?
We learn best from experiencing our environment, not from being protected from our environment.
I think it human nature, that when in our "comfort zone" we relax, become less aware, less involved in our surroundings.
I call it the "Volvo Syndrome", but it's not solely a Volvo issue now.
Potential Volvo drivers were fed a constant stream of information from the spin doctors that their cars were the safest on the road. You are safer in a Volvo, less likely to get hurt in an accident. Volvo drivers believed it, and they drove like people protected by divine intervention, hence the popular "bloody volvo drivers" phrase that became a testament to their poor skills, and disgusting attitude to others on the road.
Now every bloody car is a comfortable, safe haven, with nice lounge chairs, climate control, sound proofed, with brilliant entertainment systems. We're told we're "safe as houses" with ABS, side intrusion protection, airbags that deply from fucking everywhere, crumple zones, "stability control" and cameras and ultra sonic sensors so that the slug in the seat doesn't have to actually turn their head to see if their beloved spawn is behind the car.
Soon every lounge room on wheels will have "collision avoidance" systems, and alerts that tell you you're getting close to the road edge. Lexus already have computer controlled self parking on some models. FFS cars that park themselves.
What does this all do? It encourages the placid fool behind the wheel to go to fucking sleep with their eyes open. It encourages the attitude of "I'm safe, fuck the ones outside my cocoon".
I say get the young ones, with their minds still open and hungry for learning, to get on bikes and learn to survive. Not to get in a cocoon and learn to just... well... steer.
Get rid of the "fuck you I'm OK" attitude we now nurture.
For we are now at the point where the car driver lobbyists say "make them wear Hi-Vis, for I cannot be fucked looking for dull clothes, Make them put their lights on, it makes it easier for me.. You see it's all about "ME", not "how can I help you", but "you will make it easier for ME"
"Put barriers up 'tween me and the other steerers, so I don't have to worry about staying on my side of the road, as much."
"Gimme power steering, power brakes, power windows, climate control, automatic wipers and headlights cos it's just sooo tiresome having to think of all that stuff while I'm driving."
What was those song lyrics? "They amused themselves to death"?? Well, we're going in that direction.
Copied with absolutely no remorse
Found on a website I frequent.
It mirrors my feeling son the alleged road safety program in this country. The only omission I can see is the current, and increasing, use of police as revenue raisers. A profitable (for government) side effect of the current mismanagement of our roads.
The '80's '90's '00s and beyond have seen every area of expertise hijacked by either bean counters or behaviourists.
Shame people, shame.
This “evidence-based research”3 positively identified an array of key variables which influenced a driver’s speed choice. These included:
But a funny thing then happened.
In the three decades which followed, European traffic engineering progress focused on modifying the road environment to “artificially” create different speed environments. The new rationale was really to tame traffic, rather than provide for it. For example LATM developments.
This process is now further evolving with experiments with SIGN-FREE environments – where the constructed environment is so well defined that regulatory and warning signposting becomes redundant (Spiegel, 2006). Only one problem – it ain’t cheap.
By the new millennium, the design of European traffic systems and the road environment was just as much in the hands of architects; planners, environmentalists and behaviourists, and less in the control of the real people - traffic and highway engineers.
The process in Australia went something like this.
The behaviourists reached over and “grabbed the wheel” of designing for a specific speed and radically simplified it. It was decided (by who – who knows?) that a design speed for a specific road length be defined by a regulatory sign. That sign might say 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or 90 or 100 or 110 km/h. No other treatment would be involved.
The apparent primary determinant of the location of these signs was adjacent land uses - particularly those relating to schools. In other words, where it was perceived there was a certain potential pedestrian exposure and/or some unusual traffic requirement, then a sign would appear with a (usually lower) speed limit.
This could mean for example that a six lane principal arterial route with high geometric standard - which previously had an 85th percentile speed of say 75 - 80 km/h may be signposted with a 40 km/h sign.
Like Skinner’s little rats - we were to be conditioned through punishment. This conditioning was via constant and continuous police enforcement. That enforcement was executed through:
From an engineering systems viewpoint, the present “hybrid” arrangement seems amazingly wasteful.
Transport consumers provide themselves with their own expensive machines – even the most modest of which provides acceleration and top speed rivalling racing cars of just a few decades ago (NRMA various dates).
Thus as consumers, we spend tens of thousands of dollars too much on machines that never get used to their capability - and if they were, we would lose our driver’s licence anyway.
These same consumers are driving on a road network with geometric and cross sectional elements consistent with a “safe” higher speed - but nevertheless are constrained to travel at almost bicycle speeds by the enforced signing.
The result is that as taxpayers, over the past decades we have wasted many billions of dollars constructing high standard roads - when we now don’t really need them.
As a driver of 40 years (with an almost unblemished record) I do miss being a free range driver. In the last several years I have driven for work extensively in Italy, Qatar UAE, Thailand Indonesia and many other “free range” states – but I’m liking it less - they all drive too fast.
I am at an age where I don’t mind driving around at 40 - 50 km/h - although I do wonder about my level of driver alertness. After all, I occupy an air-conditioned cocoon, listening to a high quality CD system and am totally relaxed. You know – a bit like Mr Magoo.
The victory of the behaviourists over the traffic engineers is now complete. We now commonly see access-controlled, grade separated facilities with 60 km/h speed zones – with the punishers at the ready, managing the energy.
The dream of the traffic and road engineers of the 1950s is now over. But the outcome of the behaviourists’ victory has exposed the surface road transport system maybe for what it always was - an extremely expensive car park
It mirrors my feeling son the alleged road safety program in this country. The only omission I can see is the current, and increasing, use of police as revenue raisers. A profitable (for government) side effect of the current mismanagement of our roads.
The '80's '90's '00s and beyond have seen every area of expertise hijacked by either bean counters or behaviourists.
Shame people, shame.
Speed – Who Manages the Energy?
by John Jamieson FIE (Aust), FAITPM
Kinetic Energy Kills
| John Jamieson is a Fellow of the Institution of Engineers Australia, and a Fellow of the AITPM. He holds a Bachelors degree in Engineering Surveying from UNSW, and a Masters Degree in Traffic and Transportation. He commenced his career in 1976 with the NSW Government’s Traffic Accident Research Unit as Crash Investigation Engineer. He later held roles as the Senior Traffic Engineer with the NRMA, and as a Design Engineer with GHD. In 1989 he started Jamieson Foley & Associates, a Forensic/Traffic Engineering |
The British Locomotive Act 1865 (Red Flag Act1) set speed limits of 4 mph (6 km/h) in the country and 2 mph (3 km/h) in towns.
It stipulated that self-propelled vehicles should be accompanied by a crew of three: the driver, a stoker and a man with a red flag walking 60 yards (55 m) ahead of each vehicle.
The man with a red flag or lantern enforced a walking pace, and warned horse riders and horse drawn traffic of the approach of a self propelled machine.
But in 1896 the British Government introduced The Emancipation Act, which defined a new category of vehicle - light locomotives, which were vehicles under three tons. These vehicles were exempt from the three crew member rule, and were subject to the higher 14 mph (22 km/h) speed limit.
At the outset, I think it was a BIG MISTAKE to exempt motor cars from the Locomotive Act. I suspect that had the Locomotive Act been applied globally (and was still in force), then most of the 1.2 million people currently killed annually on the world’s roads would be spared.2
Those folks back in 1865 really knew about energy management. They really knew about v2 (as in KE=1/2 mv2). Keep “v” down, and KE drops like a stone. Low KE, low injury.
Move forward 100 years. Engineers of the 1950s and 60s still had the dream to manage the energy – but without the man with that damn red flag.
They hypothesized that a “design speed” for a specific road environment could be created by engineering means. Drivers using a particular road length would automatically adjust their speed to its design level. 24/7 speed enforcement without police.
The dream was that each environment would be “self enforcing” and that intensive Police speed enforcement would simply not be necessary.
Now - that’s a dream
Engineers Know About Speed
For most of the second half of the twentieth century, engineers across the civilised world researched the determinants of the choice of speed. Mountains of research papers were produced by everyone – TRL, ASSHTO, NAASRA, ARRB, DoT, ATSB, WHO, MRD, DMR, RTA, BTE Austroads, CIA (maybe not the CIA – but then again) plus many others.This “evidence-based research”3 positively identified an array of key variables which influenced a driver’s speed choice. These included:
- horizontal geometry
- vertical geometry
- carriageway width
- lane width
- topography
- quality of pavement
- adjacent land use, and
- the nature of traffic facilities.
The objective of speed management is to contribute to road safety, mobility and amenity on public roads by providing a system of speed limits that are compatible with the speed environment.
Speed limits should be set to maintain a balance between a driver's reasonable understanding of the reasons for setting them at a particular level and an acceptable level of environmental amenity for all road users and abutting land use.
Speed limits should be set so as to encourage, as far as practicable, a uniform speed of travel and hence reduce the potential for conflicts due to speed differentials between vehicles. Excessive variation among vehicle speeds can indicate either an inappropriately set speed limit or that drivers' perception of the speed environment is open to confusion. The second of these causes may require corrective action other than reassessment of the speed limit.
Applying the Knowledge
During this same period (mid-late 20th century) the road network sort of “evolved” into three basic strands:- the freeway (motorway/tollway) at the top, being an access controlled grade separated facility with “design speeds” (those speeds where lateral acceleration does not exceed about 0.2g) for speeds up to and exceeding 75 mph (120 km/h),
- surface arterial roads which had similar geometric characteristics, but atgrade intersections and property access. These multi-laned facilities had a “design speed” of about 45-50 mph (about 80 km/h)
- tighter collector/distributor roads and local roads with “design speeds” of 30 - 35 mph (about 50-60 km/h), and sometimes lower, using special treatments.
- straightened,
- flattened,
- widened, and
- grade separated where possible, with pedestrian overbridges and so on.
But a funny thing then happened.
What were Those Europeans Up To?
It started off with the Dutch inventing the “Woonerf”. This revolutionary concept produced in the 1970s created the idea of the “shared zone” - where the private car no longer had implicit and explicit dominance (Jamieson, 1980).In the three decades which followed, European traffic engineering progress focused on modifying the road environment to “artificially” create different speed environments. The new rationale was really to tame traffic, rather than provide for it. For example LATM developments.
This process is now further evolving with experiments with SIGN-FREE environments – where the constructed environment is so well defined that regulatory and warning signposting becomes redundant (Spiegel, 2006). Only one problem – it ain’t cheap.
By the new millennium, the design of European traffic systems and the road environment was just as much in the hands of architects; planners, environmentalists and behaviourists, and less in the control of the real people - traffic and highway engineers.
What to Do With No Dough
Now back to the Kinetic Energy.The process in Australia went something like this.
- Kinetic Energy kills
- The network speed is too high
- Let’s lower the network speed
- The EBR4 proves that modifying the environment lowers speed
- Modifying the environment costs real dough
- We got no dough
- Let’s put up some signs instead
- But that doesn’t work without a heap of Police
- Let’s get a heap of Police
The behaviourists reached over and “grabbed the wheel” of designing for a specific speed and radically simplified it. It was decided (by who – who knows?) that a design speed for a specific road length be defined by a regulatory sign. That sign might say 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or 90 or 100 or 110 km/h. No other treatment would be involved.
The apparent primary determinant of the location of these signs was adjacent land uses - particularly those relating to schools. In other words, where it was perceived there was a certain potential pedestrian exposure and/or some unusual traffic requirement, then a sign would appear with a (usually lower) speed limit.
This could mean for example that a six lane principal arterial route with high geometric standard - which previously had an 85th percentile speed of say 75 - 80 km/h may be signposted with a 40 km/h sign.
The Forced Fit
Although coming as no surprise to traffic and road engineers, the compliance for such artificial speed zoning within such environments was often low. When drivers viewed a wide, straight, flat road they perceived a certain speed environment and drove at that speed.Like Skinner’s little rats - we were to be conditioned through punishment. This conditioning was via constant and continuous police enforcement. That enforcement was executed through:
- fixed cameras
- portable cameras
- mobile radar
- stationary radar
- portable Lidar
- unmarked police patrol vehicles
- marked police vehicles and so on.
From an engineering systems viewpoint, the present “hybrid” arrangement seems amazingly wasteful.
Transport consumers provide themselves with their own expensive machines – even the most modest of which provides acceleration and top speed rivalling racing cars of just a few decades ago (NRMA various dates).
Thus as consumers, we spend tens of thousands of dollars too much on machines that never get used to their capability - and if they were, we would lose our driver’s licence anyway.
These same consumers are driving on a road network with geometric and cross sectional elements consistent with a “safe” higher speed - but nevertheless are constrained to travel at almost bicycle speeds by the enforced signing.
The result is that as taxpayers, over the past decades we have wasted many billions of dollars constructing high standard roads - when we now don’t really need them.
Us Chickens
On a personal level, I preferred to be a “free range” driver rather than a “battery hen” (or is it a lab rat?). However my professional work has taken me to the scene of enough crashes to know that the basic laws of physics apply - the higher the velocity, the higher the injury producing energy.As a driver of 40 years (with an almost unblemished record) I do miss being a free range driver. In the last several years I have driven for work extensively in Italy, Qatar UAE, Thailand Indonesia and many other “free range” states – but I’m liking it less - they all drive too fast.
I am at an age where I don’t mind driving around at 40 - 50 km/h - although I do wonder about my level of driver alertness. After all, I occupy an air-conditioned cocoon, listening to a high quality CD system and am totally relaxed. You know – a bit like Mr Magoo.
The victory of the behaviourists over the traffic engineers is now complete. We now commonly see access-controlled, grade separated facilities with 60 km/h speed zones – with the punishers at the ready, managing the energy.
The dream of the traffic and road engineers of the 1950s is now over. But the outcome of the behaviourists’ victory has exposed the surface road transport system maybe for what it always was - an extremely expensive car park
randomness
The two posts "Of things depressing" and "Of things that are good" were from last year, back in Oct, 2010.
I have since not been visited by that bastard beast of a "black dog".
A friend found a "motivational poster" and he modified it to suit.
Burned it on NYE, it seemed fitting.
Burned it on NYE, it seemed fitting.
Monday, February 14, 2011
such as it is.
A person cannot live on $600 a fortnight.
He could survive on $600 a fortnight, but that's not living.
You need more to look forward to that just survival, I reckon.
Especially in an allegedly affluent country like Australia.
Oh well, such is life.
He could survive on $600 a fortnight, but that's not living.
You need more to look forward to that just survival, I reckon.
Especially in an allegedly affluent country like Australia.
Oh well, such is life.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Of things that are good
I survived that black dog, (duh! could I write this if I didn't) and later wrote of things better.
Vita contin git. Vive com eo
I'm still here, whether that is a good or bad thing is not for me to decide.
I'm OK in my skin at the moment, if it stays that way.... who knows, certainly not I.
I've found solace in a strange place. A bunch of politically incorrect people who's only (tenuous) connection to my mindset is a common love of motorcycles. They do not judge, do not deride, feel no need to place people on a pedestal nor ridicule for dissenting beliefs.
By the fuck they are supportive.
They are a very strange, eclectic mix. Some look like lawyers or legal types, some close to absolute outlaws. Look at a few and you'd cross to the other side of the street, covering your child's eyes lest they be corrupted. Some you would swear were the "elite" of society, or of a similarity to those wonderful souls who donate their time, efforts and souls to the selfless service of others. None would ever be a politician, unless they perceived a need to sacrifice their values for the greater good. All are of the same mold as our most revered, the ANZAC's
Every one of them, I believe this without the slightest doubt, would give everything they have to help another of the group. You wouldn't even have to ask. They are wonderful people.
Not one would ask, or expect, anything in return.
They all have the cojones to say their mind, and do not feel intimidated or threatened in allowing an individual to speak theirs in riposte. Mind you, say something stupid, speak just for the sake of reading your words, or hearing your own voice, step over the very accommodating line, and you get what you deserve, best you have the strength to cop it sweet and the humility to recognise and admit the error.
This is just what I need. Of all the people I have known, with some very special (to me) exceptions (you know who you are), these people do not judged me. They have helped me, accepted me, supported me. They suffer the rants, ignore the inane comment, accept the pathetic attempt at humour. They are good people. They are my people (whether they like it or not)
Funny, as I typed that I had a Swedish You tube clip of supermotard riders running in the background, the overlaid music is "all my friends are criminals", I laughed.
They are not criminals that I know (well, some might indulge in "civil disobedience" at times), but they are certainly frowned on by the mainstream of society today. I look up to and respect these people, for they are real, they are of their own making, they are individuals. They just happen to have a common interest that has brought them together.
The government of every state, and the commonwealth of this country are trying very hard to alienate these people, my friends, from "mainstream" society. That is sad. No doubt, after us will be the next "easy target" minority group. Anything not as beige as a compliant population will be the focus of bureaucratic red tape, "safety" campaigns and erroneous, en-needed legislation.
Lex malla, lex nulla.
I think the gum'nt is worried, anxious that there are still thinking individuals lurking in society.
I have no idea when, or if, that bastard black dog of depression will try to bite me. But I do know that I have a fucking awesome group of people who will be there when I need help. That's probably always been true, but this mob are the first to get through to me. For that I'm grateful.
I do know I still hopelessly miss the big boof headed black Labrador Max. But he's doing a much more important job at the moment, I know he's doing me proud, onya boy!
Dogs are good people, so much a nobler beast than us pathetic humans.
It's strange, but tapping away at the keyboard, filling a part of "teh interwebs" with bytes of inane ramblings, is the only way I seem to be able to rationalise things.
Fuck me, I just heard the "last post", it's brought tears to my eyes.
I'm possibly getting a tad emotional, but I like to think of this group of friends I've found in the same way as I felt when I was a soldier. Disparate ideals, dreams and ambitions worlds apart. In any other context they would most likely resent me. But one small, tenuous link has joined us.
It has, for now at least, kept my head above water.
I'm OK in my skin at the moment, if it stays that way.... who knows, certainly not I.
I've found solace in a strange place. A bunch of politically incorrect people who's only (tenuous) connection to my mindset is a common love of motorcycles. They do not judge, do not deride, feel no need to place people on a pedestal nor ridicule for dissenting beliefs.
By the fuck they are supportive.
They are a very strange, eclectic mix. Some look like lawyers or legal types, some close to absolute outlaws. Look at a few and you'd cross to the other side of the street, covering your child's eyes lest they be corrupted. Some you would swear were the "elite" of society, or of a similarity to those wonderful souls who donate their time, efforts and souls to the selfless service of others. None would ever be a politician, unless they perceived a need to sacrifice their values for the greater good. All are of the same mold as our most revered, the ANZAC's
Every one of them, I believe this without the slightest doubt, would give everything they have to help another of the group. You wouldn't even have to ask. They are wonderful people.
Not one would ask, or expect, anything in return.
They all have the cojones to say their mind, and do not feel intimidated or threatened in allowing an individual to speak theirs in riposte. Mind you, say something stupid, speak just for the sake of reading your words, or hearing your own voice, step over the very accommodating line, and you get what you deserve, best you have the strength to cop it sweet and the humility to recognise and admit the error.
This is just what I need. Of all the people I have known, with some very special (to me) exceptions (you know who you are), these people do not judged me. They have helped me, accepted me, supported me. They suffer the rants, ignore the inane comment, accept the pathetic attempt at humour. They are good people. They are my people (whether they like it or not)
Funny, as I typed that I had a Swedish You tube clip of supermotard riders running in the background, the overlaid music is "all my friends are criminals", I laughed.
They are not criminals that I know (well, some might indulge in "civil disobedience" at times), but they are certainly frowned on by the mainstream of society today. I look up to and respect these people, for they are real, they are of their own making, they are individuals. They just happen to have a common interest that has brought them together.
The government of every state, and the commonwealth of this country are trying very hard to alienate these people, my friends, from "mainstream" society. That is sad. No doubt, after us will be the next "easy target" minority group. Anything not as beige as a compliant population will be the focus of bureaucratic red tape, "safety" campaigns and erroneous, en-needed legislation.
Lex malla, lex nulla.
I think the gum'nt is worried, anxious that there are still thinking individuals lurking in society.
I have no idea when, or if, that bastard black dog of depression will try to bite me. But I do know that I have a fucking awesome group of people who will be there when I need help. That's probably always been true, but this mob are the first to get through to me. For that I'm grateful.
I do know I still hopelessly miss the big boof headed black Labrador Max. But he's doing a much more important job at the moment, I know he's doing me proud, onya boy!
Dogs are good people, so much a nobler beast than us pathetic humans.
It's strange, but tapping away at the keyboard, filling a part of "teh interwebs" with bytes of inane ramblings, is the only way I seem to be able to rationalise things.
Fuck me, I just heard the "last post", it's brought tears to my eyes.
I'm possibly getting a tad emotional, but I like to think of this group of friends I've found in the same way as I felt when I was a soldier. Disparate ideals, dreams and ambitions worlds apart. In any other context they would most likely resent me. But one small, tenuous link has joined us.
It has, for now at least, kept my head above water.
Of things depressing
In another age, well last year, I was in the grip of the deepest episode of depression I have ever experienced.
It was a real bastard of a black dog, damn near won the war, right then.
This is what I wrote at the time, it is raw, it is full of profanity, and it is real.
The reference to Mice and 42 is, of course, from "Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy" all kudos to him who wrote it.
42 is NOT the answer........
"life the universe and everything" is a statement, not a fucking question anyway.
It doesn't matter how it started, (life, the universe etc), or how it ends, it just IS so fucken get on with it.
If you can't get a handle on it, then fuck off and make room for some one who can.
"life the universe and everything" is a statement, not a fucking question anyway.
It doesn't matter how it started, (life, the universe etc), or how it ends, it just IS so fucken get on with it.
If you can't get a handle on it, then fuck off and make room for some one who can.
One day, sooner rather than later I intend take my own advice.
Some pricks made up a story to explain the inexplicable, it's now called the bible, some call it the Koran. But then some arseholes used it to manipulate others. Using that one common fear that all humans have, the fear of the unknown and death. "Live life the way I want you to, and you'll go to heaven and be real happy for eva... if you don't you'll go to hell and be hot and unhappy" Yeah, right... cunts.
There is no heaven, nor hell, you become worm food, or ash as is your choice. There is no god, or gods, there is conception, cell division, life, age, death.... that is all.
If believing such things floats your boat, go for it. BUT FUCK OFF WITH THE WHOLE "I"M RIGHT YOU"RE WRONG" BULLSHIT
Others made up multiple gods and stories to do the same, more power to them, cos they seemed to at least look after their backyard while they live in it (american indians, aborigines, new guineans etc) I especially like the ancestor worship idea, being an old fart and all
As for the academics and the big band theory... fuck off!!!! If there was nothing there, what caused the big bang? You wankers, and really, WTF does it matter.. the universe is expanding? could be fucking shrinking for all we know, or care. Whatever happens none of us will be here to see it. We don't need to spend billions on a fucking particle accelerator to see if the theory is right... that money could go to a lot of better uses, COS IT DOESN'T MATTER.... WE'RE HERE NOW.. JUST ACCEPT IT!
Besides, any results are meaningless, cos it ain't happening in the infinite nothingness of the alleged pre universe, our very existence will skew the results.
And please don't think of the children, paedophiles do too much of that already.
Where is this leading? fucked if I know, but I do know one thing.
I am afflicted by a curse, that curse is described by those called "psychiatrists" as Major, Chronic Depression. Simply put, I become a sad, irrational, grumpy cunt. So sad and grumpy that I have thought about, planned, and on more than one occasion tried to kill myself. It's not a nice affliction... it's a cunt that sucks in a very not a nice way.
It ruins the life of the afflicted, and the people who care about them. I think it's worse for those that care. I hate that.
I cannot control it, I cannot pre-empt it, but I might be able to rationalise it after the "episode". Please bear with me as I ramble, It might save my or even better another persons life if I continue this self absorbed monologue.
I sometimes, no often, far too often, descend into a deep frustration about life and perceived injustices therein. This frustration can turn to anger where I lash out at those who just don't deserve it. Or worse, I go very quiet, very introspective and try to shut everyone out. This caused me to lose the one person on earth who tried to understand and help me. She is a goddess of the highest order who just could not cope with the demons I have lived with for fifty years.
Some pricks made up a story to explain the inexplicable, it's now called the bible, some call it the Koran. But then some arseholes used it to manipulate others. Using that one common fear that all humans have, the fear of the unknown and death. "Live life the way I want you to, and you'll go to heaven and be real happy for eva... if you don't you'll go to hell and be hot and unhappy" Yeah, right... cunts.
There is no heaven, nor hell, you become worm food, or ash as is your choice. There is no god, or gods, there is conception, cell division, life, age, death.... that is all.
If believing such things floats your boat, go for it. BUT FUCK OFF WITH THE WHOLE "I"M RIGHT YOU"RE WRONG" BULLSHIT
Others made up multiple gods and stories to do the same, more power to them, cos they seemed to at least look after their backyard while they live in it (american indians, aborigines, new guineans etc) I especially like the ancestor worship idea, being an old fart and all
As for the academics and the big band theory... fuck off!!!! If there was nothing there, what caused the big bang? You wankers, and really, WTF does it matter.. the universe is expanding? could be fucking shrinking for all we know, or care. Whatever happens none of us will be here to see it. We don't need to spend billions on a fucking particle accelerator to see if the theory is right... that money could go to a lot of better uses, COS IT DOESN'T MATTER.... WE'RE HERE NOW.. JUST ACCEPT IT!
Besides, any results are meaningless, cos it ain't happening in the infinite nothingness of the alleged pre universe, our very existence will skew the results.
And please don't think of the children, paedophiles do too much of that already.
Where is this leading? fucked if I know, but I do know one thing.
I am afflicted by a curse, that curse is described by those called "psychiatrists" as Major, Chronic Depression. Simply put, I become a sad, irrational, grumpy cunt. So sad and grumpy that I have thought about, planned, and on more than one occasion tried to kill myself. It's not a nice affliction... it's a cunt that sucks in a very not a nice way.
It ruins the life of the afflicted, and the people who care about them. I think it's worse for those that care. I hate that.
I cannot control it, I cannot pre-empt it, but I might be able to rationalise it after the "episode". Please bear with me as I ramble, It might save my or even better another persons life if I continue this self absorbed monologue.
I sometimes, no often, far too often, descend into a deep frustration about life and perceived injustices therein. This frustration can turn to anger where I lash out at those who just don't deserve it. Or worse, I go very quiet, very introspective and try to shut everyone out. This caused me to lose the one person on earth who tried to understand and help me. She is a goddess of the highest order who just could not cope with the demons I have lived with for fifty years.
That makes me sad, and makes the depression worse.
If I can live with it, why can't the people I care for put up with it? Maybe they're smarter than me, but not as strong? Or maybe it's just that they have the option of walking away, where I cant... anyone got an idea?
Stupidly, major traumatic events such as the death of my son won't trigger an episode, but a couple of nights watching the news and listening to some self absorbed politician lie and whine about how some other politician is lying and whining, or how some paedophile priest is getting supported by the catholic organisation while the poor victims are suffering will send me to the very brink of suicide. I become inwardly obsessed with these things that really have no effect on my daily life. I just can't let it go and just get on with life. Tell me it doesn't matter and that'll make me worse... cos it DOES MATTER DAMMIT
Tell me to get over it and I could fly into a rage.. I WISH I FUCKEN COULD GET OVER IT YA CUNTS!
But then it goes away, everything's fine, except for all the bridges that need to be rebuilt, the friendships that need mending, the loss of the ones you really care for and respect that you have alienated for life.
Stupidly, major traumatic events such as the death of my son won't trigger an episode, but a couple of nights watching the news and listening to some self absorbed politician lie and whine about how some other politician is lying and whining, or how some paedophile priest is getting supported by the catholic organisation while the poor victims are suffering will send me to the very brink of suicide. I become inwardly obsessed with these things that really have no effect on my daily life. I just can't let it go and just get on with life. Tell me it doesn't matter and that'll make me worse... cos it DOES MATTER DAMMIT
Tell me to get over it and I could fly into a rage.. I WISH I FUCKEN COULD GET OVER IT YA CUNTS!
But then it goes away, everything's fine, except for all the bridges that need to be rebuilt, the friendships that need mending, the loss of the ones you really care for and respect that you have alienated for life.
Fuck that hurts.
10 years ago I went through three years of weekly meetings with a Professor of head shrinkery (Psychiatry) and after interminable different types and combinations I ended up taking 7 tablets of two different types of drug each day to keep the noose away from my neck, the carbon monoxide out of my lungs.
10 years ago I went through three years of weekly meetings with a Professor of head shrinkery (Psychiatry) and after interminable different types and combinations I ended up taking 7 tablets of two different types of drug each day to keep the noose away from my neck, the carbon monoxide out of my lungs.
I then re-discovered bikes and that, according to the shrink, was worth a drop to 5 of one type only. My wife left me, and that was worth a drop to 4... go figure.
I then found "she who would be my soul mate" (actually, she found me) I played it safe and stuck to 4, then I went back to 5 but it was too late, we split up.
Now I'm fucked, every time something good happens, it seems fated that at least two "fuckin hell" events soon follow.
I found a job I love to do, and I'm told I'm good at, looked like I was set to get the gig permanently next year. But no, I've been kicked in the head in a way that the mud will stick (cannot say more, as it's still all under investigation and all that crap) So I'm fighting just to keep the temp gig, let alone next years potential.
Ever been on the dole when you're 50? Fuck that's depressing. Only been out of work for 6 months since I started working as a 16 yo in '76. I don't wanna go back there.
I honestly would rather be dead than go back there.
I'm sick of psychologists telling me I can think more positively, or take "emotional holidays", I honestly feel more like killing myself after seeing one of those cunts.
I'm tired of trying different pills to get the serotonin flitting between the synapses properly, sick of using chemicals to get that noradrenalin to behave itself. Who the fuck invented the name "Serotonin specific re-uptake inhibitor" anyway... cunt must've had one too many acid drops.
I'm sick of everything being a struggle, never being able to shake the perception that everyone is out to get the best for themselves and fuck anyone else.
I'm over it.
I really hope the next time the big bastard black dog of depression gets me I dig up the guts to finally get it over with, cos by the fuck it's a cunt of a way to live.
That is all........
So long and thanks for all the fish
I then found "she who would be my soul mate" (actually, she found me) I played it safe and stuck to 4, then I went back to 5 but it was too late, we split up.
Now I'm fucked, every time something good happens, it seems fated that at least two "fuckin hell" events soon follow.
I found a job I love to do, and I'm told I'm good at, looked like I was set to get the gig permanently next year. But no, I've been kicked in the head in a way that the mud will stick (cannot say more, as it's still all under investigation and all that crap) So I'm fighting just to keep the temp gig, let alone next years potential.
Ever been on the dole when you're 50? Fuck that's depressing. Only been out of work for 6 months since I started working as a 16 yo in '76. I don't wanna go back there.
I honestly would rather be dead than go back there.
I'm sick of psychologists telling me I can think more positively, or take "emotional holidays", I honestly feel more like killing myself after seeing one of those cunts.
I'm tired of trying different pills to get the serotonin flitting between the synapses properly, sick of using chemicals to get that noradrenalin to behave itself. Who the fuck invented the name "Serotonin specific re-uptake inhibitor" anyway... cunt must've had one too many acid drops.
I'm sick of everything being a struggle, never being able to shake the perception that everyone is out to get the best for themselves and fuck anyone else.
I'm over it.
I really hope the next time the big bastard black dog of depression gets me I dig up the guts to finally get it over with, cos by the fuck it's a cunt of a way to live.
That is all........
So long and thanks for all the fish
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Observations of others.
A little while ago I was blessed by the mighty Skymoose with enough cash, time, and glorious weather to take off by myself and explore some of the awesome roads and scenery of the west coast of Tasmania.
For those from the Ewe Ess of EH? who seem to know very little of what really happens in the world.....
Yes, Tasmania is an actual place. (check google earth if you don't believe)
Yes, there are Tasmanian devils here.
No, they look nothing like the cartoon.
No, Australia is in the south, we are not part of Europe, that's Austria, where Arnold Schwarzenegger came from, up north.
Over the week of my travels I observed people, below I have quibbled some of those thoughts.
Be aware, I swear, and I am NOT politically correct.
While I have nothing against those that are religious, I am not religious and appreciate being left that way. Please, do not attempt to force religion down my throat, for I would never force my ideals down yours.
I may ridicule those that try to "save" or "convert" me, sometimes savagely.
It's my own way of getting back at the pricks who try to ram their views down my throat. Fuck off with that shit please.
You could try to sue me if you believe I have gone to far, but as I have naught but a dilapidated bike, some clothes, and a few odds and ends, it'll cost you more in legal fees.
If you don't like what you see, don't read it.
Simple, eh?
Here we go, travel ramblings
I had reason to stop overnight in a sleepy little hamlet that, to protect the innocent, shall remain nameless.
It's redneck/country bumpkin land.
Now out here in the west is a "different" place, when (if) you are ever regaled with stories of Taswegia that involve inbreeding, they refer to the west.
Two headed Tassie's? that's west.
Pointy heads? Yup, west again.
However, they are reasonably friendly to us "symmetrical outsider types".
The office of the cabin park was closed, but a sign said that if a powered or unpowered campsite was all you need, just pick one and pay tomorrow when the office opened at 9:30. If you wanted a cabin, then there was a number to give "Shazza" a call...
Luckily I had no need to call Shazza, as my optus electronic hamsterfone with inbuilt GPS, music maker and camera, amongst other things, does not get reception on the west coast.
Others did need Shazza's services, and they had Telstra aligned hamsters, so she was summoned.
One I shall drop in and get foto's of Shazza and her beau. For I believe I have just found the source of the Facial Tumor Disease that is decimating the Tassie Devil population.
Pub was OK, I only drank the beer served in bottles and imported from the east, just to be safe.
Next morning the Bakery served a reasonable pie and coffee, so far I have not noticed any discernible lumps in my neck that could be a precursor to a brother for my head. Nor is my dome getting sharper. Gratefully, my sister is still my sister to me and I don't have any urges to fight her husband for conjugal rights. I guess that means they are using similarly imported ingredients, must use the same bullock team as the pub does to get the Boags shipped in.
I awoke from a Jagermeister assisted slumber to the sounds of country silence.
You know, the peaceful but very loud silence of native birds, insects and a breeze through trees. Fucking brilliant, riding in the Oz countryside does amazingly good things for your mind, and soul (should those two things be, in fact, different).
I had no idea of the time, and didn't care at all, but I needed a piss......
Wandered down to the ablution block, said g'day to various others. Did the morning ritual of shitting, shaving and showering. Oh wait, I'm on holidays, so delete the shave bit, and add in an extra long shit instead. Ahhh the simple pleasures of life.
Now don't get me wrong, Shazza and her other half are great people, friendly, but fairly beaten to an inch of their life by a capricious god and an ugly stick. I'd rather spend a day with them than half the beemer driving yuppy fags of this world.
Stopped at the bakery mentioned earlier, serving wench was a reasonable sort, except I couldn't tell who she was looking at, as the left eye seemed to be studying the wall, while the right eye was perving at the guy on my left, I struggled to refrain from moving side to side in an attempt to get eye contact. Oh well, I got the right order so something worked.
Sitting out in the glorious morning sunshine another bike rider appeared, riding a little Spada. He was a sight, leather jacket with twin leopard prints sewn to each side at the back, various studs and dangly bits attached. Jeans that were rolled up mid calf, and doc martins for boots. Fucking brilliant! Helmet off, and yep, mohawk that turned into a rat tail at the back.. that man was awesome. Looked like Vivian from "the Young Ones"
The spada is his first machine, he's done 90,000k's on it in a year, that man has the right stuff I think. He was on his way to Hobart to meet up with his GF who was flying in from Brisbane IIRC.
Some local skanks were taking the piss, he didn't give a shit. I couldn't help but to advise the skanks about what the rest of Tassie thought about Roseberrites. They shut up and fucked off.
I ended up at another town, stayed at another local cabin/tent place.
Nice enough place, although understandably full of 4WD's towing trailer tent things and mobile taj mahals on wheels. Dunno why people bother going anywhere if they're going to bring everything they own along with them. Fuck me, they even brought fucken TV's... don't want to miss an episode of their favourite game show or soap opera I guess.
One group from Canberra had a little pop top trailer van thing, 10" wheels that look like they were pinched from a wheel barrow or two. Both parents and two teenage kids crammed inside. Fuck that'd be fun....
Kids didn't look happy, mum had that strained smile only mums on valium or vodka can provide. Dad was determined to show that it wasn't a fucked up idea, and everyone will have fun if it's the last thing they did. Poor cunts.
I was recommended a pub in town that had good meals, when I got there I was told that yes, the meals are good, but only served on Friday and Saturday nights. Typical.
I went to another pub, had a carpet bag steak, it was ordinary. I don't think the people around me really appreciated the t-shirt I was wearing, one that says that car drivers should get a fucking eye test.
Fuck em
I headed further south, through more little towns, and got to Strahan. This place is asdvertised everywhere as a place you must go to.
I have noticed that the best time to ride is between 9-9:30 and 11:00 am, seems the RV bovi are still packing up their mobile condominiums or arguing about what pair of slacks/cargo shorts to wear. You get another hour or so of clear road about 2 till 3 ish, but the rest of the time is mobile beigeness.
Strahan is fucked.
It is a typical tourist trap.
All Bed n breakfasts, tacky pseudo period shopfronts and pay for the hour parking.
Full of Lexus, BMW and Merc 4WD's. Plastic town, plastic cars, plastic people.
I didn't stop, I didn't return the wave from the satchel bearing, tessellated clowns on the harleys , metric cruisers and Triumph rocket riders that minced about the front of a boutique cafe.
Another day, another little place to stay.
This time I pitched tent behind a pub, small affair, inside was a bit tacky, with gay-bar piped music like Barry Manilow playing way too loud, but the beer garden area was sublime.
Inside was the prettiest barwench I had seen in a long time, cute little thing of asian decent. Kept calling me "sir" (or was that "cur"?) anyways, I said don't call me sir, I work for a living, call me Jim"... she frowned (made her even cuter, I couldn't believe it would be possible) and kept calling me sir.
I drank boags on the beer garden balcony thing, listening to hamster fone music, I was at peace.
Some other guests, from the houses or hotel room things around the place, arrived. I thought the night was gunna be ruined by these people.
Poor bastards, ex dink's (Dual Income, No Kids) but now with offspring in the pram or on the tit. They never seem to smile at each other, speak much or appear to enjoy each others company. Maybe the loss of income hurts, or the loss of freedom.
Maybe it's the loss of time with friends, doing whatever dinks do together when dinks meet. Maybe the guy is lamenting a loss of his wifes sensuality. Some of those post birth comfy clothes women wear had to be designed to destroy any stirrings of horniness in the husbands. If that don't kill the bedroom circus, the noises and smells of young rug rats is almost certain to.
I was never a dink, the ex never worked, so I was just a sink, then totally broke with two kids, so I was sunk.
A word from one who has been there, and made mistakes. Make sure you have time to yourselves you newly married or new parents (or both). Retain something that is yours and yours alone to do. It must be more than just a shed to escape into for blokes, or a mothers group/sewing circle for ladies.
It should be as close as possible to what you did before children/monogamy killed your freedoms, but not enough to kill off your relationship. Blokes need time with blokes to just be blokes, Girls need girl time just the same. Do not smother each other, or you will not last.
Trust me, been there, got let out on good behavior after 23 years.
Some more "once were dinks" show, all of a sudden mothers, who were previously glad to let hubby have them, grab the kids to fuss over, mothering and child rearing equipment spread across tables. Animated discussions about teething, nipple pain, ear infections and sundry other topics that are disgusting to single people ensued.
Husbands talk together, seems to be about gadgets, computers mainly, then about work. I notice the blokes are drinking some sort of low alcohol fruity beers......... Fuck me it's getting depressing. I head into the Musak infested bar, get some more boags, order a serving of BBQ pork with veg.
Return outside and see that the next table is now full of engineers of some sort, electrical I'd guess, that sort of beige is unique. They talk of nothing but numbers and formulae and shit.
I also notice a very short, but amply endowed waitress serving food to the assembled punters. She doesn't look happy with the customer demographic either. I select some Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, and CCR to put onto the hamster fones' playlist, turn it up to near headbanging level, turn my back on the others, and chillax.
My Meal arrives, it's grumpy waitress, I pull out the earplugs and say my thank-yous, this pork was a generous serving, and smelled fucking yummo! She heard the music, noticed my obvious bike riding ensemble (well worn Draggin jeans, BikeMe! t-shirt and boots), and she smiled a gorgeous smile that made my day.
"Pleasure Darl" she coo'ed, "would you like another boags?"
Would I! How bout a head job as well?
I'm glad I didn't think that aloud, I just said, "bloody oath, that'd be great"
The Pork was the fucking best two slabs of pig meat I had consumed in ages, perfectly grilled over charcoal, meat so tender, the fatty skin bits just chewy... a subtle BBQ sauce and fresh, firm baked vegies. I scoffed em down, Creedence sang "looking out my back door", Smiley waitress brought fresh beverage. I was in a good place.
I took the plate and empties inside, congratulated the cook on his culinary skillz, was effusive in cheer and goodwill to the two cute bar wenches, paid for the drink delivered outside, had more boags and generally felt good about life.
Eventually I departed for the tent, my belly satiated with pork and beer (the two most important essential food groups right there). My eyes and imagination happy that the barmaids had erased the sad observations of parenthood and engineering.
This place is only lacking in the right clientelle IMHO, I think that Motorbike people should ride here and use it as "home base" for a few days. They have Makers Mark on the shelf you know.
I had good dreams, the sort of dreams dirty old men hope to have, involving pork, barmaids, beer, and porking barmaids.
For those from the Ewe Ess of EH? who seem to know very little of what really happens in the world.....
Yes, Tasmania is an actual place. (check google earth if you don't believe)
Yes, there are Tasmanian devils here.
No, they look nothing like the cartoon.
No, Australia is in the south, we are not part of Europe, that's Austria, where Arnold Schwarzenegger came from, up north.
Over the week of my travels I observed people, below I have quibbled some of those thoughts.
Be aware, I swear, and I am NOT politically correct.
While I have nothing against those that are religious, I am not religious and appreciate being left that way. Please, do not attempt to force religion down my throat, for I would never force my ideals down yours.
I may ridicule those that try to "save" or "convert" me, sometimes savagely.
It's my own way of getting back at the pricks who try to ram their views down my throat. Fuck off with that shit please.
You could try to sue me if you believe I have gone to far, but as I have naught but a dilapidated bike, some clothes, and a few odds and ends, it'll cost you more in legal fees.
If you don't like what you see, don't read it.
Simple, eh?
Here we go, travel ramblings
I had reason to stop overnight in a sleepy little hamlet that, to protect the innocent, shall remain nameless.
It's redneck/country bumpkin land.
Now out here in the west is a "different" place, when (if) you are ever regaled with stories of Taswegia that involve inbreeding, they refer to the west.
Two headed Tassie's? that's west.
Pointy heads? Yup, west again.
However, they are reasonably friendly to us "symmetrical outsider types".
The office of the cabin park was closed, but a sign said that if a powered or unpowered campsite was all you need, just pick one and pay tomorrow when the office opened at 9:30. If you wanted a cabin, then there was a number to give "Shazza" a call...
Luckily I had no need to call Shazza, as my optus electronic hamsterfone with inbuilt GPS, music maker and camera, amongst other things, does not get reception on the west coast.
Others did need Shazza's services, and they had Telstra aligned hamsters, so she was summoned.
One I shall drop in and get foto's of Shazza and her beau. For I believe I have just found the source of the Facial Tumor Disease that is decimating the Tassie Devil population.
Pub was OK, I only drank the beer served in bottles and imported from the east, just to be safe.
Next morning the Bakery served a reasonable pie and coffee, so far I have not noticed any discernible lumps in my neck that could be a precursor to a brother for my head. Nor is my dome getting sharper. Gratefully, my sister is still my sister to me and I don't have any urges to fight her husband for conjugal rights. I guess that means they are using similarly imported ingredients, must use the same bullock team as the pub does to get the Boags shipped in.
I awoke from a Jagermeister assisted slumber to the sounds of country silence.
You know, the peaceful but very loud silence of native birds, insects and a breeze through trees. Fucking brilliant, riding in the Oz countryside does amazingly good things for your mind, and soul (should those two things be, in fact, different).
I had no idea of the time, and didn't care at all, but I needed a piss......
Wandered down to the ablution block, said g'day to various others. Did the morning ritual of shitting, shaving and showering. Oh wait, I'm on holidays, so delete the shave bit, and add in an extra long shit instead. Ahhh the simple pleasures of life.
Now don't get me wrong, Shazza and her other half are great people, friendly, but fairly beaten to an inch of their life by a capricious god and an ugly stick. I'd rather spend a day with them than half the beemer driving yuppy fags of this world.
Stopped at the bakery mentioned earlier, serving wench was a reasonable sort, except I couldn't tell who she was looking at, as the left eye seemed to be studying the wall, while the right eye was perving at the guy on my left, I struggled to refrain from moving side to side in an attempt to get eye contact. Oh well, I got the right order so something worked.
Sitting out in the glorious morning sunshine another bike rider appeared, riding a little Spada. He was a sight, leather jacket with twin leopard prints sewn to each side at the back, various studs and dangly bits attached. Jeans that were rolled up mid calf, and doc martins for boots. Fucking brilliant! Helmet off, and yep, mohawk that turned into a rat tail at the back.. that man was awesome. Looked like Vivian from "the Young Ones"
The spada is his first machine, he's done 90,000k's on it in a year, that man has the right stuff I think. He was on his way to Hobart to meet up with his GF who was flying in from Brisbane IIRC.
Some local skanks were taking the piss, he didn't give a shit. I couldn't help but to advise the skanks about what the rest of Tassie thought about Roseberrites. They shut up and fucked off.
I ended up at another town, stayed at another local cabin/tent place.
Nice enough place, although understandably full of 4WD's towing trailer tent things and mobile taj mahals on wheels. Dunno why people bother going anywhere if they're going to bring everything they own along with them. Fuck me, they even brought fucken TV's... don't want to miss an episode of their favourite game show or soap opera I guess.
One group from Canberra had a little pop top trailer van thing, 10" wheels that look like they were pinched from a wheel barrow or two. Both parents and two teenage kids crammed inside. Fuck that'd be fun....
Kids didn't look happy, mum had that strained smile only mums on valium or vodka can provide. Dad was determined to show that it wasn't a fucked up idea, and everyone will have fun if it's the last thing they did. Poor cunts.
I was recommended a pub in town that had good meals, when I got there I was told that yes, the meals are good, but only served on Friday and Saturday nights. Typical.
I went to another pub, had a carpet bag steak, it was ordinary. I don't think the people around me really appreciated the t-shirt I was wearing, one that says that car drivers should get a fucking eye test.
Fuck em
I headed further south, through more little towns, and got to Strahan. This place is asdvertised everywhere as a place you must go to.
I have noticed that the best time to ride is between 9-9:30 and 11:00 am, seems the RV bovi are still packing up their mobile condominiums or arguing about what pair of slacks/cargo shorts to wear. You get another hour or so of clear road about 2 till 3 ish, but the rest of the time is mobile beigeness.
Strahan is fucked.
It is a typical tourist trap.
All Bed n breakfasts, tacky pseudo period shopfronts and pay for the hour parking.
Full of Lexus, BMW and Merc 4WD's. Plastic town, plastic cars, plastic people.
I didn't stop, I didn't return the wave from the satchel bearing, tessellated clowns on the harleys , metric cruisers and Triumph rocket riders that minced about the front of a boutique cafe.
Another day, another little place to stay.
This time I pitched tent behind a pub, small affair, inside was a bit tacky, with gay-bar piped music like Barry Manilow playing way too loud, but the beer garden area was sublime.
Inside was the prettiest barwench I had seen in a long time, cute little thing of asian decent. Kept calling me "sir" (or was that "cur"?) anyways, I said don't call me sir, I work for a living, call me Jim"... she frowned (made her even cuter, I couldn't believe it would be possible) and kept calling me sir.
I drank boags on the beer garden balcony thing, listening to hamster fone music, I was at peace.
Some other guests, from the houses or hotel room things around the place, arrived. I thought the night was gunna be ruined by these people.
Poor bastards, ex dink's (Dual Income, No Kids) but now with offspring in the pram or on the tit. They never seem to smile at each other, speak much or appear to enjoy each others company. Maybe the loss of income hurts, or the loss of freedom.
Maybe it's the loss of time with friends, doing whatever dinks do together when dinks meet. Maybe the guy is lamenting a loss of his wifes sensuality. Some of those post birth comfy clothes women wear had to be designed to destroy any stirrings of horniness in the husbands. If that don't kill the bedroom circus, the noises and smells of young rug rats is almost certain to.
I was never a dink, the ex never worked, so I was just a sink, then totally broke with two kids, so I was sunk.
A word from one who has been there, and made mistakes. Make sure you have time to yourselves you newly married or new parents (or both). Retain something that is yours and yours alone to do. It must be more than just a shed to escape into for blokes, or a mothers group/sewing circle for ladies.
It should be as close as possible to what you did before children/monogamy killed your freedoms, but not enough to kill off your relationship. Blokes need time with blokes to just be blokes, Girls need girl time just the same. Do not smother each other, or you will not last.
Trust me, been there, got let out on good behavior after 23 years.
Some more "once were dinks" show, all of a sudden mothers, who were previously glad to let hubby have them, grab the kids to fuss over, mothering and child rearing equipment spread across tables. Animated discussions about teething, nipple pain, ear infections and sundry other topics that are disgusting to single people ensued.
Husbands talk together, seems to be about gadgets, computers mainly, then about work. I notice the blokes are drinking some sort of low alcohol fruity beers......... Fuck me it's getting depressing. I head into the Musak infested bar, get some more boags, order a serving of BBQ pork with veg.
Return outside and see that the next table is now full of engineers of some sort, electrical I'd guess, that sort of beige is unique. They talk of nothing but numbers and formulae and shit.
I also notice a very short, but amply endowed waitress serving food to the assembled punters. She doesn't look happy with the customer demographic either. I select some Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, and CCR to put onto the hamster fones' playlist, turn it up to near headbanging level, turn my back on the others, and chillax.
My Meal arrives, it's grumpy waitress, I pull out the earplugs and say my thank-yous, this pork was a generous serving, and smelled fucking yummo! She heard the music, noticed my obvious bike riding ensemble (well worn Draggin jeans, BikeMe! t-shirt and boots), and she smiled a gorgeous smile that made my day.
"Pleasure Darl" she coo'ed, "would you like another boags?"
Would I! How bout a head job as well?
I'm glad I didn't think that aloud, I just said, "bloody oath, that'd be great"
The Pork was the fucking best two slabs of pig meat I had consumed in ages, perfectly grilled over charcoal, meat so tender, the fatty skin bits just chewy... a subtle BBQ sauce and fresh, firm baked vegies. I scoffed em down, Creedence sang "looking out my back door", Smiley waitress brought fresh beverage. I was in a good place.
I took the plate and empties inside, congratulated the cook on his culinary skillz, was effusive in cheer and goodwill to the two cute bar wenches, paid for the drink delivered outside, had more boags and generally felt good about life.
Eventually I departed for the tent, my belly satiated with pork and beer (the two most important essential food groups right there). My eyes and imagination happy that the barmaids had erased the sad observations of parenthood and engineering.
This place is only lacking in the right clientelle IMHO, I think that Motorbike people should ride here and use it as "home base" for a few days. They have Makers Mark on the shelf you know.
I had good dreams, the sort of dreams dirty old men hope to have, involving pork, barmaids, beer, and porking barmaids.
Of The Rapture, Skymoose, and dodgy spirituality
<start preamble>
Dunno if you know, but the Rapture could be happening on Sat 21st May, this very year!!
Apparently christians (but only the "right sort" of christian, who believes) will be sucked up to heaven, along with all past dead christians.
People such as I shall remain behind, cos I'm a prick.
Those who stay with me are going to live in some sort of torment, until around October this year, when quite literally, all hell breaks loose.
Torment, pffft, I've been married.
Anyways, below is a ride report, of a very important ride I did today.
By the way, I'm not a christian, I'm a believer in the "Sky Moose", the benevolent being that looks after those that dislike the Bovines that drive c@rs.
<end preamble>
Three days of struggling through pages and pages of Beige had taken toll on the few remaining braincells.
I needed some restorative, STAT!
What would any Motorcyclist do to regain equilibrium?
RIDE FUCKEN!
So I did. I had urgent work to do on mind and soul to rid me of the self inflicted persecution that was the study of traffic safety in Australia, so there's fuck all foto's, mkay?
A map of the short jaunt is here for your perusal, should you wish.
I dropped in at Sheffield, a tidy little town, for lunch.
There were many Bovine steering Aussie flag bedecked automobiles.
There were many of what I would describe as "clowns" in leather, on Harleys, and Harley clones.
There was a bevy of adventure touring types, on a herd of V-strom and Wee-strom.
Luckily, they all stayed in Sheffield and left me the fuck alone.
Whilst listening to such wondrous sounds as Hunters and Collectors, Gorillas, and Smash Mouth via the Hamsterfonegps, I contemplated the place where Barney and I might observe the "Rapture".
There are strange place names around here. Paradise, Promised Land, and Nowhere else.
Now, dunno about you, but the whole rapture thing is, well... religious. Paradise, Promised land, religious sounding as well.
It seems only fitting that the witnessing of Rapture when it happens, er.. if it happens, should occur in the area of these ridiculously named towns.
Trouble is, Paradise and Promised land, as they appear locally, are, umm, full of nothing to be honest.
But the roads around them truly are rapturous.
I know, cos I just rode them.
They are my "backyard" so to speak. 10 minutes from home or work max, and I'm in Grinsville, in the shire of Grinsborough, Grinningland, on the world of Fun.
I meandered around the roads, no route or place in mind, I just "went somewhere".
I ended up at a little camping ground, picnic area thingy, with toilets, BBQ's, fireplaces, and an undercover area, should the weather turn not clement.
Here is a picture of the VFR being all sneaky like, hiding behind a tree, awaiting the opportunity to leap out and attack an unsuspecting Bovine.
This is another aspect of the place to witness (or not) Rapture.
Here is an ant, trying to pull a still alive bee, up a dirty great sign. The ant nearly got to the top, but fell to the bottom three times while I was watching. No interference on my part.
The ant eventually dragged the bee to the top of the sign, and down the other side.
I could find nothing on the other side, apart from a large drop, and dirt.
There must be a moral to this.........
It's not the size of the ant in the fight that's important, but the size of fight in the ant?
no, that's not it...
Struggle is futile?
No, not that either...
Obstacles are there for the strong to overcome, but if the ant had brains it would go around them?
True, but no, not that......
I GET IT!
It is a sign from the moose on high that the lemmings heading to rapture have struggled for nothing!
All they will get is a long drop from high expectation to the pits of despair!
YES!
The Moose has shown me the way, he guided my travels and showed me the sign of the ant struggling with the bee.
I shall observe the Rapture (or not) at the place called "Leven Canyon". For it has been foretold to me by the Skymoose.
This must be true, why else would he guide me on a wondrous trip down the west coast for a week, with nary a drop of rain?
Who else but the Moose saved me from getting a 60 cents over the dollar punishment from Cunty McSmirk, and before that, converted a 2 point and $250 fine into naught but a caution?
The Echidna's were a sign as well, but fucked if I can work out how, just at this time.
Fear me Fuckers, for I am the Mooses' chosen one.
I AM THE MOOSIAH!
So endeth the lesson,
in the name of The Moose, The Mad Bastard, and The Holey Zorst!
<start postamble>
I shall be going to this place on Rapture (or not) Day.
Skymoose speaks to me, he has told me to take tent, sleeping bag, food, water ( for many beasts wallow in the creek from where the water comes from) and Alcoholic beverages.
The ground is covered in soft grass, so falling over shall be pleasure, not pain. I intend to drink, and fall over, at least once.
I shall have a breakfast of eggs and bacon, which is the true feast of Moose followers, and maybe some pancakes.
I shall then ride in a random direction, and later make it home.
You may join me, or not, as is your want.
<end postamble>
Dunno if you know, but the Rapture could be happening on Sat 21st May, this very year!!
Apparently christians (but only the "right sort" of christian, who believes) will be sucked up to heaven, along with all past dead christians.
People such as I shall remain behind, cos I'm a prick.
Those who stay with me are going to live in some sort of torment, until around October this year, when quite literally, all hell breaks loose.
Torment, pffft, I've been married.
Anyways, below is a ride report, of a very important ride I did today.
By the way, I'm not a christian, I'm a believer in the "Sky Moose", the benevolent being that looks after those that dislike the Bovines that drive c@rs.
<end preamble>
Three days of struggling through pages and pages of Beige had taken toll on the few remaining braincells.
I needed some restorative, STAT!
What would any Motorcyclist do to regain equilibrium?
RIDE FUCKEN!
So I did. I had urgent work to do on mind and soul to rid me of the self inflicted persecution that was the study of traffic safety in Australia, so there's fuck all foto's, mkay?
A map of the short jaunt is here for your perusal, should you wish.
I dropped in at Sheffield, a tidy little town, for lunch.
There were many Bovine steering Aussie flag bedecked automobiles.
There were many of what I would describe as "clowns" in leather, on Harleys, and Harley clones.
There was a bevy of adventure touring types, on a herd of V-strom and Wee-strom.
Luckily, they all stayed in Sheffield and left me the fuck alone.
Whilst listening to such wondrous sounds as Hunters and Collectors, Gorillas, and Smash Mouth via the Hamsterfonegps, I contemplated the place where Barney and I might observe the "Rapture".
There are strange place names around here. Paradise, Promised Land, and Nowhere else.
Now, dunno about you, but the whole rapture thing is, well... religious. Paradise, Promised land, religious sounding as well.
It seems only fitting that the witnessing of Rapture when it happens, er.. if it happens, should occur in the area of these ridiculously named towns.
Trouble is, Paradise and Promised land, as they appear locally, are, umm, full of nothing to be honest.
But the roads around them truly are rapturous.
I know, cos I just rode them.
They are my "backyard" so to speak. 10 minutes from home or work max, and I'm in Grinsville, in the shire of Grinsborough, Grinningland, on the world of Fun.
I meandered around the roads, no route or place in mind, I just "went somewhere".
I ended up at a little camping ground, picnic area thingy, with toilets, BBQ's, fireplaces, and an undercover area, should the weather turn not clement.
Here is a picture of the VFR being all sneaky like, hiding behind a tree, awaiting the opportunity to leap out and attack an unsuspecting Bovine.
This is another aspect of the place to witness (or not) Rapture.
Here is an ant, trying to pull a still alive bee, up a dirty great sign. The ant nearly got to the top, but fell to the bottom three times while I was watching. No interference on my part.
The ant eventually dragged the bee to the top of the sign, and down the other side.
I could find nothing on the other side, apart from a large drop, and dirt.
There must be a moral to this.........
It's not the size of the ant in the fight that's important, but the size of fight in the ant?
no, that's not it...
Struggle is futile?
No, not that either...
Obstacles are there for the strong to overcome, but if the ant had brains it would go around them?
True, but no, not that......
I GET IT!
It is a sign from the moose on high that the lemmings heading to rapture have struggled for nothing!
All they will get is a long drop from high expectation to the pits of despair!
YES!
The Moose has shown me the way, he guided my travels and showed me the sign of the ant struggling with the bee.
I shall observe the Rapture (or not) at the place called "Leven Canyon". For it has been foretold to me by the Skymoose.
This must be true, why else would he guide me on a wondrous trip down the west coast for a week, with nary a drop of rain?
Who else but the Moose saved me from getting a 60 cents over the dollar punishment from Cunty McSmirk, and before that, converted a 2 point and $250 fine into naught but a caution?
The Echidna's were a sign as well, but fucked if I can work out how, just at this time.
Fear me Fuckers, for I am the Mooses' chosen one.
I AM THE MOOSIAH!
So endeth the lesson,
in the name of The Moose, The Mad Bastard, and The Holey Zorst!
<start postamble>
I shall be going to this place on Rapture (or not) Day.
Skymoose speaks to me, he has told me to take tent, sleeping bag, food, water ( for many beasts wallow in the creek from where the water comes from) and Alcoholic beverages.
The ground is covered in soft grass, so falling over shall be pleasure, not pain. I intend to drink, and fall over, at least once.
I shall have a breakfast of eggs and bacon, which is the true feast of Moose followers, and maybe some pancakes.
I shall then ride in a random direction, and later make it home.
You may join me, or not, as is your want.
<end postamble>
Bureaucracy, I dislike it so much.
The Australian Government has decided to produce a new National Road Safety Strategy for 2011 - 2020.
They have released it for comment, I doubt that any comment will have any effect.
In typical fashion, in the opinion of this grumpy old bastard, they are just rehashing some more of the same.
That "same" is a disgusting love affair with the revenue from Speed Cameras. They would rather we call these devices "Safety Cameras". I refer to them as "Revenue Cameras". They also want to reduce speed limits.
In one breath they justify the use of "Revenue Cameras" by claiming a reduction in road trauma due to these devices. The next they tell us the road trauma rates aren't being reduced, so we need to use more.
Riiiiggghhhttt!!
The "statistics" used to prove either claim are subjective at best, completely dodgy at worst.
Yep, I've got a "conspiracy theory" that the Government (I use that word to cover both elected politicians, and the senior bureaucrats) are very selective in the information they use and provide for public consumption. Simply, they use only the "facts" that support the action that they had already decided upon.
For example, check out http://www.transport.tas.gov.au/safety/crash_statistics.
Notice, if you will, the information available for 2007 and 2008. Reasonably comprehensive.
2009 shows a bit of decline.
2010 is bloody sparse wouldn't you say?
I'm wondering if that's because some of the data just doesn't support the claims made by the government about Road safety.
All the information I could find on the wibbly wobbly web was similarly... selective.
They use examples from Europe to support lowering of the limits, but ignore the same countries removal of such things as too much road signage, Wire Rope Barriers (WRB) etc. Interstingly, one of the countries has also partially banned "Revenue Cameras", and seen a lowering in road trauma in the areas it has happened.
But that is ignored by our government. I did find other information that supported my assertions that lowering speed limits, and banning "Revenue Cameras" would do more to reduce trauma. But the data was similarly selective.
Oh well, I completed my submission to the National Road Safety Review anyway. I tried to show, by their own figures, that while Aust has slipped back in the quest to become death free on the roads, other countries have improved their position, without the use of speed cameras and lowered speed limits.
I didn't try to dispute all their "truths" by stats, ( how could you, when they are the collectors and keepers of the raw data?) but gave argument to hopefully show their errors in the solutions they have come up with.
It probably wont do anything, this is just a public consultation exercise on their part, but I gotta do something.
My head hurts, I've been reading reports, studies and proposals for the last 3 days.
I've come to the conclusion that fighting this using data, stats, and logic will not work.
They are saying people are doing dangerous things on the road, and they want to stop that.
We (Motorcyclists) are saying that we want to do dangerous things, as motorcycle riding is, relative to most other forms of transport, dangerous.
I am sure that they (government) want to ban motorcycles from the road. I do not doubt that. They cannot legislate against us, yet. It will not pass the legislature, yet.
But they will achieve it by a war of attrition, by reducing the pleasure, the appeal of motorcycling, by replacing the passion with beige.
We will lose for sure by trying to find enough stats to support our argument that the biggest danger to us is car drivers, WRB's and road design. Think about it, we're fighting their argument by saying these things are dangerous to motorcyclists.. easy fix, get rid of the motorbikes.
Plus other road users, for the most part do not care about us, and will not support us.
We hold the moral low ground. They hold the trump card of what I jokingly call "saving the children"(as in, "why doesn't someone think of the children?"). They promote us as selfish people, who create unsafe conditions.
Using emotive, passionate argument is a waste of time on these retards. BUT, is it a waste of time to use against the average road user?
I feel that the best way to maintain our right to be a Motorcyclist is to promote the fact that we are the thin end of the wedge. Appeal to the very thing in the road using population that these beige bureaucrats do not comprehend.
Passion.
More than any other consumer good, Aussies are passionate about cars, bikes and trucks. We have clubs devoted to them, races and events that venerate them. They are a part of the Aussie psyche.
I think we should try to appeal to the road using masses that we (as in all) road users are being attacked. All of us are being forced to give up individuality, passion, and "fun" for no valid reason.
We need to promote that their real agenda is the removal of civil liberty, freedom of choice, and the ability to self determine an acceptable level of risk.
Apart from that, we need to reinforce that while we may be a danger to ourselves, we are less danger to others than most road users.
We need to show that all the safety features being promoted are selfish, only concerned with the safety of the vehicle operator.
We need to tell the masses that we do care about the children, by using vehicles that are more likely to hurt us than others, that use less fuel, take up less space, do less damage to infrastructure, and less carbon emissions to build and run. We are, in fact, UNselfish in our choice. With the added bonus of individuality, enjoyment, and passion.
Promote, as "fact", that after motorcyclists have been controlled to death, they will attack convertible cars, then all sports cars, then high performance cars, then large cars. Until finally we all plod around in sensible little boxes that will need our names on the side to tell us which one is ours. That if all enjoyment and passion is removed from everyday life, the one thing that will increase is anti social behaviour as people try to find an outlet for their frustrations at being controlled to the point of bland.
We should promote that the speeding revenue will reduce and eventually dry up, so the gumbyment will need another source of revenue, alcoholic drinks will join cigarettes as the revenue of choice.
I'm going to focus on the unwashed masses that use the roads, write letters to the papers, motoring mags, hell even the womens' magazines.
I'll contact those ridiculous morning shows, ACA etc. to try and promote this point of view.
I will to try to convince as many as possible that their basic rights as individuals are under threat. Hopefully a chorus of others will join in. Not to support motorcycles, but to support their own passions, but the goal will be the same. Tell the beigists to fuck the hell off.
Am I wasting my time? Probably, but at least I'll be doing something.
It's a sunny day in North Tas today, I have been paid, I'm going for a ride to clear my head before the vultures empty my account again, and while I'm still allowed to.
They have released it for comment, I doubt that any comment will have any effect.
In typical fashion, in the opinion of this grumpy old bastard, they are just rehashing some more of the same.
That "same" is a disgusting love affair with the revenue from Speed Cameras. They would rather we call these devices "Safety Cameras". I refer to them as "Revenue Cameras". They also want to reduce speed limits.
In one breath they justify the use of "Revenue Cameras" by claiming a reduction in road trauma due to these devices. The next they tell us the road trauma rates aren't being reduced, so we need to use more.
Riiiiggghhhttt!!
The "statistics" used to prove either claim are subjective at best, completely dodgy at worst.
Yep, I've got a "conspiracy theory" that the Government (I use that word to cover both elected politicians, and the senior bureaucrats) are very selective in the information they use and provide for public consumption. Simply, they use only the "facts" that support the action that they had already decided upon.
For example, check out http://www.transport.tas.gov.au/safety/crash_statistics.
Notice, if you will, the information available for 2007 and 2008. Reasonably comprehensive.
2009 shows a bit of decline.
2010 is bloody sparse wouldn't you say?
I'm wondering if that's because some of the data just doesn't support the claims made by the government about Road safety.
All the information I could find on the wibbly wobbly web was similarly... selective.
They use examples from Europe to support lowering of the limits, but ignore the same countries removal of such things as too much road signage, Wire Rope Barriers (WRB) etc. Interstingly, one of the countries has also partially banned "Revenue Cameras", and seen a lowering in road trauma in the areas it has happened.
But that is ignored by our government. I did find other information that supported my assertions that lowering speed limits, and banning "Revenue Cameras" would do more to reduce trauma. But the data was similarly selective.
Oh well, I completed my submission to the National Road Safety Review anyway. I tried to show, by their own figures, that while Aust has slipped back in the quest to become death free on the roads, other countries have improved their position, without the use of speed cameras and lowered speed limits.
I didn't try to dispute all their "truths" by stats, ( how could you, when they are the collectors and keepers of the raw data?) but gave argument to hopefully show their errors in the solutions they have come up with.
It probably wont do anything, this is just a public consultation exercise on their part, but I gotta do something.
My head hurts, I've been reading reports, studies and proposals for the last 3 days.
I've come to the conclusion that fighting this using data, stats, and logic will not work.
They are saying people are doing dangerous things on the road, and they want to stop that.
We (Motorcyclists) are saying that we want to do dangerous things, as motorcycle riding is, relative to most other forms of transport, dangerous.
I am sure that they (government) want to ban motorcycles from the road. I do not doubt that. They cannot legislate against us, yet. It will not pass the legislature, yet.
But they will achieve it by a war of attrition, by reducing the pleasure, the appeal of motorcycling, by replacing the passion with beige.
We will lose for sure by trying to find enough stats to support our argument that the biggest danger to us is car drivers, WRB's and road design. Think about it, we're fighting their argument by saying these things are dangerous to motorcyclists.. easy fix, get rid of the motorbikes.
Plus other road users, for the most part do not care about us, and will not support us.
We hold the moral low ground. They hold the trump card of what I jokingly call "saving the children"(as in, "why doesn't someone think of the children?"). They promote us as selfish people, who create unsafe conditions.
Using emotive, passionate argument is a waste of time on these retards. BUT, is it a waste of time to use against the average road user?
I feel that the best way to maintain our right to be a Motorcyclist is to promote the fact that we are the thin end of the wedge. Appeal to the very thing in the road using population that these beige bureaucrats do not comprehend.
Passion.
More than any other consumer good, Aussies are passionate about cars, bikes and trucks. We have clubs devoted to them, races and events that venerate them. They are a part of the Aussie psyche.
I think we should try to appeal to the road using masses that we (as in all) road users are being attacked. All of us are being forced to give up individuality, passion, and "fun" for no valid reason.
We need to promote that their real agenda is the removal of civil liberty, freedom of choice, and the ability to self determine an acceptable level of risk.
Apart from that, we need to reinforce that while we may be a danger to ourselves, we are less danger to others than most road users.
We need to show that all the safety features being promoted are selfish, only concerned with the safety of the vehicle operator.
We need to tell the masses that we do care about the children, by using vehicles that are more likely to hurt us than others, that use less fuel, take up less space, do less damage to infrastructure, and less carbon emissions to build and run. We are, in fact, UNselfish in our choice. With the added bonus of individuality, enjoyment, and passion.
Promote, as "fact", that after motorcyclists have been controlled to death, they will attack convertible cars, then all sports cars, then high performance cars, then large cars. Until finally we all plod around in sensible little boxes that will need our names on the side to tell us which one is ours. That if all enjoyment and passion is removed from everyday life, the one thing that will increase is anti social behaviour as people try to find an outlet for their frustrations at being controlled to the point of bland.
We should promote that the speeding revenue will reduce and eventually dry up, so the gumbyment will need another source of revenue, alcoholic drinks will join cigarettes as the revenue of choice.
I'm going to focus on the unwashed masses that use the roads, write letters to the papers, motoring mags, hell even the womens' magazines.
I'll contact those ridiculous morning shows, ACA etc. to try and promote this point of view.
I will to try to convince as many as possible that their basic rights as individuals are under threat. Hopefully a chorus of others will join in. Not to support motorcycles, but to support their own passions, but the goal will be the same. Tell the beigists to fuck the hell off.
Am I wasting my time? Probably, but at least I'll be doing something.
It's a sunny day in North Tas today, I have been paid, I'm going for a ride to clear my head before the vultures empty my account again, and while I'm still allowed to.
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