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.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
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.
Some random musings.
Thought I'd have a place to post some random musings.
A place to put down some thoughts I have about the things I see as I travel this life.
Please be warned, there will be swearing, there will be posts that some may think are offensive. You have been warned. If you wish to complain, comment or wotever, please feel fee.
I only ask that you remember that this is my blog, not yours. write your comments with that in mind.
If you don't like my ramblings, go look at a different blog, you have that choice.
A place to put down some thoughts I have about the things I see as I travel this life.
Please be warned, there will be swearing, there will be posts that some may think are offensive. You have been warned. If you wish to complain, comment or wotever, please feel fee.
I only ask that you remember that this is my blog, not yours. write your comments with that in mind.
If you don't like my ramblings, go look at a different blog, you have that choice.
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