Words : Boris Mihailovic


’ m of an age that when I hear the noun “ adventure ” shoved in front of the word “ motorcycle ” as a descriptor , I squint a bit . Some small death has occurred deep inside me . And when I accumulate enough of the small deaths , the big death will come . That ’ s how it works . Allow me to expand on this ... The relatively new take on the Adventuring genre is to spend tens of thousands of dollars securing a purpose-built Adventure bike , clothing yourself in several more thousands worth of Goretexevlar Corduranium , and setting forth to conquer the already conquered in style and comfort . I ’ m good with that . I ’ m of an age , and I love them uber-electronicated Euro-weapons like a shark loves blood . I relish their insane abilities , their “ You ’ ll be right , mate ” attitude , and their capacity to also be a great on-road bike . But it ’ s not real adventuring , is it ? It ’ s like those two shameful Pom muppets from a few years back – Boorman and Obi-Wan and their yawn-worthy sojourn around the world . This journey , as you ’ ll recall , was billed as an “ Against all odds adventure ” despite it being nothing of the sort . There was even a ghost-written book you could get with the 400-episode-long DVD . Of course , I had no idea this was the case until the publicity company sent me the book to review . Which I did . Which then prompted Boorman to call my editor at the time and demand five minutes alone in a room with me – apparently so he could protest my
somewhat unfavourable review . The editor , his voice cracking with mirth , called me with this information , whereupon I immediately made my way to where Boorman was waiting ( the Sydney Motorcycle Show ), only to have him clap eyes on me and then bolt out the back door with his producer . So that went relatively well , I thought . He was spared from recounting his tedious tales through a mouth full of surgical hardware that weekend , and I was spared telling Lord knows that kind of terrible lies to a magistrate . The point here is that very same widelywatched celebrity non-adventure set the tone for what has come to be the adventuring-à-lamode of today . Like Charlie and Ewan , you too can go on an organised Adventure ride , with back-up vehicles , mechanics , booked accommodation , preplanned meals , and what-not . You pay for it , and it is provided . And at my age , this is a tempting proposal despite the fact I am not all spiritually aligned with people who love these hyper-organised things . One day , I may give in to temptation and go along on one of these events , but until that happens , my idea of an adventure remains much as it has always been , i . e . me , some stupid motorcycle entirely unsuited for where I have ridden it , some random shit strapped to the back of it , a song in my heart , and a level of terror that can be measured with a voltmeter . Many years ago , I attended the inaugural Rough Road Rally . On a Yoshi-equipped