I spent the majority of this morning sending a multitude of texts, tweets & Facebook messages rounding up pledge money for bankingcommish; the last thing I’m going to allow to happen is for all of this horseshit blog work to be for fucking naught, that’s for sure! So, this is an open letter to all of you; if you pledged me money 6 months ago, it’s time to pay up, fuckers!

A large component of this blog is comprised of me shit-canning basically everything and everyone to the point that my soul could potentially be forever broken. I must admit, it is with some sadness that I’ll finish my last post tomorrow, however, there are a number of things that I won’t miss, namely; the lack of sleep (always used to finish my posts at 11.55pm), having to cut short social events to rush home and write, trying to belt out 400 words on my iPhone on a tram, being ‘outed’ by my footy club, suffering chronic writer’s block that only 2 bottles of corner-shop Shiraz can alleviate… the list goes on.

Realistically, the sadness will only really arise from the change of routine I’ll now be undertaking; in the same way that kidnapping victims often fall in love with their abductors, bankingcommish has grown on me like a barnacle to the hull of an ocean liner. Truth be told, I’m fucking stoked to see the back of this! It’s like a gigantic weight being lifted off of me. Hell, I might even write about something I actually like for this post to celebrate the end of days, as it were, for the blog.

Before

Before

I bought a real piece of shit motorbike (an old ex-Tasmanian Police BMW K100) from a guy (who was clearly down on his luck, might I add) in one of the poorer suburbs of Hobart 14 months ago. It was big, ugly, had a homemade spray-job and was in really bad nick. It wasn’t even registered at the time. He wanted $1800 for it, I offered $1100, he said no, but then called back 2 days later and agreed to sell it. He was clearly in need of some fast cash and I was happy to oblige.

After.

After.

So, I had this bike, and it needed some work. I had an idea of what I wanted to do with it, but no real idea of how I was going to do it (or the requisite skills to be able to execute my initial plan). Then, I took a job in Melbourne and the bike stayed out the back of my mate’s house for several months while I figured out what the hell I was going to do with it. Eventually I towed it to my parent’s house in Devonport, where it stayed for several more months while I flew in every now and again to do a bit here and a bit there.

I replaced the fuel tank, replaced the fuel pump, ran new coolant hoses, installed a new coolant reservoir, removed the fairing, attached a new headlight, had the remaining fairing re-sprayed, re-attached the radiator, fixed the intermittent idle, the list goes on. Real, grown-man stuff, the type of experience that’s hard to come by sitting in an office 9 – 5 every week. All in all, it was a moderately expensive and incredibly time consuming (14 month) process (predominantly due to the tyranny of distance), but I now have a bike that I’m genuinely happy to ride.

I took the completed bike for my first ‘proper’ (longer than 15 minute) ride today with one of my mates, through some winding back-roads in regional North-West Tasmania. I’ve got to say, I beamed with pride as I hurtled past ambivalent cows on the twisting roads outside Sheffield, knowing that I’d put a shitload of effort into making something old and haggard perform as was intended back in June 1986 when it came off the assembly line in Munich.

Now, here’s hoping the wheels don’t fall off. That would be a bit of an ‘egg on the face’ moment.

/end communication

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