ridic good.

Really good read.

There has to be a book...there has to...

I've had quite a few pm's since this thread got bumped, asking me if I'm writing a book, how long is there to go, etc, etc.

It's very nice to have people enthusiastic about something that is actually very difficult to do. It's given me a little push to move things along. So to show my thanks, here's a little teaser lifted from the first chapter.

ads.


(Taken at random cause that's how I roll .... also this is unedited before you give me crap about grammar and spellingz and stuff ....)


I went around to see Lisa and give her the breathtaking news that I was going to chuck everything and go with her. How could she not be pleased? She was delirious with joy, or at least that’s what I remember at the time. She was due to leave in a week but I needed some more time to get my act together, a couple of months at least. The following evening my band was playing a gig and Lisa came along to watch. It was the best gig we had ever played. Musicians from other bands came and told us that we were going to be the real thing. My band-mates were ecstatic. I was the lead singer, guitarist and songwriter. So when I told them that actually I was chucking it all and following my girlfriend off to Sydney the mood of the evening dropped down a few notches. To my surprise they packed it in on the spot. I thought that they’d at least find someone else to take my place. Was it a sign that I shouldn’t leave? I went home and my girlfriend bonked my brains out. The following morning I went into work and gave them two months notice.

I went and saw my girlfriend off at the airport. I don’t remember much, but what I do remember is the two of us deep-throating each other in a 20 minute kiss directly in front of the boarding gate for her flight. We put on quite a scene. Finally the boarding staff managed to unlock the two of us from our death-like grip and my true love walked backwards down the embarkation tunnel with tears in her eyes. I drove back to my home with my escape plan to Sydney and a new life ticking over in my confused and muddled brain. I thus began the process of packing up what I had, sorting out the little details and letting my friends and family know what I was up to. My family were cornerstones of support. I do not remember hearing one argument or even a hint of a reason why I should not be going. At the time I suppose that I took this for granted. Now I know just how rare and precious is that unconditional support. My friends for the most part were amused. I am quite certain that I was the topic for much animated discussion amongst them at the time. A few however, were open in their support and admiration. It was a ballsy move, not diminished by the fact that I wasn’t catching a plane to Sydney. I was going to travel the entire way across Australia on my motor bike.

When you are desperate to be gone, eight weeks can progress with the speed of a car driven by an old man wearing a hat. More so when the aching pain I felt at being separated by my true love was factored into the equation. We spoke on the phone as often as I could afford it. We had long phone sex sessions. It was all quite eye opening. She had moved into a beautiful terrace house in Paddington, an inner-city suburb of Sydney. She had found a job working in a trendy clothing store just around the corner. She loved Sydney, it was the city where anything was possible. We spoke every day.

It was late January 2005 by the time I was ready to leave. A few days before my departure there was the annual staff party for the bar in which I was working. They charted a boat and took the fifty odd staff out to the islands off the coast of Perth. We spent the day diving and swimming with seals, playing cricket on the beach, flirting with abandon, and getting horribly drunk. Towards dusk we pointed the charter boat back to Perth, entered Fremantle harbor and headed slowly up the Swan River for a few kilometers. At last we moored the boat to a little jetty directly in front of a famous tavern called The Left Bank. Our boss stuck a few thousand dollars on the bar for us and we proceeded to defy all known records of human alcohol consumption. At one point I was sitting outside talking with a group of people when I spied a public telephone. In my drunken and lovesick state, I came upon the inspired decision that now was a perfect opportunity to call Lisa and remind her of my unwavering love for her very being. I stumbled over to the phone and after a few attempts I eventually had to ask a member of staff to help me put the coins in the slot.

The phone rang for what seemed a very long time. At last somebody answered. Alas, it was not my true love, merely some horrible flat-mate. They went off to find Lisa. I could hear her footsteps coming nearer towards the phone. The receiver was picked up and finally I heard her silky voice:

“Hello?”

“Mwhagawagbahbahbaba.” My God, I was drunker than I thought.

“What? Who is this?”

How dare she not recognize my voice? Was I not her true love? “This be your true love,” I managed to slur out.

“My what? Is this you, Adam?”

She knew me! It was true love after all! I was so deliriously happy that I dropped the phone. The receiver made a horrible cracking sound as it bounced off the metal stand. I scrambled for it but the damn thing kept slipping out of my fingers. Some bastard must have smeared butter all over the phone handle. I eventually got a grip on things and explained to Lisa that some bastard had smeared invisible butter over the phone handle. She didn’t laugh. Strange, she always laughed at my jokes.

“Adam, are you drunk?” Her tone seemed to be that of a person who is slightly annoyed.

“Maybe just a little bit,” I said with a terrible feeling that perhaps I had made a big mistake. To make up for this big mistake I began to tell her of my undying love for her. I don’t know how long I spoke but I was eloquent, of that I am sure. So there was no excuse for her hanging up the phone without any warning at all. I briefly considered calling her back immediately, but the gods had blessed me by stealing all the change from my pockets. I walked slowly back to the table where I had been sitting. I had the nagging feeling that I had made an error that could turn out decisive in the long term.

I have photos of my departure from Perth. It is a sunny day. I am sitting on my big old Honda CB750K7. The rear of the bike is piled high with saddle bags, tent, sleeping bag etc. I am wearing a black open-faced helmet, my heavy leather jacket, jeans and Blundstone boots. My mother and brother are in the photos at different intervals. My mother looks excited for me. My brother looks like he really couldn’t give a ****. I resemble a very scared guy trying to appear cool. At some point I decided that I had to be going. I kissed my mother goodbye, clapped my brother on the back and rode away down the suburban street. About a half hour later I stopped at the top of the Darling escarpment which looks down over the city of Perth. I got off my bike and leant against it as I stared at the city below me. My stomach had that slight churning, nervous feeling you get when you’re about to walk out to speak in front of a room full of people for the first time. All that I knew in my short life was down there before me. All of my friends, my family, my experiences, my boundaries. Behind me, the only thing I had was a girlfriend who hadn’t answered the phone since that drunken evening a little over a week ago. I could still back out of this. I could get back on my bike, coast down the Great Eastern Highway back to my home, and nobody would think less of me for it. I must have sat there on my bike for a good ten minutes. Long-load semi trailers sped past, almost sweeping me off my feet with the backwash from their passing. The sun beat down. Sweat pooled around my neck where leather touched my bare skin. In the end I got onto my bike, kick started the engine, twisted the throttle a few times while gazing down the hill, and then I let out the clutch, did a long slow turn and headed off towards the East.

adsman I salute you Great writing, fantastic stories and undying respect for your adventures - keep us posted

I just saw this thread, and spent a good chunk of my working day reading it. After I read the first post & some responses, I was inspired to maybe tell my tale about how I went from being in math & science classes 3 years ahead of the rest of my class in grade school , to being in all 'learning disabled' classes by the time I was in Jr. High.

But then by the time I read the Africa chapters, I realized that nobody gives a **** about my mundane life.

Adam, seriously, fantastic read. When I think of the greatest posts in the history of 2p2 I think of this one and one that to this day makes me very sad. Thank you for the effort.

Grunch, I would be interesting in hearing about that.

wow. just wow.

crazy good writing

I think the story is made by the writing, and this is fantastic. It sounds like you've had a hell of a ride so far; I really admire the way you seem to go with your gut and take advantage of the opportunities you've created for yourself. I'm still young and I hope to be able to do the same. Thanks for taking the time to write all of this.

Did anyone else search for ads pic? I was so curious to put a face with this guy's story, fun read. Just read ads's story in the last few days.

First time a saw this thread and I had to read it from start to end today. It was really really good. I like how you make your chapters and tell alot with few words. 10/10.

As a person that quit poker for 5 months to travel around the world after finally having 5 figures months, i really now how to leave everything behind/ I know how you felt when you left Perth.

Good luck with your book!

I'm very glad someone bumped this. I enjoy your writing style, and I'm sure now working with an editor the book will turn out fantastic.

that's quite good ads.

Just found this thread. Should be stickied. One of the all time greats. Good luck with the book.