It was a long time ago, before this photo was taken and not long after I started riding. My brother, who was living in the Hunter Valley at the time, called me and said, “Guess what?” I never was any good at games so I just replied, “What?” “I’ve bought a motorbike.” was the reply. I was stunned but not so much as you’d probably expect. You see, we had both grown up in a non-motorcycling family. Motorcycles, if they did appear on the radar at all, were spoken of in disparaging terms and were not regarded as anything with which sensible people would have anything to do. Our passion WAS motor-related but it was cars and motor racing.
However, I still wasn’t THAT surprised. Perhaps if I explain that my brother and I are identical twins it might give you a hint. Instances of both of us thinking, saying and doing the same things, usually without prior discussion, had become commonplace in our youth. So, when the appropriate second or so of silence was over, I replied, “Well, guess what? SO have I.”
Without any consultation whatsoever, within the short space of three weeks, both of us had dived into the world of motorcycling. Our reasons were totally different but the result was the same. Paul had bought a brand new Yamaha RD250C model. I had bought an almost-new Honda 350/4 and thus was set the Yamaha vs Honda allegiances that have continued (almost) to the present day. My first ride (I bought the bike before I even had my permit) once I got my “L’s” was up Macquarie Pass and, not long afterwards, my first long ride, on my “L’s” was up the Putty Road from Wollongong to Denman to visit Paul and his wife. So again was set in place some “fixtures” in my life. I have been riding those two pieces of road with some regularity ever since.
Not long afterwards, Paul came down to visit us in Wollongong and he came down on the bike. This was the signal for lots of riding in and around the Illawarra and the great roads that we are fortunate to have in this area. And it was on one such ride that a strange event brought about a serious discovery. I had done a lot of riding by this stage with a good mate, Bob Holden, who had been responsible for introducing me to road riding and getting me hooked on it. Bob had also been a car racing “nut” but had bought a shiny new Yamaha TX500 while doing a two year working stint in Mount Isa. He induced me to try riding it one day and, after having come to grips with the differences between a bike and a car, I was hooked.
And so it was that, one Sunday afternoon, the Three Musketeers set of for a ride around the many rural backroads of the Illawarra. I’m not sure exactly where we went but it was fun. As the least experienced rider, I was designated “point” rider so that the other two could keep their eye on me. And it was while returning home from out on the Jamberoo Road that I had my first heart-in-mouth moment. Along the flat land that leads from Jamberoo to the old Princes Highway is a road called Swamp Road. As the name implies, it winds its way through dairy farming land that is criss-crossed by numerous creeks and swampy land. Arriving at the next stop-off point, the intersection with the highway, I stopped, as agreed, and waited for Paul and Bob to arrive. Minutes passed and still no sign. Eventually (you know this scenario, don’t you?), I turned around and went looking fore them, horrible thoughts running rampant through my brain.
About 2 kilometres back down the road I came upon both bikes parked on their sidestands beside the road. THAT was a relief. But Bob was sitting on the side of the road as well with Paul standing over him, engaged in what appeared to be serious conversation. It seems that Bob HAD come off his bike but wasn’t injured. Trying to reconstruct the accident is always difficult, but here it seemed impossible. The road was straight and clean. Very perplexing. Bob’s only comments were that he had just been riding along and, the next thing he remembered was that he was lying down in the paddock beside the road.
Soon he felt OK to ride so we went back to his place where we explained what had happened to Bob to his worried wife. He was totally uninjured and the bike only had a few superficial scratches on the crash bars (remember them?). But I was still concerned that Bob couldn’t remember what had happened and I suggested to Sharyn that she take Bob to Casualty just to get him checked over. Bob was all “I’m OK, stop fussing” bluster, but I suggested it again before we left and rode home.
Once home, it was worrying me so much that I rang Bob’s place and again urged Sharyn to stick Bob in the car and take him to hospital. But, you can’t live other peoples’ lives for them so I left it at that.
Around lunch time the next day, I had a call from Sharyn. She was at Wollongong Hospital where she had taken Bob the night before. She wanted to let me know that the doctors had run some tests and that they had determined that Bob had had a diabetic black-out. Despite being in his mid-20’s and being chronically over-weight, no tests had ever shown that he was a diabetic and the black-out that he had experienced had been the first that he had ever had. It was a huge shock to us all and led to a dramatic change in lifestyle for him.
Most of all, it was a reminder to never assume. What could have happened if he had had the coma at speed on the highway, or even in traffic, was too horrible to even contemplate, but I have thought about the incident often in the last 40 or so years and have always been grateful that my inner “careful Phil” kicked in and insisted that he go to the hospital.
My wise old father, rest his soul, used to say, “Life is lived forwards and understood backwards.” How right he was.