Memories and a Road Trip

It's a strange thing regarding memories. There are those things that we never want to forget and there are also things that we wish we could forget. Unfortunately we don't have any choice which is which.

That's a somewhat philosophical thought isn't it?

I started this blog for the purpose of just writing whatever I felt like writing. After the first couple of posts I became somewhat maudlin and thought that I should be writing quite negative things. That wouldn't be a bad thing really but what I found was that I could only think of negative things to write. I guess that's mainly due to influence from the media which is generally negative (and I don't agree with large portions of it).

So I didn't write. Not that I didn't want to write negative things but more so to ensure that I don't end up using this blog as a medium to whinge & whine. That could happen pretty easily and I'd like to avoid that. It's too easy as well as self indulgent. Besides that, why would I expect anyone who might happen to read this blog to wade through my self pity and negativity.

So, here I am.

I'm looking forward to a road trip with my wife an a few days time. She's very excited and making plans and lists of what to take and what to pack, what we'll need whilst driving and what to wear. This is the first time she's ever done something like this whereas I've done hundreds of long driving trips in everything from solo motorcycle to military convoys. Her excitement is driving me crazy but it's turning something that could be mundane into a big adventure.

When it comes to memories of road trips one I remember well is riding from Sydney to Melbourne in December 2004. This is memorable for several reasons. It was the longest motorcycle trip I ever made and it was also the last time I ever saw my ex-wife and step children.

It was pretty sad setting out and I didn't know what was in store for the future. It was my last Army posting (back home) and I was due to be medically discharged in the new year. My physical and mental health were both severely damaged, I was about to lose my job and, although I didn't know it at the time, was about to lose my family. All I had left of my former life was a dining room table, a clothes dryer and four cats.

Things for me changed rather dramatically with that trip. Surprisingly (to me) I landed on my feet and eventually got my life back on track with a few ups and downs along the way.

Now I'm headed back up the same highway but not to the same place and this time I'm looking forward to it. I have to go and wash the car (outside and in) because it has to look nice for our long drive.

Tally ho!

On writing this blog..

I've found over the past few days that I want to fill this (new) blog with posts straight away.
I could do this but I think I'll pace myself.
I'm just impatient.

327831

327831...

This is my Regimental Number. I was given this number some time in late October 1986 when I joined the Australian Regular Army (ARA - As it was called back then).)

I notice that many folk I know from the army will regularly post on Facebook something like: "On this day 33 years ago I joined the army..." For some reason I don't remember the exact date I joined up. I don't know why I don't remember this somewhat important date in my life. I just don't. For all I know it could have been early November that I joined up but I'm quite certain it was October.

However, I do remember my Regimental Number and, like every person that has ever served in the armed forces, it remains very much embedded into my memory. I think that this is because when you join the forces the powers that be distill your whole psyche, your whole personality, your whole self down to this number. Some numbers are longer, some are shorter.

Without this number you don't exist according to the Army. If it were ever to be totally forgotten or somehow erased from the record you would cease to be. It would be as though you had never existed.

I wonder: if I managed to forget this number would I vanish? I was around prior to being allocated 327831. I was a young musician. My whole life up to that date was devoted to playing music and having a good time. The moment it was determined that I was to be 327831 my life changed. Some things changed for the better and some for the worse.

I look at that last sentence and I notice that I put better before worse. Is that an optimistic view or is it that I have been conditioned to write such a phrase in that manner?

The Problem With Being Me

The problem with being me is that I've become quite cynical. I haven't always been this way, in fact I was far from it for many years, but it's the way I am now. I don't particularly like being this way but it's something that I think has become necessary for survival.

The world has changed dramatically since I was a youngster in the 1960's and 70's. I was born near the start of the radical changes that began in the 60's. Here, in Australia, our society was a step or two behind the rest of the world in the 70's and now that I'm of an age to be able to reflect I can see that that was a good thing. In this country we managed to hang on to our naivety for a little longer than the rest of the world.

Just a little longer.

And I was lucky enough to grow up in that time.