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DAY THIRTY: Having a knee-trembler on a Yamaha FZ1N

I forgot my protective pants. And my skirt.

“I’M so bored of thinking about myself,” I complain to Steve Crombie, Professional Adventurer, raconteur and author of ace new book Lost On Earth. He’s an expert on how to give your life a kick up the arse, but on a day-to-day basis he recommends not taking things personally, practicing the art of detachment and living in the moment. Headphones out, phone off, then.

We’re going to test the latter by going out for a ride on his motorbike in Sydney’s Surry Hills. “I look like a hooker,” I warn him as I climb on the back in my poorly thought-out ‘slut-but-punk-slut’ gear. He laughs approvingly.

I shouldn’t really have expected any different, but upon weaving smoothly out of the garage, Steve takes off like a missile down Foveaux Street and pops a wheelie. We’re hooning so fast my mind barely registers we’re only half on the ground, before he bombs around a corner and breaks sharply at the light. “Mum would kill me,” flits through my head, then I look down and see my undies staring back at me. She’d be proud, too.

We stop for a caffeine break to really send my adrenal glands into overdrive, and I wipe away tears that have appeared from somewhere; like from the g-force, probably. “Have you had an epiphany yet?” Steve asks intently, as I spasm my coffee all over the saucer.

On the way back, Steve yells something that sounds exactly like: “We’re going to jump straight over that intersection,” and next thing you know we’re home. As we pull in, he grabs my rattling thigh and laughs, “I didn’t know I could have that effect on someone.”

It’s a pretty amazing feeling, completely putting your trust in someone who could skin you alive with one wrong move. I’m still laughing as I board my flight to Melbourne. Damn it, I don’t want to be sitting still on a plane right now. Hopefully the pilot does a loop-the-loop.

Keeper? I’m driving next time.

Keep track of Steve’s adventures here:
Twitter: stevecrombie
Lost On… www.loston.com
Facebook: Steve Crombie

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Categories physical death risk

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: Having a go on a horse

25 Sep

MUCH as I’d like to blame growing up in the cultural wasteland that is Slough for my lack of equestrian experience, it wasn’t like we’d never heard of horses there. Somehow, the opportunity just never arose. I wasn’t one of those girls who went around whinnying and flicking my ponytail anyway.

Until now. This stuff’s great! Having seen my ad (see Day 10) on the noticeboard of our local train station, good sport Rachel introduces me to Ed, who looks at me impassively. He’s a pony, rather than a horse, but that’s okay – he can be my inbetweener. I nearly vault right over him when I climb on, though.

Ed seems to understand English and responds to pretty much everything, not just “whoa!” and “shit!” These things really bounce, don’t they? At first it seems I have a faulty pony who is making me bounce double time, but soon I get the hang of it, with a two point trot, a standing trot and a squeal-ridden canter for about 0.5 seconds.

Keeper? Move ’em on, head ’em up, rawhide! (Yes.)

View from the driving seat. That's right - NO HANDS!

Categories creatures, physical death risk

DAY TWENTY-ONE: Riding the roller coaster at Luna Park

21 Sep

I’VE been trying to tell you, I really am a wowser. So this ‘scenic railway’ excursion (that’s the massive rickety roller coaster to non-Melburnians) is a big deal.

“Help!” I scream futilely into each abyss.

“Did you know this was built in 1912?” Clare says, not heeding my request.

I fail in my attempt to keep my eyes open, but then the ‘scenic railway’ has a ‘technical failure’ of its own. Luckily it’s only with the souvenir photos at the end, so you’ll have to take my word for it that I was sat right at the front.

Keeper? Yeaaargh!!