"Easy Rider" an older man's fantasy?

What a beaut piece of machinery!


When I think about all the VW's that passed through my hands and garage at home back in the 1970's, the more I think about it, the more I now realise that I wasted a lot of resources like body parts.


A few years ago while holidaying in Victoria we went to some little town north west of melbourne to a Sunday market when a trike rolled in and parked. It was almost identical to the one pictured. The gentleman that owned it explained that he had built it himself using the inside shell of a VW Beetle rear half of the body. Additionally, the engine, transmission, and suspension incorporating part of the floor pan up to where the gear lever and hand brake were usually mounted. From there on it was up to the owners discretion as to the mounting of the front fork assembly to steer the completed vehicle.


The one above has a big bore motor, I believe to be close to 2000cc with electronic ignition and fuel injection. The exhaust system is what I know as from years ago as Dual Cannon, ie, two sets of extractors, one for each bank of cylinders on the flat four cylinder motor. Boy, does that engine sound healthy.


The rear seating will accommodate three passengers in comfort and cruise all day at a reasonable speed up to 110kph, but then who wants to tear around with one of these. Slow and easy and you would still arrive safely belted in.


One thing that has changed in latter years is the requirement now to hold a motor cycle license. Previously, a normal car license was all that was required, but that was a bit of lost revenue for the government, and the cost of obtaining a motor cycle license is away out of this old goat's range anyway. Then the additional cost of helmets, and the trike as well.


DAMN! IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, BUT AT LEAST I CAN DREAM.


I normally don't promote people's business ventures, but in this case I'll make an exception. The owner Tom Stafford is obviously at the helm, and his partner Leanne is the lady on the left of the image. Who the other two people are, well they may well be other passengers belonging to other trikes from around the North West of Tasmania.


These tours are now a feature of the Cruise Ship season here in Burnie and are slowly being accepted as a part of the "scenery".


For those of you who after reading this blog page feel inclined towards a wind and sun in your face, have suitable clothing like slacks or jeans for the ladies, as dresses and skirts are a liability or distraction to on coming traffic, helmets are supplied by the owner.

Tour contact details as follows.
After hours. (03) 6425 3119.
Mobile: 0428 504 794
Tour email: deviltrikes@gmail.com
Address; 78 Gawler Road, Ulverstone, Tasmania. 7315

What's on offer: Tamar River Winery tours, Tours of the wild North West Coastline, Tarkine Aventres and Coastal Cruises.
Arrive in style to your Wedding, Birthday, or Leavers function.

Devil Trike Tours can cater to just about any event on your social or event calendar.

Just what is happening to our beloved country?

Poems come and go, then another one arrives on the scene that makes you sit back and wonder. Dorathea Mackeller wrote the classis Australian Poem "My Country" aka "A sunburnt Country". The shame of it is that our children of today have never heard of it, or if they have, they have paid scant regard to the meaning of it.
This then brings the second Poem below "A sun Burnt Country" and spells out what is happening right under our noses. Read it and then consider where we are today and what you are going to do about it.

"My Country"
byDorothea Mackellar(1885 - 1968)

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes.
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins,
Strong love of grey-blue distance
Brown streams and soft dim skies
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When sick at heart, around us,
We see the cattle die-
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless againThe drumming of an army,
The steady, soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the Rainbow Gold,
For flood and fire and famine,
She pays us back threefold-
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land-
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand-
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

Dorothea Mackeller



MOVE OVER DOROTHEA MACKELLAR.

When the shearing sheds are silent and the stock camps fallen quiet
When the gidgee coals no longer glow across the outback night
And the bush is forced to hang a sign, 'gone broke and won't be back'
And spirits fear to find a way beyond the beaten track

When harvesters stand derelict upon the wind swept plains
And brave hearts pin their hopes no more on chance of loving rains
When a hundred outback settlements are ghost towns overnight
When we've lost the drive and heart we had to once more see us right

When 'Pioneer' means a stereo and 'Digger' some backhoe
And the 'Outback' is behind the house, there's nowhere else to go
And 'Anzac' is a biscuit brand and probably foreign owned
And education really means brainwashed and neatly cloned

When you have to bake a loaf of bread to make a decent crust
And our heritage once enshrined in gold is crumbling to dust
And old folk pay their camping fees on land for which they fought
And fishing is a great escape; this is until you're caught

When you see our kids with yankee caps and resentment in their eyes
And the soaring crime and hopeless hearts is no longer a surprise
When the name of RM Williams is a yuppie clothing brand
Not a product of our heritage that grew off our land

When offering a hand makes people think you'll amputate
And two dogs meeting in the street is what you call a 'Mate'
When 'Political Correctness' has replaced all common sense
When you're forced to see it their way, there's no sitting on the fence

Yes one day you might find yourself an outcast in this land
Perhaps your heart will tell you then, I should have made a stand'
Just go and ask the farmers that should remove all doubt
Then join the swelling ranks who say, don't sell Australia out'

Author unknown

Now we have to sit and wait for the 2013 Australian Federal elections to take place. We still have a Labor Govenment led by a left wing supported Prime Minister who has been labelled by the electorate as not "being their choice" of prime minister.
I honestly can't say that this government will be re-elected in 2013. But who has the opposition Liberals got to offer as a viable choice for Prime Minister? They are thin on the top to say the least.
This comment posted: 11:35 AEST, 28th February, 2012

The joys of Meet and Greet

It has been quite sometime since I added to this page or pages and I decided that after the second chance meeting with a fellow Lions Club member from a Cruise ship that arrived here in Burnie this morning, I should make comment.
Thank you to Lion President Brendan Doyle from West Kirby, Wirral, United Kingdom for asking the question in the Makers' Workshop this morning and finding me on site. We had less than five minutes conversation, but it was long enough to swap business cards and email addresses.
When I arrived home I was determined to find out just where Lion Brendan and his good lady actually lived. West Kirby is a peninsular that is on the south side of the River Dee and so close to the border of Wales, its not funny. The River Dee reminded me of a poem that I learnt as a school boy a few years ago titled "The Sands of Dee" by Charles Kingsley. Oh Mary, go call the cattle home . . . . . . . . . across the sands of Dee."
So one could say that yet another friendship has presented itself that hopefully will be on going.
Bon Voyage Brendan and Margaret, and a safe return to your home in West Kirby.
Lion John C Medwin. City of Burnie Lions Club, District 201T1 Australia.


The Sands of Dee
Charles Kingsley. 1819–1875

'O MARY, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands of Dee.'

The western wind was wild and dark with foam,
And all alone went she.
The western tide crept up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see.
The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.

'O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair—
A tress of golden hair,
A drownèd maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sea?'

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes of Dee.
They row'd her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel crawling foam,
The cruel hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea.
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,
Across the sands of Dee.

Just for Jennifer.