TIME TO GET SERIOUS, AND RIDE FOR LIFE!

What a lot of fun was had on this amazing journey! I had a whale of a time, and by all accounts a lot of other people did too, who decided to be a part of it at various points along the way. As a result of what I did, it seems that some of you were inspired to pursue your own dreams, and for that I am humbled, and very very glad. It truly warms the heart to think that I've had a positive influence, especially since I wasn't even actively trying! This blog is all but finished for new entries regarding my trip across the States, apart from some padding out and the addition of new photos, which will happen over the next week or two. However, if I get enough protests and/or requests to warrant continuing it, I will carry on supplementing it with on-going details of my planned exploits over the coming summer. Register your on-going interest in the comments section, if you want More of Max...

(By the way, Denise, I finally succumbed to temptation and bought a pink jacket, like one of yours. It is extremely pink. I won't be able to ride incognito again. Ever.)

However, while I had no doubt that personal life would definitely continue to be exciting, I decided it was time to get on with the Herceptin Peaceful Protest Ride, which took place in March 2008 around the North Island of New Zealand. This project had the support of The Herceptin Fighting Fund, which comes under the umbrella of the Breast Cancer Aotea Coalition, and the aim of the event was to try and influence the goverment to do a u-turn on their decision to not fund the drug beyond 3 treatments for women who needed a full seventeen treatments. I was originally going to organise this ride to go down the east coast of Australia, but the timing of the expected decision on the current judicial review on the government's decision, to fund or not to fund the treatment, suggested that the North Island would be a more appropriate location, with the ride planned to end at The Beehive, New Zealand's seat of Parliament, in a peaceful but hopefully effectively noisy protest just before the decision was expected to be handed down. It also meant that participation would be a lot more possible for a lot more riders and pillions, and that' was the whole idea. Numbers! Bikes! An impactive, collective voice! That's what we were after., and that is what we achieved.  And, as pink is the Breast Cancer colour, we saw lots of pink bike jackets happening (and even the most macho fellas donned pink t-shirts to help champion the cause).

On 6th April 2008 a group set off from TePapa Museum on Wellington's waterfront and made the journey around the North Island, arriving at the Beehive at lunchtime on 12th April, where a petition was delivered and formally lodged, and a speech was given to the government.  30-odd big motorcycles roaring onto the steps of Parliament (we did get official permission!) created a sufficient furore to drag most of the politicians out of their offices and onto the forecourt to see what the ear-shattering noise was all about.We had TV crews there filming us for the evening news, and we had the support of various breast cancer groups who were all battling for a change in the law. 

We achieved our aim of throwing the issue onto the political table in the run-up to a general election, and making it a national hot potato.  While the existing government steadfastedly refused to change their position, the challenging party vowed to fund the full course should they be elected.  I met with John Key, the now Prime Minister of New Zealand, who personally assured me that if his government came to power he would fund the full course of Herceptin for women with HER2+ breast cancer, and would make it part of his initial 90 Day Manifest.

John Key's government WAS elected and he was as good as his word.  Not only did he make full Herceptin funding part of his 90-day manifest, he actually backdated the funding to the day he was elected.  What that meant was that thousands of women who might otherwise have had to fundraise or sell their homes and other assets to raise the money for their treatment, or face dying if they could not, were able to get treatment without begging or having to face losing whatever financial security. they may have had

I got the phone call from a government aide to tell me the news, and I was driving at the time.  I don't mind telling you all that I pulled off to the side of the road and cried like a baby.  It was a very emotional time.  All those lovely women, who now had a real chance at survival or, at the very least, more time with their children.

Riding across the States opened my mind to the possibilities of what one person can achieve if s/he really wants to do something.  What came off the back of that experienc was, The Herceptin Peaceful Protest Ride which remains one of the proudest achievements of my life.  Through the ride across America, I learned a lot about myself, and the Herceptin Peaceful Protest Ride taught me  a lot more about the generosity of others, the extraordinary spirit some people manage to cling to when faced with the most appalling of choices, and just how many people really care about making a real difference. Iit reinforced my belief that despite its challenges and the fact that mankind is riddled with self-made atrocities, the world is still an inherently good place, with many, many good people in it.  I'm privileged to have met so many of them, on my journeys, and long may my journeys continue.

Cheers, and happy riding to y'all, worldwide. 

Home Is Where the Cold Is...

This is the current view from my living room window. I took this photo through the glass two days ago. Spring is here, as the snow capped mountains CLEARLY show!!! LOL. Honestly, blog-watchers, if it weren't for the daffodils and the lambs springing about all around me, I'd be convinced I was in the depths of winter. In the space of a week I've gone from waking up in the Californian heat, and having to kick the covers off, to waking up with my nose running and my teeth chattering, and trying to delay the inevitable - that horrible chilly morning dash to the bathroom. Its absolutely great to be home, but BOY, do I miss the warmth. To console myself I keep thinking about that holy trek from hell across Oklahoma, when I thought me and the Bomb were both gonna melt right into the pavement with the heat, and all I was interested in was shade and water. Now? I'm looking for hot chocolate with a very healthy dash of Baileys in it, or a tall mug of mulled spice wine. Ah well... I'm off to stoke up the log burner, and make plans for heading into the forest this coming week, to grab another trailer-load of firewood. Methinks the sun frocks will be sitting in the closet for a while yet, as will the sunscreen...

Koru! Koru! Koru! Oi! Oi! Oi!

The sight of the Koru - the Air New Zealand aircraft tail insignia - has always had a big impact on me. I've spent decades travelling, boomeranging to and from home on different adventures, and its always been a welcome sight at the end of each trip, because for me it represents home, and GOING home, like no other symbol can. One time back in the 80's, when I was living in the UK, I'd just flown back into Gatwick airport in London after a holiday in Greece, and my plane pulled in alongside a Koru. I saw it, across the tarmac, while disembarking, and although I was perfectly happy, and actually looking forward to going back to work the next day, I saw that Koru and immediately felt a pang of homesickness so strong that all I wanted to do, suddenly, was leg it across the runway, leap onto that plane, and refuse to budge until somebody flew me home on it!

Air New Zealand are pretty cool. I'd urge anyone to fly with them, as I've done countless times myself. I use them whenever I can because nothing is too much of a problem for the staff of that airline, for their customers, and my experiences tell me that a lot of people could learn something from that. After the encounter with Delta Airlines Domestic over my crash helmet, when I approached the militant x-ray security guy, whose pock-marked face suddenly took on all the welcoming features of a pinless hand grenade at me having - shock, horror - an extra pieceof hand luggage, the Air New Zealand people just smiled, nodded, stepped aside and gestured me on board with all three pieces of baggage. I didn't have to speak one word about it. It wasn't even an issue. I'd been expecting another small war, actually, so I was stunned at how irrelevant they seemed to think having an extra (delicate) piece of carry-on baggage was. Balm to an open wound, that was... and on the domestic flight from Auckland to Nelson, Shoei even had its own seat, and was actually seat-belted on to it, through its carrycase handles, for safety during take-off and landing! How seriously cool was THAT??? Really should have got a photo of that... if I'd been able to stop laughing I probably would have thought of it.

There is a God, you know, because the L.A. born and bred Air New Zealand staff guy who checked me in at LAX? He was a biker. There ya go! Sometimes prayers do get answered.

Anyway, after I'd installed myself with a glass of champagne and a copy of the Daily Mail, in the airline's Posh Lounge (frequent flyer - gold status), I looked out of the window, and there she was; my plane home, the Koru standing proud and tall and ready to fly. The rush of excitement at seeing that awesome symbol is always the same. I've had the time of my life, but when I saw that Koru, I knew it was time to go.

Koru, Koru, Koru, Home, Home, Home!

Thorns and Roses

This photo, of me with Mac and ToFeather (two of the gnarliest but sweetest old thorns on two wheels that ever held a place in my address book OR my heart), was taken by the Rose Gwyn, outside Manchester NH's Airport Diner, just after we'd had the calorie-soaked, cholesterol-special Last Supper (well, breakfast, actually), just before I jumped the plane to Cali before any crucifixions could take place. I did well actually, this time around! I didn't even cry, much. Not while they were all around, anyway. After M&G dropped me at the airport, the stiff upper lip and the frozen little "I'm so brave this time" smile headed south, and I allowed myself a bit of a sniffle, but I'm not going to admit to anything else, like for instance trying not to let the lower lip tremble too much in case an in-coming plane spotted it, figured it was a runway, and tried to land on it. I was at an airport, after all...
Hard to believe I won't get another chance to hug these amazing guys, or Gwyn Gorgeous, for a whole 'nother year. As far as Gwyn goes, the photo I have of her riding a tyre-puppy in the main street of North Conway with a crazy look on her moosh will sustain me for quite some time, as will her often humorous and always astute reflections and perspectives on certain "train-wrecks" that have punctuated her own life and mine. Gwyn knows exactly what kind of a brat I can be, and she loves me anyway. That in itself is extraordinary, and I love her right back, for that, and a lot more besides.
Huge thanks too, ToFeather, for the lovely gifts you gave me. See ya next year, Team Hamster.

Twilight is Dawning (or some thing like that...)

I've said goodbye to Mac and Gwyn, Gordon and the girl-dogs again (getting to be a habit, huh???) and headed back to California. I made it successfully after an epic wrestling match with the Suitcases From Hell and far too much hand luggage. Delta Airlines didn't like my crash helmet. They wanted to put it in the hold...
EEERRRRMMM, I don't THINK so...

... so I politely explained the importance of not letting it out of my sight to get knocked and internally stress fractured, whereby the first I'd know about it would be if I came off my bike at 100+kph and both the hat and my head split wide open. They considered this graphic little vision, nodded sagely, chewed their lips in contemplation for a few seconds, then said they still didn't like it. So, I argued the toss and when that didn't sway them either, I let myself get a little agitated, and then, right out of the blue, with no warning to anyone, I hit them straight in the face (so to speak) with The Look - the one that even the toughened, badass Macster lives in quaking fear of. Guess what, folks? Yep! The sea parted. The Delta people whimpered for a few seconds then stopped ranting at me, stepped aside, and let me on the plane with the helmet. RESULT. A woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. I wasn't gonna have a seven hundred dollar crash hat thrown into the hold to bounce around for thousands of miles like your average happy football. No, no-no-no. I'd rather succumb to that awful temptation to manipulate somebody into giving me some leeway, than risk losing my head. Although, to be fair, some might argue that such event happened a long time ago, and they may well be correct (she said, with a disturbingly insane, vacant grin on her face).

I'm reliably informed that the weather is less than troppo at home, and guess who stoopidly shipped her one and only jacket with the bike, so I'm still deciding whether or not I really wanna go, or whether I should stay here in happy Los Angeles, with the most stressed and unhelpful people on the planet, most of whom drive cars and are actively trying to kill pedestrians at every conceivable opportunity, because aside from the perils of crossing the streets, which thus far has proved far more hazardous than the worst day on the worst road on The Bomb, its warm and sunny, and the hotel has a pool and cute staff, and its close to a good shopping mall with a Macy's, where the shoe sale continues, and with a ton of yummy restaurants less than a block away, and the beach is close, and... ooops... dammit ... small detail of having reached the end of the holiday budget, happening. Ah, well, I miss all 21 legs and 7 tails of the critters at home, anyway, so it looks like I'll be taking off and landing a couple more times yet.

Oh well, better brace meeself for another round in the boxing ring over the helmet, this time with Air New Zealand. Yippee. I'm praying to be checked in by a fellow motorcyclist. What a bonus that would be...