My First Group Ride – Great Ocean Road, November 30^th, 2003

As introductions were made all round at the meeting place there were flashes of lightning on the horizon. I looked nervously at the sky. I was assured there was nothing to worry about; we were going in the opposite direction and would outrun the storm. The fact that we would be returning back later that day into the direction of the storm was totally disregarded. Clearly these guys had no intention of being put off their ride. I had the good sense to shut up.

Three months ago I didn’t even know that people rode motorcycles for recreation. Perhaps I thought they were simply trying to get from A to B. Teenage rebellion I understood, but these guys were no spring chickens. Having never experienced being on a motorbike, I failed to see the attraction. I was about to discover the importance of the journey, rather than the destination.

I was tagging along as a pillion passenger, veteran of only two previous episodes on a bike and my first time on a group ride. I was nervous that there were no other pillions. It put pressure on me not to let my rider down.

One of the advantages of riding pillion is that you have plenty of time to think. So I used this time to focus on my technique. I had it drilled into me not to steer the bike and not to resist the cornering. I found it easier to think “stay neutral” rather than think in negatives. This I repeated in my head every corner like a mantra. Then I amused myself by saying “We Are One” and visualising us as Little Green Men with our helmets and riding gear. I chose not to think about how fast we were going.

By the time we reached the outskirts of Lorne I felt that it was starting to become second nature. I began to enjoy some of the other sensations of riding, such as the smells. There was freshly cut hay as we rode along the open plains behind Geelong, the familiar bush eucalypts and pine forest along the coast, the salty ocean seaspray, the ominous smoke of bushfires when those lightning strikes found their mark at Anglesea, freshly cut timber on a freight train in the sidings at Geelong and that familiar Werribee aroma as we approach Melbourne. Modern air conditioned motoring denies us this experience.

We split off from the group at Lorne. My rider was familiar with the territory, knew what I was capable of and wisely recommended a break before continuing onto Apollo Bay. My only previous experience of the Great Ocean Road was in a motor car and my memory was although it was visually stunning, it was also treacherous and unpleasantly tortuous. I am now convinced that the road was made for the motorbike; it was a thoroughly enjoyable ride.

As we headed back to Melbourne and numbness in the posterior set in, the rain started pouring down and the wind was pounding us mercilessly, I pondered the advice of an article I had read. The writer suggested you always take money for taxi so you can opt out at any stage. Good suggestion, but I don’t think it would serve me well on the Great Ocean Road.

Sarah Blackwell (Pillion with Peter Rykenberg)