They love their utes in Deni

Every year in October, thousands of “ute” (pickup) drivers and assorted hangers-on arrive in Deniliquin, New South Wales for the Deniliquin Ute Muster.

Ute on a pole in the town

It’s two days of “ute” events – from just showing off a decked-out (pimped) ute to “circle work” (burn-outs).

Mosaic-covered ute in town

The event is held on a purpose-built 138 acre property about 3km north of the town. The company I work for is peripherally associated with the organisation side of the Muster, so I had to go there a few weeks ago.

The Ute Muster is a big deal for Deniliquin, bringing a much needed injection of economic activity to a town suffering from the global recession.  Deniliquin is about 80km north of the VIC/NSW border in very, very flat country where sheep, beef cattle, wheat and rice are the major industries.  The town itself is very pretty (but flat) with wide avenues and plenty of on-road bike paths – and Autumn is a great time to visit.  I don’t recommend the height of Summer.

Here’s a pic of the front gate of the Muster site, a mighty rusty steel edifice….

My "ute" at the Muster gates

The Pain, the Pain (part the deux)

Thanks to a last minute cracked fork on my recumbent, I rode almost 100km on a mountain bike with knobby tyres this weekend while Ms Canada and I stayed at Meeniyan with friends.

As a result,  parts of my anatomy that are really only of fleeting interest to doctors making prostate examinations* are complaining even as I write.  Why people put up with normal bicycle saddles I do not know.  Most of the time I was able to find a position that resulted only in severe discomfort rather than actual pain – but only most. I ended up raiding a dumpster in Leongatha and swathing the seat in carpet underlay.

(* the alternate title for this post was to have been “cracked fork leads to forked crack”, but that is just smutty.)

Has it really been 16 years, Natasha?

A long time ago, when I worked for Big Blue, my regular commute down Brighton Rd through Elwood to the city was invariably the usual dull crawl with the only entertainment being the frenzied stylings of  ”breakfast show crews” on FM radio as they laughed ( in a mainly self convincing way) at their own witty repartee.

One day, all that changed.

On the window of the Cat and Dog Grooming shop at 71 Brighton road appeared – in giant letters – IT’S A GIRL!

The next day, we knew her name.  Again in big letters: NATASHA!

That day was just over 16 years ago, for recently, on the window, below the permanently badly-signwritten “NATASHA’S”  that appeared on the window top soon after the birth announcement came down, was “SWEET 16!”

Natasha became part of the regular commuters’ journey.  Her proud parents declared her talents to the world.

We watches  ”NATASHA’S SHE’S CRAWLING” ,  ”NATASHA’S HER FIRST STEP” then her first word (though we don’t know what it was), her first day at school and even saw her childish artwork posted in the window which was  sadly (or perhaps fortunately) too far away for us to see without stopping and getting out of our metal chariots.

More recently we learnt that Natasha has started work experience training, and now, of course, the girl is 16.

I wonder about Natasha.  How does she feel about thousands of strangers following her life story?  Without her consent, her whole life has been window-blogged in three to five word precis.  Does she have any siblings? Why have we never heard about them too?

If you ever read this, Natasha, let us know.

That was Huge.

That’s what my son (18) said as we left after the Watchmen movie.

Does it to full justice to the comic/graphic novel story?  No, how could it? The movie was 160 minutes long and they had difficulty squeezing in just the main plot line.  Nevertheless, it all hangs together in the end.

Is it visually awesome? Yes!

Is it too violent?  Probably was.  Waaaay too much gore,  Rorschach’s gruesome epiphany was made more graphically violent – yet strangely less horrific – than the original’s and given that these are supposed to be real mortal people in tights, not actual invulnerable superheroes, they absorb far too much punishment before going down.

What about the visual style?  Great, loved the 40’s retro and wished there was more of it. And as everyone says, they absolutely nailed the duplication of many of the comic’s core visuals.  Rorschach was a characterisation triumph and the Comedian was better humanized in this version.  Nite Owl probably wasn’t podgy enough (probably just my own middle aged jealousy creeping in here).  As in the novel, Manhattan’s change of heart on Mars seems a little Deus ex Machina, but given that it really doesn’t matter because ultimately apart from Rorschach’s legacy almost everything except Manhattan’s decision take the fall for Viedt’s flawed vision is just back story, it’s a niggle.

The other niggle,  maybe I blinked, but how did the Comedian discover Adrian’s plot in this version?

I give it four and a half rubber chickens.

Around the (not) Lake today

A quick Photo of team “Bent, Not Broken” after the completion of the Lake Wendouree 2.5 hour Challenge.

From left to right:
Steve N (homemade, “The bike from Oz”)
William & son (Barchetta)
me (homemade lowracer)
Freddy Flatfoot (Homemade SWB)
Ken H (homemade lowracer)
Adrienne (trike)
Greg (Challenge Fujin lowracer)

Stats: Number of riders: 7
52 rider-laps (each lap 6.2km)
Average overall speed for all riders: 32.24 km/hr
Total km ridden: 322

No, we didn’t win, but we did well – we were second in the “sporting groups” section, the winners being the Sebastopol cycling club with 12 young riders, meaning each of their riders only had to ride one lap in three with a 2 lap rest . We were riding 2-4 lap stints with mostly one lap rests.

Thanks to everyone who turned up and it was great to meet you all. A fantastic effort everyone!

How hot is it?

MCC – A pox on thee!

I sit here, your correspondent, with pain in my sit-upon and a grazed elbow, thanks to some thoughtless or malicious sod from the Melbourne City Council.

It was a great day for a bike ride, and it co-incided with our monthly “come-and-try” day, so what with riding from home and back to the meeting point before the group ride, I managed 75km all up.  Fine so far.

The group is slow, combined as it is with the Bicycle Victoria “over-50’s riding program*”, so slow that I feel as if I’m not doing myself much good.  This usually means that I split with the group quite early with the intent of meeting up with them later at a designated point-  and put the hammer down for a good aerobic workout. *Note: I’m over 50 too, but over the last 3 years I’ve become a stronger rider…. not a strong rider, mind you, but I do need to push to raise a sweat.

Which I duly did this morning.  I was about 5km into the breakaway after crossing the foot/cycle bridge to Docklands and there was a sign diverting pedestrians and cycles away from works to the designated path.   I followed directions and right across the indicated path was a wide  section of gravel which I assumed was covering a newly-asphalted surface.  What it was, in fact, was a section of asphalt that had been cut away and removed to make a hole that was filled to the brim with 6 inches of loose scree.

Front wheel goes in.  Bogs down deep – hits other end of hole. Bike slews and falls. Your writer flies out of seat onto backside and one elbow on asphalt surface covered in loose gravel.  Much cursing ensues.

Fortunately I was not, at this point, moving very fast.  Had I been, the MCC would have been hearing from lawyers tomorrow.

Three talking styles.

Three speakers, all intelligent people. different styles.

The scattergun.

Let’s call him X. X is intelligent, successful and articulate. Boy, is X articulate. He has a lot to say and he’s not sure life is long enough to say it all, so he says it all at once. X never finishes a sentence. Halfway though, X will have a thought, drop the thread, probably for good, and start in on the new topic. Listening to X is like putting your ear to a verbal fire hose.  You want to run away.   Oddly enough, a lot of women speak this way, particularly in groups and to one another.  They will even interrupt one another mid sentence -yet no-one seems to care – except any male listening.

The elephant

Y is also intelligent. He thinks deeply about what he wants to tell you. The problem is, Y  likes to compose his sentences in full, which is great, but unfortunately he feels the need to rehearse them internally a couple of times before he opens his mouth. As a result, you can ask Y a question, wait, conclude he’s not heard you after a long second delay, and find yourself asking again. At which Y looks mightily offended. Because, of course, Y has a perfectly good answer for you, which he would have begun ponderously outlining if only you’d allowed him a courteous 30 seconds of rehearsal time.   I used to work with a guy like this (as a subordinate, so I couldn’t escape)  twenty years ago.  Really frustrating.

The razor

Somewhere there’s a middle ground.   The best speaker I know, Z,  is successful and well regarded. Why?  Z is very astute.  He thinks fast but never actually says anything at all unless he believes it contributes to the conversation.  When he does, it’s succinct and it gets to the point.   In particular, he is always careful to put things into context for you, and he does speak in complete sentences rather than run-ons and fragments.   When Z opens his mouth, you listen.  I’m talking about you, Craig!

No prizes for guessing which type of speaker I aspire to be.  Sadly, I’m not as quick or as smart as Z, so the result merely appears pompous.

The Chicken’s new job.

Why does the Chicken need a new job, I hear you ask?

In at the deep end

FLASH!

The Chicken has a new job.  I’ve just accepted a job with a local company that will take me right outside my comfort zone….

It involves rental of radio systems to large organisations and events….  sales and customer support.

I start next Monday.

Wish me luck!