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Another Boring Straddie TR 26-Aug-2016 At 7:41:53 AM shortman

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I'll try....this version doesn't come with my awesome editing skills.....but you know...

As One Day Hero originally wrote it.......

Straddie

1)

It's raining properly now. Rain like you only get in Queensland during summertime, hard and warm and sideways. There's a fat bloke outside trying to hold down the corner of a shadesail which has torn loose in the squall, he's not having much luck.

I lean my head against the fogged window and sneak a glance around the car. What the hell am I doing here? This is a stupid idea. Why did I open my big mouth? I blame Dan! Actually I blame Dan and Clinton and my big mouth, but Clinton is in the other 4wd and right now I'm looking at the back of Dan's neck, so I blame him.

Dan has flown up from Melbourne with a conscience. I've read about those things, so I'm familiar with the concept. People with a conscience will often make the leap from “someone should do something” to “I should do something”.......strange, I know. He has his neck craned to the side, and his temple is touching the roof of the car. That's because Dan may be the tallest, skinniest person I've ever met. In the half an hour that I've known Dan I've already learned; that he's a retired professional juggler, he has a young daughter from a one night stand, and he used to ride turtles.

Clinton started it all. “I'm having trouble getting the slack out of my Tyrolean rope.” “Has anyone got any suggestions?” Clint has Asperger's and a sense of adventure, I'm not sure which one gets him into more trouble. In between running a one man window cleaning business in Ipswich and terrorising the amateur radio scene, Clinton has acquired a taste for extreme sports. He has a dream to do a Tyrolean traverse (tyro) across the fabled gorge on the north eastern tip of Stradbroke Island. Clinton is quiet and thoughtful and seems to be modelling his stubble and squint on Dirty Harry. He hasn't been into rope sports all that long.

“You'll be right”, I said, “It's just that you haven't learned the skills yet. Maybe find someone experienced to help you”. “Someone should help this bloke get across his zawn” I said (with my big mouth). Dan (and his conscience) said “you should help this bloke get across his zawn”, “we should help this bloke”.........it grew its own legs from there.

So that's how I've ended up here. Sitting in a convoy of 2 4wd's crammed with gear and strangers, staring at the back of Dan's elongated and craned neck, trying to make small talk as we wait for the Stradbroke Island ferry to arrive.