Nothing better than hitting the road. Disagree? Your opinion is invalid. It is a spec in the distance of the rear view mirror. Shrinking, disappearing. Like the troubles, anxieties or fucks to be given.

It hasn’t been as easy to get the crew together. I’m putting it down to the silly season and newborns and so forth. Once the dust settles on 2017 crew should be easier to muster. I bloody hope so.

Anyhow, we headed North East across to the alpine grazing region of the state, to drink beer, eat BBQ, heckle our friends lying in pain on the concrete and occasional skateboarding.

These guys had the right idea, except they were taking away all the good bits about motorcycles and adding a death pod. I snapped this whilst eating an AM pie.

First stop Yea. Scotty swept after hooning through Flowerdale in his SS ute. Cheers for driving mate!

Old mate turned up in a bee-keeper hat

On to Mansfield. It is a chilled little park in a sleepy tourist town. We begun to make the place our own with an urban camping attitude and gypsy flair

The kicker to kicker was longer than most. Kinda challenging. Old mate Gez emerged from the forest to snag it

Bristol battled for it. It was his 32 birthday we were celebrating

Jake rocked up with a fresh haircut and killer new whip. Steezed

Cunnaz 180

Street Morris is on a warpath. Back 180

Boardie to fakie first shot

Scotty ripping the gap from the bowl

Cunnaz is always going to kill it

Fiddy on Mr Plow

Feeble

Bonk to melon

5-0

We lit the place up, shared (mostly) the same old yarns and showered under a livestock bore. We camped in a school yard due to a lack of options. The next day we found a hangover cure and washed away our shame.

Thanks gents, always a pleasure