From the humble  beginnings of ramming Geoff's abused TL125 into the rocks around Davidson, we gradually progressed to owning our own loud and smoky steeds...

 G-Man was the first to invest, and the result of that purchase was the venerable Yamaha DT175 and the first of many ongoing discussions with his parents about road safety. (Not to mention a few lessons in why bikes stop in creeks if they don't have gaskets).

 We also learned the hard way about important physical aspects of our world, like, Inertia and Gravity, and just how possible it is to cling to a vinyl seat cover with your butt cheeks as you are doubled at breakneck speed down trails that  horses won't attempt, and even water finds an easier route down.

Long did this sage like machine last, and many were the  trials, adventures and lessons that were borne in this new found freedom.

Quickly succumbing to the inevitable, I too found an equally venerable (though some say more so) escape machine. Even getting my aged Suzuki ER185 home from the shop at Belmore proved an adventure of hardship, risk taking and bush mechanics, almost worthy of a page all to itself. (And I went and got my license the very next day !).

Lusting for more grunt, G was soon swayed by an add in the trading post for what soon became his beloved IT175. I rode it. I was stoked. I had to have one.

The day came ...  I woke early, washed the ER and traded it on a brand spanking new IT175.

It had barely been home for more than a quarter of an hour when G arrived with a few hours to kill. Wasting no time we grabbed a helmet and hightailed it to Red Hill, (a popular haunt at the time). In no time  we had bashed it up and down the rocky 'front trail' and bogged it to the rear guard out on the flats. A quick hose at home and the bike still gleamed. What a great afternoon !

Our bikes took us to many far flung, exotic and exiting locations. All with mystical names like, 'Red Hill', the 'Terry Hills Brick Pits', 'Davidson National Park', 'Ku-Rin-Gai National Park', 'Hungry Creek', 'Dargle Park' and 'Pacific Palms' ... In fact ... any where there was dirt and we thought we could get a 'blat on', and out before the locals raised the rangers.

Below is a selection of old photos from those happy carefree times. Those times when it seemed that the only real things that mattered most were, $3 bucks for a full tank of gas and "Hey! Did that cop just turn around ?!?", and the ever popular, "Did you guys see what Drooghead just did !?".

The old tip at Terry Hills was another good place to play. As was the road down beside it.. These days it's a playing field.	G-Man's IT was soon synonymous with his blue helmet, yellow spray jacket and torn jeans. We never saw one, without the other two. Red Hill was a favorite haunt. Oh how all too easily was I lead into this den of motorcycle madness.  The Images are as large as the memories they re-kindle	We tried hard to make him eat more ... Honest !!! (No prize for reading what the T-shirt says).
Often the daredevil action was so fast and furious, capturing it on film became totally hit and miss. Leaving this archiver to re-sketch the missing portions from memory.		There it is girls !  The LEGENDARY G-Man Butt in action !
	<---------- My ER185 survived long hard years of trying to keep up with the Enduro guys. It was only a matter of time.                        my IT175J     ---------->
Loading the trailer was ofter accomplished by committee. This never took more time than it took G-Man's mum to make breakfast for us all.		An ugly assemblage.  From Right to Left we have:  Drooghead and his IT175K Wit-Hold and HIS IT175J G-Man and HIS legendary IT175 G-Man's bro. Warren and HIS IT175 Drooghead's mate Graham and his XR200 An un-named individual who, after his first 5 minutes of riding with us, became known as: "Shit that guy pulls good monos!!" and his DR250