A Huapai Opus

In the early 50s of the last century Jack Kerouac chronicled his journey with Neal Cassaday across America. On the Road (originally Gone on the Road) became a classic spawning a multi-genre industry of road trips—most with the implicit intent of “finding America and, in the process, finding oneself.” As a result, Kerouac today rivals Ernesto “Che” Guevara as a dated but resilient icon of every disaffected generation since. But he was not the first. Such epic journeys and the chronicling of them have been the stuff of history since The Iliad and probably before that. Now, I am to add to this rich depository. My own cross-country odyssey starts in about one hour. This long-destined and fate-induced journey, this final relic for me of youthful exuberance and adventure, this homage to my heroes, this wrenching of roots, begins today as I say farewell to Huapai and hello to Red Beach. I admit it has not quite the lustre and mystique of the aforementioned On the Road or even the more recent Easy Rider (it’s hard to complete with the majesty of a Harley when you drive a Peugeot) but you have gained voyeuristic pleasure from observing my foibles before, so this is a simple plea for your patience and perseverance again. My next Fryday will be written from a new location, a new home, layered with all the excitement that is omnipresent, indeed mandatory, with the New; tinged with the sadness at the loss of the Old.

Whither goes, asked the Sage; hither came the quiet answer.

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Now playing: Lynyrd Skynyrd - Call Me The Breeze
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The Spring of our content

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune are part and parcel of politics, as well as New Zealand on Air funded programmes. But also, as Oscar said: there is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. You see, in my trials and tribulations in running for a seat on the Rodney district council I have history and literature on my side. Shakespeare sympathises; Wilde offers a solution, or at least a consolation. In short, armoured with such majesty, I am inviolate and slings and arrows largely impotent. I am further reinforced by the fact I combat no precedent of history. I cannot recall great gods or kings called Colin, let alone Wayne and the only King John we can recall we would rather forget. So, I sit set to be attacked on all sides, but can I take it seriously? No. Fact is, there are better foes than them (King Wayne?), and worse (or better?) targets than me—George (I am sorry about your traffic jam) Bush among the latter. Bring it on.

The Spring of our Content

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune are part and parcel of politics, as well as New Zealand on Air funded programmes. But also, as Oscar said: there is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. You see, in my trials and tribulations in running for a seat on the Rodney district council I have history and literature on my side. Shakespeare sympathises; Wilde offers a solution, or at least a consolation. In short, armoured with such majesty, I am inviolate and slings and arrows largely impotent. I am further reinforced by the fact I combat no precedent of history. I cannot recall great gods or kings called Colin, let alone Wayne and the only King John we can recall we would rather forget. So, I sit set to be attacked on all sides, but can I take it seriously? No. Fact is, there are better foes than them (King Wayne?), and worse (or better?) targets than me—George (I am sorry about your traffic jam) Bush among the latter. Bring it on.

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Now playing: Amazing Rhythm Aces - King Of The Cowboys
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