Resting Actors and Movie Stars make it look so bloody difficult. Maybe that's just a "Hollywood" thing. Raising kids, paying a mortgage and working a job that you don't particularly enjoy, that's the really difficult stuff. By comparison, buggering-off on a motorbike is really quite easy. Pack your tent, kiss your loved ones, grab your passport, twist the throttle and go. It's simple, so lets not pretend that it's any more complicated than it really is. You probably don't need a specialist security instructor or SAS survival training before you depart. But, if it's a condition of your multi-million pound life insurance policy and somebody else is paying for it, then why not? It looks like a real giggle, so go for it. If you're very unlucky and somebody does point a gun at you, then I seriously doubt that a couple of hours spent with a pixel-faced man is going to be of any real help to you. When you're travelling, the guns only come out after dark, and after dark you're generally quite pissed. You probably wont remember what you've been advised to do. Besides, just how much training do you need to run away quickly, with or without overflowing underpants?
Riding around the world was a blast and writing the book was fun, but finding a publisher willing to take a risk with the book has been neither. I'd swear that the many rejection letters were all written by the same person. He "enjoyed" the words but had "no love for the subject", it wasn't "a work of commercial significance". Sure, we're in the middle of a deep recession, but I can't help thinking that perhaps he was just being polite. He suggested that I "develop the dangers", "raise the tension" and expand the "conflicts". All sound commercial advice I'm sure, but what happened happened, and what didn't didn't. "Chapter 29 .... the bloody Tiger refuses to start. That's not good, but the other news is even less agreeable. I've just been eaten by a gang of giant sea monkey's". No, it doesn't really work does it? The truth is, we didn't get shot or catch any wonderful tropical diseases. To the best of my knowledge, we weren't eaten or attacked by any wild animals and ignoring the possibility solo performances, there was certainly no sex. We left London in reasonable health and returned a few months later weighing slightly less, but in roughly the same condition. There was no serious crashing, the rivers that we forded were never raging and the Triumph Tigers were boringly reliable. Despite our best efforts, the bikes simply refused to break. No drama. "Plane lands safely at Heathrow".
So, my dreams of writing a best seller and buying the house next door to J. K. Rowling have been cruelly dashed. I didn't expect to make a fortune, large or small. I've seen the crowded shelves in Waterstones, the competition is fierce. Without exception, every book on every shelf seems to be written by a person who can actually spell, quite amazing. So, massive book sales aren't going to help me to make the money that I foolishly promised to raise for St Teresa's Hospice. I'll eventually reach the target, but I'll just have to do it slightly differently, or perhaps "By Any Means". Anyway, I've decided to publish and possibly be dammed, but unfortunately, the publisher will be me. Self-publishing, it's not the cheapest option. But, if I can sell one book a week, every week until my grandchildren have become grandparents, then I'll break into profit. Ha, that'll prove the doubting publishers wrong. Thankfully, just like the journey itself, I'm receiving an awful lot of help with the process - you know who you are, Thank You. It'll take a few weeks, which probably means a few months, but eventually there'll be a book, "Ashes to Boonville". It'll have words and pages and photographs and everything, just like a real book. In the meantime, I'm writing extracts from the various chapters onto my mirror Blog listed below. Maybe, just maybe, a few people might read it. Maybe, just maybe, they'll be inspired enough by the story to ignore the fun-sponges and set out on their own adventures. I hope so, because they wont regret it.
Anyway, I've got to go, I'm very busy. Busy in a relaxing sort of way. I've got a date with a couple of sexy Italian sisters, the "V" twins, they look quite hot. I'll be riding them for two weeks, but only one at a time, I'm not a gymnast. Also, I've bought a notebook in which to plan the next adventure. It's actually already planned, I just haven't written it down yet, but it shouldn't take me too long, it's a very small notebook.