I think you are generally meant to start a story at the beginning. It’s just not always clear exactly where that beginning is. This tale tells of two up ride to Australia, my girlfriend and I on a 1982 CG125, but to tell that story I need to start with another. Rewind three months. Against my better judgement, I had attempted a similar, solo trip to Cape Town. It turned out to be abortive, and from the day I left I realised that I had made the wrong decision. For many years I had planned the trip, and I had only ever envisaged travelling alone. Then Hannah threw a stick in my spokes. Hannah was always the one that got away. She was my best friend’s girl when we were fifteen years old. From the moment
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