Damn the Torpedoes

The solution has been left as an exercise for the reader.
The solution has been left as an exercise for the reader.

I didn’t tell anyone before I set off to ride an old dirt bike around the continent of Australia. Well, I told a handful of people that I would take a short jaunt to Melbourne. Already I was met with opposition: You don’t know anything about camping. Gigantic spiders will eat you. You might get lost. Stuff on the bike is gonna break. You’ll crash somewhere and get stuck.

Guess what? All of those things happened. But they were worth it.


I will never ever tell someone that a venture is a bad idea (although I absolutely tell everybody that remaining at their soul-sucking job is a terrible idea).

The world is a playground. If kids don’t skin their knees, break their bones, and poke their eyes out, they won’t have any memories to last them into old age. Plus, what battle wounds will they use to terrify their own children?

Before I returned to the US years later, I took another road trip on my same dirt bike. By then, I had become personally acquainted with every nut and bolt on the vehicle. I could repair a flat tyre in minutes with two pointed sticks and a strip of Tommy Tape. Punctures, leaks, and equipment failures were dealt with quickly and expediently.

I rode up the Queensland coast. The trip was comfortable. I might as well have boarded an air-conditioned tour bus.

You pay with your soul for a life of risk-free returns. Why follow the parent-approved career path that everyone else has trodden black? We’ve all seen that movie and it’s boring. Let’s watch something else.

When people ask me if they should quit their job to start a company, I say go for it. Day trade penny stocks? You clearly don’t know what you’re doing, but Sure! Swim across the Bering Strait? Wear your seat belt and Rock On.

Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

XT600 in Queensland


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