Even his beloved superbike wouldn’t start on its first kick. Hardly surprising given that it had been under a tarp for weeks in the basement of the converted warehouse he shared with Rick, but nevertheless it was yet another unsettling factor to add to the many others he had suddenly accumulated in his life. Jet put more force into his leg action and the powerful bike coughed and then growled into action. He revved it into a throaty roar but his smile was grim rather than satisfied. This was all wrong. Here he was, about to embark on the longest road trip he’d ever made, from one of the southernmost cities in the south island of New Zealand to the very tip of the north island and … he was doing it solo. It would have been unthinkable even a year ago. He would have had no trouble persuading Max and Rick to come along for the ride back then if they’d been able to juggle their rosters. They would have gone from Dunedin to Picton in a day, chilled out with a few beers on the ferry crossing between the islands and then had a great night out in Wellington.
