During spring I had a week off, the weather was awesome and I was about to head off on the bike to the post office to send something to an Aunt that lived 170kms away... I thought screw it, pulled over, tapped her address into my GPS and off I went. Filled up with fuel in Artarmon and headed up the Pacific Highway. Sydney to Raymond Terrace. Before then the longest I'd spent on the bike at one time was about 45 minutes. The trip was great but there were plenty of hiccups. I lost my P plate half way up, had to buy one at a truck stop and cut my finger with the pliers in my swiss army knife as I had to fasten it on with some random bit of wire I found in the car park. No wonder everyone that passed me was miffed that I wasn't going 110. Despite that first hurdle, I felt fine on the bike, having some good fun, but a twinge of P plate pain kicked in as a guy on a scooter passed me like a flash, for the second time, first before the truck stop then again after it. Turns out my Aunt had also moved house (I knew she was moving, just not that she'd already moved). I had to make an hour long side trip to get to her. Due to the delays, on the way back it was getting dark just as I left. I was freezing not long into the trip because I was just wearing what I needed to go to the post office, not a long highway trip. I had to pull over half way to warm up because my glove-less hands and light clothing left my hands and butt completely numb and my elbows and wrists sore from the constant forward pressure of poor riding posture. When I got to Chatswood on the way home in evening peak hour I stalled at a set of lights, couldn't get it started and had to wheel the bike to the next intersection so I could get the bike out of the angry traffic. Got the bike going after a minute or two. Not long later I went past the petrol station on the other side of the highway to were I filled up the first time and thought "nah" I don't need to. Turned onto the Harbour Bridge approach and then I suddenly, in the center lane, realised that before I was actually out of fuel when the engine stalled again. Luckily I was in a big break in traffic and right next to an emergency stopping lane. Idled in and called the NRMA. They sent a flat bed tow truck that took me to the nearest petrol station. Had to wait about 45 minutes in the cold. What was meant to be a leisurely day trip to Raymond Terrace, and only take 3 hours ended up taking closer to 12... What can you say? Prepare for the unexpected. There were some awesome highlights though... I chatted to the guy that passed me on the scooter while I was at the truck stop. A nice older snr citizen (which at first made me feel worse he'd passed me) that was very impressed with my GPS unit and said he'd have to have the Mrs buy him one for Xmas. The guys that came with the tow truck were also really funny and understanding. Had a few good laughs, especially when they reminded me I should keep an eye on the fuel gauge next time - then I told them my bike (2002 Aprilia RS125) doesn't have one! They cracked up. Plus now I know know what the highway range for the bike is! Best part of all though... While I was waiting in the emergency stop lane for the tow truck, a guy on his bike (one of those BMW Dakar Rally bikes) pulled over to make sure I was okay and to see if he could lend a hand. I wish I got his name and number, but if you're reading this, thanks for the consideration. It made my day.