‘Something to ease my nerves?’ I questioned myself. ‘Coffee shop, okay and maybe breathing wouldn’t hurt’. I always knew that the first day of lectures was going to be a nerve racking one, I knew no-body and I wasn’t even sure what the difference between a Latte and a Cappuccino was. Coming from a farm on the coast of Taranaki, a big city like this was daunting. Although for an ordinary person like me, that perceives them self as nothing exciting, I could only dream of better things to come.
The coffee had only increased my heart rate, but remembering to breath seemed to work a treat. To my comfort, I was early to class so there was only a few intimidating eyes watching me as I walked in and found a seat. As the seats begun to fill up I realised a young man to the left of me. ‘As I am new to the place’ I thought, ‘No harm in being friendly’. “Hi there, my name is Layla”, I tried to sound as kind and calm as humanly possible for me. I waited. But there was no reply, not even a gesture. And then he turned and looked at me without a word. I was stricken by the sorrow and loneliness that took over his face. His eyes were glassy and looked like they hadn’t witnessed happiness in an unhealthy while. ‘Great’ I thought, ‘Here I am sitting next to a man that’s face tells of 1000 stories, unreadable to my eye, as I sit in my psychology lecture. Score’! I was intrigued by this mans blankness, but no matter how much he tried to hide it, I knew there was a man inside wanting to be talked to and wanted someone to listen to him as much as he wanted to listen to himself. I found my self watching him out of the corner of my eye the whole lecture, the image of his face never leaving my mind. After the lecture I wondered if asking him to have a coffee with me was a good idea, but after the near heart attack I had from my one this morning, maybe not coffee. “Hi, um would you like to come and grab a juice with me maybe?” Okay it was out there, I had made my attempt. I never knew I had it in me. And then it happened. He actually replied to me. “No, I’m busy”. Okay it wasn’t much but I wasn’t going to push it. For some godforsaken reason, this man intrigued my mind so much, he never left it. I went back to my apartment, trying to think how someone could be so barricaded by themselves they were unwilling to make social contact. Or maybe he was unaware how to? It wasn’t like me to take something about someone so seriously, but for some reason I felt like I needed to.
The next day in class, he made sure to come to class earlier so he wasn’t forced to sit by the girl that slammed him with to much contact, me. I wasn’t going to let him slip. This time I was able to concentrate on the lecture. Mr. Rogers set us a task and dismissed us. I had all my books packed up so I had enough time to get to him before he left. I was starting to sound like a stalker. “Hi, how are you today?”. “Good”. I could see this was going to be a tough one. “So got anything planned now”, “Nope”. One worded sentences, I wasn’t sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. “I was wondering if you’d like to get that juice now?”, “Why are you making such a big effort to talk to me?” ‘Okay I can deal with this’ I thought to myself. “It’s just I don’t know anybody and you were the first person that I talked to, and was just trying to be friendly”. “Well don’t okay. I don’t need people being ‘friendly’ to me”. ‘Damn! I’ve ruined it’. “Look I’m sorry, I just wanted to make a friend and..and I’m sorry”. I could feel his cold eye’s piercing through me like cold ice. He was stunned that anybody had taken notice of him, let alone me, who was the shy one at school that never made the first word to break the ice. And here I was, inviting this man out for a juice, I wasn’t even aware of his name. All I know is, well, come to think of it, I know nothing about him

R.I.P Brett
Hey Mate.The story i wrote about you got in Kiwi Bike rider mate. Hope it makes you proud!! Clearly you were taken away from us all way to early as mum calls you your a little shit but since your older then me ill call you a big shit. Your racing on boxing day amazed the crowd and made me so proud to be your mate. Seeing your smile that day and your excitment made it so much easier after i heard the news. Giving you a hug was the last thing i did before i walked away and thankyou for coming into my life. Your celebration was amazing and good on you for having metallica and suicidal tendincies played . The bikes there were awesome and it gave me goose bumps. Everyday i think about how we used to have our water fights and im sorry that i ate the last scroched alomnd =)... Your a ledgend, mate , and a hardcore guy that id like to add ruined my new years plans haha but Love you heaps mate and havent you ever heard MATES BEFORE DATES!! xXXx Forever in our hearts Forever in our memories.

Bikers Tale
By Jessie Waite


Isn’t it funny how things that we perceive in everyday life as a norm can trigger powerful memories, some that we wish to forget and others that we appreciate to be able to hold onto.

Before that night, the roaring exhaust of a motorbike zapping past me would bring a sense of relief over me that was warm and reminded me of the exhilarating journeys that my dad would take me on. This of course was all before that chrome cast ironed Moto Guzzi took the life of Brett, a legend in his friends eyes. Brett was a proud yet stubborn side-car swinger that never took life for granted and rode each corner on the track like it was his last; never knowing that at the cemetery circuit meeting on Boxing Day was going to be his final race to the white line before his journey in this life was over. Most people on this earth measure succession in dollars and cents whereas the strange breed of bikers measure their succession by the speed and distance of their expeditions.

On Boxing Day my family had made the trip down to Wanganui for the Street races where our family friend Brett Sproull was racing with his friend John. Seeing Brett lean over the side-car with such power put goose bumps down my spine and made me the proudest person in the world to be able to state that I knew the ‘gnarly’ racer that was zapping around the track, amazing the crowd with his love and passion for the sport. At an interval in the racing I headed down to the pits to see Brett who I hadn’t seen in over two years. I thought to myself “He’ll never recognize me” so I stood back and watched him from a distance while he tweaked his Moto Guzzi. In a movement he lifted his head up and made eye contact. A smile leaped across his face and I couldn’t believe my eyes. He stopped his conversation with a friend and made his way over to me with welcoming eyes. He gave me a hug that I believed was a little out of the ordinary for our Brett but I didn’t hesitate and gave him a hug to tell him I was proud of him and that I’d never forget his racing. It amazed me and still amazes me to this day that he almost did say goodbye to me that day and gave me such a special memory to remind me of him.

It was the day after Boxing Day and the family was spending a day at the horse races for the annual Christmas meeting. The air was full of tense emotions and I realized something was wrong but couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason. I had seen my family that day so they were ok then I questioned myself. Did mum have cancer again? Was she going to be ok? I began working my self up into a state. My brother being as naive as he was went on with his day innocently ignoring the awkwardness of our family.
When we reached home whispers could be heard from outside of anxious voices. This was what I had been dreading. I came to a halt in the dining room but couldn’t take one more step. I’d had enough of guessing. My aunty took my arm and led me to my brother’s room where he sat on his bed reminiscing about the day that had just gone by. The look on my face must have said everything. Dylan (my brother) began to worry about why I was looking so terrified about what I was about to hear. In followed my mum and my step father. Their eyes so puffy, that they looked like they had been stabbed with a hundred needles. Mum went and comforted my brother for the impact that was about to hit us by the news. Mum whimpered her words that I remember so well. “It’s Brett. He was heading to a mates house last night and was over taking a car when he drove right into a lamp post and was killed instantly”. There was nothing that anybody could do. Mum began to scream with the thought that her mate was never to come back. I froze and didn’t know what to do. What was I supposed to do? I had just seen him the day before and now he was gone. Denial ran through me and I just did not believe that I would never see his smiling face again. Brett was