We went to Orange for no rhyme nor reason. It was west of Bathurst, far enough to feel like a proper ride, and it meant we could include a lap of Mount Panorama. That was about as deep as the planning got. As Andras put it, “Because Orange doesn’t rhyme with anything. So no rhyme nor reason.”

It was the usual crew—Matt, Gary G1, Gary G2, Andras, and me—and this time it was all sealed roads because Andras sold his dirt bike to Gary. I took my 1973 BMW R75/5 instead of the F800, which seemed like a good idea right up until the first few bumpy sections reminded me that 1973 suspension requires active participation.

We met in Castle Hill, did the mandatory Macca’s stop in Richmond, then headed up Bells Line of Road before ducking through Little Hartley. From there, it was Lithgow, past Lake Lyell, and into Tarana for an in-between breakfast-lunch coffee stop because you can never have enough bacon and egg rolls on a bike trip.

Just before Bathurst, Matt picked up a flat front tyre. While he limped to the servo, the Garys and I snuck in a quick lap of Mount Panorama—non-negotiable. Back at the servo, we discovered that collectively we had almost every tool we needed. The missing Torx bits—because I didn’t bring the F800—sent Andras on a quick run into town. Tube changed, war paint applied, and we were back on the road.

With time lost, we skipped Blayney and headed toward Orange via Mount Canobolas. A storm was building as we climbed, and that’s when my throttle went notchy. At the summit, we found a bit of metal jammed in the old gear-and-chain throttle setup. Cleaned it out, reassembled it, and hurried off the mountain—straight into more throttle drama. High idle, then only one cylinder is working on the descent.

Back in town, we stopped and fixed it properly. Once both carbs were moving again, the second cylinder cleared its throat and full power returned—just in time to roll into Orange as the storm hit.

No dirt. No hero sections. But flat tyres, storms, roadside repairs, laughs, and a pub at the end. Proof that adventure riding doesn’t need dirt—and that sometimes the best trips make absolutely no sense at all.