Ever think you are? I used to, no doubt, you don't join an armed force and think that you may be vulnerable clearly. Yet I was vulnerable, I was weak mentally and physically and if I could, oh dear reader, I'd love my time over again in the military, I would do it so differently. Yet, I was invincible, I had the right people, at the right time, around me, I had the right training and, ok, questionable equipment, but I am still here, so I guess in a way I have proved the point, for me, anyway. I reflect every year on those that were not so fortunate. If you know me, you know I still chase a form of adventure, granted of late that has been a bit in remiss, but the fire is still in the belly, I adore the risk. Nothing more thrilling than throwing a push bike down the side of a hill, that most people would hate to walk down, at silly speeds. Giggling the whole way. I am by my very nature, risk adverse, I have always been, and will continue to be, the guy who deals with the consequence over considering what that may look like before diving in. Fuck the risk. Dive in. Deal with the fallout. Easy. I would like to think that I would have been a good cowboy. There you go, I can hear you, 'he's on a bloody tangent, what shite do I have to read before he gets to the point'. Well, I am watching Yellowstone and yes, I know it is a piece of fiction and very elevated from real life, but that whole lifestyle is me. Always outdoors, basic living, hard work, hard relaxing, physical lifestyle, all me. It is why I joined the Army I guess. Even when DC made me empty an ashtray into my mouth as a part of my 5 Squadron Bar initiation (the game was Pass the Mars Bar, make your own minds up on what that entails or how it starts) which I then threw up on the floor, to be told that I then have to scrape that puke up, put it back in my mouth and pass the contents, mouth to mouth, to my oppo (Mr B), followed by also throwing up in his mouth, all OK, all part of the training.
Running the Roof. We did that, oosh.
'Ok, I am fucking scared, but OK.'
You may have hated those guys in that situation or just generally and always, but if you were ever in the shit, they were right beside you, no fucking questions asked. For life. It was a good period of my life. Honest.
Yellowstone Cowboy. I could live that life. Bunk house = troop lines
Branding = squadron loyalty
Doing what needs to be done, no questions = Doing what needs to be done, no questions.
Loyalty Respect Hard drinking
Hard living Hard playing. Beth Dutton...
Etc.
That perceived lifestyle is so close to a military life, maybe that's why I am drawn to it. I went for a pee break and I had the thought, during the act, that maybe my posts are a bit more 'serious' when they used to be jokey. And they are.
That is very much a reflection of my mood, has to be.
I was almost funny, now I am a whinging git.
I'll try harder, honest, winter always makes me a grumpy twat. Sorry. I wanted to write this post because I was out with the boys last night, the civvy lot, the best men in the world, all of you, amazing buggers. Part of the chat naturally lead to the most recent near losses we have had in my extended group of friends, car and mountain bike related. Both horrific, both some way fortunate in that they are still with us, both still recovering at different levels. What made me chose the title is that one was a total freak accident. A part of the bikes, we all ride, handlebars and stem, went into the gap where our goggles are on the helmets we all wear.
Pure fucking horrible chance.
The title came from me asking how we all feel when we put those full face helmets on. The response, from all was: We feel invincible...
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