My life has been described as unadventurous. And for a good part of it, it was. While people dreamt of overseas holidays and carefully saving their money, I was struggling just to put one foot in front of the other. Mental illness has been a permanent stain on my life. Anyone suffering the condition knows that you are a victim of prejudice for life. There's no going back to a life you once had that was stable. Which brings me to the point. When does a rock band of five individuals rock up to a bikey rally and find there is no stage ready to perform on and still be confident enough to call themselves ROCKSTARS? The bikey environment was a rough and tough existence. The wet t-shirt competition was probably the highlight of the whole rally. It was certainly better than being threatened when the band stopped playing. We hadn't agreed to play after a certain time at night, but they hadn't read the contract. By four o'clock in the morning the band was camped around a few different campfires with acoustic guitars. Only next morning I learnt that a knife was flashed after a disagreement. The man carrying the knife was no longer amused with his mates lining up and taking turns with his willing wife.