YA MUMS HOUSE

Brock’s out the front of my place in his souped-up race car, waiting for me so we can go look at more race cars. I didn’t really know what to expect, but there were definitely a lot of race cars out and about.

Lamborghini, Mercie your bitch, she so thirsty.

It was all going on.

11:20am

We head down to Coomera Skatepark where we link up with the crew for some park action.

Nathan’s already talking shit. He’s spoken so much crap already that my brain didn’t even comprehend half of it. I’ve locked in now, and all I can hear is:

"Does anybody want to see the new Jackass movie?"

...in his Scottish accent.

A few minutes later he's talking about:

"Have you ever calibrated a pump?"

Apparently we missed out on a quality Redbank session last Thursday too. The boys started a game of BIKE, but it just wasn’t the same without Brock there.

After some light bike manufacturing, Brock’s ready to crook 180.

2:40pm

A lot of BMX just went down.

Nathan pops back in with:

"It's not golf, the highest score wins."

Spenny’s in the corner doing a no-hands piss. I’m blown away. I need to practice that.

Now Nathan’s climbing a pole for absolutely no reason.

"How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice."

He’s still going with this shit.

2:00pm Sunday

I lost track of time.

I was filming and eventually had to block out Nathan’s endless shit talk.

Today’s a fresh day and we’re at the golf course, slogging them with Brozzy to warm up for a Redbank session later that night.

3:00pm

Brozzy is absolutely slogging them. We’re talking 327-metre bombs on repeat.

The putts are looking good.

Things get a bit intense, so he takes a piss on Hole 7, Par 4, munches down a protein bar, takes a breath of fresh air and then...

SMASH.

Did I mention we got a golf cart?

Well, we do.

It’s a Yamaha EFI Quiet Tech, Race Number 11, petrol version. Bit more juice about them.

Birdies are dropping. Eagles are dropping. Still yet to see a hole-in-one, but there are plenty of holes left.

To be fair, the greens are wet and being a bit of a nuisance.

OMG, A TRAIN.

A train goes past and spooks young Brozzman. He hits the green and bends his putter.

I made that up, but the blog needed some drama.

We're sitting on Hole 8, Par 5. Nobody out here has the white Tiger Woods fit on besides Brozzman. Driver in hand. 521 metres ahead.

This could be the hole-in-one we need.

The ball launches.

It's up there in the sky looking good.

Brock lets out a:

"That's better."

4:30pm

No balls lost.

No hole-in-ones.

But the sun’s going down and it’s time for some BMX.

Yep, you guessed it. REDBANK. Brock Olive’s own training grounds, and I feel like he’s ready to do some barspins. I check the group chat. Nathan’s under the thumb and can’t make it.

Looks like it’s just Brock and me for a power hour.

I can tell you right now, it’s freezing.

Brock warms up with a fly-out whip.

There are kids everywhere.

Some guy is skating around with his phone in his hand. I’m assuming it’ll get stolen if he puts it down.

I look up from typing and boom...

Another fly-out whip.

I briefly chime into some kids' conversation up in the grandstands, decide it's dangerous and I might get dumber and learn some bad words, so I chime back out and take myself to Paris in my head.

Not the glamorous side of Paris.

I’m talking about the streets where we get these clips.

Brock’s ready to start the power hour.

BRB.

9:30pm

It’s done and dusted.

Back crooks.

Lines for days.

Golf.

Golf cart skids.

We did it all today.

I need to get some sleep.

Goodnight.