A Man, A Motorcycle & A Mission: The Downshift Episode 18

To Victoria Falls Full HD Smartphone Motorcycle Adventure

Remembering Lilly

Dear Lilly
I am what I am because you so unselfishly ensured that I was and would be....

You fed me, clothed me, took me to school and by example taught me right from wrong.

You reared me to be kind, loving, gentle and humble.

To be a man.....strong and courageous. A man others would count on.

So today my beautiful mother, I honour and salute you, despite you not being able to see the fruit and evidence of your dedicated work.

I hope you are happy with me Lilly,

My heart wants you to know that nothing would have blessed me more than having you here, enjoying my life as it is and in the way that you so humbly prayed it would be.

Thank you Lilly.......thank you for loving me my dearest mother,

Thank you so much


Dedicated to the unforgettable memory of "Lilly".
(mothers day ~13 May 2012)




Copyright (C) 2012
Patrick Terry Galloway

Patrick Terry Galloway's creative works selected for International Anthology

By: Beulah Faith Kleinveldt


A few months ago at the prompting of Sir Ricky Mcgentleman, I submitted a variety of works from different authors for selection for the below anthology. After months of selection processes, 3 Patrick Terry Galloway pieces were selected. Its by no means a small feat if one considers that our works were considered standard enough to be featured alongside those of some of the best known and internationally acclaimed writers'.

To be internationally published and recognised at any level is a wonderful achievement and is every amateur author's dream come true....

I congratulate and salute Patrick Terry Galloway for his beautiful works and for making the selection. Shaabi will certainly be remembered. Soul and Mozzie too will live in many hearts forever and and their legacies and stories will pass through countries and homes they may never otherwise have reached.

In this way too you can share in and support this wonderful project and have your own paperback copy that will sit amongst your personal collection and know that at least 2 of the authors you are familiar or associated with and or even personally know.

Live Life: The Daydreamer’s Journal

An International Anthology of Short Stories and Poetry for Charity.

Edited by: Sir Ricky McGentleman - is an award winning author and editor who writes under a variety of names.

"Live Life" is Sir Ricky Mcgentleman's latest charity project.

http://www.livelifethedaydreamersjournal.com/

We all have skills and abilities in one area or another, but the question often is how to put these skills to work to accomplish something meaningful.

The goal of Live Life: The Daydreamer’s Journal was to bring writers, poets, and artists from across the world together to create an anthology of short stories and poetry, all the royalties being donated to The American Cancer Society. The pieces span all different themes, genres, and writing styles. The anthology was made possible thanks to the support of The University of Wisconsin Stout Honors Program, The University of Wisconsin Stout Chapter of Optimists International, and The University of Wisconsin Stout Psychology Club.

Live Life: The Daydreamer’s Journal has over 150 authors and artists from 22 different countries contributing.

Some of the contributors include Rita Dove and Marv Wolfman. Rita Dove is an award winning poet and former United States Poet Laureate. Marv Wolfman is an award winning comic book writer, who created the series Blade for Marvel comics and The New Teen Titans for DC comics. Other award winning authors include: Gwyneth Jones, David Brin, Judith Skillman, and Marilyn L. Taylor.

This anthology is truly great not only because of the quality of the works or the fact it raises money for cancer research, but also because it has so many people from different countries and backgrounds working together.

Live Life: The Daydreamer’s Journal is published in both paperback and e-book editions. You can find it at Amazon.com and Barnes and Nobel.

http://www.amazon.com/Live-Life-The-Daydreamers-Journal/dp/0615605907/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336037897&sr=8-1

Product Details

Paperback: 554 pages

Publisher: NinjaKnight Productions and Publishing (April 24, 2012)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0615605907

ISBN-13: 978-0615605906

Product Dimensions: 9 x 6 x 1.4 inches

Shipping Weight: 2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)

Purchase price: 12.50$ excl shipping (paperback)

SHAABI

The reflections of the past paints a picture filled with colour..glamour...love and wisdom!

Colours stream across and the memories run a distance from Paris to Dakar. Clashing from time to time and changing the landscape...creating no clear picture, none whatsoever!!



 Along this journey, I met a man....80 years young. My first thoughts of this pale fragile figure left no indent in my mind. He was like every other I had met before. Or so I thought.

He moved at a pace most old men do. Shuffling his feet, step by step, from a frame that was wrinkled in every corner. I had a thought that mirrored the desire to not be like him. Or maybe it was a consideration of what I would be like at that age. My face shrugs and the lines on my forehead portray the discontent of such a notion.

I was wrong... because he matched every move I made.
 HE TOPPED THE CHARTS WITH ME. He made me see that being young was just that. He strode the park in bliss; oblivion created by the curse of the brown bottle and yet he stood strong.

Shot for shot we led the course together. There I was, with the strength and physique of a leo, against the mind, wit and fatigue of a wiser man! And suddenly the picture changed.

Yellows, oranges and greens embrace the entire screen. There was something unique about this old man. His uniqueness becoming more and more obvious. I was about to learn that happiness is just that. What did I expect of an 80 year old frame, mind and character? Someone who sits quietly and bothers no one? Is that what I thought?

I was mistaken and he was proof of that. His shuffling walk almost, yet impossibly emulating the ancient rural Egyptian dance after which he was aptly named. Its energies moving from the male Tahtib or warrior dance to the female Ghawazee that has captivated Western travellers for centuries. His spirit touched me somehow and spoke of ancient desires and secrets which passed through his soul. This aged warrior showed me that happiness at his age was to live life to its fullest. Wake in the morning, do whatever makes you happy and sleep as little as possible. Spend as much time laughing, drink and be merry (if thats what you did or wished to do).


It is said that the life of man is determined by the achievements of his past. Now who is to judge and say the past wasn't what any man wanted?



I say........... for the expanse of a man's life, let him be happy.

I say, let men be Shaabi

Patrick Terry Galloway

Copyright (C) 2011

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSPOkc6Xd3M (Shaabi dance)

My brother, My friend

A tribute to Mozzie Joe Galloway
Raindrops fell fom the sky.   
Each drop signifying the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. They symbolise a tribute to life and they continue falling.....like clock work!

I recall the story where God promised that rain would never flood the earth again. 
 My mind races, tracing the greatness of the flush from the sky. likening it to the many days on the earth. Each drop cooling the land from the heat of the day.

I remember that there is a God. A good and lifegiving God. And so I go on, moment after moment, day after day; grateful that He has blessed me abundantly; grateful that He has blessed my children, family and friends! Grateful that like every drop of rain, He has blessed us with life, for every second and every minute of everyday.



However, what I do not forget, is that just as He promised not to flood the earth again.... the drops of rain will also end and so too does life.
 At least it does, upon this earth, upon this land.

Mozzie, my brother, my friend. Our days will never end. There is a promise that holds true.... that in the herein and hereafter..........


we live on.

Copyright © 2011

Author: Patrick Terry Galloway

We called him Soul - The life and legacy of Errol Felix Galloway

He was like the sun that comes out and fulfills its purpose according to plan. He commanded the time, space, respect and the attention. There was an aura that enshrouded him and left one awed and amazed at how he was able to manage his life in such a positive and disciplined manner. He was Errol Felix Galloway, but we called him “Soul”.

Being the eldest of twelve he knew that all eyes were directed towards him. He was smart, charming, handsome, wise and shrewd...all that and more! He therefore strove to achieve high standards and ensure that the lessons were good, easy to learn and understand. He was a tall man who walked through the wind and amongst the trees. Astute, poised, confident and driven. Mature in mind and crafty in intent, he could create out of nothing.

“Soul” took risks along the way and worked hard to achieve the ultimate. A figure that stood strong amongst friends, within the community, on the sports field and in the workplace. A powerful force able to captivate and draw you into an embrace hard to simulate. A mere handshake could leave its mark upon the archives of your memory.

This was my time of growth and an era for forming my own aspirations. “Soul” was my role model. His life bore the evidence and fruit of positive thinking and attitude. I wanted to uncover the secrets to his success. But suddenly the universe halted in its tracks and stopped......life changed........my life changed.

Errol Felix Galloway was dying. His medical results were positive and the prognosis alarming. The announcement wrought emotional and psychological devastation. It left me in a tunnel of absolute desolation and unable to vocalize my pain. I had no one to tell, no one to talk to, though my family fluttered around me. I felt it was unlikely they could empathise because they didn't know or understand me, neither the depth of my grief. I was alone with my thoughts and carried my dread deep within. I was a solitary figure wandering through a maze of uncertainty crowned with questions. Still, “Soul” remained strong and unchanging.

I carried him.......Literally. His body waned and weak. His immunity low. One memory in particular, of me carrying him, still clutches my heart and digs into me till it feels like yesterday. He was cradled in my arms like an infant, he looked up into my face, into my eyes and said, “I'm sorry.........thank you”. The unshed tears choked and killed my reply. What could I say? Yet I wanted to say so much. I wanted him to know how much I loved him. How much I would miss him. I wanted him to understand what a void would be left once he was gone. But words wouldn't come. I held him closer and tighter, my heart bowed in silent sorrow.

My ambitions seemed to hide from the heartrenching sight of brother carrying brother. The younger would outlive the eldest of twelve. His head lay heavily against my arm, his own around my waist holding on, and in those moments “Soul” gave me more than I could ever have asked for. A moment that made me realise that somehow, the essence of who we are, lives on. His wife whispered in my ear, “if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing”. No regrets, only sun filled memories.

His body had succumbed to malady and Heaven mercifully called. The tall and slender silhouette bade his time. He had run the race, kept good faith and now his journey was done. Even as death stripped him “Soul” remained strong, he conquered and won.

It was a sad and sorrowful day. Laughter turned to mourning. Summer had turned to winter. Darkness blanketed the glow of the warming sun..............

ashes to ashes.........dust to dust.

That was then,

but now and to this day,

one thing remains certain and sure;

This husband, father and friend, lived life, loved laughter and left a legacy I want to follow

Even in the throes of death, my brother was a winner,

He was Errol Felix Galloway

But we called him “Soul”.

Copyright © 2011

Author: Patrick Terry Galloway

Dedicated to the memory of Errol Felix Galloway

Triumph over fear

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. 


The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid but he who conquers that fear". 

 Nelson Mandela

Into the light

I have come to believe that there are infinite passageways out of the shadows, infinite vehicles to transport us into the light.

Martha Beck

Road Accident statistics and reports in South Africa

http://www.focusontransport.co.za/regulars/focus-on-bus-and-coach/bus-and-coach/590-fatal-crashes-why-south-africa-has-such-a-bad-reputation.html

A trucker called Daniel Jordaan

He climbed up into the drivers seat. She was untouched and untried. He couldn't help but admire the Tippers interior, the deep blue and feel of her. This was a superdumpster and the thrill pulled at him. His assistant Vusi, shone with excitement. Today he was to give this Tipper the time of her life. That was the intention anyway but anxiety and worry oozed from every pore. He wasn't himself. He felt the weight of life like a sandbag on each shoulder....his back bent by stress. The office decided he would be given a new model to try out. Not the best day for him but he couldn't tell them that. Management processes and changes had placed his job on the line and his family needed to be fed and bills paid. 30 long years. Thats how far back he'd been driving trucks. Sleepers, flatbeds, tippers or dumpsters and waste management trucks. He even tried his hand at cranes. There wasn't a truck he couldn't manage.

The memories of his life on the road were endless. Exhausting, joyous and endless. Motel after motel. He could write a book. His back hurt somewhat, pain shooting down his left arm, his chest felt heavy. He'd had the pain for sometime now but preferred to ignore it. The job had to be done. He was the best man for it. The heat plundered him today. The condition of the roads were becoming more and more treacherous. He steered her carefully and finally the open road greeted him with applause. The radio crackled and creeked but eventually worked well and communications check was in place. Dollie Parton assured him that she would always love him. But his mind was on other things. His attentions shifted. During the next hour or more his focus remained divided. He saw Vusi's gestures in his peripheral vision but ignored him. He didn't feel like conversing or getting into any small talk. Sweat trickled from his brow and he impatiently and irritably swiped at it. The easy sights of scenic landscapes did little to settle him. His nerves were raw and on edge. Before long the auction would be upon him. The truck swerved but he was oblivious to its movements. Seemed as if he was driving on autopilot though he felt the strain of concentration in each muscle.

“Daniel?…....Daniel, the trailer feels shaky, Daniel!” Vusi called but he paid little attention. He kept driving, wanting to reach his destination in good time so he could lay his head down and find some quiet and rest. He needed to think. He lifted his hand in acknowledgement so that Vusi wouldn't think him rude. His house, his home, his family. What can a man do after he has done and tried everything. He had to think. He had to come up with a plan that would solve the problem for all. A plan to save his family. Another pothole, damn! This baby was made for difficult terrain but he really needed to report the condition of this route. It was appalling! Beauty felt heavy in his hand, choked and spluttered a few times too. Strange. He'd never quite felt that way about a new one. They were normally smooth and easy. But today was different. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. But he had to keep going, his family needed him to.

Again Vusi seemed to be gesturing to him. His voice sounded frantic as he touched Daniels arm. But Daniel wasn't listening though Vusi's voice came to him loud and clear. “Not now Vusi”, his own sounding dry and cold.........strained. “Captain! Captain, watch out”! He heard Vusi''s screams too late as his beauty jerked and jumped, her back swaying and swerving vigorously across the road. “Oh God, Vusi”!. He saw his family, his home, his house. He was unaware he had hit a curb at a speed he would normally never drive on this road. “Get down Vusi, he shouted, “get down my friend”. Beauty veered to the left even though his hands were urging her to turn right. “C'mon love”! he shouted as he had done many times during the 30 years he had driven new company vehicles. “You can do this”! But beauty was hurt, her bearings had been injured and her wheel had come undone.

She threw her body down, like a toddler in a tantrum, wheels spinning, her nose stricken with pain, leaving a trailer of banged up twisted metal. Daniel threw up his arms as if to ward off the blows from the shattering glass, but his head was flung against the door. The impact cracking his skull like a walnut. From then on out the captain felt nothing. 

Beauty's heart made a raucous coughing sound as she slithered across the road, yet all the while her nose remained erect in a typically dignified manner that would delight any CAT manufacturer. A deathly silence meandered towards them and accompanied the whooshing sound of spinning wheels. Vusi lay on the floor, in a bloody heap with broken legs and punctured spleen. Daniel thought of his family. “help them God...........and be with them, …......please” he prayed. He felt so tired. His body succumbed to its injuries and while drifting off, he silently pleaded to God for his family and for their daily need. “A clear motorway.......what a miracle, thank you God”.

Peter Armstrong, who was Daniel and Vusi's superior, hurriedly arrived at the scene and peered inside the once beautiful Tipper. As company management, he came prepared to assess the wreckage piled in the centre of what is deemed to be one of the cities busiest motorways. But when he saw Vusi's hand grasp the hand of the man whom he endearingly called “captain”, he turned his head in sadness. Vusi had driven with Daniel for 15 long years. Peter lifted Daniel Jordaan's body and settled his head against the head rest. Then he squared Daniels shoulders, wiped the streaks of blood and sweat from his bruised face and straightened his shirt. Peter removed his suits jacket and covered the body of Daniel Jordaan. “I salute you Captain”, he said, “you did well”. Silence dropped its head in acknowledgement and the slow whooshy sound of spinning wheels echoed its sorrow.

The family of Daniel Jordaan will never know that his last drive was just for them.

Author: ~BFK~
Copyright (C) 2012

Dedicated to the truckers who have lost their lives in road accidents.

All names used in this story are fictitious and bears no reference to any persons living or dead, though sketched situations and circumstances may share similarities to reported road accidents.

Love what you do and do what you love

"Far and away the best prize life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.”

 Theodore Roosevelt

Do what you love

The City of Cape Town beautifully captured by Kate Turkington

http://www.iol.co.za/travel/south-africa/western-cape/the-superlative-cape-1.1236475

The Value of a Man

The true character and value of a man is determined by the challenges he has overcome and his ability to rise after falling.

Patrick Terry Galloway

Links to alternate creative works by Patrick Terry Galloway

http://beulahkleinveldt.blogspot.com/2012/02/we-called-him-soul-life-and-legacy-of.html

http://beulahkleinveldt.blogspot.com/2011/12/tribute-to-mozzie-joe-galloway-my.html

http://beulahkleinveldt.blogspot.com/2011/12/shaabi.html

More about Patrick Terry Galloway

The focus of a man who aims to win

Patrick's mistress is golf and nothing stops this former professional basketball, soccer player and unassuming gentleman from achieving his objectives on any course.  Simply put, Patrick aims to win.........always.  He thrives in the outdoors and pursues adrenaline based activity.

He is silent though not shy about his writing prowess but at the stroke of a pen delivers heartwarming, controversial, humorous and between the eye facts and stories delivered with precision and leaves the reader with the desire to respond and engage.

PTG (as known by many) has a mind and heart that has been nurtured and moulded by life's many gemstones.  Some not always handed to him with ease.  His journey has been and is complexed and at some levels complicated but it has produced a soul of integrity, the honor, strength and focus of a knight and the backbone of a man who stands strong in his convictions.  

We are graced with a spiritual man of substance, who understands and believes that God is the source of all life and wisdom.  

Indeed, Patrick Terry Galloway is ............  "A soldier without a gun".

Patrick and his caddy

Compiled by:  Beulah Faith Kleinveldt

http://beulahkleinveldt.blogspot.com
Content and photo's: By permission (all rights reserved)

Leadership Development Training & Consulting - Robin Sharma - Official Site

Leadership Development Training & Consulting - Robin Sharma - Official Site

Robin Sharma | Fear as Growth

Robin Sharma Articles | Fear as Growth

I remember watching CNN talk show host Larry King being interviewed on PBS by Charlie Rose. Said something that I've carried with me to this day. A simple point (like the best points): work out first thing in the morning - then what should get done gets done. Perfect.

Health is your wealth. Without it, you have nothing. You know that (do you live that though?). I had coffee with an amazing friend/thinker last week. He's in his early forties and operates at a rare level of fitness. “Robin, my philosophy is that the way I treat my body now determines whether I'll be healthy or sick when I'm seventy.” Brilliant insight. And he works out in the morning.

So here are the 7 reasons to exercise in the morning that I teach my executive coaching clients as well as the organizations we work with to unleash the potential of their people:

#1: As Larry King suggested, if you work out early, it just gets done. Otherwise, it's so easy to come up with excuses not to work out as your day unfolds (hungry/tired/stressed out/need to go home to my family/tomorrow will be a better day to do it)

#2. By working out in the morning, you actually jump start your metabolism and start up your fat burning engine within. So your workout has an even greater impact and more leverage.

#3. By working out in the morning, you'll make better choices around your diet (isn't that true?...when we feel fit, we eat better)

#4. The burst of energy that an early morning workout provokes will sustain you and keep you energized all day. Increases your stamina.

#5. The endorphin rush that your morning workout generates makes you feel happy - which carries through each of your day's remaining hours (that alone is worth it; there IS a “secret” to happiness. Cost: a pair of running shoes).

#6: An early morning workout burns off your stress. And it increases your perspective. Problems just don't seem as big. And creativity soars. You can handle the day with far greater focus, resilience to change and calmness.

#7. The morning workout will help you to think more clearly. As the best businesspeople are those who are the best thinkers (and decision-makers).

So join me. Please. Get up early and exercise. Simple idea. That just might revolutionize your career as well as your life.

Flowers at the Crossroads

There is an unparalleled element connected to farms. One that is caressed by an ambience of open spaces that undulate with hills and mountains and rivers and trees that stretch in all directions and are graced with a kaleidoscope of greens, browns, and wherever possible, shades of yellow. An assortment of animal species patrol the territory and from time to time add music to the winds that, together with nature cause the open spaces to evolve. The display of these colours leaves an earthy perception of activity upon the land. Yet as darkness invades the night the sound of silence settles into this space.

Amongst the peaceful and picturesque heaving hills, workers till the land that give rise to products that produce economic strength and adds value to families and nations. Farm inhabitants are a humble people. Their lives revolve around waking early in the morning, attending and nurturing crops then returning home at sunset. Home could be classified as a small domicile which can seldom maintain, neither accommodate the numbers that require dwelling space. In the distance and beyond the hills, the “boss” relaxes with raised feet, sips on a beer and is attended by his meek wife; all in the comfort of his huge and comfortable home.

Farm life is different........very different. Though the hills and valleys evolve with time, the people do not. This mundane lifestyle has its robust moments. Come weekends, farming communities suddenly burst forth with fun and folly. Alcohol, like the “makavusi” flows freely and serves as a catalyst for conflict amongst those who normally, from Monday to Friday work the fields as a united force. The children conform to this lifestyle. They have the option of leaving for the concrete jungles of the city in search of the fulfillment and excitement of better living conditions, fast cars, finance and education, lest they too become farm workers and continue the legacy of their fathers and forefathers. The same children who are the “Flokkies” (Flowers) that flutter upon the hills and over the valleys and bring zest to farm life. The Flowers that bud and blossom from day to day, then decide to leave or to remain.

“Flowers” is one of these children who woke in the freshness of the morning and watched the evolution of production to product. Bread and tea for every meal. A young girl born and raised to carry on the traditions of being a farm worker. But “Flowers” desired something more, she needed something different. Her thoughts were wandering north, to the bright lights, the land of big dreams and fast cars; to the hangout of all the pretty boys and completely unaware of the many challenges her ambitions and desired migration wrought. The big city lights were nothing like the snail paced farm life she was accustomed to. On the roads prowled lions with quick minds and mouths that made bad situations appear favourable. A place where jobs demanded results and tricksters who dealt a fraudulent hand would hastily strip you of your dignity. A tough world easily able to consume any farm migrant.

“Flowers” was determined to succeed. She strode the city streets with caution, living life on the safe side as she faced her daily challenges. She focused upon and maintained her biblical teachings which became paramount to securing her steadiness in a big city. She may have left the fields, but her mind and mannerisms remained there. Her heart followed suit. She evaded city men like a rash for in some ways she was afraid of them. They moved too fast and though she was excited and flattered by their attraction to a farm girl, she desisted their advances. It therefore didnt take too long and “Flowers” committed to and married a man from her home town.

She bore two beautiful daughters and in addition to working everyday, had to learn how to balance being a working wife and mother. Her husband too had to learn the ways of the city and its many pitfalls and flawed capacity to empower neither positively impact a life. Their ideals were repeatedly challenged. The family flourished using the tools of their teachings to assist in moving through every day and as best they knew how.

But sadly, God had a different plan. Tragedy struck and very soon the farm girl was reduced to being both mother and father. A hurdle that life on the farm had not prepared her for. She played a tough charade but such spoofs has its consequences. The mental pressures took its toll. What she didn’t realise was that one's emotions are separate from our mental processes that have a much greater capacity to strengthen and assist in crossing valleys that seem to envelop us.

The more she endeavoured to maintain her delusive toughness the harder it got. There were good and bad scenarios that paraded before her. The bravado of farm life taught her that despite all, she should continue to believe in her teachings. “Flowers” turned her head towards the heavens and cried out to the Lord for help. An act most embrace when hitting the curb and not knowing which way to turn.

This courageous farmgirl with the dreams and aspirations of city success and progressive sophistication was no different. She prayed for a sign that would alleviate her immediate centre of barrenness.

She was now standing at a crossroad beholding a pool of signs with matching script which were all immersed in colourful streams and flowers. Yellows, greens, blues, oranges, purples signaling the hope and opportunities before her. All she had to do was choose her which way to go.

This was a new lesson because whatever the choice, the farm to city girl needed to realize that it was just that and she could always return to the “Flowers at the Crossroads”.

South Africa hosts a rich legacy of diverse people, cultures and languages. Afrikaans being one of many. In Flowers At The Crossroads, the afrikaans word “Flokkies” means “Flowers” and is pronounced as “Floorkiss”. The afrikaans language is most prevalent amongst farming communities in South Africa.

Copyright © 2011 
Author: Patrick Terry Galloway

Patrick Terry Galloway T/A PepaG Logistics - consultation and fleet management systems and solutions

http://resources.alibaba.com/user/userProfile.htm?userid=za1007287529

Patrick Terry Galloway is a one stop shop for all logistical requirements and fleet management expertise