PARTNERSHIP PLATFORMS

Many years ago a friend offered to take me to work on his prized 1000cc Yamaha. It turned out to be a horrific ride for us both. In my case the fear factors were – I had no helmet on (they weren’t compulsory at the time), I was wearing only a light summer dress with platform-soled sandals, and he was going really fast. As my wind-whipped eyelids peeled back I remember thinking two things, “OMG – I probably look like Marty Feldman!” and, “Never again!” How right I was.

At the end of the trip I wobbled my way into work. Then I realised – “I’m not wobbling, my sandals are.” A quick look revealed an exhaust pipe-shaped hollow of melted synthetic in both soles that gave my every step the look of the proverbial drunken sailor. “Look at my shoes!” I wailed. But my friend was down on his knees staring tensely at his bike’s exhaust pipes.

Our friendship did not develop any further. In fact it didn’t survive the experience at all. But I learned a key principle from it – whether we’re going to make or break in a partnership depends on how far we’re willing to compromise. Out of those compromises will fall our bottom lines. And where those lie is best found out before we formalize the partnership.

Looking at the potential of the newly sworn in Far North District Council I’m reminded of my Yamaha experience with a few little variations.

The guy at the wheel of the Council bike looks and sounds the part of a seasoned rider (100%). But his pillion partners look like a fashion grab bag – some in leathers, others in chiffon. Still, he seems to be in control. Of course this bike is not blatting freely down the Awanui Straight. Rather, it’s inside a small arena being cheered by a hardened audience that seems prepared to give the bike and its riders a newbie’s chance. But it’s only a matter of time before some of them start lobbing rocks, even explosives, on to the track. And, believe me, this crowd will not be averse to seeing blood on the ground if or when the bike and its riders wipe out. Add to the spectacle one or two rogue riders on their own bikes, running their own races, and there’s always a prang in the offing.

The frame of the Council bike itself is another matter altogether. Instead of resembling high tensile steel, it’s more like bamboo with a bad case of borer. Shoot! How’d you like to try strapping a 1000cc engine on something like that and opening the throttle? To top it all off, waiting in the pit-stop to service the Council bike is a crew who know that the riders will take any glory, while any blame will be theirs. In the words of the immortal Charlie Chan, “Vel-ly intelesting.”

His Mayoralty and partners will have considered all these things, I’m sure. They’ll have plans (either already in place or being scoped) to replace this valve, reinforce that joint, hold everything together, keep it all on course.

My advice to them all is simple. If they want to stay on this particular bike and not get booted off at the next pit-stop, then they’d do well to watch where they put their feet.

Hei konei. Hei kona.