22 May 2026

The year is moving far too fast for my liking, although there is little any of us can do to slow the passing of time. Tempus fugit — time flies — and it certainly does.

It has now been three years since that unforgettable journey through the Simpson Desert, where my vehicle suffered catastrophic damage after striking a severe washout between Camps 7 and 8 on the Madigan Line.

As many already know, what followed was not simply the aftermath of an outback accident, but a further fourteen months locked in a relentless battle with the insurer — an insurer I had trusted to support me and assess my claim with the honesty, fairness, and decency that every policyholder has a right to expect.

Instead, the handling of my claim became something I could never have imagined. Until that point in my life, I had never found myself in a position where I was forced to fight so hard simply for the truth to be acknowledged.

While I accept that I had placed myself in that environment, the incident itself was obviously unintentionally, I believe the insurer adopted an approach to my claim that was unnecessarily adversarial, dismissive, and at times fundamentally inconsistent with the obligations imposed under Australian insurance law.

Section 13 of the Insurance Contracts Act 1984 imposes a statutory duty of utmost good faith (uberrima fides) on both insurer and insured alike. It requires honesty, fairness, transparency, and reasonableness throughout the life of the policy and, most importantly, during the claims assessment process.

A failure to meet that obligation is not merely poor customer service; it can constitute a breach of both the insurance contract and the Act itself. Unfair claims handling may expose insurers to regulatory scrutiny, civil penalties, and compensatory outcomes.

Although my claim was ultimately accepted, I remain firmly of the view that this outcome only occurred following my decision to escalate the matter to AFCA — the Australian Financial Complaints Authority. While AFCA did not formally determine the dispute, their involvement appeared to bring a sudden and noticeable change to the insurer’s approach to the claim.

I often wonder how many other claimants experienced similar treatment but lacked the time, resources, or determination to continue pushing back.

My purpose in telling this story is not revenge or bitterness. It is accountability. Transparency within the insurance industry should never be reduced to a slogan or public relations exercise. It must remain a genuine obligation owed to every policyholder who places their trust in the system.

Sometimes persistence is not about confrontation. Sometimes it is simply about standing firm long enough for the truth to catch up.

I have now penned a book capturing the trip itself, the debacle of the claim and how it was mishandled, the ultimate and eventual successful outcome and what that looked like, and how I have moved on from that incident. 

The book is titled 'The Long Road' for it certainly was indeed. It will be published shortly on my online bookstore at  https://books.by/rickcanhan

Welcome to my Books Store

I'd like to let everyone know I have at this stage employed a 'Print on Demand' website to post my writings onto for display/purchase. I currently have a number of books with another book with two short stories within. All are available for purchase at prices that are more than reasonable.

I invite you to have a browse around and follow the prompts if you decide to make the purchase. Fortunately, with this print on demand process I will have more control on my works, and I will endeavor at times to introduce a few snap bonuses where I will put some titles up at either ridiculous prices or even free, (less postage) so keep checking back to ensure you don't miss out on any deals.

I would also welcome any feedback on my work, positive or otherwise, as you see fit. 

Go check it out. https://books.by/rickcanhan

The year is Twenty twenty six (2026)

Rick Canhan is an Australian writer, Army veteran, Justice of the Peace, father and grandfather, speaker, and advocate whose work is grounded in lived experience. Born in the UK in 1959, he spent part of his early childhood in institutional care—an experience that shaped a lifelong commitment to truth, accountability, and resilience.

Following a diverse working life, Rick now focuses on writing and public advocacy. He supports people harmed in care, raises funds for veteran-focused initiatives, and advocates broadly for men’s health and wellbeing. His work centers on recognition, reform, and constructive change, with an emphasis on dignity, fairness, and long-term recovery.

Measured, direct, and principled, Rick’s voice is guided by the belief that speaking truthfully—without exaggeration or malice—is essential to justice, healing, and ensuring that unheard voices are finally acknowledged.

Then this happened....

I recently stumbled across this old BlogSpot I created years ago, and for reasons I still can’t explain, I haven’t written an entry since late 2019. I’m not entirely sure what happened. My stepfather did pass away around that time, but I don’t believe that event had a major impact on my life, so it must have been something else.

It feels almost as though I’ve suddenly been transported to the year 2025—right to the end of it, in December. So much has happened since 2019 that I hardly know where to begin. Tracey and I are still living in Glasshouse Mountains, and our eldest granddaughter, Annabelle, who is now eleven, has been living with us since October 2024. That situation is a long and sad story in itself; one I won’t go too far into here. I will say only that we’re hoping the state will allow Annabelle to live with her father, our youngest son, James—the person she desperately wants to be with.

I’m still writing, although I went through a period where my mind seemed to wander off without me. I found myself dealing with some mental health challenges—something I can’t deny. I wouldn’t claim I’m completely past it, but I’m certainly in a much better place than I was a few years ago. My self-confidence and sense of self-worth took a hit, along with everything else that comes with that kind of struggle. I’ve documented a lot of it over the years—enough to fill several books, though I doubt many people would want to read that. I’ve often joked about calling it The Scribblings of a Strange and Unusual Man. I probably have enough written to make it a multi-volume set. Maybe I’ll keep that idea tucked away for the future.

Naturally, all of this has forced me to take a long, serious look at my life. I can’t change the past, but I can try to correct or improve the things I still have some influence over. My mum passed away in 2023, and although that was a significant event, I feel she is finally at peace. Her last few years were far from pleasant—both for her and for many of us around her.

We had tried to convince her that a nursing home would be the safest place for her. She was prone to frequent falls and spent most days alone. After a couple of incidents where she fell and couldn’t reach her medical lifeline—which she always left in the kitchen before falling in the bathroom—she eventually realized she wasn’t safe at home. She agreed to enter the nursing home, where she continued to fall, but at least there she received immediate care, and they soon put protective measures in place.

Even with Mum in care, I essentially became her carer. I held her Enduring Power of Attorney and Advanced Health Directive—documents I believe everyone should have in place while they are still mentally able to make those decisions. Mum had several health issues. Parkinson’s took a heavy toll, she’d had multiple knee surgeries, and her weight didn’t help. She was also her own worst enemy at times, refusing to do the therapy needed to keep her legs strong. The wheelchair, meant to be a temporary aid during therapy, became something she believed she couldn’t live without, even though initially there was no medical reason she couldn’t walk.

After her last surgery—though I can’t even recall what it was for—she suffered post-operative delirium. That was the beginning of her real decline. She was never the same again. She became aggressive with the staff, and I was constantly called in to calm her. Eventually I had to take away her phone and credit cards because she began ordering furniture and other items, she had no use for and couldn’t possibly have at the nursing home. I lost count of how many conversations I had with retailers, cancelling orders she’d placed.

As her behavior worsened, the staff asked for my permission to move her to the secure ward—for her safety, and for the safety of residents and staff. I agreed, because I knew it was necessary, but it broke my heart to leave her behind that locked door. She truly believed I had imprisoned her.

One of the hardest moments came when they presented me with a document titled Approval for Chemical Restraint. They needed my written consent to medicate her during violent outbursts. Signing that form—authorizing them to chemically restrain my own mother—was one of the most painful decisions I have ever made.

I think I’ll leave it there for now. I have so much to catch up on, but for now, writing all of this has been emotionally taxing, and I need a moment to breathe.

Xmas Eve 2019 21:15

It has started to rain, and don't we need it badly. I just hope it lasts. Wow, Thunder and lightning. Heavy rain is falling on the Glass House Mountains. Best Crissie present ever. I hope everyone is getting some rain too.

Xmas Day 2019 09:30 It's all very quiet on the eastern front of Glass House Mountains. It's still wet outside, but not raining anymore, hopefully, we'll get some more throughout the day. The silence will soon be shattered by the onslaught of grandchildren arriving in waves, wonderful experience. My mum has rung three times already, asking who is picking her up, bless her. It's all arranged mum I tell her, just like it was five minutes ago.
It's a little muggy so we've got the air conditioners on to cool the house to an acceptable temperature. The ham is about to sliced up and the prawns are defrosting. So much food and so little time to eat it all, although I don't know why we put ourselves through the stress of preparing festivities for just one day. We should live every day with gusto, making the most out of everything you do.

I saw the Hand Therapist yesterday and she is happy with the progress of my right elbow, still a way to go. Still another ten days or so before they will allow me to drive a vehicle. It has been so frustrating being hamstrung from using the right arm, especially as my left arm is still functioning at less than 30%, The woes of turning 60 years of age I suppose. I'm being strong and maintaining a positive outlook because I have much to do in preparation for my big treck next year.

The initial stages of readiness for the "Back to the Track 2020" has been going well, I had the majority of the mechanical aspects for the Jeep completed prior to my Surgery in November with the aid my chief Machanic, Ted Martin. I so wish he could come with us next year. We need to do a few long-distance trials, testing both driver and vehicle endurance, as there will be some long days with upward of 300 kilometers on a number of days during the event.

Whoops! 10:30 Silence is broken, they've arrived.


Pandamonium!


Xmas Night 19:00 Peace finally achieved. Tracey and I are home alone once again. Rain has fallen steadily throughout the day although the sun did shine a few times during the day. As always at Xmas time too much food, drink, and merriment for one day, why do we do it? Pretty sure I've spoken to all that I ought to on this festive day. Although those that really count would not have been offended if by chance we'd missed a call or two. That's life.

I do trust you all faired well on this day, hopefully not eaten or drunk too much. Overall I do hope you have enjoyed the friendship, companionship That this generally brings. So looking forward to the New Year and the countdown to "Back to the Track 2020" will click over to six months, and so it begins.

Tasmania trip

My wife, Tracey and I recently spent two weeks traveling around Tasmania and what an awesome state to visit. There is so much to see in Tassie it's unbelievable, two weeks was just not long enough. We flew into Tasmanian to a (apparently unseasonal) rainstorm. No sooner were we in the hire car and we were being buffered by almost cyclonic winds and rain. Welcome to Tassie I thought. Regardless we braved the wet for a few days in Hobart before we headed North West on our tour of the Apple Isle. The tourist spots like the Harbour, Shot Tower and then to MONA (Museum Of New Art) which was certainly an eye opener.

The countryside rolled along and the weather improved slightly, historic Richmond, Strahan, Queenstown and Cradle Mountain (awesome) Devonport, Stanley, Launceston, Swansea and finishing at Port Arthur before heading back to the airport to fly home. Definitely would like to see more of this great little state.

Happy New Year

It's 2018 

It's not like we didn't know it was coming either. Well, it's here so let's embrace the new year with the same gusto of previous years. 

I would like to wish you all the very best for the coming year.