It was 7am.
A regular 7am for about six billion, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine people around the world.
The moon had said goodbye to New Zealand and the sun was about to greet us with its beautiful yellow handshake on the horizon.
Mike, a young farmer's son, began his winter Saturdays like any other.
He had already laid out his rugby gear for later on.
He had three Weet-Bix and banana on toast for breakfast, and was getting ready to head out on to the farm.
But unlike every other Saturday in Southland, the sun was shining and the clouds in the sky were few and far between.
Mike put on his moleskins and gummies and headed to the yard to start the quad.
It was an old Honda - reliable, his father would tell him as he dusted the grime off the seat.
Mike knew what he was doing. He had done this hundreds of times before.
He started up the bike and headed off on to the rolling hills that New Zealand is so proud off.
Halfway up to the top of his farm is where he would begin to move the sheep.
Mike came across a gully ridge which was just a little bit steeper than he was comfortable with.
It wasn't long, but it was steep, and to go around would take at least another 15 minutes.
Mike balanced himself precariously on the top side of the bike as he rode across.
The bike slipped a little but he made it across, and after a small moment of relief, continued to the paddock.
After mustering the sheep off the block, Mike looked to the sky and noticed the sun was suddenly gone, tucked in behind a thick layer of clouds.
The rain began to set in, so on he pressed to make it home.
Once again Mike approached the gully face, only this time it was slippery and wet.
But once again Mike tackled the face and once again the bike slipped.
Only this time, it didn't power through. All four wheels were now spinning in motion, no longer creating any forward motion, and within seconds the bike had rolled, crushing and killing Mike.
Mike was someone's son.
Mike was someone's brother.
Mike was someone's cousin, nephew, best friend, and team-mate and school pupil.
Mike could have been yours.
He could have been someone you know now or even for the very unfortunate some of you, Mike could have been someone you knew.
Lucky for us, Mike is a fictional character, but in New Zealand, 850 injuries on quad bikes happen every year, and there are five fatalities, about 28% of all work-related farm deaths.
It's a dark corner in the room of New Zealand farming.
Farming in New Zealand has the highest fatality rate across all jobs, careers and trades in New Zealand, and is also responsible for 44% of ACC claims annually.
So what's the cause of all these injuries and deaths?Quad bike accidents top the list for work-related injuries and fatalities in the farming industry.
My theory on the cause is simple.
The old adages, the ''never say die'' and ''she'll be right'' attitudes of farmers up and down the country, are to blame.
I know this first-hand because I, my brothers, my father and even my mother all have this attitude.
It's bred into us.
But not just us.
My friend up the road believes his dad, on average, rolls his quad bike once if not twice a year.
He has also himself rolled the bike on many occasions.
The sad truth is that anything I say or do won't change his mind.
It's not through stubbornness that my message won't get through.
It's when push comes to shove, he won't stop and think twice before he crosses the gully face that's just a little steeper than what he's comfortable with.
Now farmers of the long white cloud, don't get me wrong.
This attitude is what has made this beautiful country what it is.
We would spend a lot more time around the smoko table having a cuppa and a gingernut if not for this ''well there's work to be done'' attitude that we have on our careers.
Farmers are the hardest working people I know and that's the fact, the job needs done and it will be done.
So with all this in mind, where do we go from here?Many small entrepreneurs up and down the country and all over the world are every day trying to answer this million-dollar question.
If any man or woman can come up with a successful solution to dramatically reduce the number of quad bike deaths and injuries, people will be lining up all over the globe for the latest and greatest thing in quad bike safety.
And with a little nudge from the Government, it might just become mandatory to have it.
But for now, here's the challenge I have for all the sheep and beef (maybe some dairy) farmers around the country.
I'm not asking you to wear a flimsy plastic helmet.
I'm not asking you to only drive your quad on perfectly level ground.
I'm not asking you to go find the latest technology on quad bike studies.
I'm not even asking you to put tracks around your farm.
All I am asking is for you to stop and think before you try to ride over that gully face.
There is always another way.
• By Hamish Watson, Year 13, Gore High School
