05/08/2026
Vale Bob Montgomery
5 January 1944 – 3 August 2026
Over the past few days, I've found myself reflecting on the conversations Bob and I shared during One Last Ride
Remembering Bob
Some people measure a life by how much they accumulate.
Others measure it by the difference they leave behind.
Bob Montgomery showed people what mattered to him through the way he lived.
For weeks, I had the privilege of travelling alongside Bob, Jenny and Tom on their journey from Broome to Bowral. Most people saw the kilometres, the fundraising and the incredible physical effort. They saw the photos, the smiles and the finish line.
What many didn't see were the conversations.
Bob and I often spoke about faith, purpose, service, and what it means to live a life that reaches beyond ourselves. His Catholic faith was alive in the way he lived. It was reflected in his kindness, his humility, his generosity and his unwavering commitment to serving others.
That same spirit could be felt throughout his family. Spending time with Bob, Jenny, and their family, I was struck by the depth of love they have for each other. Every conversation, every embrace and every act of kindness reflected a family built on love, generosity and genuine care. To witness that kind of love was a gift in itself.
Although Bob and I came from different backgrounds and experiences, we discovered we were searching for many of the same truths.
One conversation we returned to time and time again was ego.
Along the journey, we met people from all walks of life. Now and then we'd meet someone whose world seemed to begin and end with themselves. Bob would quietly roll his eyes, catch my eye with that unmistakable smile and whisper, "The bloody ego.”
Then we'd laugh.
Not because we were judging anyone, but because we'd both discovered that life becomes so much lighter when it stops revolving around us.
One of the greatest lessons this journey has reinforced for me is this:
"A meaningful life is found by doing things greater than yourself."
When your purpose becomes bigger than yourself, life changes. A life centred on the self will always feel limited, but a life lived in service of others has no limits because its purpose is found beyond the self. That's when you realise that giving isn't something you lose—it's something you gain.
That was Bob.
Months before we left on the ride, Bob and I were talking about addiction, recovery, psychology, faith and the extraordinary capacity people have to change. I shared some of the books that had helped me better understand addiction and the path to lasting change.
Not long afterwards, Bob bought one of those books.
True to form, he wanted to understand those ideas more deeply and explore how they could complement his faith as he continued encouraging and supporting young people.
He was always learning—not to become more knowledgeable, but to become more useful.
One Last Ride marked the end of Bob's long-distance endurance rides.
It didn't mark the end of his desire to serve others.
Long before we reached Bowral, his thoughts had already turned to what he could do next.
On Sunday night, after we arrived home, I stayed with Bob and Jenny. It was too late to unpack the van, so we shared dinner and celebrated everything we'd achieved.
Then Bob looked at me and simply asked,
"What's next?"
I smiled.
"I don't know, Bob... what's next?"
Looking back now, those words have taken on a meaning neither of us could have imagined.
Bob had completed the ride he set out to do.
And even then, his thoughts were already reaching beyond the finish line.
Perhaps that question wasn't only for me.
Perhaps it was for all of us.
What's next?
How do we honour a man who spent his life asking how he could help someone else?
How do we continue the work of a man who believed that service wasn't an obligation, but a privilege?
Bob's heart may have stopped beating, but the lives he touched haven't.
His kindness continues.
His faith continues.
His example continues.
His generosity continues.
The difference he made continues.
Thank you, Bob.
Your legacy lives on.
