JUST A QUIET EASTER
Trevor wrote:Just a quiet Easter at home was all I planned. Quiet relaxation; simple bliss. We made Easter cards as a family and sent them relatives. One of the recipients of a Given family Easter card was Uncle Dick and Auntie Jean; a pleasant elderly couple who live three hours away in Orange NSW. We had promised to go and visit them ages ago, but had never quite gotten around to it. Apparently their card had a message from a cotton wool Easter bunny on it that said "get ready for a visit from me soon".
Uncle Dick erroneously interpreted this as indicating that the Given family were planning to visit over Easter. Imagine the expression on my face when dear old Uncle Dick rang excitedly to ask when we were coming. "I've got plenty of extra food and Aunty Jean has got the guest bedrooms all fixed up for you" gushed an eager Uncle Dick. Well, how are you at crushing the hopes of the frail and elderly? Better than me, if you could find a way out of this unexpected social obligation. The best I could manage was to announce that we were going up for a day trip on Easter Monday and offer my profound regrets that we couldn't stay longer. I was resolute to the point of stone-heartedness resisting all pleas to "at least stay overnight so you won't be tired out by the trip". I felt guilty about my tardiness in not looking up my relatives and in this case at not staying longer.
It had been over two years since we moved to Canberra and I had been promising to visit ever since we arrived. On the other hand, I hadn't been planning a trip. It was really quite awkward. Sue had an ear infection which was causing her discomfort and my Tarago had been playing up. If we were going to go then it would have to be in Sue's car; the twenty year old Sigma that Sue's Father had given her on his deathbed last year. It wasn't much of a bequeathment. Her Father had used the car as a cross between a transportation device and a kennel for his dogs. It smelled and looked unreliable but it worked and Sue had lovingly nursed it back from South Australia to Canberra. She had already spent more on the car than it was worth but for her it wasn't just a car it was a manifestation of her father. They hadn't been close in life and by attending to the needs of her car it was as if she were forging some sort of bond between her father and herself that hadn't existed in life. People are complex creatures aren't they?
I was already regretting the decision to go but there didn't seem any way out. Still, the trip would fulfil my commitment to visit and it was only for one day after all. A little discomfort in a smelly old car with my wife and three kids was not too much of a price to pay and maybe it would be good to go on a bit of a trip. So my elderly Uncle and Aunt slipped into their beds that night happy that they would soon hear the laughter of small children and could forge anew the bonds of distant family. As they snuggled into their soft pillows the only thoughts occupying their minds were the wish that 'if only their visitors could stay longer'. Little did they know that the dream-fairies were listening and that soon their wishes would come true!
The day of the trip arrived. Sue's ear was worse but the weather was lovely and we set off. The car ran well and I was imbued with a new respect for its abilities. We had a good run across to Orange and were warmly greeted by Uncle Dick and Auntie Jean. A pleasant day ensued with the only blemish being the nausea felt by Sue. Her ear infection seemed to be affecting her middle ear causing some nausea and dizziness. Still, we all agreed it had been a good day and at about 7pm that evening we waved a fond farewell to dear old Dick and Jean as we left to return to the comfort of our own home. We were running late as we had delayed our departure to allow Sue time to have a 'lie down' but there seemed to be little to be concerned about. It was now however, quite dark and it would be late by the time of our arrival, still this seemed a small matter.
Dick had been kind enough to suggest a quicker way home. Go back through Cargo (a flyspeck on the map of New South Wales) he assured us we’d save 15 minutes off the trip. “The road to Cargo is a bit hilly and rough but its only a short stretch before you get back on the main road" he said grinning happily and waving goodbye. Well, I bet you know what was inevitably going to happen don't you boys and girls. Oh yes, it was a rough old road with thick vegetation right up to the road verge, no lighting and not very well travelled. Hmm, most assuredly not a good place to brake down!
Well, after about 20 kilometres the car seemed to smell hot. There were no warning lights on but Sue suggested we pull over and add more oil and water. I was reluctant to stop as there was almost no room to squeeze a car off the bitumen. However, a carsick wife with earache is no small force to be reckoned with and before long I had found a spot barely large enough to remove our car from the immediate danger of being hit by a passing vehicle. I dutifully added more oil and and water and prepared to get under way. But not so!! The car would not start. No amount of prayer or pleading could coax the engine back to life. “Dammit, I knew this would happen"!! Of course I didn't know it, otherwise I wouldn't have stopped the car but that's not really the point is it?
I turned on the internal light and fumbled for my wallet. Thank goodness I kept up my membership of the NRMA roadside assistance. I found my membership card and dialled in the number on my mobile phone. NOTHING! Nothing at all, the phone was out of range; there was no signal. BLAST! What to do now? I could see visions in my mind of John Farnham's television commercials standing in various desert localities in Australia, happily chatting to his friends on his mobile, telling them how wonderful Australia's mobile phone network is. His smug face saying "you can call virtually anyone from virtually anywhere in Australia". Big fat LIAR!!
It was pitch black and cold, the thought of spending the night in the car with a sick and irritable wife and three whining and frightened children was extremely unattractive. In desperation I decided to walk along the road to the top of a small hill to see if I could get a signal from there. The cold crunching walk was not rewarded with any signal but "Lo, what was that in the distance" I cried. I see a light! I didn't know what it was, but it represented civilisation and that was good enough for me. As I got closer it became clear that the light was coming from a farmhouse. Sure enough, there was a dirt road leading off the bitumen, if I followed the dirt track it would surely lead to the farmhouse and rescue!
Strangely however, as I struggled to follow the dirt track through the darkness it first ran parallel to the farmhouse and then veered away in the opposite direction. I was confused; surely the track and the farmhouse must connect? Apparently not; how then to get to my destination? I stood and stared at the light of my deliverance. Right, there is a straight line between me and that farmhouse, the only thing in between is a wire fence and I'm going over it! I reached for the fence and resolutely grabbed the top wire. It was only then that it occurred to me that the fence could be barbed or even electrified as I was later informed that most in this region were, but luck was on my side. Over I went, a little clumsily in true city slicker style, but effective enough. Looks like my luck has turned, I thought. "Gosh, I hope I don't step in something" I muttered to myself as I made my way cautiously across the paddock.
It was then that I heard it; an alien, deep-throated, rumbling, defiant sound. It was clearly an animal of some sort, but what? It sounded like the sort of sound a really large, massive animal would make. I stood still listening, and then, I felt the earth vibrate as a creature of enormous bulk approached in a steady gait towards me. By the starlight I could barely discern the bovine-like outline of a gigantic beast lumbering forward. Surely no earthly creature could take such form. This must have been a genetically modified abomination thundering down upon me to wreak savage vengeance upon the species responsible for its aberrant existence. Collecting my wits, I ran towards the safety of the distant fence determined to show the spawn of Satan a clean pair of runners.
There were answering bellows and more thunderous stirrings from left and right. A herd of beast-devils!! [bulls] I ran for my life and found, more by accident than design, the safety of the fence. Over I bound in one mighty leap only to find my tracksuit pants caught in the wire. I lurched earth-ward amidst a great tearing, rending sound before striking the dirt upside-down, still tangled in the wire like a victim of no-mans-land.
After extricating myself from the wire, I discovered that I had not suffered any major injury apart from that to my pride. The cattle-monsters were no doubt sniggering at my expense and it was clear from the sudden cold at my rear that the backside had been torn out my track pants. Tarnation! .. my best tracky daks! And oh, the charming contrast of my brilliant white boxers beneath the black trackpant material; clearly visible .. even by starlight.
Still, I had survived and the farmhouse was now easily accessible. I made my way through the dark to the front veranda and tiptoed across the broken floorboards of the porch towards the rusted fly-wire door. I knocked tentatively being acutely aware of my sudden vulnerability and shredded trousers. Thankfully, the inhabitants albeit rustic and gawkish, were friendly. I asked for the phone and they ushered me to a small back room.
I gratefully rang the NRMA roadside assistance. "What is your membership number sir" came the robotic voice down the telephone line. Hmm, a hurried search of my wallet revealed no membership card. "I'm sorry, I must have left it in car, I'm ringing from a farmhouse" I offered apologetically. "What is your car registration number sir" came the tart reply. Damn, its Sue's car what the hell is the rego number? "Ahh, I can't remember" I blurted out, "its my wife's car". The voice at the other end sighs audibly and asks what my name is with a discernable edge of disdain. I tell her, holding back the urge to vent frustration, knowing that I needed her, dammit! "Hold on sir", her voice disappears and I am placed on hold for what seems like an eternity. When she returns, the voice is triumphant "you have only one vehicle registered under that name, are you driving a Tarago? (knowing full well that I'm not). "No, I'm driving my wife's car" I repeat without bothering to hide my growing annoyance. "I'm sorry sir (she replied happily) that vehicle isn't covered under your membership".
Now surrendering to the inevitable, I am reduced to wailing pathetically and bemoaning that in South Australia it's the member who is covered not the car. I am promptly informed that I'm not in South Australia and would I like to register my wife's car under my membership. "Yes', I reply like a good boy asking a mummy for help "I'd like to do that". "You'll need to call the membership line, the number is 131313 thank you for calling NRMA roadside assist" CLICK. The evil robot-woman disconnected me. I ring 131313. "Hello QANTAS booking office, can I help you" DAMN DAMN DAMN!! Those foul advertisers; where are the attractive women in fashionable uniforms waiting on the phone to do anything to assist the poor motorists who ring them for assistance?? More LIES! Eventually, I locate the correct number for NRMA membership and haggle pathetically with a stern woman who only agrees to send out a mechanic to assist me once I have paid $98 by credit card to have Sue's car covered under my membership.
It has been a long time. The gawkish farmers have not failed to notice that I have actually made several calls instead of the one that I asked for. Not wanting to offend their genuine assistance I pull the last $5 dollars from my wallet and offer it to them. "Oh, that's not necessary" says the eldest farmer, taking the money straight out of my hand and into his pocket. The farmers point me in the right direction to get back to the road and I start on the long walk back to the car. As I walk, a sense of triumph dawns on me. I have battled the hell beasts, crossed no-mans-land, torn my clothes, fought a loosing battle with NRMA but still I am triumphant. I have gone for help and I have obtained it despite the trials and bitter cold I endured.
I am nearly back to the car when the headlights of a rare passing vehicle illuminate the road ahead. The car is gone!I walk all the way to the exact spot where I know the car was located. Uncomprehendingly, I look around into the gloom as if the car might be hiding in the nearby bushes waiting to jump out and surprise me - as if playing some sort of trick. Resigned to the fact I am alone, I end up just standing there with my head angled up looking into the bright star filled night. WHY? WHY? I can understand that she might have gotten the car to start but why drive off without me? Where have they gone? What should I do now? Go back to the farmhouse? No, how could they find me there? Stay where I am? Its freezing; I have only a thin T shirt and track-suit pants with no bottom in them. Its pitch black; what choice do I have? If Sue has got the car going, then she will surely come back for me or send the police or Uncle Dick or someone. I will have to remain where I am.
For over two hours I stand there in the deepening chill stamping my feet to keep the circulation going and hugging myself to keep warm. Every now and then a car passes but nobody stops for the strange bearded man with ripped pants standing alone in the night. Finally a car's headlights appear and swerve over to the side of the road. I stumble across to the passenger side of what proves to be a battered land-rover to see the smiling face of my beloved chatting happily to the driver. She opens the door and greets me with an animated "Oh good your still here then, hop in and meet Phil".
The driver, Phil, turns out to be a young man with a broad rural accent who was kind enough to stop and assist Sue while I was at the farmhouse. Phil had kindly managed to start the car and then had convinced Sue to drive back to Orange on the basis that they would pick me up on the way. Unfortunately, they kind of kept going even when they had driven further than I could have possibly walked and they also kind of blew up the engine in the car while doing so.
Phil dropped me at the now wrecked vehicle site and waved me a cheery goodbye. He was taking Sue and kids to the warmth of my Uncle's home while I perfected my well exercised ability to wait in the cold for the NRMA who had now been advised of the new disaster site and were sending a tow truck. Regrettably, whoever informed the NRMA (nobody admitted to it) mistakenly gave them the wrong road and it was an additional hour before the confusion was sorted out. About midnight a crusty tow-truck driver delivered a human icicle back to Orange four and a half hours after I had set off on my ill-fated 20 kilometre run to the middle of nowhere.
Following visits to and from mechanics the next day, it would be a further 2 days before I would see home again after a happy drive crammed into the back seat of my uncle's car with my three squirming, fighting, whining ‘delightful’ children.
Ahh, the bliss of finally being home!!! The freedom, the familiarity, the PEACE. Fifteen minutes of pure joy before an unexpected knock at the door heralded the arrival of an unannounced visit from my brother-in-law, his wife and four children. "We're on the way up to Queensland; thought we’d drop in and surprise you!” he grinned. “We can only stop in Canberra for a couple of days or so".
Hell knows no more bitter anguish then respite crushed.
What did you do for Easter?
