Monday, 5 February 2007

Bow River

I was a lot younger when I packed up my 1969 Holden Premier and headed north 'for the heat, babe, and the tropical rain'. Cold Chisel's Bow River kept me going. Even when one of the shitty old retreads blew out at Biloela and I ended up in a cotton field. But the tyres were the least of my worries—the car had a dodgy transmission that played up intermittently, usually at nightfall on the long, empty stretches. I didn't know this when I left Melbourne but it was abundantly clear by the time I reached Coonabarabran. But I couldn't go back. So I continued to Townsville (via the cotton field) with a car full of books, no money and a dying transmission.

Those were the days.