Traffic
When I was younger I had a pretty good ability to crash, smash and damage my bicycle. I did this so well that the guy who owned the Bike Shop was going to open a Panel beating Business when I got my licence. Getting your licence in Australia when I did was great. You had to be at least eighteen years old to be eligible. Eighteen is also the legal drinking age. So if you are like me and you get your license on you eighteenth birthday you can legally drive yourself to the pub and drink yourself legally legless. Now that’s becoming a responsible adult for you !
Early one morning I was driving down the coast with my surfboard on the roof looking for waves. In and out of beach carparks I drove getting more and more disappointed and coming to the conclusion that all the surf beaches had turned to lakes over night. Not even a ripple.
The rain started to fall lightly. Light but consistent. It was that annoying rain that if you have you wipers on intermittent it is not enough to clear the windscreen. Of you have the wipers on the first setting it is too much and you get the wonderful rubber on glass screech. When will some one invent a wiper that is syncronised to rain drops? Anyway the rain caused more problems. It hadn’t rained for three or four weeks so plenty of oil and road gunk was floating on the surface.
So after turning back from yet another beach resembling a pond and with the rain falling I was about to call it quits and go home. I was taking it nice and easy putting along at about 30 kilometers per hour listening to Motorhead which is a feat in itself to listen to Lemmy scream out “The Ace OF Spades” and drive slowly. As I started around a bend I felt the car lose traction. I turned the wheel but the car kept moving straight ahead. It was like the front wheels were imitating the wind screen wipers, moving but doing nothing. I knocked the gear shift into neutral and stabbed the brakes. Still not good. Across the road was a paddock. I thought “If I just maintain what little control I have and slow down I can drift onto the grass.” Then out of nowhere another car comes the opposite way around the bend. My forward momentum came to a sudden crashing halt. My windscreen popped out and the bonnet of the car buckled. The piercing sound of shattering glass accompanied it. “What the fuck…shit fuck shit fuck” was the extent of my vocabulary. “Where the fucking hell did he come from??” He was damn close to being over the center line!!
I pushed my door opened and then had a clearer view of what happened. I had ploughed into the side of this brand new car. The driver wasn’t moving too much. I ran over and managed to force his door open. The driver was a guy in his 60’s. His first comment was “What the bloody hell do you think your doing”
“Sorry mate you came outta nowhere” I said. “Are you ok?? Are you hurt” I questioned.
He started to lean back. I wasn’t sure if he was putting his seat belt on or taking it off. His face was bright red and he started clutching his chest and panting.
“What’s wrong? Did you hit the steering wheel? Where are you hurt?”
“No” he groaned”
“Stay still I will call an ambulance said
He kept clutching his chest. “Where are you hurt? did you hit something?”
“No I had a heart by pass six weeks ago!” he groaned.
Well shit just my luck I am gonna kill this guy i thought. I got that feeling that shoots through you. The one where time stands still and you think you are going to pass out. I pulled his shirt open and lay him back in his seat. One thing going for me was the accident was just across the road from the Panel Beaters and before I knew it there was a guy from a Panel Beating shop running across the road. ”Hey you need a Tow Truck?” Well 10 points to the fucking Optometrist!! “Yeah ya think? And just maybe an ambulance!!” I yelled. He ran back and called the ambulance and then I heard the roar of the Tow Truck. This big yellow beast of a Ford F250 V8 Tow Truck came semi sideways out of the Panel Beaters. I waited for a second to see if some one was playing the theme music from Dukes of Hazard.
The old fella was starting to calm down a little but I still wasn’t too comfortable with the situation. “Is he ok?” Ask the Tow Truck Driver. “Well he had a heart bypass not long ago” I stated. “Shit” he says. “Yeah I was sot of thinking a bit more than shit” I yelled.
The ambulance was there in no time. They got the old guy on a stretcher and were loading him in the back when the Police rolled up. I was hoping the old guy lives. Cars I don’t give a shit about but I didn’t want to be responsible for killing some one. Even if it was an accident.
The cars where moved off the road and I went and sat with my wreck. I was straight up with the Cops and told them what happened including that I thought he was over the center line coming around the bend. They measured skid marks and tested the road surface. The road surface test was an example of technical ingenuity. One of them rubbed his shoes along the road and stated “Yeah it is greasy and slippery”. I mean how the fuck does that stand up as evidence?Then the ‘scientific’ Cop says to me. “Have you been drinking?”
“It’s 8.30am what do you take me for”
“Standard question” he says
“Do you ever get anyone say yes at this time of the morning” I ask?
“This gives us the answer and he instructs me to blow into the breathalyzer.
My Blood / Alcohol was 0.
I gathered these Cops had a nice warm station to get back to and wanted to get out of the rain like everyone else
“It looks like a 50/50 accident to us so looks like you can just pay for your own cars” they tell me.
“What about the old guy?” I enquired.
“Yeah he can pay for his”
Fuck these guys won’t make Detective I thought but then again they are just stupid enough to do it.
“Well that’s if he makes it” I said.
“Oh here is our card, call us later and we will let you know how he is. We are heading to the hospital now”
They depart.
My car is towed to the Panel Beaters. My Brother makes a 140km round trip to pick me up as I won’t get my car for another week.
I ring the Cops later expecting to be charged with Culpable Driving or Manslaughter or fuck I don’t know what, maybe dealing with stupidity. They say “Nar you are ok Son. He is just a bit shaken up but he is fine”
I hung up and puffed a huge sigh of relief. Now I don’t have to become a fugitive and live in a cave eating nothing but baked beans.
Eight Weeks later I receive a letter from the old guys Solicitor. Enclosed is a Letter of Intent to Sue for about $10000. All that shit about a 50/50 accident the Cops had told me was a load of monkey’s arses. I called them again and they said ‘oh no it was your fault”. And that’s the information the old guy got and the accident reports stated. I would have liked to have seen an accident report!. Well I finally got my insurance company to pay up after nearly telling them and all they stand for to go fuck themselves. They are all friendly when taking your money, but shit. Try finding a nice person who hands the money out.
It is weird how things pan out. A simple surfing trip after a week in a shitty job nearly lands me in jail and debt. This is called Rest and Recreation?
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Learning To Fly
Learning To Fly
Heights have never bothered me. I don’t suffer from vertigo or any kind of fear like that and have jumped from many fixed objects. From the garage roof into the swimming pool. The pool was only 4ft deep. How I am not in a wheelchair I don’t know. The top of the light pole at the end of the pier at the local beach, the partly sunken HMAS Cerberus, 10 meter towers at public swimming pools. From 30 thousand ft from an aeroplane but I was strapped to another guy with a parachute. I use to go to the local heath land with a friend and we would see if we could get from one side to the other without touching the ground. In other words we would climb, jump and swing from tree to tree. And yes the conservationists would have our nuts on a platter if we had been caught.
But there was one jump that put an end to my jumping days for a considerable amount of time. There had been tree lopping going on at our place. A nice stack of tea tree branches were piled up in the back yard. With these being soft branches it made a great landing pad. I could run along the garage roof and leap over the end of the pool and land in the tree cuttings. I had done this for a few days and had two friends over one day after school. Only one of them jumped as well while the other made some excuse about not feeling well.
I lined myself up for the leap the century. I ran across the roof, launched myself into the air. I was Icarus flying to close to the sun. I landed. My ankle gave way with a CRACK. I felt the sickly feeling of pain sweep over my body.
How I stood up I don’t know. I was yelling my guts out like a stuck pig. Yelling at my friends to go and get my mother to take me to the hospital. Mum came out with a serious look on her face wanting to know what all the yelling was about. Next thing I know my two friends have laid me on the back seat of the car. Then I saw why I was in so much pain. When my leg was straight I could see the bottom of my foot. That’s when consciousness became an effort.
Mum drove me to the local public hospital. Once again wondering why she had to have a loose cannon for a son. Soon the pain became unbearable. It was hard to remain awake and alert. Mum parked the car and ran into the hospital. A couple of orderlies and a Doctor rushed out to the car and slapped me on a stretcher. I don’t remember much. I was given pain killers and drifted in and out of reality.
I was asked if I had eaten. About an hour ago I said. Well this put a spanner in the works. They would not administer an anaesthetic as I may vomit while under and choke to death. I thought if that happened I was in good hands but obviously not. So from 5pm til 10.30pm I lay on a bed with my twisted foot taped in a pillow. I recall two Doctors making comments like “tyring to fly were you” and “gee you did a good job there”. If I wasn’t doped up to the eyeballs I would have responded in some kind of way such as “Shut up and fix it you bastards”.
I was laid out on the operating table, had the needle placed into my arm and was asked to count backwards from 10. 10. 9, 8, 7……………………
The room was bright when I woke up. I went to roll over and couldn’t. My leg felt like it weighed a tonne. I panicked and tore off the bed sheets. “Shit….shit shit shit and double shit” was my first thought and my second and third. I had plaster from the tip of my toes to my hip. I didn’t know what to do. I was the only person in a ten bed ward. So I pressed my “Instant Nurse” button repeatedly until a nurse appeared saying” Oh you are awake how are you feeling” After lots of questions from me and the same amount of reassurance form the nurse the outcome was I had broken my ankle in three places.
After about 5 days of being alone in this huge ward the nurse gave me a wheelchair and said I can push myself next door into the other 10 bed ward and chat to the people in there. So I push myself along with the skill of a rank amateur. The first bed I roll up to has the guy lying there with the top bed sheet raised up by some kind of platform. He asked what happened and I told him. “I could never fly either” he said. I asked why he was in hospital. “Oh, I dropped an electric circular saw onto my thigh”
On hearing this I came close to spraying the contents of my stomach all over the floor. I replied with a line from The School Blatantly Obvious. “That must have hurt” and wheeled myself back to my bed, crawled in and decided I didn’t want to talk to other patients.
So my jumping days came to an end. My leg was in full plaster for nine weeks. I was on crutches for thirteen weeks and I limped for about a year before i could walk properly again. I will still jump from great heights but only if I have a parachute attached or there is water below…and plenty of it. Leave flying for the birds.
Heights have never bothered me. I don’t suffer from vertigo or any kind of fear like that and have jumped from many fixed objects. From the garage roof into the swimming pool. The pool was only 4ft deep. How I am not in a wheelchair I don’t know. The top of the light pole at the end of the pier at the local beach, the partly sunken HMAS Cerberus, 10 meter towers at public swimming pools. From 30 thousand ft from an aeroplane but I was strapped to another guy with a parachute. I use to go to the local heath land with a friend and we would see if we could get from one side to the other without touching the ground. In other words we would climb, jump and swing from tree to tree. And yes the conservationists would have our nuts on a platter if we had been caught.
But there was one jump that put an end to my jumping days for a considerable amount of time. There had been tree lopping going on at our place. A nice stack of tea tree branches were piled up in the back yard. With these being soft branches it made a great landing pad. I could run along the garage roof and leap over the end of the pool and land in the tree cuttings. I had done this for a few days and had two friends over one day after school. Only one of them jumped as well while the other made some excuse about not feeling well.
I lined myself up for the leap the century. I ran across the roof, launched myself into the air. I was Icarus flying to close to the sun. I landed. My ankle gave way with a CRACK. I felt the sickly feeling of pain sweep over my body.
How I stood up I don’t know. I was yelling my guts out like a stuck pig. Yelling at my friends to go and get my mother to take me to the hospital. Mum came out with a serious look on her face wanting to know what all the yelling was about. Next thing I know my two friends have laid me on the back seat of the car. Then I saw why I was in so much pain. When my leg was straight I could see the bottom of my foot. That’s when consciousness became an effort.
Mum drove me to the local public hospital. Once again wondering why she had to have a loose cannon for a son. Soon the pain became unbearable. It was hard to remain awake and alert. Mum parked the car and ran into the hospital. A couple of orderlies and a Doctor rushed out to the car and slapped me on a stretcher. I don’t remember much. I was given pain killers and drifted in and out of reality.
I was asked if I had eaten. About an hour ago I said. Well this put a spanner in the works. They would not administer an anaesthetic as I may vomit while under and choke to death. I thought if that happened I was in good hands but obviously not. So from 5pm til 10.30pm I lay on a bed with my twisted foot taped in a pillow. I recall two Doctors making comments like “tyring to fly were you” and “gee you did a good job there”. If I wasn’t doped up to the eyeballs I would have responded in some kind of way such as “Shut up and fix it you bastards”.
I was laid out on the operating table, had the needle placed into my arm and was asked to count backwards from 10. 10. 9, 8, 7……………………
The room was bright when I woke up. I went to roll over and couldn’t. My leg felt like it weighed a tonne. I panicked and tore off the bed sheets. “Shit….shit shit shit and double shit” was my first thought and my second and third. I had plaster from the tip of my toes to my hip. I didn’t know what to do. I was the only person in a ten bed ward. So I pressed my “Instant Nurse” button repeatedly until a nurse appeared saying” Oh you are awake how are you feeling” After lots of questions from me and the same amount of reassurance form the nurse the outcome was I had broken my ankle in three places.
After about 5 days of being alone in this huge ward the nurse gave me a wheelchair and said I can push myself next door into the other 10 bed ward and chat to the people in there. So I push myself along with the skill of a rank amateur. The first bed I roll up to has the guy lying there with the top bed sheet raised up by some kind of platform. He asked what happened and I told him. “I could never fly either” he said. I asked why he was in hospital. “Oh, I dropped an electric circular saw onto my thigh”
On hearing this I came close to spraying the contents of my stomach all over the floor. I replied with a line from The School Blatantly Obvious. “That must have hurt” and wheeled myself back to my bed, crawled in and decided I didn’t want to talk to other patients.
So my jumping days came to an end. My leg was in full plaster for nine weeks. I was on crutches for thirteen weeks and I limped for about a year before i could walk properly again. I will still jump from great heights but only if I have a parachute attached or there is water below…and plenty of it. Leave flying for the birds.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Keep Ya Shirt On !
Keep Ya Shirts On !
“Victorian Cabs Need Air-conditioning!!!”
“Victorian Pensioners Are Lost And Need Help Dressing Themselves.!!!”
Yes these are the headlines that have screamed at me over the last few weeks. But they won’t be found in any newspaper or on any T.V. news program. “Why?, What, Oh the humanity?” I hear you scream.
These are the headlines that have imbedded in my head due to a message being lost through actions.
A Melbourne taxi driver is stabbed and left for dead by a passenger. Taxi drivers want increase safety measures to protect them. Pensioners feel that they have been overlooked in the budget and want an increase in pension payments. So what do both groups do? They protest! Which I believe is a fantastic way to get your message across and bring attention and support to your cause.
However in recent times protesting has lost its way. They very purpose of the protest is buried beneath actions bordering on the stupid side of reasoning.
A portion of the protesting cab drivers decided to remove their shirts and display a variety of “man-boobs” and “he-hooters”. Sorry, this was a protest for increased safety measures wasn’t it? So how does taking your shirt off help? Sure it will attract the media as any type of nudity is newsworthy to our tabloid dominated prime time media. Seeing the footage I totally forgot about the real issue. (hence my reason for thinking they were all very hot needed better air-conditioning). Think back to everyone you spoke to around the time of this protest. Did anyone talk about the safety concerns of cab drivers? No, we all pissed ourselves laughing at the fat angry man with a sagging chest waving his t-shirt around looking like he was reading to howl at the moon. The point was lost.
Now onto the Blue Rinse Brigade. They decided a protest on the steps of Flinders St Station was just the thing to do to get attention for their cause. It worked for the cabbies (so they thought) so why not give it a whirl. But why did they have to follow the lead of the angry cabbies and get their kit off? The news footage I saw was a whole stack of old folk in various stages of dress standing in the middle of the road. “Lost and unable to dress themselves” I thought. Sad, true, is it possible for that many people suffering dementia all to appear at once in the same place? Once again all the talk was about over 55’s in their undies. The point was lost.
We are extremely lucky to live in a country where we have the right and ability to protest. So don’t botch it up by getting your gear off and distracting all and sundry from your purpose otherwise you have done nothing more and created a pointless spectacle.
“Victorian Cabs Need Air-conditioning!!!”
“Victorian Pensioners Are Lost And Need Help Dressing Themselves.!!!”
Yes these are the headlines that have screamed at me over the last few weeks. But they won’t be found in any newspaper or on any T.V. news program. “Why?, What, Oh the humanity?” I hear you scream.
These are the headlines that have imbedded in my head due to a message being lost through actions.
A Melbourne taxi driver is stabbed and left for dead by a passenger. Taxi drivers want increase safety measures to protect them. Pensioners feel that they have been overlooked in the budget and want an increase in pension payments. So what do both groups do? They protest! Which I believe is a fantastic way to get your message across and bring attention and support to your cause.
However in recent times protesting has lost its way. They very purpose of the protest is buried beneath actions bordering on the stupid side of reasoning.
A portion of the protesting cab drivers decided to remove their shirts and display a variety of “man-boobs” and “he-hooters”. Sorry, this was a protest for increased safety measures wasn’t it? So how does taking your shirt off help? Sure it will attract the media as any type of nudity is newsworthy to our tabloid dominated prime time media. Seeing the footage I totally forgot about the real issue. (hence my reason for thinking they were all very hot needed better air-conditioning). Think back to everyone you spoke to around the time of this protest. Did anyone talk about the safety concerns of cab drivers? No, we all pissed ourselves laughing at the fat angry man with a sagging chest waving his t-shirt around looking like he was reading to howl at the moon. The point was lost.
Now onto the Blue Rinse Brigade. They decided a protest on the steps of Flinders St Station was just the thing to do to get attention for their cause. It worked for the cabbies (so they thought) so why not give it a whirl. But why did they have to follow the lead of the angry cabbies and get their kit off? The news footage I saw was a whole stack of old folk in various stages of dress standing in the middle of the road. “Lost and unable to dress themselves” I thought. Sad, true, is it possible for that many people suffering dementia all to appear at once in the same place? Once again all the talk was about over 55’s in their undies. The point was lost.
We are extremely lucky to live in a country where we have the right and ability to protest. So don’t botch it up by getting your gear off and distracting all and sundry from your purpose otherwise you have done nothing more and created a pointless spectacle.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Cycling is the new Golf
Cycling is the new Golf
Years ago to get away from his crappy job and the family that hates him a fat balding middle aged man would put on tartan pants, a pink polo shirt, one glove and walk around a golf course for half a day.The positive here is we didn't have to look at them. They had their own little enclosure fenced in with a little boys club house to drink beer and tell make believe stories to their fat balding middle aged mates.Now where are they?I will tell you!They are squeezing into tight lycra shorts and shirts, even the occasional lycra body suit. Riding 5 abreast and blocking the roads. The golf club house has emptied out into our Cafes.Our cafes have turned into bicycle sheds for latte sipping middle aged deadshits who look like jelly wrapped in cling film. It's offensive!How many of them actually ride anywhere? They go home and tell "the missus" about the big ride....yet the spent 4 hours sucking down coffee and bacon and cheese Panini's.Please leave our Cafes and return to your Golf clubs....out of site and stop putting the rest of us off our breakfast.
Years ago to get away from his crappy job and the family that hates him a fat balding middle aged man would put on tartan pants, a pink polo shirt, one glove and walk around a golf course for half a day.The positive here is we didn't have to look at them. They had their own little enclosure fenced in with a little boys club house to drink beer and tell make believe stories to their fat balding middle aged mates.Now where are they?I will tell you!They are squeezing into tight lycra shorts and shirts, even the occasional lycra body suit. Riding 5 abreast and blocking the roads. The golf club house has emptied out into our Cafes.Our cafes have turned into bicycle sheds for latte sipping middle aged deadshits who look like jelly wrapped in cling film. It's offensive!How many of them actually ride anywhere? They go home and tell "the missus" about the big ride....yet the spent 4 hours sucking down coffee and bacon and cheese Panini's.Please leave our Cafes and return to your Golf clubs....out of site and stop putting the rest of us off our breakfast.
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