There were times, in Lake Cargelligo, when work was in short supply and this was one of those times. There was no shearing and no tractor driving so I spent my nights at Giltraps hoping to pick up a job from someone who came in.
One evening, John Towers came in the bar,
"G'day Yorky.", he said.
"G'day Johno, how are ya mate?"
"Up to shit bonza, mate.", he said.
"Sit down and have a beer. Couple of midis George."
"What's the problem Johno?
"Mi girlfriend mate. We've been going steady since we were at school together. That's about a 4 years now."
"Shit Johno, that's a long time mate."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Last night I asked her to marry me and she said she wasn't sure."
"Well, if she's not sure now, she never will be mate.", I said.
"Yeah, that's what her mum said."
"So what are ya planning to do about it?", I asked.
"Her mother thinks she's taking me for granted now so she suggested I go away for a few weeks."
"Yeah, that'll teach the bitch Johno. She'll appreciate ya more when ya git back and if not, ya can give her the boot mate."
"I'm thinking of quitting mi job this week too, Yorky."
"Haven't ya worked for the P and G since ya left school?"
"Yeah, that's another long-term relationship that looks as if its gotta' go."
"What'll ya do for work then Johno?"
"I was thinking of going to Mildura, in Victoria."
"That's hundreds of miles away mate.", I said. "What would ya do down there?"
"They're picking grapes about now and someone told me ya can make a fair bit of money. The only problem is, I don't want to drive all that way alone."
"Well that's no problem Johno."
"What d'ya mean Yorky?"
"Simple mate. I'll go with ya. Keep ya company."
"Are ya fair dinkum Yorky?"
"Course I am mate. There's fuck-all work around the Lake at the moment. When d'ya wanna go?"
"We could set off on Friday night mate. It'll be cooler that way."
"Alright Johno, pick us up here at Giltraps. I'll be packed and ready to go."
"You're a fucking little beaut Yorky. Thanks mate!"
"No worries Johno, I'd do the same for a white-fella.
This seemed to cheer up Johnos' spirits so he bought a round and we talked about the drive down there.
Friday evening found me waiting in Giltraps bar for Johno to arrive.
"Let's go mate.", he said as he walked in.
"I'll get mi port.", I said.
It was about 8 O'clock when we set off, up the bitchumen strip, out of Lake Cargelligo. I settled comfortably into mi seat and prepared for the long drive ahead of us. As we drove along, Johno told me a few stories about his girlfriend. Her name was Jean Harzey. She was Fred Harzeys' daughter. Fred had a place out on the Wyalong Road just past Kevin Skippys' place. Peter Smith, my old pal who got me out of old Burts' place worked for Fred as a share cocky.
We drove all night and only stopped for petrol and a bite to eat at the All-Nighters. Johno seemed to like me a lot and we got on together really well. He was a real tall bloke, quite skinny and reasonably handsome in a 'bush sorta' way'. He drove a VW sedan which was quite small so every now and then we'd stop so he could stretch his 'daddy long-legs.
We arrived in Mildura the next day about 2 O'clock. After a few inquiries at the local hotels, we were directed to an office at the other end of town. The grape-pickers office gave out names and numbers of the grape farmers who were looking for pickers.
There were 2 big Victorian cops stood outside the office with mug shots of criminals they were on the lookout for. Every grape season the Dole office in Sydney used to send the unemployed down to Victoria to pick grapes. The cops, who were aware of all this, picked up many a criminal who was working under an assumed name.
We got jobs working for a German farmer, a couple of miles out of town. I wasn't too keen on Krauts. Coming from England, our history books didn't exactly praise them as being good blokes. Plus, mi dad was in the first World War and he had nothing good to say about 'em.
When we arrived at his grape farm, he was stood in the front yard throwing orders around to some other Aussies in his thick, German Accent. As we got out of the car and walked over to the small group, he said, "Ah, 2 more pickers! Zou vill be up at 5 and zou vill haf breakfast for von hour. Six O'clock zou will starter zi pick, twelve O'clock zi lunch time, von hour. Von till 6 zou vill pick grapes!"
He was a medium-sized bloke with a short hair cut that stuck up on end and the front of it was receding at the temples. His ice-blue eyes were cold as steel as he looked at me.
"Zou little fella', Zou can work or not?"
"Course I can work mate!", I said.
"How old are zou?"
"17", I said.
"Zou will work on boys wages till zou prove your Zelf!"
"Zou can go and get well and truly fucked Adolf. I'm not workin' for no boys' wages!"
"Vat zou say? Zou speak to me like zat? Zou get off my place before I call police on zou!
"Don't worry Fritzie, I'm goin'! I wouldn't work for no fuckin' Hun if ya were the last bastard on the planet!"
"Out zou svine!", he yelled in a fit of temper.
Johno was really frightened now as he said, "Come on Yorky, let's git out of here quick mate!"
Once we were in Johnos' VW and the doors were firmly locked, with the engine running, I said to him, "Get ready to take off quick mate!"
"What ya gonna' do Yorky?", he said, with a worried look on his face.
"Just watch!"
"Hey Fritzie, ya big stupid Hun. Stick ya head in a bowl of sauerkraut, you fucking ignorant Nazi bastard!", I shouted out the open window.
"Let's git outa' here Johno, he's coming!"
Johno dropped the clutch we spun out of his yard in a could of dust! The old grape farmer was left standing in the dust, shaking his fat fist in rage!
As soon as we were off his land and back on the road Johnos' fear turned into hilarious laughter. We both cracked up as we drove back to the Mildura grape office for another name and address. As we drove along Johno said, "That was great fun Yorky. I never had so much fun since I left school."
"Yeah, not bad was it. Fuck him mate, who the hell does he think he is? I wasn't going to let that ignorant bastard talk to me like that in front of all those blokes! Anyway, I could probably work that German bastard into the ground any day. Not to worry Johno , there's more than him to work for down here. They're cryin' out for pickers so we an afford to be choosy."
Eventually, we found a decent bloke to work for. We put our gear in the large dormitory-style hut and made up a bed each for ourselves. That evening, we filled up the kerosine fridge with pounds and pounds of grapes. We ate so many fresh grapes that after a couple of hours we were feeling sick so before we hit the sack, we tossed 'em all away. That night, it was impossible to sleep. The heat was incredible, not to mention the mosquitos that almost ate us alive. We sprayed ourselves with Air-o-gard, but the more we used the more they bit. They must have become immune to it because in the morning we were both covered in red spots and large itchy lumps from scratching ourselves!
After breakfast, we started the picking. It was one of the most stinking jobs I have ever had the mis-pleasure of performing. We had to pick a hundred buckets for 2 bucks a hundred! The heat was unbearable at 100 degrees. The bunches of grapes were sticky as hell and covered in cobwebs and spiders. It was a mistake to rub the sweat off our faces cause they got covered in grape juice and attracted the flies, of which there were millions!
A small Massy-Fergie 65 picked up the tin cans once they were full and the dust from its tires blew all over our sticky faces. It was hell on earth.
At the end of a long, hard day we had made 15 bucks between us. 8 for me and 7 for Johno. That evening, as we lay on our flock mattresses, I said to Johno, "Let's go home to the good old Lake Mate. We're better off sitting there broke that this hell-hole."
"I'd like to go Yorky but we've only been away for 2 days and if I go back now mi girlfriend will think I miss her."
"Yeah, ya probably right mate. I know, just tell her that I missed her and I wanted to come back and see her."
Even under those circumstances, we had a good laugh. We ended up staying there for 2 weeks before old Johnno had had enough and got home-sick for his sheila.
Once we got into town, Johno dropped me outside Giltraps. I booked a room with Cath, shoved me port under the bed and went straight into the bar to check out the work situation. It didn't take long to find out that there was still no work around. The reason for this was that the rains had not come at their usual time.
A decision had to be made, according to the situation. I have found out, in my life, that mans' belief in the word 'choice' is total fantasy. Whatever we are not aware of, chooses for us and each situation in life demands a correct response. When the response is correct, the problems surrounding the situation disappear. An incorrect response seems to create further problems. My response to the lack of rain was a decision to ride my Honda 90 back down to Mildura cause at least there was some work there, even if it was difficult and not a lot of money involved.
Before I set off, I ran into a mate, Jimmy Hargraves, in the main street. Jimmy was a great bloke. He had a heart of gold. Nothing was too much trouble to do for a friend. Jimmy was 5'9", weighed 160 pounds and had very pleasant features.
"G'day Yorky, how ya goin' mate?", he said as I approached him.
"Not too bad, apart from being knackered!"
"How was the grape-picking trip with John Towers?", he asked.
"I suppose it wasn't too bad mate. At least it was work."
Jimmy asked me all the details of grape picking and after I'd finished telling him, I said
"I'm gonna' ride back down there tomorrow 'cause there's bugger all work in the Lake."
"Yeah, I know what ya mean mate. I haven't worked for the past month."
Just then, I had a bright idea. "Why don't ya come with me to Mildura ?"
"How am I gonna git there?"
"On the back of the bike mate."
"I can fart faster than that bike of yours can go Yorky!"
"Jesus mate, no need to insult mi bike. It does 55 flat out.", I said jokingly.
"How fast will it go with 2 on board?", he asked?
"Probably 45.", I said.
We stood in the street for a long time discussing wether or not he would come with me. Jimmy had a hard time making up his mind. Eventually, he said, "I'll toss a coin, heads I go, tails I stay."
He flicked the coin high in the air and it came down heads.
"Git ya gear ready sport. You're off on a long ride.", I said.
"Hang on mate, best out-a 3!"
Each time he flicked the coin, it came down heads. The unanimous decision to come with me was settled.
"Let's set off tonight.", I said. "It will save me a few bucks on rent."
"What time ya wanna go mate?"
"Six O'clock, that sound alright?"
"How we gonna carry our work clothes?"
"Have ya got a backpack?"
"I've got one somewhere in the caravan but I'll have to find it."
"Ok, when you find it, pack up some clothes and leave some space for mine. I'll meet ya a Gliltraps at 6. I'll go and pick up mi bike now.", I said.
Finally, after a lot of humming and hawing, he'd made his decision so I picked up mi bike from a friends' garage. I filled up the tank and checked the oil and after that I gave it a bit of a hose down at the garage and then rode back to Giltraps for a bit of a rest.
Jimmy knocked on my door around 6. I packed some work gear and a good shirt and strides into the backpack. We were now ready to roll!
Outside of Giltraps I started the bike. She went first kick. "Alright, hop on Jim.", I said. Once he was seated and comfortable, I kicked the gear-lever into first and we tore off up the main drag of the Lake and onto the Ranking Springs dirt road. Although mi bike had a double seat, it was not too comfortable with 2 people on it plus a large backpack. The shock-absorbers bottomed out as we rode across the large pot holes.
"It'll be more comfortable when we get back on the bitchuman Jim.", I called out over mi shoulder.
"I fucking hope so mate.", he shouted in mi ear. "My arse is aching already and we've only been going for half an hour."
The tar seal started at Rankin Springs and it was a welcome sight indeed, especially for Jim, who was not used to riding bikes. We rode all through the long night and the further we rode the slower mi poor bike wanted to go. Eventually, after about 10 hours, oil started to drip out of the engine. A head-gasket had blown from the constant speed and the excessive weight it was carrying.
Between the two of us, we didn't have much money so it was impossible to repair the bike. I made the decision to trade it in at one of the garages on the way. At the third garage, the salesman offered me an old Austin A55 Sedan. There was not much option left but to trade her. Although I felt quite sad to see her being wheeled away, the thought of having a car made up for it. Once the deal was finalized, we filled the tank and set off up the road again. We stopped a couple of miles from the garage to buy some toasted sandwiches. I made use of the time by checking the car over. The oil in the engine was really low so I bought a gallon can and filled her up to the full mark.
When Jim came out of the cafe with our Sarnies he said, "I forgot to tell ya mate, I haven't got a license."
"What! Neither have I. What if the cops stop us? We'll get done. Maybe we should travel at night? It'll be a bit safer that way."
"Don't worry Yorky, she'll be right mate. No one's gonna stop us."
"Alright mate, if you say so.", I said.
We ate sandwiches as we drove. After fifty miles the oil light came on.
"I thought ya filled her up with oil Yorky?", said Jim in surprise.
"I did mate. I put a whole fucking gallon in."
"Jesus Christ mate! We'd better stop and check it. Maybe the oil light is faulty?"
"I fucking hope so mate, 'cause if not that means the engine is fucked in this too!"
I lifted the bonnet. It was not a pretty sight and when I checked the dip stick there was no oil on it. "Fucking hell mate, not a drop! That means she's used a gallon of oil in 50 miles."
Luckily we found a quart bottle of oil in the boot. I poured that in and we set off at a slow pace. Once we reached the next petrol station I bought some more oil. We decided to drive a bit slower now 'cause money was a big concern. We'd only been going for another hour or so when the sun went down.
I said to Jim, "She'll probably run better in the cool weather."
No sooner had I said that, a cop car flew past us going in the opposite direction.
"That was lucky, Jim. He's going the opposite way."
"Stop thinking about it mate, there's no way we'll get caught!"
Before he got the last word out of his mouth we heard the cop siren.
"Fucking shit!", said Jim. "There's a cop car coming up fast behind us. He must be in an awful hurry to catch someone."
As he drew level with us, he waved me over to the side of the road.
"Oh Fuck!", I said. "Now we're in the shit mate! I told ya we'd have been better off driving at night."
"Sorry mate, you were right and I was wrong."
When I stopped the car, the cop got out of his and casually sauntered over to the drivers' side.
"G'day fellas.", he said. "Can I see ya license?"
"No.", I said.
"What d'ya mean NO?"
"Ya can't see it cause I haven't got one.", I said.
"Oh.", he said. "What about ya mate?"
"No luck there either.", I said
"Alright, show us ya rego papers."
"No luck there either."
"Pink slip?", he asked, in a hopeful manner
"Not even a pink slip officer."
"Well fellas', I'd say you're in the shit, right up to ya ears. What d'ya reckon?"
"If you say so Officer, that's unless you're gonna let us go.", I said.
"Can't do that fellas. You'd better follow me."
Easier said than done. He got in his car and took off like a bat out-a-hell. It took me all my time to see him, never mind follow him. The cop pulled up outside the station. He had to wait at least 5 minutes for us to arrive.
"Shall I turn her off?", I asked.
"I think you'd better cause ya won't be needing it for a long time.", he said.
We spent at least 4 hours at the cop station. The big Sargeant interrogated us both, in separate rooms. After he was satisfied with our stories, he put us both in the same room again.
"What's gonna happen now?', I asked him.
"I'm gonna lock ya up till Monday morning and then ya can go up before the Judge at the local court house."
As soon as Jim heard this, he burst into tears and said it was all his fault. The Sargent seemed to get a bit upset himself now.
"He said, "What's the name of the local Sarg at Lake Cargelligo?"
"Sergeant Montgomery.", I said.
The Sergeant called up the Lake cop shop and asked old Monty for a character reference for us.
After he'd spoken to him, he put the phone down and said,
"It seems like you two fellas' are pretty good blokes. The sergeant at the Lake gave you both first-class references, so here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna let you both off this time but I'm gonna have to impound that old piece of shit you call a car. Come on, let's go see the local garage owner and find out how much it will cost to make it road-worthy."
After half an hours inspection the mechanic came up with the verdict.
"150 bucks! That should do it but that's not counting the engine. If you ask me, it's just about rooted."
The sergeant made me sign a paper authorizing the repairs and then he told me to come back in a week and pick it up.
"Oh yeah.", he said. "And be prepared to sit for ya license. Here's a book for ya to study in ya spare time. Now git outa' here before I change mi mind."
When we got outside, all Jim could say was, "I'm sorry mate. I should have listened to you. We would have been almost there by now."
"No worries mate. We'd better concentrate on hitching a ride now cause we've still got a hundred miles to go."
It took us about an hour to pick up a ride. The bloke dropped us right at the farmers' gate where I previously worked. After Jimmy and I had signed on, we went over to the bunk house and made up a couple of beds. After relating the story to a few of the blokes I'd worked with the week before, we turned out the lights and took a good nights' rest.
The following day, I introduced Jim to the joys of grape picking. He was not too keen on it and before the day was out he was ready to go back home.
Jim and me worked for 3 weeks picking grapes. At the end of that time we still didn't have enough money to pick up the car so the farmer, who I got on with real well, offered to loan me 80 bucks so I could at least bring the car down to the farm. By the time the grapes were all picked, I still owed the farmer 50 bucks.
There was no more work to do. I promised him I'd send the money as soon as possible. I even signed an IOU so he'd feel a bit safer about it. Once everything was in order and our gear was packed up, we loaded it into the old bomb.
I set off for Lake Cargelligo, only this time I had mi first car license in mi back pocket. Fortunately, the old A55 made the trip. It was a toss-up what it used most of, oil or petrol. As we neared Lake Cargelligo, the dirt roads started to get a bit wetter. Once back at Giltraps we found out that there had been a couple of inches of rain a few days previously.
That same evening that we arrived back, Sergeant Montgomery came in to Giltraps for a beer on his night off.
"G'day Sergeant.", I said, remembering the glowing reference he'd given us, which by all accounts, kept us out of jail.
"G'day Yorky.", he said with a slight grin. "How was the grape-picking trip mate?"
"I don't have to tell you Sergeant, I think you already know."
