NEW VEHICLE, NEW CHAPTER
With Australia being such a large
country and with so much space between many towns, most of us have our
own vehicle, or in the least, know how to drive.
I learnt to drive on an old tractor when I was seven years old. (There is a photo in my Facebook albums of those times). We were farm kids, so we needed to be able to drive. There were irrigation pipes to move and other farm jobs that required the use of a tractor. So we were all taught early on how to drive it.
Almost all of the children from our district had old vehicles that were driven to the bus stop each morning, leaving them by the side of the dusty roads, for our return on the afternoon bus. Our family was about three or four kilometres from the bus stop, down a long, tree-lined dirt road. Other farm kids came from further afield. All along the bus route, you would see battered old cars that the farm kids had driven to their stops. You probably wouldn't get away with it these days. But these were simpler times. These were also the days when parents could own a ute (a 'pick-up' to non-Aussies) and pile all the kids in the back, unrestrained. I cannot count how many road trips we took with the wind in our hair. It was the most natural thing in the world, long before the days of over-regulation.
As soon as I was old enough I went for my written test to get my Learner's Plates. In those days, that was at sixteen and nine months. Three months later, at seventeen (actually, on my seventeenth birthday - after all, why waste a day?!), I passed my driver's test and was then independent and legal on the roads. The first car I owned was a bright yellow little thing, affectionately called Lucy, or Lovable Lucy. (OK, so I was seventeen - naming cars was not so strange to seventeen-year old girls at the time).
The next years were spent driving two sensible, little, white sedans, one after another, while experiencing city life. Following those years, I was living on the NSW North Coast and was without a car by choice, preferring to ride my pushbike or hitchhike. (Retirement from hitchhiking and why, is mentioned in the first chapter of my book - a timely warning from life, for which I became grateful). I also had a close friend who worked permanent night shifts around that time, so I used his car sometimes during the day. Island life came next, for a couple of years, so no car was needed there. Same thing overseas - my jobs provided me with vehicles most of the time.
A couple of different cars followed on my return to Australia. But the one that took preference and love over all those that had ever come before, was an old four-wheel drive that I took the backseat out of, replacing it with a mattress. The freedom I experienced through such a lifestyle was one that resonated with me like no times before. I loved that old car and the miles of freedom and wandering I did during those years.
Yet next, I ended up with one of the tiniest cars on the road. It was so small that when I first used to park it, I would be miles out from the gutter - laughing as I learned to adjust my parking from the big four-wheel drive down to a rice bubble. It was a nippy little car and incredibly fuel-efficient. (The same car is now driven by my eleven and twelve year old nephews, as they gain motoring experience and confidence on their parent's farm).
Which brings me to the vehicle I have been driving for the past three years - a van with a permanent bed in the back. After the four-wheel drive, I had never truly adjusted again to life without a bed on wheels, so the van was a great and necessary purchase. Within a few days of owning it, I was off to the first of many folk festivals in it. There is a false floor built in too, so the guitars and bags could go under the bed easily - very practical indeed.
During the past three years in the van, I have travelled so many wonderful miles, listened to thousands of fantastic songs, visited numerous fun-filled music festivals and friend's homes, and as we all do, continued to grow and evolve in myself in the meantime.
Now has come the time to say goodbye to another era. My lifestyle is changing, as is one of my closest friend's. I find myself needing a backseat more often, which the van doesn't have, and something a little smaller. And my friend finds herself child-free for the first time in about twenty-five years, so has dreams of having a bed on wheels herself - hence the sale of the van to her and the purchase of a new vehicle for me.
As I washed the van the other day, ready for the transfer of ownership, I thought with nostalgia just how much our cars represent us, and the chapters of our lives they share. It is a more settled time at the moment, so the van is not going to be used to its full potential with me. The excitement of my friend who has bought it, takes me back to when the same vehicle first came into my own life. I understand her excitement completely and smile at the freedom she will enjoy.
So I say goodbye to the van and thank it for the miles we have shared. And I say hello to my new car, with its practicality of a backseat and the comforts and economy that modern day vehicles offer.
My friend is in her fifties and is currently as excited and full-of-life as a twenty year old. Her whole adult life has been spent in raising several children. Now she is free to discover herself all over again and to wander wherever she feels like. I know the pull of such freedom and I send my love to her on her way.
With positive tunes of Ben Lee and his philosophical pop music keeping me company, I hit the road yesterday in my sensible little new car. I was still able to enjoy the feeling of freedom that long drives provide. After a couple of days in the chaos of Sydney, it was beautiful to simply hit the road back to the country, even if I couldn't sleep in the back of the vehicle.
A new chapter begins. It's interesting and sort of nice, how material possessions such as cars, homes, or clothing can represent different chapters of our lives. It's another form of creativity and personal expression, I guess. I wave goodbye as my friend embarks on new adventures, in the same van I once knew. And I smile with nostalgia and contentment, grateful that we live in a world of choice with the ability to create our own opportunities.
Safe travels out there friends, wherever you are and wherever your own heart is calling you.
I learnt to drive on an old tractor when I was seven years old. (There is a photo in my Facebook albums of those times). We were farm kids, so we needed to be able to drive. There were irrigation pipes to move and other farm jobs that required the use of a tractor. So we were all taught early on how to drive it.
Almost all of the children from our district had old vehicles that were driven to the bus stop each morning, leaving them by the side of the dusty roads, for our return on the afternoon bus. Our family was about three or four kilometres from the bus stop, down a long, tree-lined dirt road. Other farm kids came from further afield. All along the bus route, you would see battered old cars that the farm kids had driven to their stops. You probably wouldn't get away with it these days. But these were simpler times. These were also the days when parents could own a ute (a 'pick-up' to non-Aussies) and pile all the kids in the back, unrestrained. I cannot count how many road trips we took with the wind in our hair. It was the most natural thing in the world, long before the days of over-regulation.
As soon as I was old enough I went for my written test to get my Learner's Plates. In those days, that was at sixteen and nine months. Three months later, at seventeen (actually, on my seventeenth birthday - after all, why waste a day?!), I passed my driver's test and was then independent and legal on the roads. The first car I owned was a bright yellow little thing, affectionately called Lucy, or Lovable Lucy. (OK, so I was seventeen - naming cars was not so strange to seventeen-year old girls at the time).
The next years were spent driving two sensible, little, white sedans, one after another, while experiencing city life. Following those years, I was living on the NSW North Coast and was without a car by choice, preferring to ride my pushbike or hitchhike. (Retirement from hitchhiking and why, is mentioned in the first chapter of my book - a timely warning from life, for which I became grateful). I also had a close friend who worked permanent night shifts around that time, so I used his car sometimes during the day. Island life came next, for a couple of years, so no car was needed there. Same thing overseas - my jobs provided me with vehicles most of the time.
A couple of different cars followed on my return to Australia. But the one that took preference and love over all those that had ever come before, was an old four-wheel drive that I took the backseat out of, replacing it with a mattress. The freedom I experienced through such a lifestyle was one that resonated with me like no times before. I loved that old car and the miles of freedom and wandering I did during those years.
Yet next, I ended up with one of the tiniest cars on the road. It was so small that when I first used to park it, I would be miles out from the gutter - laughing as I learned to adjust my parking from the big four-wheel drive down to a rice bubble. It was a nippy little car and incredibly fuel-efficient. (The same car is now driven by my eleven and twelve year old nephews, as they gain motoring experience and confidence on their parent's farm).
Which brings me to the vehicle I have been driving for the past three years - a van with a permanent bed in the back. After the four-wheel drive, I had never truly adjusted again to life without a bed on wheels, so the van was a great and necessary purchase. Within a few days of owning it, I was off to the first of many folk festivals in it. There is a false floor built in too, so the guitars and bags could go under the bed easily - very practical indeed.
During the past three years in the van, I have travelled so many wonderful miles, listened to thousands of fantastic songs, visited numerous fun-filled music festivals and friend's homes, and as we all do, continued to grow and evolve in myself in the meantime.
Now has come the time to say goodbye to another era. My lifestyle is changing, as is one of my closest friend's. I find myself needing a backseat more often, which the van doesn't have, and something a little smaller. And my friend finds herself child-free for the first time in about twenty-five years, so has dreams of having a bed on wheels herself - hence the sale of the van to her and the purchase of a new vehicle for me.
As I washed the van the other day, ready for the transfer of ownership, I thought with nostalgia just how much our cars represent us, and the chapters of our lives they share. It is a more settled time at the moment, so the van is not going to be used to its full potential with me. The excitement of my friend who has bought it, takes me back to when the same vehicle first came into my own life. I understand her excitement completely and smile at the freedom she will enjoy.
So I say goodbye to the van and thank it for the miles we have shared. And I say hello to my new car, with its practicality of a backseat and the comforts and economy that modern day vehicles offer.
My friend is in her fifties and is currently as excited and full-of-life as a twenty year old. Her whole adult life has been spent in raising several children. Now she is free to discover herself all over again and to wander wherever she feels like. I know the pull of such freedom and I send my love to her on her way.
With positive tunes of Ben Lee and his philosophical pop music keeping me company, I hit the road yesterday in my sensible little new car. I was still able to enjoy the feeling of freedom that long drives provide. After a couple of days in the chaos of Sydney, it was beautiful to simply hit the road back to the country, even if I couldn't sleep in the back of the vehicle.
A new chapter begins. It's interesting and sort of nice, how material possessions such as cars, homes, or clothing can represent different chapters of our lives. It's another form of creativity and personal expression, I guess. I wave goodbye as my friend embarks on new adventures, in the same van I once knew. And I smile with nostalgia and contentment, grateful that we live in a world of choice with the ability to create our own opportunities.
Safe travels out there friends, wherever you are and wherever your own heart is calling you.
