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| Memory - Last pushbike postie in the Isa |
It was 1976
on the dusty outback plains
We rolled into Mount Isa
Eight months since the last rains
The caravan was grimey
Us kids were ratty too
Mum had had enough of off road camps
There was nothing else to do.
We pulled into a caravan park
(Mum checked that they took pets)
We even put the annex up,
mid gumbling and sweats.
Dad went for milk and beer
and to have a look around.
Mum planted tiny lettuce seeds
In the stony Isa ground.
Dad came back with the groceries
and news to cheer Mum's heart
He'd gone and got himself a job
He'd have a Monday start.
He'd be working as a postie
for the Queensland PMG
but without a scooter licence...
Well, it was pretty plain to see
He'd be using peddle power
'til he'd mastered scooter lore
And up and down those hills he'd push
'til his calves were nice and sore. (calves was not my first choice of word!)
Just as well, we thought with grins awry
that the old adage is true.
That once you learn to ride a bike
you don't forget ... do you!
You've got to understand,
My dad is fearless and strong
But the first time I saw him astride
Well ... I'd have to call it wrong!
But Dad practiced and persisted
And come the starting day
He was ready, as a rider,
to step into the fray.
Now in those days, the Isa,
was a booming mining town
not much couth or culture
to bring the roughnecks down.
Beer was drunk like mothers milk
It kept the dust at bay.
Mongrels were the dog of choice
And most were left to stray.
So for a rather nervous rider
With mail in his hand
Who's not that fussed on dogs at all
This was not going to plan.
If dog can smell your fear
Dad must have stunk like day old trout
To every mongrel dog and owner
On his pushbike route
By the end of that first day
I don't know how he saw it through
And you have to give him credit
for turning up to day two.
But within a week the tide had turned
He'd learnt a trick or four
Like how to roar "Get home you
mongrel bastard" and what's more...
He'd remembered how to front up
Like in navy days and nights
And bluff works well when dogs
and their owners are alike.
By the end of the second week
His licence had come through
The scooter took the fun away
But he'd earned that privledge too.
And so I'd like to raise a toast
With beer and nuts on hand
To the last pushbike postie
in the Isa ... my old man.
Sue
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Posted by Keep_Left on 2009-07-28 00:41:15 | Rating: | Views: 52
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