Open Writing

'Do you want to go for a drive?' asked my mate with the red Triumph TR6. I knew it would be different. He liked to go to unfamiliar places and his drives were never short. The destination was Broken Hill and we travelled for six days through three States.

Like Jack Kerouac characters the group took off in a convoy of Triumphs, a TR6, a 7 and an 8, a couple of Spitfires and big Mike's Ferrari. Hair streaming in the wind, we left Melbourne bound through Bendigo for the north-west.

The scenery changed from suburbs, to leafy ranges, to dry gold mining country and on into the scrubby Mallee. The smells of the bush overtook the convoy and the tired city dwellers came to life.

Alongside the Murray at our first overnight stop, a lonely traveller on a bicycle pulled into the motel. He changed into a business suit, got back on his bike, and pedalled off into the night. His destination became a source of speculation as the blokes began the nightly ritual of checking over the cars and the girls sat watching and chatting with a chilled drink in hand.
The drivers vied to lead the convoy, enjoying the freedom and space, as we crossed the VIC/NSW border and drove north, through the dry red country to Wentworth and a visit to the imposing old goal, but under the warm blue skies the sunny exercise yard wasn't so formidable.

Next stop, the Coombah Road House—one of those isolated places where no one ever stops long—just for fuel and food—but giant pepper trees and a sanctuary for rescued wildlife give it a permanent feeling.

A few more hours of ever-changing country and Broken Hill shimmered in the distance. The cars enjoyed the long run and with throttles wide open, the throaty note of the engines echoed over the outback. The mullock heaps and towering mine heads reminded us of wealthier times when the silver and lead were the lifeblood of the town. The mines are closed now, except to interested tourists, and with its clear light and colourful landscapes, Broken Hill is a haven for artists and their galleries.

For history junkies, the Sulphide Street Railway Museum has a collection of antique hospital equipment jumbled with farming, domestic and railway memorabilia. We came across the story of the only enemy attack on Australian soil in WW1 just months before the Anzacs fought at Gallipoli. A trainload of Broken Hill holiday makers, on their way to a picnic at Silverton, were attacked by two men flying the Turkish flag, in an ice-cream cart. A replica of the cart sits at the northern end of town.

Silverton is also a thriving community of artists with more galleries and historic ruins. The Silverton Pub serves a great steak sandwich and a Mad Max car is parked outside whilst inside photos on the walls comment on the many movies filmed on location in the bleak landscape.

On the road again and over the NSW/SA border to Peterborough, one of the two places in Australia where three railway gauges met. The Steamtown Peterborough Museum houses a huge railway workshop. It turned out my mate knows as much about steam trains as he does about cars and the blokes climbed over the old engines learning what made them tick.

Burra has a rich copper mining history and the quick fuel stop stretched to a few hours in the heritage-listed town when it revealed miners' dugouts on the creek and a heritage walk with many interesting sites.

After lunch on the Mannum pub's veranda overlooking the Murray and the paddle steamer PS Marion, the border was close but big Mike's Ferrari turned left and led the convoy to Loxton for a night of good food and wine.

Hugging the border heading south, the convoy skipped over the flat wheat and wool country, through Pinnaroo, to Bordertown for a truck stop lunch. A couple of beefy truckies had the drivers popping the car bonnets for a look at the engines and a long discussion about each car's merits.
At Naracoorte, we crossed the SA/VIC border, and the cars headed for Horsham, leaving behind the deserted roads and small country places. That last night the Kerouac characters swapped tales of the road and how the well cars performed or not. And we still wondered about the man on the bike.

© Lyn M Williams

Lynn writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au