Hank's 90th birthday in Montgomery

The warm sunshine in Montgomery Alabama on 14th Sept. 2013 bore little resemblance to the night Hank Williams died. It was unseasonably cold that day ( December 31st 1952) as a snow storm covered the entire southeastern United States. Admittedly it was a different time of year, but still hard to imagine.

 We had arrived in Montgomery 2 nights earlier intending to take part in the Hank birthday celebrations organized by the Hank Williams museum. Having already visited part of the museum and other Hank sites such as Chris's Hot Dogs (Hank's favourite eatery) and the Municipal auditorium (where the largest funeral Montgomery had ever seen was held), this Saturday morning we were preparing to attend the first "official" function - the laying of a wreath at Hank's gravesite in the Oakwood Cemetery Annex.

Our pre-ordered cab was waiting punctually outside our hotel (the Hampton Inn, which boasts a "Hank Williams suite") and we were duly transported to the burial site. The crowd was somewhat smaller than I had expected, but I reasoned that the 60 years that had passed since his death may have impacted on his fan base. As the crowd waited, a group of musicians put in the final preparations for their performance. I was to discover later this was the Sheppard family band, the leader of which was a second cousin once removed from Audrey Mae Sheppard -- Hank's first wife. The operator of the museum, Jeff Petty, gave an introductory speech about Hank's life and influence and the semiannual gatherings in Montgomery. My response to his request for an indication of where people were from prompted a double take when he heard "Australia" --- apparently not a lot of Australian fans have attended these events. A wreath sat importantly next to the graves of Hank and Audrey, Terry Faust, “Hank’s Grave Tender” sang a haunting tribute song to Hank, and several of the musicians who were to perform at the museum later that day collaborated for a moving rendition of "I saw the light".

The ceremony dispensed with, and our cab long departed, we relied on the goodwill of the grandparents of 2 members of the Sheppard Family band to transport us back to the museum for the 10 am festivities. They described themselves as "down home folks" and were more than generous with their offers of transportation and table sharing once back at the museum auditorium. They promised to keep in touch via email (and in fact did).

The Sheppard Family band were the first of many acts to take the stage throughout the day. Others included Frank Tuma, whom we had met the previous day at the Hampton Inn and who had written a song called "I met Hank Williams in a bar", Joey Allcorn (soon to release an album saluting Hank Williams and raising money for Museum), and Arty Hill, whose band "The Long Gone Daddy's" was named after Hank's song "I'm a long gone  daddy". Most sang versions of Hank Williams' songs and there were a few repeats.

In the early afternoon a barbecue lunch was provided as advertised. We came to understand that a barbecue in Australia differs from that in the United States, where it refers to a technique of cooking that involves cooking meat for long periods of time at low temperatures with smoke from a wood fire. A birthday cake for Hank's 90th birthday was unveiled and subsequently dismembered and distributed to the faithful. A busload of Canadians on a "Country music tour" swelled the audience for a period, and various local celebrities were introduced. One of these was Martha Howel, sister in law of Don Helms, Hank Williams'steel player (Don was married to Ouida Hazel Cullifer Helms - Martha's sister). She was gracious enough to chat to us about Don, Hank, Hazel and the museum.  Unfortunately the man who drove the car Hank died in - Charles Carr, a regular attendee at museum functions, had died earlier in the year. The family of Braxton Schuffert, Hank's life long friend who had also passed away during the year, gave an emotional presentation in his memory. No members of the Williams family attended, and we were yet to discover that within 8 days we would meet Hank's grand daughter Holly Williams in Nashville during the Americana music festival.

To one side of the stage  Neil Alexander Hamilton, a professor of  American history at Spring Hill College in Mobile Alabama,  peddled his book "Outlaws still at large" - subtitled "a saga of roots country music since the 1970s". He not only signed the copy I purchased but enlisted Joey Allcorn to sign the chapter about him. Unknown the us at the time was the interesting but unrelated fact that Spring Hill College was involved in controversy when, on July 27, 1963, Lee Harvey Oswald spoke there about life in the Soviet Union, just months before the assassination President John F. Kennedy.

We managed to find time between acts to tour the museum and examine the many fascinating artifacts, one of the most impressive being the Cadillac Hank died in. You may be forgiven for thinking one would be "Hanked out" by nightfall, but we managed, after a couple of hours respite, to get to Joey Allcorn's performance at the nearby "Alley Bar" to hear more roots country music.

The wonders of rail travel

A couple of recent train trips have alerted me to some unusual, and at times gross,  behaviour that occurs among passengers.


On one trip I left my seat for a more spacious compartment that housed only one other passenger -- a man of some years who seemed inoffensive enough at first glance. The wisdom of my decision was quickly thrown into question when he embarked on a program that involved picking his ears and flicking the harvest onto the carriage floor. Attempts to re-engineer the activity as an hallucinatory nightmare failed and I eventually fled to safety of another compartment.

The young girl who sat oppposite me seemed attractive enough on a quirky level but displayed an exaggerated pre-occupation with her teeth. Several furtive glances allowed me to identify the reason for  her fascination with her dental attributes,  and I came to appreciate the  difficulties associated with attaching false vampire fangs to one's native incisers.  A glance at her accompanying fashion accessory - a music player labelled "Vampire sounds" - resurrected memories of "From Dusk Till Dawn" (a 1996 horror crime action thriller film written by Quentin Tarantino), and her decision to leave the train a stop before mine acted as a successful anxiety reduction agent.

Schack Christmas newsletter 2012

Many of you will be aware that the Mayan calendar finishes one of its great cycles in December 2012. This  has fuelled countless theories about "cataclysmic or transformative events" accompanying the end of the world on Dec. 21.  At the time of writing  we are unable to verify or discount such theories,  but this review of Schack family events in 2012 may shape your impressions on the validity of the predictions.

Some predictions have included an increase in  "persecution"  (the systematic mistreatment of an individual or group by another group) prior to the "end of days".  There has been no shortage of evidence for this in recent times. In February 2012 police and fire brigade officials descended on the Schack residence in a failed attempt to prosecute fire restriction breaches.  At 11 pm on  Anzac Day eve police detained a driver in a car registered in the name of "Schack" and issued a warning about the impending registration expiration on the (unroadworthy) car he was driving.  In June a "red light" camera on the outskirts of Warrnambool recorded an alleged speeding offence by a driver in a car registered under the name "Schack".  In  October Queensland police tailed a hire car rented in Port Douglas in the name of "Schack" for 15 ks before breathalysing the driver  and conducting a licence check.  In November South Australian police detained a citizen identified as "M. Schack"on an alleged jaywalking offence in a street in Adelaide.  In December, a driver holding a licence in the name of "M. Schack" was called to the Warrnambool police station to answer an allegations of  "leaving the scene of an accident". Systematic? Maybe. Cataclysmic? Certainly.

Let's consider some transformative encounters (ie lessons or experiences that cause a shift in viewpoint). A  psychologist specialising in compulsive buying disorder (CBD) and impulse buying syndrome (IBS) was called to examine Michael after he entered Aldi to purchase some fruit and came out with a portable toilet. The diagnosis was not conclusive,  but some subsequent purchases raised  concerns. The acquisition of an "automotive scratch remover pen" (prompted by a promising TV ad ) resulted in a $200 panel beating  bill to "repair the repairs".   An E-Bay amplifier purchase turned acrimonious after the device was identified as faulty and the seller seemed unattracted to the  concept of refunding  the $400. A TV special steam cleaner purchased for a mere $200 failed to perform quite as well as the advertisement suggested but was useful for opening sealed envelopes. Then there was the switch in electricity retailer for a cheaper rate - three days before the rates were raised.  A "shift in viewpoint" is not evident as yet.

Depending on where you fall on the optimism scale, a 60th birthday could be considered cataclysmic, but the 10 day celebration Helen enjoyed suggested an alternate perception. Her performance at the family "Charades" night was only surpassed by her appreciation of the digestive system simulation (Cloaca) at the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) in Hobart. Admiration of her new found proficiency with the I-Phone map app was tempered by some imprecision in place-name recall. An attempt to navigate from Hobart to the Southern Tasmanian location of Peppermint Cove descended into chaos as we headed to the Perth suburb of Peppermint Grove.

(photo shows Cloaca end product)

Cataclysmic domestic events began with  a household flood of near Biblical dimensions resulting from a waterpipe fracture. Although the insurance company initially maintained that damage from hookahs was not covered, we were eventually settled (temporarily) in the Lady Bay resort. CGU policy holders may notice an increase in premiums next year due to the room service bill incurred. Other events have included a burn out (a pump, not a hoon incident) and numerous household breakages. At least three vitamiser mixing bowls have had transformative encounters with the tiled floor. More mysterious was a shattered glass door, and forensic investigators at first suspected a drive-by shooting. This was discounted upon the realisation that there was not really anywhere to drive by to, and  trajectory measurements were taken to provide an insight. The conclusion was reached that a blender bowl was dropped onto a tiled floor, cannoning a glass projectile  into the door panel. A person helping with enquiries eventually confessed.

Depending on your point of view, events such as marriage, house purchases and job appointments could be perceived as either cataclysmic or transformative, and Hannah has experienced  them all in one year. Whilst managing to marry Dan and sign up for  a significant debt she remarkably dodged  the  bullets on the battlefield of budget cuts and attained an ongoing position in the Government bureaucracy. We are waiting on confirmation that it is in the Department of Music Festival and Concert tickets.

The South West Auto Re-Cycle and Repair Association has recognised  Rebecca's contribution to its members'  financial position for 2012.  In a remarkable configuration of cataclysmic events she has recycled a Nissan Pulsar, written off a Mitsubishi Verada, dented a Toyota RAV4, blown a head gasket in a Ford Falcon and hit a dog with a Toyota Camry.

William is what one might call a dedicated football fan   -- it is worth noting that Josh Klapow, a clinical psychologist at the  University of Alabama,  points out that there is a big difference between a dedicated fan and a football addict --  and so there has been and always will be only one cataclysmic event for William - Collingwood not winning the Premiership. In 2012 such an event occurred, but it has happened so frequently over the last century that it would be difficult to isolate it as an indicator of the end of the world. As in previous years, he remained unplaced in the nude race at the Meredith Music Festival.

Mad Sunday

Pulling up at a local hotel I sensed something was wrong when I noticed the vehicle next to me was covered in mud, had 2 flat tyres and a piece of the body detached. It was the apparent the driver had made it TO the pub, but wasn't leaving at any time in the near future. As I entered the bar I became aware that the regular quiet Sunday recovery session had been replaced by a rowdy profanity laden "wake" for a local football team whose season had ended prematurely in a finals defeat.

Thinking it wise to befriend the natives, I approached one of the young men to establish a rapport. His preference for hip hop and grunge music suggested problems, although it seemed "The Gambler" might pacify them should the need arise. Disturbingly,  he confided  intentions to stay for the rest of the day. My immediate thought was that the "non-service to intoxicated patrons" laws would surely nullify such an ambition, but this was quickly tempered by the knowledge the publicans rarely withhold service to customers who are conscious and financially flush.
Abandoning hope in any adherence to the law,  I decided the best approach was to ignore most activity and concentrate on the task at hand - entertaining the audience. Not an easy task amidst an increasingly  unsteady group whose members amused themselves by pushing and shoving, showering each other with ice and twisties, issuing challenges with bar stools and continually  requesting "Hotel California" in the face of repeated admissions that it couldn't be done.
With any sense of social propriety and moral inhibitions long lost in the haze, the behaviour eventually descended into public indecency as the group developed an insatiable desire to expose their sexual organs and buttocks. Still no move by the management to evict.

The occasional visitor drifted in, exhausted by the day's book fair, but invariably made the choice to relax at another venue.

Any hope of responsible adult role modeling disappeared with the arrival of a group who had been  drinking continuously  for 38 hours to celebrate a 69th birthday. The suggestion by one of the members of this group to the footballers that they engage in a competition comparing the size of penises seemed too much for even the intoxicated young men, who retreated to the edge of the bar to grind twisties into the beer sodden carpet.

After 3 and 1/2 hours (but what seemed like 3 1/2 days)  it came time to bid farewell and pack up amidst of cries of "one more" and claims that "you've only just started". 

As I drove away I observed that the aforementioned damaged vehicle maintained its uncomfortable slump against the kerb outside the pub, but by now its indignity had been heightened by a dampened interior as a result of drizzling rain and half open windows.

Fatal attraction

Many of you are probably sceptical of the "magnetic attraction" theory currently gaining momentum in certain sub-cultures. Broadly speaking, the view is proposed that certain individuals have a magnetic attraction to police, and subsequently receive a disproportionate amount of attention by law enforcement agencies. Before dismissing the notion, I ask you to consider the following.

The year is 1954. Footscray displaces Collingwood as reigning premier, Bill Haley records "Rock and around the clock", and a constable in a remote Australian police station listens to a radio broadcast of the first cricket test as it unfolds in Brisbane. Several miles from the police station, a four year old boy removes a registration sticker from a car windscreen (ostensibly to improve his aunt’s driving visibility) and sets himself on a path that will see him attract an unprecedented level of police attention for decades. Within hours, the officer's cricket fixation is interrupted by a request to attach a new sticker - a task he undertakes with some haste lest he miss another wicket. The degree of irritation displayed is sufficient to alarm the boy's aunt and her recollections half a century later prompt investigators to speculate that the officer may have filed the child's name in the "to be harassed in future" file. The innocent victim in this instance is the subject of our case study, and will hitherto be referred to as “X” - an ordinary citizen with an extraordinary ability to attract the attention of authorities.

Fast forward to 1965. Thousands of teenagers challenge authorities by growing their hair long and spending their pocket money on Beatles records rather than public transport fares. The majority escape detection, but “X” is one of the few targeted by ticket inspectors. Apprehended for fare evasion, he is summonsed to the State Children's Court, convicted, and penalised with a moderate fine. An embryonic feeling that he somehow attracts undue police attention is suppressed by the view that the incident is an aberration.

In his last year of schooling (1967 ),  a holiday to Brisbane provides "X" with the opportunity to explore the city with the type of enthusiasm that only youth can dispense -- only to be apprehended and interrogated by Queensland police . Although the officers involved contend that X's sibling's long hair sparked their attention, X harbours fears that his mere presence may be a factor.

As our troops feel the heat of the February 1968 Tet Offensive in Vietnam, “X” celebrates his 18th birthday in the relative comfort of an Australian city. Dutifully accorded the dual privileges of legal drinking and licensed driving, he, like many of his peers, finds it difficult to separate the 2 activities. Within months he is apprehended by police officers who find him sleeping in a bogged car on the banks of a lake. Although not satisfied with his explanation that a companion dumped him there whilst he himself sought refuge in an unlocked Mercedes Benz parked in a nearby carport, the police decide not to press charges.

In October 1968 “X” flees a Chinese restaurant prior to settling the bill, claiming he was goaded by less scrupulous companions. Police apprehend him, but agree to drop charges on the condition that retribution is made. Authorities may have been drawn to the incident by the pursuant restaurateur wielding a meat cleaver, but it is notable that his companions comment that they have “done runners” many times before and never attracted any police attention.

In 1969 he witnesses a surprise Collingwood victory over the reigning premiers (Carlton) in the 4th round of the VFL season, and celebrates accordingly. Buoyed by the experience, he attempts to board a train home but is apprehended by rail inspectors who claim he does not have a valid ticket. Berated for hours, he is eventually released on the condition he appears in the city Magistrates Court. The Magistrate appears to share the view that “X” has been unfairly targeted, and dismisses a charge of fare evasion (whilst simultaneously upholding a charge of "using offensive language to a railway employee").

A few months later, police intercept a vehicle travelling through Geelong and allege that a passenger (identified as “X”) has shouted obscenities at a police car. They agree not to press charges on the condition that he relocates beyond the city limits and does not return.

In a matter of weeks “X” is observed at Young and Jackson's Hotel where he is drinking with some old school friends (one of whom has a police record). Police who descend on the infamous watering hotel arrest most of the group and transport them to the city watch house in a “divvy van”. In the absence of an obvious offence, the arresting officers give the incarcerates a choice of a charge -- "drunk and disorderly" or "offensive behaviour", but eventually allow them bail with no pending charges.

Faced with compulsory military service in 1970, “X” joins thousands of others in a peaceful demonstration against the war. Perhaps attracted by his presence, law enforcement officers form a barricade to block the march at the bottom of Bourke St., and "The Age" publishes a photograph of him grappling with police.

Entering military service later that year he finds the task of defending the country arduous, and fails to return after weekend leave. Military police agree to drop AWOL (absent without leave) charges after a medical certificate is produced.

Returning to civilian life in 1972 his vehicle is unexpectedly intercepted by police who declare it unroadworthy. Facts remain shadowy but questions arise as to why police are waiting on a remote rural road the very day “X” chooses to travel on it.

A short time later he is approached by an acquaintance to participate in bizarre scheme to push a car over a cliff and claim the insurance. His role as "getaway car driver" ends prematurely when police intercept both parties on the cliff top. Were they tipped off, or was it the attraction factor?

In 1974 he attends a friend’s 21st birthday party in a regional town. The party is interrupted by the arrival of a dozen police cars and “X” has his own vehicle searched. An attending officer comments that the car holds "everything but the kitchen sink", but fails to lay charges or give any explanation as to why police may have chosen to raid this particular party. We now think we know why.

In 1975 drug squad detectives raid “X’s” inner suburban shared house and detain the occupants for questioning. An American house mate is interned and threatened with deportation, but later released. Eventually no charges are laid and questions as to why the house was targeted remain unanswered.

Eight months later “X” offers a friend a lift home, but is intercepted by police who charge him with drink driving, and detain him in a suburban lock up. The arresting officers give no explanation as to why they are patrolling that particular stretch of road at that time of night, but do comment that they had observed him almost collide with a parked car.

In 1976 his suspicion that he has some kind of attraction to police gains credence when “X” visits a friend’s house after a day`s drinking at a suburban hotel. Shortly after his arrival narcotics agents leap the fence and arrest the occupants at gun point. “X” is interrogated but not charged, and left to ponder the coincidental timing of the raid.

A paucity of encounters in ensuing years convinces “X” that his capacity to attract police has abated to an acceptable level, but in 1982 an ominous pattern returns. A random breath testing station mysteriously appears on his preferred route home, triggering a second drink driving charge. Protesting his innocence, he is summonsed to court. This time the magistrate agrees with him and dismisses the charge on a legal technicality. Believing the tide is turning in his favour, “X” relocates to the country in the hope that such a move will reduce the chance of detection. The plan works for some years, but in 1986 police eventually zero in. For no obvious reason his vehicle is intercepted on his regular drive home and authorities once again arrest him for drunk driving. The magistrate suspends his license for 2 years, but ignores police calls for 4 year suspension.

“X” encounters limited police interaction in the 1990s and comes to believe he is once again in a safe zone. Unbeknown to him, a slight legislative adjustment introduces compulsory licence suspension for offences involving speeds greater than 25 ks over the limit. Police photograph him allegedly travelling at 87 kmh in a 60 zone and suspend his licence for 1 month. Unlucky, a victim, or .......?

As the new millennium unfolds “X” is routinely detained for minor incidents such as driving at night without headlights and failing to indicate. At a regional music festival police try in vain to come up with a viable charge after intercepting his vehicle allegedly travelling on the wrong side of a roundabout. No legislation seems to mention driving at night with sunglasses, and no alcohol or drugs are detected. Investigating officers comment that they have not seen driving like that from a sober person.

In 2002 “X” witnesses an incident with national political implications and is forced to go underground to avoid confrontation with both the prosecution and defence attorneys vying for his support for their opposing views. He eventually turns himself in to a local police station and makes a statement.

As technological advances afford inks between databases, other agencies join the fray. The fire brigade attends “X”s home on no less than five occasions, usually without need. In one instance police arrive at his workplace with the news that his "house is on fire" and insist that he accompany them in a police vehicle. His image is not helped by the fact that his previous manager has recently been similarly escorted from the workplace on child sex charges.

In 2010 the State government issues “X” with a Seniors card bearing the inscription “The holder is a valued member of our community -- please extend every courtesy and assistance”. The police apparently have a distorted view of what assistance may mean, and intercept “X” for speeding on three more occasions - at one stage alleging that he has led them on a high speed chase in dangerous conditions.

In 2012 “X” turns 62 but experiences little relief. The police and the fire brigade descend on his home after a family wedding, yet seem confused as to what offence has precipitated their intrusion. Traffic control authorities patrolling a remote stretch of road on Anzac Day Eve intercept his vehicle but are not specific about the reason for the stoppage. The fact that the officers ignore some obvious car defects (a mirror attached with adhesive tape and a side window supported by wads of newspaper) suggests that they have been attracted by some unseen force.

As fellow Victorians celebrate the Queen's birthday in June 2012 (when it is not actually the Queen's birthday),traffic infringement authorities seize the opportunity to photograph X allegedly breach the speed limit on the outskirts of town and subject him to further financial and demerit point penalties.

A holiday in far north Queensland in October 2012 is marred when police tale "X" for 15 kilometres before stopping his vehicle, breathalysing him, and issuing a caution. Although there is some suggestion that  an attempt to drive on the wrong side of a divided road may have triggered police attention, a more likely explanation is the "attraction theory".

In November 2012 "X" flees to South Australia in search of anonymity, but within an hour of his arrival Adelaide he is cautioned by police for walking across a street outside of marked cross-walks. The police explain that under s 87 of the Road Traffic Act 1961 it is an offence to walk without reasonable consideration for other road users but  fail to indicate why, of all the people in in the city, "X" has come to their attention.

In a bizarre development less than 8 hours after the jaywalking incident,  "X"  receives a text message from police in his home town regarding an alleged offence involving leaving the scene of an accident.

In January 2013 "X" visits some friends camping in a foreshore park at a seaside resort. The campers maintain they have not seen an authority figure since their arrival, but within minutes a security guard appears at the camp asking if everything is under control. Coincidence, or ....?

April 2014 -- a vehicle allegedly driven by "X" is photographed going through a red light in Parkville -- did this happen, or was in part of a larger conspiracy?

Move forward several months and:   It is not the first time "X" has encountered a law enforcement officer posing the question "Do you know why I've pulled you over today?", but a warm October morning in 2014 experience proves no buffer to the unnerving intensity of the probe.  At 8 am that morning "X" had risen from a fitful sleep at a truckstop perilously close to constant highway traffic and had availed himself of adjacent roadhouse facilities before purchasing some over priced fruit and driving blissfully into the future. About the same time, 200 kilometres away, a Senior Constable from a regional Highway Patrol was issued his assignment for the day. Although verification has not been possible at this stage, it is likely that this assignment was to intercept "X's" vehicle somewhere en route and issue a penalty. It is also likely that a rural town equidistant between "X's" current position and his predator's control room was nominated as the interception point, and a radar equipped vehicle dispatched accordingly. Not having estimated that "X" would get lost on some back roads west of his commencement point, the officer has a considerable wait before his prey eventually looms on the horizon. The unwitting "X" is stunned into immediate curbside submission by the traditional flashing light/siren method and given the opportunity to reply to the abovementioned question  (ie "Do you know why I've pulled you over today?") His response that "maybe I was doing a little over 60" is greeted with derision and the suggestion that "X" guess again about the speed. Before he can think of better answer the officer offers a figure of 79 and goes a step further by identifying the exact location -- "passing the pub". He then asks an even more difficult question -- did "X" have a reason for driving at this speed?  Thinking more clearly as his adrenalin rush kicks in, "X" volunteers  that he has a drinking problem and has been hypnotized  to  speed away  from hotels lest he be tempted to stop and imbibe. The immediate reaction of the officer is to reach for his breath testing device and command his suspect to blow into the beckoning tube. His disappointment at a negative result is barely masked before hastily issuing a $295 fine and adding "3"  to "X's" escalating accumulation of demerit points Finally freed to drive "X" continues on his journey, but has not ventured far before being subjected to the humbling gesture of the officer overtaking him on his return to his home base -- mission accomplished.

A pleasant afternoon's drive on a warm Autumn day (May 26th 2018) is punctuated by a police officer alleging "X" has been driving at a speed of 115 kph. Despite have presented to him an argument that the 35 year old van is incapable of such a speed, the police officer issues a $317 fine. Interestingly a few days later the news breaks that police have been falsifying breath tests. Whilst in no way related to the speeding incident,  it is an indicator of police honesty in the pursuit of quotas and one could be excused for thinking "X" has been a victim of such an action.

As “X” is still alive, this case study must be considered a work in progress, but should serve at least to validate the theory as a possibility. I ask you to keep an open mind and be aware of any similar cases before dismissing the idea.

Dark side of the moon

Challenges often come in threes. Exiting a band rehearsal room strewn with empty wine bottles is difficult enough, but add in a sprained ankle compounded by a knock from a falling music stand, a loaded back pack, a guitar and amplifier and the 200 metre trek becomes a challenge at another level. Whilst starting most automobiles involves a simple turn of the key in the ignition, there are certain vehicles (such as a 1986 Pulsar with a leaking radiator hose and a hood that requires a block of wood to hold it up) that necessitate extensive preparation (such as the addition of sufficient water to last a 14 kilometre journey).

Having overcome the aforementioned challenges on a cold dark night one might expect that the only other variable was running out of petrol, given the lack of an operational fuel gauge. Factor in the  traffic police and we meet our third challenge. Obviously waiting for a citizen to harass, a police car pursued me from  a remote site near the municipal saleyards  before the flashing lights and sirens suggested I should stop. As expected, requests were made to produce my licence, verify my address, state my destination, and indicate my level of sobriety. They asked whose car it was and informed me they knew it was registered to someone in a Northern suburb of the State's capital. They told me to be aware that the registration was due to expire. Shining a torch towards the front of the vehicle, they surprisingly made no comment on the fact that the side mirror was attached with adhesive tape, or that the side window was held in place by pieces of paper jammed in the cavity. Fortunately no request was made to open the passenger side door, as the would have been a difficult achievement. Eventually they added my details to their extensive file on me and sent me on my way.

Port Fairy Parking Festival

The injection of several thousand extra motor vehicles into the meandering laneways of a seaside fishing village produces, understandably, some unforeseen consequences. And so it was during the annual labor day weekend folk festival hosted by Port Fairy, when, sometime Sunday afternoon,  I encountered what I believed at the time to be the height of arrogance amongst local property owners. Earlier that morning I had availed myself  of a citizen's nature strip to rest my trusty 1992 Falcon (recently diagnosed with a possible cracked head subject to further scans). Returning later in the day to load in my equipment and make an exit,  I became increasingly aware of a voice from the depths of an adjacent dwelling.  The demand for "$20 in the box for parking " left me visibly shaken, but with enough control of my faculties to respond with less than enthusiastic "no worries mate" before speeding off.

As the day wore on I recounted the tale to anyone who would listen long enough, railing against the audacity and front of people who had the nerve to demand unauthorised parking fees. The incident was even drawn to  the attention of a visiting journalist who later asked me to identify the house involved.

On Monday afternoon I entered a local hotel to be greeted by the regular barman, who happened to know me from previous encounters. It was only when he commented that he hadn't found $20 in his letter box that I realised that the person who stood before me was the character I had disparaged for 24 hours. It was also obvious that many regular clients in the bar were aware of the encounter and were suitably amused by it.

There seemed nothing left but to order  a strong pineapple juice and thank the Lord I had not, in fact, parted with the $20.