Outback Penguin

by Stuart Kells

  It was in my capacity as a track driver that I met Mr Potter, although I have never had the pleasure of taking him for a drive. Excuse me, I am wrong. I have once driven him but only for a few hundred yards. One is apt to overlook these small distances when one’s usual trip is just over 200 miles. Mr Potter lives at Glenelg. He is a man I greatly admire and has a strong personality. None the less do I admire Mrs Potter, a real motherly mother; Mr Potter jnr (Bill) who is training to become a dentist; and the two Misses Potter. Although I have only known Mr and Mrs Potter and family for a comparatively short time, they treat me as ‘one of the family’ and try to make me feel ‘at home’ as much as they possibly can and in a home like theirs this is indeed a great pleasure.

  Sunday, 4 January 1925

  I have a lot to say, but I cannot say it. This is due to the fact that I am rather worried about the car service. We are not making any money out of the car and we already owe a terrible lot on it. Also, the tyres are wearing very badly. We have already bought two new tyres and sent two to be retreaded. We have not yet received these back, but as soon as they arrive there are two more to be retreaded. And the car has only done 6,100 miles. Still, that is not a bad mileage considering how long we have had the car. The car will not pay if the tyres only last 3,000 or 4,000 miles. If we cannot pay for the car, I suppose the agents will take it away from us. That is what I think is going to happen before very long. What shall I do then?

  All my savings for two years will have disappeared. But still – easy come, easy go. It’s no use being downhearted about it. I was anxious to do some track driving. I enjoyed it, too. I think the experience I gained will be worth about £60, for that is what I shall loose. Not much, but still it took a long time to save it. I think if the car goes I will also go. But where – Heaven only knows. I shall have to try and look out for a job, I suppose.

  I spent a very quiet but enjoyable Christmas. On Xmas morning I was busy with the car. I had to procure some distilled water and fill the batteries, change a wheel, make a new fan belt, and make several minor alterations and repairs. The afternoon I spent very quietly and in the evening I went to Glenelg.

  I spent a most enjoyable evening at the Potters. On Boxing Day I was at the Potters in time for midday lunch. There was to have been a race between two yachts in the afternoon, but the sea was very rough and it had to be postponed. Mr Potter was the official referee, judge, umpire, starter and time keeper, and had the race taken place that afternoon I should have ‘been on’ one of the boats. But, looking at the rough sea, I thought to myself that I should very soon have ‘been off’ one of the boats. Still, I managed to have a very good time without going yachting.

  My next trip down was on New Year’s Eve. I had a very good trip. I left Renmark at 8 o’clock, stopped four times – once when a passenger was sick, once for a tin of petrol, once for dinner and once for a drink. The total time I lost by stops was just over an hour. I reached the Isolation Hospital, North Terrace, where I left my first passenger – she was not a patient but one of the staff – at 3.45pm and I had travelled about 195 miles. Considering the roads and tracks I have to travel along, I thought that I had done the journey in very good time. This is by far my best trip as regards speed.

  In the evening I again went to the Potters and it was from the verandah of their house that I saw the sun fade from view below the horizon for the last time in 1924. The old year did not finish up his term of office with a spectacular sunset, for on this, the last day, the sun slowly, almost tenderly as if it did not want to go, melted into the deep blue of the ocean and – all was over. No flaming ball of fire or lighting up the clouds with wonderful colours. It just faded away as if it was sad and wanted solitude. Need I say that at that time my thoughts were of the country which is the capital of the Empire, on which the sun never sets. It is always shining on some part of that Empire and at the present time I should think that it has concentrated its rays on that portion of the world in which I happen to be.

  For 31st December 1924 on my old calendar was written: ‘What you learn to your cost you remember longest.’ I really think it must be true.

  Sunday, 11 January 1925

  I felt in the right mood to do some writing this morning but, unfortunately, I was too busy and now the mood has passed off. This is due to the weather. This morning it was pleasantly warm; this afternoon it is uncomfortably hot.

  When I was in Adelaide last Thursday I made several enquiries about another job and I think I have managed to secure one. I went to see Mr Cudmore, who has helped me several times before when I have been in trouble, and explained to him the position I was in. He offered to secure me a position at Elder Smith if I was willing to ‘stick it’. I promised to let him know whether I would take it or not the next time I was in Adelaide, which I expect will be next Thursday. I have made a lot of enquiries about Elder Smith and find that it is one of the best firms for a young man to enter in South Australia. The prospects of advancement are very good, for the firm is a very wealthy one.

  If I could secure a position there without having to wait long I should count myself very lucky indeed. I shall have to start at the very bottom, licking stamps or addressing envelopes most likely, and I only expect to receive about 30/- a week to commence with. So I shall not be too well off for the first year or so. But still, I am told that 30/- a week at Elder Smith is better than treble that amount at practically any other firm in South Australia, as the prospects are so infinitely better than practically any other firm. I have had some very good times on the track, but I now realise that the prospects are absolutely nil. The most sensible thing I think I can do is to ‘cut my losses’ and ‘pack my traps’, and try something else.

  I am almost forced to remain in Australia as I have not enough money to take me out of it, but this is not much of a hardship as I am beginning to like certain parts of Australia. Glenelg, I think, is a fine place. And as I have decided to remain in Australia for some years I have to choose between manual and clerical work. Manual is the better paid up to a certain mark but you cannot rise beyond that mark. Whereas in clerical work your promotion practically depends on yourself. I do not know how I shall like clerical work. It is a job I have never had a fancy for, but I realize that it is time I settled down to something. There is nothing in fruit growing at the present time, nothing in track work, so I will have a shot at clerical work.

  If I do not settle down to office work within the next few years it will be too late to make a start and I shall stand a good chance of becoming a ‘rolling stone’, which ‘Heaven forbid’. There are good prospects in sheep, but I think it is usually a case of ‘money making money’. It is hard to get very far in that line without an adequate amount of capital.

  Sunday, 25 January 1925

  I received a letter last night from home and in it was mentioned the fact that my diary had arrived safe and sound and well before Christmas, and from the tone of the letter I gathered that my Xmas present was quite acceptable. The only trouble is that now another diary will be expected next Xmas and I think somebody will be rather disappointed if one is not forthcoming, so I shall have to pick up my pen and ‘get a move on’. Father, in asking me to continue with the diary, says ‘ – and if you can only make it a habit you will find that the habit will grow until it becomes almost part of yourself’.

  I really must try and follow this good advice. Last week I had a few days’ holiday. I drove down to Adelaide on Wednesday and did not come back until the following Tuesday. Down again Wednesday and back Friday. I think this will be the last track driving I shall do for several weeks.

  Altogether I have had a very pleasant time on the track. I have had ‘dud’ trips of course, going through by oneself is not at all pleasant. I had made short notes of some of the trips in a small pocket diary I had but, unfortunately, someone ‘lifted’ this when I was at the Test Match. What hard luck the Englishmen had, losing by eleven runs (third Test Match). It was also hard luck losing my diary, but I remem
ber the names of all the passengers I have carried; it is as few as all that. I will now write down a list of all the passengers I have carried. It is only about sixty and a list of their names, though it may not interest you very much, may in years to come be of interest to me and bring back memories – good, bad and indifferent.

  First trip down: Miss Whitlock from Rossell’s and Miss Cave from 28th Street. I was rather nervous, doubtful of the road, but tried to convey to the passengers that I was quite an old hand at the game. Left passengers somewhere in St Peters. Sister Rogers was my only passenger back.

  Mr Clarke, the bank manager, and his wife and child were my passengers on my next trip. I gave them a comfortable ride down and landed them at the Grosvenor, North Terrace, at 6 o’clock. The next day I took them down to the Katoomba as they were bound for Sydney. I remember it distinctly. From his house in Renmark right down to the gangway of the boat and no trouble at all. The next day I came back by myself. This was the last time I used the Eudunda–Kapunda track as on my next trip down I had Bob as my only passenger but he showed me a new track.

  At Morgan we crossed the railway line and headed for Blanche-town, which is about twenty-five miles distant and not a house alongside the track the whole way. At Blanchetown is the first completed lock and weir on the River Murray. From here to Sedan is thirty miles and there are only about two houses near to the track. At Sedan there are six turnings. On this trip down we went from Sedan to Cambrai, up Cook’s Hill, and then the Mount Pleasant-Birdwood-Gumerache track, through the Gorge, Athelstone and Payneham, and followed the car line into Adelaide. I drove Bob to Brighton and had tea there at Mrs Haig’s (his sister).

  Coming back I had a full load: Mr and Mrs Low in front, and Bob and two Mr Smiths (brothers) in the back. I picked up Bob at Brighton, Mr and Mrs Low at Keswick, and the Smiths at the Post Office corner. Bob and the Smiths had two whiskies and milk each before leaving Adelaide, and two more at Birdwood where they also bought half a bottle of whisky and a bottle of milk. At Sedan they had five more of the same drinks each, another half bottle of whisky. They slept most of the way from Blanchetown to Morgan, but there they only had one drink and one more half bottle of whisky. I had luggage strapped on both sides of the car and the three passengers at the back had to climb over the doors when they got out. At Morgan, one of the Smiths, in doing so, caught the seat of his trousers on some portion of the door and evidently did not hear the ensuing rip. He walked about Morgan for fully ten minutes with half the tail of his shirt hanging out of his trousers before his brother called his attention to it. He then beat a hasty retreat to the car and donned an overcoat.

  At Morgan, Bob confessed to me that he had had quite enough and from the manner in which he walked I quite believed him. From Morgan to Renmark my three rear passengers wanted to bet on anything. They wanted to bet that they had never ridden in a more comfortable car, that they had never been driven by a better driver, that we were going seventy-five miles an hour, that they had not passed Morgan, that someone had taken their bottle of whisky (which was correct, for I had taken it in order to try and keep them quiet and the bottle, with a small quantity of whisky, is in the garage at this very moment). They then gave me instructions to stop at Morgan as they wanted to have a shave. After about an hour of this they all went to sleep and did not worry me anymore. The two Smiths had been up in Queensland cutting sugarcane and they each had a cheque to ‘blow in’. Although they were very merry for a portion of the journey they did not become objectionably drunk, which I was glad of because I had a lady passenger: Mrs Low.

  On my next trip, I picked up Mr O’Brien from Tenth Street and Mr and Mrs Low from here. I took O’Brien to his home, which was nearly down to Port Adelaide, and Mr and Mrs Low back to Barwell Avenue where I always stop. I drove back by myself for the second time. The day was a Tuesday and on Wednesday I again came down with Mr Pat Evans, from Chowilla Street, and Mr and Mrs Leander from Tenth Street. (The latter two had only been married a couple of hours when I picked them up and as we left rose petals were thrown at the happy pair). I had a puncture just outside Morgan which was my first since I had been driving on the Adelaide track.

  Mr Evans was jolly good company. He was going to Melbourne for an important meeting. He told me many stories and strange experiences that he had been through when he was roving. I dropped him at either the South Australian or the Grosvenor in North Terrace, I forget which it was now. And whilst proceeding along the Unley Road, on the way to Mitcham to leave Mr and Mrs Leander at their destination, I was stopped for ‘speeding’ as I was travelling at the terrific rate of twenty-three m.p.h. when I should only have been doing twenty m.p.h. A summons was issued, however, and I had to pay £1 fine and 15/- costs.

  I am very unfortunate in my writing. No sooner do I really settle down to writing than I am disturbed and very often have not the chance of settling down again for many days. It was so this afternoon and now it is 10.15pm, too late to think of starting again. Perhaps someday I shall have more time for writing.

  Sunday, 8 February 1925

  Alas for my good intentions of regular contributions to this diary. I really have been busy, though. Anyhow, I think it would be best if I were to go on with my experiences of track driving and come back to the news of the past fortnight when I have finished.

  I had got as far as the time when I was stopped for ‘speeding’ at a miserable twenty-three m.p.h. and many is the time I have travelled double this speed without being caught. Of course, the greater the speed you are caught doing the greater the fine. On three occasions I remember doing fifty-five m.p.h. on the Bay Road. Once when returning from Glenelg alone; once when returning from the same place with Bill Adams; and again when I was bringing back Mr Potter and his son and daughters. And once I think I touched fifty-seven or fifty-eight on the same road coming back from Glenelg alone. I tried to pass a Vauxhall or some other English car and they simply left me standing. Once I did fifty-one m.p.h. on the Morgan plains and twice I exceeded fifty on the Gawler Road. These are my chief bursts of speed, but I only go really fast when the road is absolutely clear and I am certain that everything is o.k. A speed of ten m.p.h. in some portions of the Gorge is far more dangerous than sixty m.p.h. on such roads as Bay Road, Port Road, Gawler Road, and the Morgan plains and Blanchetown plains.

  My luck was dead out that trip, for after I had delivered my passengers at Mitcham and was returning along the Unley road I ran out of petrol and had a terrible job to secure a tin.

  On my return trip I had Mr and Mrs Ryder as passengers. I picked them up at Glenelg and delivered them at destination on Renmark Avenue, at a reasonable hour and quite safely. They both sat at the back most of the way, so for that portion of the trip I hardly spoke a word. The only thing I can remember the trip by is the fact that Mrs Ryder was sick about every ten miles after we left Sedan. Car sickness is nearly as common as sea sickness and far more prevalent than train sickness.

  My writing is full of interruptions. It is now 7.30am and so time to milk, have breakfast etc.

  On my next trip I only had one passenger, Miss Matchoss from Tenth Street, and her destination was Cambrai, so from there onwards I had my own company. As this diary is just between ourselves, I don’t mind telling you that Miss Matchoss was a ‘bonzer’ passenger. She was one of these passengers who can adapt themselves to any company and, of course, in my capacity as a driver I try to do my best in this direction. It was on this trip that we did fifty-one m.p.h. on the Morgan plains. Some cars do sixty m.p.h. on these plains, but even a pace of fifty-one m.p.h. seems fairly fast. I let her drive part of the way, which she enjoyed very much. I stayed at her home in Cambrai to dinner and then proceeded on my weary way. I think she was the first passenger that I carried that had ‘shingled’ hair which, I emphatically say, I do not like.

  Because she had never read Grey’s ‘Elegy’, I concluded that she was not very well educated. Anyhow, she was a real decent passenger and we had a real good trip. I remember th
e weather was perfect and the car was running ‘top hole’. From a financial point of view, this was a real ‘dud ‘ trip as I only had one passenger back: Sister Rogers. This was my second trip up with her and each time we were alone. I did not have quite so memorable a trip up this time as I did the first time. It was a very hot day, well over 100°F in the shade. She had excess baggage in the shape of an iron trunk (one of the largest sizes made, I should think). Sister brought a lot of provisions with her and so we did not stop at any hotel for dinner, but had a picnic under a shady mallee tree halfway between Sedan and Blanchetown.

  My next trip down was a rotten one. It was on a Sunday, and on the Wednesday, Thursday and Friday preceding it the temperatures were respectively 104°F, 110°F and 115°F. (I think these are correct, but would not swear to them.) On the Saturday night, and early Sunday morning, we had an inch of rain and the temperatures dropped to between 40°F and 50°F. So, on a bitterly cold Sunday morning, raining and with the roads in a shocking state, I left Chowilla Street for Goolwa Street, Block E, where I picked up Bill Adams, the first passenger. He kept me waiting nearly half an hour and before we had proceeded one mile from his house the car got bogged. Bill is a terrible chap for swearing and perhaps the less I say of how we got out of the bog the better. Certainly, if language could have helped we should not have been stuck for many minutes. Leafy branches of mallee trees, in great quantity, eventually did the trick after over an hour’s hard work. I had to wade through six to eight inches of mud all the time I was fixing up the boughs. On this trip I felt knocked out before I started. The only other passenger I had was Mr Dicconson, a friend of Bill’s, and he had given me up as a bad job. He thought that owing to the weather and state of the roads I should not be going down. However, we managed to slip and slide around to where he was staying and we soon started off in earnest, nearly two hours late. Mr Dicconson had bought six bottles of beer for the trip down, but, thinking that we were not coming, he and a friend polished off the lot before we arrived. So he, at least, was in quite a happy state of mind. At some places, such as ‘Boggy Flat’, the car kept on turning around and trying to go back to Renmark. However, all days come to an end and at about 8 o’clock I delivered them both safely at their destinations in Adelaide. I never managed to collect the fares from either of these passengers, although I tried several times. Coming back, I brought the Under Chef of the Renmark Hotel, and Mrs McLean and her little daughter. The former I picked up at the Grosvenor and the latter at the railway station, both in North Terrace. I had an average trip up with nothing special to remember the journey by.