Reality

(Re-Edited Sunday 16th)
A reply to a comment over on diogenesian discourse posed the question "What is reality?"

Have to admit that I don't really know. My reality is not anyone else's reality, and certainly NOT george Bush or john Howard's reality.

Reality, to me, consists only of what I can touch, smell, see, hear and feel; as well as the memories of that which I have previously done.

Have seen quite a lot of the reality Australia; walked the ground, touched the rocks, smelt and felt the trees and streams, interacted with its people. Anything else is an exercise in imagination. Stories that have read, pictures - produced by others - that have seen.

Yesterday MY reality tapped me on the shoulder.

Had just filled my trailer with a load of unwanted shrubs and greenery and, at 4pm, decided that had just enough time to get to the dump (Waste transfer facility) which closed at 5pm. Cost:AUD $55.00 (bear in mind that the fees change, depending on who's at the gate. The young ones charge full fees, the older ones see me come in two, perhaps three times a week and give me a bit of a break. In any other "business" they should be paying ME to supply raw materials to 'on-sell', as they 'compost' it, add some chemicals, put it in bags for the 'supermarkets'. And yes, I have to add that to what I charge my 'customers'.)

Driving along the road at 40kph I hear behind me a sudden 'crunch', followed by a strange grinding sound. Slowed down, glanced left .. to see a solitary wheel travelling down the road faster than I was. Oh shit, think I, that looks like mine.

It rolled merrily down the road, hit the kerb, bounced, crossed the footpath, narrowly missed a pedestrian, bounced again, then ended up with a sudden flurry of halt in a rose bush in somebody's fenceless front yard.

Um, think I, slowly dragged lopsided trailer off to the side of road, then halted in a bus stop. Went and retrieved wheel from only-slightly-damaged rose bush, sat down on kerb, scratched head. Um, think I once more.

A cyclist came along the bike lane. "Bittuva problem," he said. "Yup," said I.

We went back along the side of road looking for any bits that might be seen. Found two wheel nuts and the hub cap. "Good luck," he said, then went off on his way.

Strange how things happen when one is not always 'prepared' for them. Had recently changed "work wagons". The old one was falling apart faster than could get it repaired, so bought a "new" second-hand one. All the tools, bits and pieces of equipment that one collects, over a lifetime, to cope with any 'emergency' - were in the back of the old vehicle at home. So, unhitched trailer, drove home to collect "stuff"; called in to local Garage, they gave me a bucket of assorted wheel nuts - returned to trailer and sat down to consider problem.

Was fiddling around trying to fit two small jacks under trailer when a car pulls up behind me. Jolly grey-haired gent about my age gets out, goes to back of his car, comes toward me with one large hydraulic jack - and two stubbies of Cooper's "Pale Ale". "Looks like y' need a bittuva hand," he says.





So, we jacked trailer up, tacked wheel back on, then opened stubbies. Sat by side of road chatting.

He asked me if I enjoyed what I was doing. Told him not really, but didn't have much choice. Have done many and varied things over 62 years, but collected no 'certificates', no 'data', nor 'specific' skills. My 'use-by-date' for 'gainful' employment happened at around age 45. Collected the 'dole' in Queensland for five or six years (I called it the "Federal Funds Re-distribution Scheme". i.e. they collect it in Canberra, I spread the pittance around the countryside.) Came home to South Australia in 2000, began in 'business', and have been slowly going into debt ever since. Am not a "businessman", apparently.

"Know what y' mean," he says. "Was employed for 12 years, but who would employ someone who specialised in driving a Centurion tank. Now, I just play music and have fun."

Um, missed out on that little bit of "life's peculiar experiences", think I.

So, stubbies empty, I thanked him, we shook hands, he departed .. and I began to drag crippled trailer slowly homeward.

Didn't get far. The wheel once more began to wobble off its stripped threads, so took it onto a quiet side road, left it there and went home.

8am next morning, went to local garage, explained situation. They told me to bring the hub in, so that they could have a look at it. Returned to trailer, removed wheel and hub; left trailer perched precariously on a flimsy jack, back to garage. "Ah", they say, "you need to replace the wheel studs," whanged one of the old studs out of hub and made some phone calls. "Motor Traders say they have what you need, do you want us to order them in, or go pick them up yourself?"

Self now has a 'time' problem. It's the day before a four day public holiday, and have to get through two day's worth of customers. "I'll go pick them up." Say I.

Scoot down the road to Motor Traders with sample stud in hand. Stand at counter for ten minutes while staff talk on phone. Eventually one 'serves' me: self explains situation. "Ah," he says, picks up plastic packet on counter with stud inside, then looks at the one that I brought in. "Um," he says, "that's not the same one. Dunno what that one is, looks like a Holden wheel stud, but never seen one like it before." He searches through catalogue. "Nah," he says, "haven't got any. What's it from?" "My trailer," say I. "Ah," he says, "we only have motor car parts. Try a trailer manufacturer." Scheiss, think I, the only ones that I know of are many miles away across on the North side of town .. then has a rare bright idea.

Six years ago had needed to get some spare parts for a Toyota Coaster campervan from a 'caravan accessories' establishment just a short distance away. I go there, show stud to bloke. "Would you have one of these?" I ask. "Yup," he says and disappears into back room. He must have heard my exact words, and returned with 'one'. "Um," say I, " I need five, plus nuts." "O.K." he says, and disappears back through door; returns with four more studs and a packet of five matching nuts. (sometimes I lose, sometimes I win.)

Studs and nuts in hand (no jokes, please), return to garage, they put studs in hub. I return to trailer, replace hub and use spare wheel from car.

Hey presto. Back on road at 11am.

"Old 'work wagon'"













"New 'work wagon'"


[I wish everyone on the "North Side" a Happy and enjoyable "Spring Festival" .. another peculiar festival on this side of the equator .. as the "imported" trees lose colour, discard their leaves, and this half of the globe moves slowly toward winter.]