Sydney/Taree Australia
Part 8

B was pretty grumpy on the Monday. "I can't so much as sniff a damn cork 'cause I've gotta pick up the rental car this afternoon."

"Way cool! What kinda car?"

"Doors and wheels. I dunno. I didn't specify any particular model. Actually, I'm not sure I should have rented a car. I haven't driven since we rented a truck to get all our stuff here almost three years ago. And that was the first time I'd driven anything since I sold my VW Kombi in 1995."

"You'll be right, B. Little old ladies can drive cars, so it's no biggie."

"Little old ladies are like you, Daniel. They have no fear."

B phoned for a taxi at 2:30pm. By 3:00 we were at the Thrifty depot in William Street, Kings Cross, where a pretty hot looking young guy served us, and asked B to produce his license and credit card, then sign a whole bunch of papers.

"You were gawking that that dude, B."

"Rubbish."

Our car was waiting for us in a parking lot a short walk away. "Here it is!" I announced enthusiastically as I spotted the license plate on the front of the silver Mitsubishi. "Whoa! It's a two-door hatch. Neato!"

Once we were seated inside the car, B began to familiarize himself with all the knobs and switches. "What's that weird noise?"

"Air con."

"Oh. Never had that before. And how do I change radio stations? This thing's got more buttons than a VCR. Can't stand all that bloody noise."

"You just press this button 'til you get a station you like."

"Let's not worry about that. Turn it off... it'll only distract me." B studied the stick shift. "Five forward speeds? We'll be half way home before I get to fifth!"

"Fifth is for freeway cruising, B."

"I knew that."

B made sure the shift was in neutral, then turned the ignition key. Whoa! Instant start! "She's only done 12,000 clicks," he noticed as he studied the dash instruments. "Practically brand new." Then he declutched, and selected first gear. We'd only travelled 20 yards when he said there was something wrong with the steering. "It's too light!"

"It's probably power steering."

"How come you know all this stuff, Daniel?"

"I'm a teen."

After heading down William Street for about a minute, B said it was as though he'd never been away from the wheel. "It's all coming back to me. Woohoo! I feel like a kid again!" He was up and down through the manual gears as we negotiated the traffic... changing lanes, doing all the normal stuff, and obviously enjoying himself big time. Ten minutes later, we were in the drive alongside his Petersham apartment.

Once inside, the first thing B did was make a record-breaking dash for the fridge. "I need a drink!" Then Lindsay asked if the car was there. But he didn't wait for an answer. He knocked on the bathroom door, and told Sue to come and check out the car.

"OK, OK! In a minute! In a minute!" That was Sue's standard reply whenever she was disturbed in the bathroom.

Meantime, B and I joined Lindsay in the drive, and had a good look at the silver chariot. "So that's what it is," B said as he saw the name on the hatch. "A Mitsubishi Mirage. I didn't have a bloody clue what it was. They all look the same these days."

Lindsay was carrying on like B had arrived home with a Ferrari. "It's beautiful," he kept saying as he investigated the interior and driving controls. I got the impression that most of Lindsay's life had been pretty mundane. He was acting like a kid on Christmas morning.

I noticed B inserting a key into the hatch lock. Then he lifted it, and let it rest on its supports. "Not huge, but big enough for personal luggage." Then, as Lindsay and I stood on either side of B, we saw IT!

"Bloody hell!" B said as a huge, brown, hairy spider emerged from a crevice in the rear seat, then scurried toward the other side of the car. The thing was as big as the palm of an adult hand, and ugly as all shit.

"What is it?"

"A huntsman. Lindsay! Don't just stand there gawking, get a broom or something. I'll keep watch. I don't want that damn thing disappearing or we'll never know where the hell it is."

Lindsay must've been trying to figure out what the fuck a broom was 'cause it seemed to take forever for him to return. Meantime, the massive spider was heading this way and that, wondering where it could hide. By the time Lindsay had arrived with the broom, the hairy critter had chosen to crawl across the roof lining, making it a perfect target for B's broom skills. Whack! Whack! Whack! But still the spider refused to die. Whack! Whack! Whack! The puzzled huntsman by now had lost a few legs, and wasn't in the best of health, but it still wasn't dead! Whack! Whack! Whack! That did it. Half the spider was smeared all over the roof lining, and the rest of it was dumped on the lawn.

"Why's it called a huntsman?"

"It doesn't build a web. It hunts its prey."

"Is it deadly?"

"I don't think so. Well, not to humans. But I wouldn't wanna be surprised by that big mother while I was doing 120 clicks along the freeway."

B grabbed a cloth and did his best to clean the roof lining, but the remains of the spider were pretty hard to shift. "I'm gonna phone Thrifty. This is fucking outrageous!" Well, the guy at Thrifty didn't think it was outrageous. He thought it was pretty funny, and hosed himself when B told him he wasn't gonna pay for any "extras". But the Thrifty guy offered B $10 off the cost of renting the car. "$10!" B muttered angrily after he'd replaced the phone. "They should've given me the damn car for nix!" I figured nix meant nothing in Oz lingo, and I was right.

That night, I phoned Col and Jeff to let them know I'd be helping B with last-minute packing. "Just when you think it's almost done, there's a bunch of stuff in a fucking cupboard or wherever. And the removalist guys are due at 8am tomorrow. So I guess I'll see you guys in Taree." We exchanged phone numbers, and promised to connect when we arrived up the coast.

"Your eyes are gonna pop when you see Col and Jeff, B."

"I think they're about as popped as they're ever gonna be with you around."

"Did you have friends like Col and Jeff when you were a teen?"

"Yep. I used to hang with a bunch of surfers, but we never got up to tricks like you blokes do. It was all pretty tame back then. At least, it was for us."

"I guess times have changed."

"Times are always changing, mate. It's a pity I won't be around when you're a fossil to hear what you have to say about the way things are then. Meantime, we've gotta get all this stuff packed. Can you hand me the tape and scissors?"

"Are you nervous about moving to Taree?"

"It's a big step. Not so much for me. I've lived in a zillion places in my time, so moving to the country is nothing new. But now that I've got two people to look after, I've had to do a lotta checking... doctors, hospitals, dentists... to make sure they'll have all the facilities they need. Taree is a major center, so that won't be a prob. Nevertheless, it's not like moving around the corner like we've done twice before."

"Sue's depressed. I saw her out in the kitchen... she was sitting at the table looking like a zombie."

"Were you naked?"

"Yeah, but it was like she didn't even notice. Kinda dented my ego a bit."

"Sue tends to look on the dark side. She's afraid of change. She's convinced herself that the move to Taree is gonna be a disaster. She's also gonna miss Nancy. They've become quite good friends since we've been here. In fact, Nancy is very upset as well, not just because we're leaving, but also because she's been given notice to quit her apartment."

"Where's she gonna go?"

"She wants to stay put. Don't ask me why. She's lived there for 17 years and not a damn thing has been done to improve her apartment. The landlord's an asshole. The wallpaper is peeling, the bath is rusting away, she's got power boards all over the place 'cause there are insufficient power points on the walls. The place is a mess. But that's the way it is with most people. The devil they know is better than the devil they don't. It's all about resistance to change. Lindsay, on the other hand, sees this as a great adventure. He has every confidence in my ability to take us to the land of milk and honey."

"What if it isn't?"

"We'll deal with that when we get there."

That's not all we had to deal with. The first removalist guy arrived early, about 7:30am, and sent B into a total panic, and me into my shorts. B hadn't packed his comp yet, and there was a whole bunch of stuff in the two kitchen fridges that needed to be packed into portable coolers. Lindsay was given the kitchen job, while B and I dismantled his comp.

At 8am, the huge removalist truck arrived. Five guys descended on the place, and began loading cartons and furniture. The hallway was a blur of big, muscly guys with legs like tree trunks coming and going. And Sue? Where else? In the fucking bathroom, putting on her makeup.

"Sue! The removalists are here! They're loading the truck!"

"OK, OK! In a minute! In a minute!"

"Why does Sue say 'minit'?"

"She's English. Minit, chickin, Ingland, crumpit... whatever. I don't understand how the Poms consistently turn an 'e' into an 'i'."

"You should talk! You say 'chewsday', and 'chewned' instead of 'tuesday' and 'tuned'."

"I should talk? What about you? Everything is 'rrr', 'rrr', 'rrr'. Dogs barrrk. The night is darrrk. What's wrong with baahk and daahk?"

"Cause there's an 'r' in bark and dark for a good reason, B. Why put it there if you'rrre not gonna pronounce it?"

"For the same reason there's a 'k' in knife."

"You're too old to be poking out your tongue."

"Says who?" :-P

By about 9, Nancy was hovering around, looking pretty damn sad... like a shag on a rock. She was asking B for his forwarding addy and phone number, but B was too busy to pay any attention. "Later", he kept saying. I felt sorry for Nancy. I'd gathered that she'd always depended on B for a lotta things... errands, cooking, replacing light bulbs, whatever. It was as though the old lady was being deserted, and nobody cared. They were all too busy to be concerned about her plight.

At 10:30, the truck had been loaded. A final check of the apartment revealed that nothing had been left behind. It was as though B, Sue, and Lindsay had never lived there. It was just a series of empty rooms. Nancy and Sue were chatting and hugging. When I saw Sue's tear-streaked face, it was obvious that she was terrified of what mystery lay ahead. And Lindsay? He was happily chatting to the removalist guys, cracking crude jokes, and looking forward to the adventure. B? He was totally focused on the job ahead. There would be no turning back, no compromise, no rethink. Taree or bust.

I was sitting in the front passenger seat of the Mitsubishi. Sue and Lindsay were in the back. As we reversed outa the drive, and were about to head north, I waved goodbye to Nancy, who was standing there looking like a lost child. She watched the car 'til it disappeared around the corner. The last three years of her life had vanished into thin air, and she didn't have a fucking clue where fate would take her.

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