My life story by Henry J Macey (best e reader for manga .TXT) 📕

Later towns sprung up close by these mines, some of the traffic consisted of workers taking their cars so they would be available on site. Later when they built homes, their families would come as well. Many accidents occurred to people not used to driving long distances; many fell asleep at the wheel, crashed and were injured or killed.

The lucky ones just ran off the road to get bogged down in the soft ground to be pulled out when they were found. But others turned over and would lie trapped and injured for hours. At night the danger was much greater, not just for the fact that you might not be seen, but that it gets mighty cold in the bush at night. Don and I have passed many burnt out wrecked trucks and cars, most of the trucks would be recovered but the burnt-out cars would just rust away.

My biggest fear was to fall asleep at the wheel. Don and I made a packed never to drive if we were too tired. One night I was shattered, so I awoke Don to ask if he could drive. He said he couldn’t because he had not really slept, so I pulled over onto the side of the road, turned off the headlights and slept over the steering wheel.

I don’t know how long I slept but I awoke in a panic, my heart pounding. For several seconds I wrestled with the steering wheel whilst standing on the brake before coming to my senses and realised that I was already stopped. I have never slept at the wheel of any vehicle since.

We were in Port Headland one morning having breakfast, we had just unloaded our trailer to return to Perth. While we ate, we talked to the two mechanics that we knew quite well. They were heading south as well, but only as far as Dampier. They were going the do some work down there and would return that night. Both of us pulled out of the yard together, but they had a service van and soon left us behind in their dust. Don and I settled down to the long drive home. Just short of Dampier I saw their van lying on its side, some way off the road. I gave Don an elbow in the bunk and pulled over.

Their van had rolled over several times; the passenger door was open and crushed. One body lay between the road and the van. From the state of the body, the van must have rolled over him. The driver was still in the crushed cab; both were well beyond any help we could offer.

Having covered them as best we could, Don drove to Dampier, whilst I stayed to guard their bodies against any attack from animals.

After the six months trial of the converted F600 was over, we were told that they had ordered a fleet of the new model. They would be arriving in batches of four, our new truck would arrive in the first batch. When the day came, Owen told Don and me to get into the station wagon with two other drivers as he was going to drive all of us down to the docks to pick up the four trucks that had just past through customs. After a bit of paperwork in the dock office, we were taken to the compound where the trucks were held. Owen gave us the keys and number plates for the truck we would drive back to the yard. There was a tag on the keys with a number that corresponded to the number on the windshield.

 When I found the one I had the keys to it somehow looked different from the other ones. Don’t get me wrong they all looked the same, but there was a little thing about this truck that made it look different. It took me some time to work out what it was, and then I had Don’s help. The Bulldogs on the doors and above the grill was gold instead of silver. Where the others had a Thermadine badge on the grill, this one had Maxadine.

The inside of the cab was also different it was not a walk through the cab, the engine cowling joined the wraparound instrument panel and there was only one gear stick in a six-speed box. The gear stick had a three-way switch on the leading edge; this switch gave you low, direct and high range. A switch on the top of the gear stick allowed you to split the high range so you still had twenty-four gears.

When we got back to the yard, Owen told Don he had better help me change our gear over to our new truck. Don asked which one was that when Owen said the one Harry’s in he ran over to me as if he had been given a puppy. I must say I was also pleased, for it was the top of the range, with leather seats and a bulldog embossed in the backrest.

We had to get sheepskin seat covers because we had to peel our backs off the leather if we wore no shirt. We found it had much more power too; it pulled like a runaway train. There was more good news to come on that day. Tony and his partner were coming off of the Wittenoom freezer. We were asked to take it on; it was something I had been waiting for. A regular run, no more run here run there, we could plan our week.

It would also make our wife’s happy for we would be home on weekends. Monday noon saw us in the yard loading the freezer, we would not leave until early Tuesday morning but we had to see the load going on to make sure it was in the right order. The run was still the same as when I did it with Tony, but they had built a road into Paraburdoo.

Arriving at Tuckenera we delivered Mar's groceries, had breakfast and took her order for the following week. Having made up time on the run we stopped a bit longer and chatted to Mar. She told us of the days when the railway was running; her husband had been foreman of the maintenance gang.

When they shut down the track they had retired him, giving him the house and yard to live in. When I asked what he did to past the time she told me he had found gold at the back of the house and spent several hours a day out there. He never found a fortune; in fact, it was not worth the time. You could work all week to dig out a day’s pay, but it was his hole in the ground and he liked it. Later Don and I spent many an hour in that hole with nothing to show for it but a thimble full of gold dust. But it’s not the finding, but the looking that’s fun.

At the camps we introduced ourselves to the cooks, telling them we would carry on delivering the food parcels to their wives, of course under the same arrangements as before. From then on my wife’s food bill was cut in half. Wittenoom was a resting place for us. We always got there early spending all afternoon showering and playing pool in the pub.

As we got to know the people there well, we were sometimes asked into their homes for a beer or Bar-B-Q’s. When the pilot who delivered the supplies we brought for the stations around Wittenoom learned of my love of flying, he gave me the opportunity to go up with him in the light aircraft at any time to help with his deliveries. I had many flights with him, some of the time at the controls.

Paraburdoo had grown some now there were transportable huts and a galley. The main camp was under construction when that was done they would start to build the mine and rail link. Cutting across from Paraburdoo to the coast we headed south down the coast road. Arriving home Saturday morning, we had until noon Monday off.

We now settled down to the weekly routine of the run. Nothing changed too much. The road became so familiar you could almost tell where you were by the bumps. After a rainstorm, a pleasant change in the bush took place. The seed that had lain dormant in the ground suddenly sprang to life, filling the bush with colour and the air with scent as a myriad of flowers covered the red dusty plains.  Their short life dedicated to blossom and spread their seeds before the harsh sun burned them up.

As we travelled north, one day we passed two graders doing what they normally do. As we drew alongside one of them Don shouted, “Its Ron,” and waved at him. Ron Grieves had been a cook on the Graylands hostel with us before he moved to Geraldton. Don pulled past him and stopped on the side of the road.

We had a long chat and left him some steak and eggs before going on our merry way. It became a regular stop for the next few weeks, until one day we came across Ron sitting on the side of the road. He was on his own with two graders and the four-wheeled hut they pulled to live in but no van.

Over a cup of tea, Ron told us they had been grading the road when his mate needed to go to the loo. He had grabbed his shovel and gone into the bush, minutes later he ran from the bush carrying something he unhooked the van and drove off, that was two days ago. Ron had sent messages bypassing traffic but had heard nothing back.

As we left him we promised to send word to his yard at Geraldton from the post office relay station at Munderwindy. We heard later that the chap had dug up a large chunk of gold out of that hole, I bet he never used it for the reason he had dug it.

It seems that all over Australia there are riches to be found if you know what you are looking for. There is an army of people who go out at weekends, armed with metal detectors looking for nuggets of gold. Others go into the hills panning for gold dust in the rivers. Some spend their holidays digging for gold in the bush, using a blower to separate the dust from the gold. They are all hoping to strike it rich, some do most don’t.

Don and I were having a break near Cue, having eaten we wandered into some rocks to have a look around. Maybe we would find gold who would know if you did not look you would never find. We had no idea of rock formations or where gold could be located. It would have to shout out “over here” before we would find it but it passed the time just looking.

Don was searching in amongst the rooks and shouted to me he had found something. When I got to him he was holding a tin that had some coloured stones in, we did not know what they were and did not