One for the petrol heads. Behind the servo, next to the tip, there was a car graveyard. For all the cars that hadn't made it across the Nullarbor, it was the size of a rugby field and it contained every make and model imaginable. 30, 40 and 50 year old wrecks, all with the their bonnets sticking up from people butchering them for spare parts and all with their tyres reduced to globs of petrified rubber. LOTs of Kombis I recall, an HQ Holden, a bunch of panel vans, but the best was a Model A Ford. A very wealthy Perth family began their empire on the highway and half way through our stay they sent their daughter out to do a little work experience. She told us that as children they used to hoon around the Nullarbor in the Model A. There's an image, isn't it? A bunch of kids 'hooning' in a vintage car with no tyres...
Roadhouse post #13
Leave a Reply.
It must be a good idea!
This blog is a kind of stream of thought. It's all about where I'm at right now with my writing, and all kinds of other things!