Chapter 3

Mitchell’s Creek, Sunny Corner, New South Wales, Australia:3

We went regularly. The upper Turon River, McKinnon’s Reef, Napoleon Reef, Williwa Creek, Scott Creek ... there are thousands of places. If research showed old timers working gold ... we went there.

Jim finally thought I might be trustworthy. He didn’t know I never get lost. After he realized I was a hobbyist, too ... that and my Ute.

It was one of those rare visits at my place, I had laundry going, dishes soaking, cleaning off the tub ring. It’s not that I was really messy ... but he opened the refer door and several thriving lab experiments tried to pull him in.

“I keep beer in the fridge on the deck, Jim.”

“My god, that was terrifying. You need a keeper.”

“I’m fine, Jim,” I said. “I’m just caught up in prospecting.”

“You have the weekend.”

“I’m restoring an old car ... and other things.”

“Well, it’s obvious ... what car?”

“1934 Ford Ute, the last one.”

“Last one?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the last one?”

“Do you have any idea what the War did to scrap metal?”

“What?”

“Those old mines? When the war started most of the metal work was still there. Military procurement hauled it off and made rifles, belt buckles, trailers. It’s abandoned, Mate, and we need it.”

“Where is it?”

“What? The junk?”

“The car, mate. The car?”

“In the garage.”

“Let’s have a look.”

Jim was reason the ute got painted Ford 8N grey ... with a roller.

“It runs?”

“Hell yas, I made it run before anything else. Original V8 ... Ford made 345 1934 Utes. Most of them are rifles.”

We about gassed us in the garage ... until I opened the door. And there was nothing for it but I had to take Jim for a ride.

We banged around the neighborhood one time and I parked it.

Well ... I believe the car is one reason I didn’t hear about needing a keeper until Abbie showed up.

The day after she showed up, I was providing the beer.

The conversation went something like this:

Jim had a fresh one and asked about Abbie.

“Just Abbie?” I timed the next bit perfectly.

Jim had a big swig and started to swallow.

“I sent her off.”

When he got that mess cleared up and could breathe again, he had another swallow, I said, “To Melbourne.”