Chapter 19

Alice directed and I drove. At the gate, Alice said, “We have a standing appointment with Mrs. Broadbent.”

“Alice ... this is the racetrack.”

I should know ... I race here at the amateur events.

“I know,” Alice said. “You know the houses on the west side?”

“Yes.”

“People actually live here. Mrs. Broadbent is a recent widow and she wants to move. She doesn’t hate the races ... she hates the drive to get out of her home during the the 12 hour race. She has problems with the track when they include Barry Gordon in the rally races. That leaves her surrounded by the track.”

The gate guard hung up his phone.

“She’s expecting you.”

The water in the swimming pool was shallow and green. I was directed to the back. Mrs Broadbent was waiting at the large barn.

Introductions were made.

“You two don’t look like sisters,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m not quite a year older ... and ten years smarter.”

That got a laugh ... and a bruise. “OW.”

“Siblings for certain,” she said. “Abby Austin? Abby Austin ... Abby Austin! ... your mom won a race twenty years ago. I was pleased as punch ... we girls have to stick together. I expected more wins ... she was fast.”

I said, “The track made her quit when they found out she was pregnant.”

“That was you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I heard you had ‘difficulities’ with the Aboriginal Child, Family and Community State Secretariat.”

“Yes.”

“They are such a bunch of bloody arsses. Nosy old bitches.”

Alice was very interested ... not! She fidgeted. It was noticed.

“Business,” Mrs Broadbent pushed a button on a remote. The rollup door clattered its way to the top.

“It’s at the back,” she said.

Ooo ... interesting ... we’re going to have to move a couple of shipping containers completely packed floor to ceiling worth of ‘junk’ to get to the back. How do I know there was that much junk? We filled two 40’s before we got to the car.

“Alice,” I whispered, “How did you know?”

“Window ... I peeked ... and she posted it on the Aldi post it board.”

I’m glad it’s a long weekend. We started immediately and hauled the ute out on Monday. We more or less camped out ... I’m not sitting on Daddy’s Cobras’ Recaro seats. Oh My God! We got dirty.

“Alice?”

“Moving the junk was the reason I got it cheap.”

It was on blocks ... on a trickle charger ... fluids drained. The oil, brake-fluid, antifreeze, gear lube, fuses, water-pumps ... the flathead V8 has two ... were all stored in cosmoline. The odometer read seven miles.

1939 was before Australia went to metrics.

When Alice reassembled the engine compartment, it started ... two cranks and running.

I was S H O C K E D ... well I was holding onto the coil wire. ‘To see if there was spark.’ she said. She never mentioned holding the wire against the intake manifold ... or not holding onto the copper part.

Hey! I do airplane engines ... I do not do cars.

I know my elbow sparked. It’s still sore.

An Australian 1939 Ford DeLuxe Ute cost 788 came with the 221 V8 three speed on the floor, 16 inch wire spoked wheels mounted with bias ply whitewalls... £350 out the door. (In 1939 the exchange rate was 1.99 dollars per pound.) Mrs Broadbent said her husbands granddad drove it home and parked it. He was one of the missing after 1945.

Alice paid the Australian equivalent of 700 USD ... well ... I paid, and she drove it out of the garage.

When we arrived home she washed it, clayed the paint and polished the chrome. Showroom perfect.

“You need new tyres,” I said. “Good tyres.”

Bob Jane in town sells Pirelli ... the tyres I bought her cost the very devil ... More than the car ... per pair. Mounted ... new tubes... (wire wheels.) balanced and road hazard warranted. She refused fancy oversized wheels.

“I like how it looks. I’ve never been a fan of big wheels and skinny tires,” she said.

The inspection station freaked ... no history. The onceover took almost 8 hours ... they couldn’t find anything wrong ... and they were trying.

I AM JEALOUS!