I GRIP MY SEATBELT tighter and exclaim “Whoa!” Looming large ahead are several feed bins strewn across the bitumen. It’s not that I needed to worry, because my travelling companion, 76-year-old Jim Morton, expertly manoeuvres his turquoise 1964 EH Holden around the unexpected obstacles on the old Hume Highway. Thankfully, there are no semi-trailers hurtling towards us. In fact, the only other traffic we need to watch out for is a mob of sheep playing follow the leader around the next bend. Oh, and there are also a couple of fat cows that briefly raise their heads as we motor past.
But it wasn’t always as quiet here on this stretch of the old Hume, just south of Gundagai, which is now on private land. It was once bumper to bumper with trucks chortling and snorting their way along the most dangerous few miles between Australia’s two largest cities.
JIM SUDDENLY STOPS. Around the next bend a tree branch has fallen right across the faded double yellow lines. I jump out and, as if I’m pulling a kangaroo carcass off the road by the tail, drag it clear. On the verge is one of those yellow 44-gallon rubbish drums, once common at highway rest areas. The paint is peeling off in sheets and it’s pockmarked with bullet holes. It swings in the howling southerly, squealing on rusted hinges like a B-double engine in urgent need of a tune-up. I peek inside: there’s a stash of sun-bleached 40-year-old soft drink cans. Talk about a time capsule. It’s a future archaeologist’s delight.
This story is from the Australian Geographic #173 edition of Australian Geographic Magazine.
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This story is from the Australian Geographic #173 edition of Australian Geographic Magazine.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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