http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzni4ioSWrM
Greta….Greta was the name of my 1969 Volkswagen camper van that I piloted over endless miles of adventurous travel through Australia. She was a hobby in herself and a source of endless pleasure. I had named her after a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle owned by a fellow American I had traveled with a few years prior on a Melbourne to Adelaide jaunt. One morning Greta and I left our home in Adelaide to head out for the famous opal mining mecca known as Lightening Ridge….Greta was packed with the necessary changes of oil, filters , tools, food and water that any experienced Out Back traveler would never leave home with out.
Greta….Greta was the name of my 1969 Volkswagen camper van that I piloted over endless miles of adventurous travel through Australia. She was a hobby in herself and a source of endless pleasure. I had named her after a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle owned by a fellow American I had traveled with a few years prior on a Melbourne to Adelaide jaunt. One morning Greta and I left our home in Adelaide to head out for the famous opal mining mecca known as Lightening Ridge….Greta was packed with the necessary changes of oil, filters , tools, food and water that any experienced Out Back traveler would never leave home with out.I also had in hand my permit known as a fossicker license. This was a government issued permit to dig and seek for opals out there in Australia’s “ Back of Beyond .“ And in my heart I had the desire of adventure , and stories….and of course the honest need of finding a “large money” opal.
Well past the journeys half way mark on an early morning that topped a temperature of 97 by 7:30 a.m. and still far from its daily high Greta puked in a semi fatal illness that would prove to be a blown number two piston.
“Shit….this is bad “ was my thoughts as the likelihood of a passing motorist coming by soon…or even this week, was slim and we were in that pre cell phone time warp. But Greta was a gutsy beast and in third gear and 30 mph she gimped her way home through the Out Back all the way to Adelaide …… the little red engine temp light leering with constant menace from the dash.
The pace of the little red blinks on the dash board is what dictated the endless cooling off periods and on the last one I opened the little back door to expose the overheated engine while the ever present Magpies laughed . It was at this precise moment that all the unburned gasoline that had seeped through the hole in the piston to mingle with the crank case oil decided to ignite……
The oil filler cap that brushed the side of my head on its 200 mph launch into the desert is still out there somewhere with the Magpies. I’ll never forget those birds and neither will any one who has broken down in the Out Back. They are on the scene instantly to taunt with a non stop and almost human like laugh every single time….I’ve heard them more than once……waaaaah waah wah wahh.
I rebuilt that engine and drove it many happy trouble free miles after…Greta and I never did suffer the Magpie taunts again…..and we never found a “large money” opal
