My life story - Henry J Macey (best books for 20 year olds .TXT) 📗

I had just been to Port Headland with a full load of beer in kegs and was now loaded with empties. This truck was fast, I was doing maybe eighty. On the side of the road, I saw a wedge tail eagle sitting on a dead kangaroo. As I approached it started to spread its wings to take off I just watched it not thinking it would fly in my direction.

But that is just what it did, and it hit the passenger window. The glass just folded into the cab, eagle and all. These birds have a wingspan of eight feet; it lay on the engine cover flapping its wings and beating the shit out of me.

Same truck, different run. I was returning from Mt. Newman empty and was between Panes Find and Wobin on the single strip of ashfelt road. In the distance, I could see a car & caravan that I was slowly catching up. The road here ran straight as an arrow for some miles so I had no doubt that he had seen me creeping up. As I finally got behind him we got into an area that went through some creeks and small hills. The road here twisted for a couple of miles before it straightens out once again, so you could see the road disappearing in the far distance. I pulled over so that I was half on, half off the ashfelt strip and waited for him to move over, but he stayed where he was. I flashed my lights and sounded my air horn several times.

Suddenly he swerved off to his left. I put the boot down and started to pass him. As the nose of my truck drew level with the front of his caravan, he pulled back onto the centre strip. I could go nowhere; the caravan rammed into the side of the truck and the car folded across the front of me. I was already braking, but it seemed a long time before we stopped. In slow motion, I watched the car in front of me being pushed sideways. Expecting it to start to roll at any moment, and knowing if it did the truck would ride right over the top crushing the life out of those inside. I had both hands pulling on the steering wheel, both feet pressing down on the brake, my bottom was off the seat, and I was almost standing.

Suddenly I realised we had stopped and was then aware of a new sound. No more grinding metal or gravel being ploughed, but a mournful wail came through the stillness. Leaping from the cab I ran around to the car passenger door. Two young girls were hugging one another, sobbing in the back seat. Whereas the mother was out of it, she had fainted and lay slumped in her safety belt. Dad sat with white-knuckled hands on the wheel still looking through the window at my grill two inches from his face.

The doors were locked. I had to bang so hard on the window for some time, I was sure it would break. He finally looked at me, but I don’t think he saw me, for he just turned once more to the view at his window. There was only one thing to do, I climbed into my truck put on full left-hand lock and backed off the car. Returning to the car, I finally got him out and asked if he or anyone else was hurt. All he said was, “where did you come from, I didn’t know you were passing me. We had the windows closed because of the air conditioning and were singing along to the tape. I must have wandered off the road and was waiting for a smooth patch to pull back on again.”

The car could still be driven even though the tyres were gone and the rims are worn flat. I also found out why the car stayed upright. The locking device to hold the bull bar up had punched into the car’s doors and prevented it from rolling. Surprisingly it was not too badly damaged apart from the two holes in the doors and the dents on the driver's side, plus the bent and ground wheels and the loss of the tyres.

We pulled the car and caravan off the road and were discussing what to do when a station wagon pulled up, the driver asking if he could help. He agreed to pull the caravan to Perth, which just left the car. I knew this road. There was a gravel pit along this stretch. There might be a place to load the car into the back of my truck. This we managed to do and I headed for Jock's cafe in Wobin, seventy miles away. When I got there Jock took one look at me and poured me a shot of whiskey. I was still shaking.

As Dampier had grown, so did the need for water, there was a freshwater spring some 100 miles inland. It was decided to build a pipeline and pipe the water from there to Dampier. Pipes for the job were loaded onto railway wagons at Perth and shipped to Geraldton where they were then loaded onto the trailers that we would couple up as three-trailer road trains. We then delivered them to the staging sites along the proposed route.

The pipes were three feet across; nine pipes were loaded on each trailer. Three layers of three with curved wooden bolsters in between. I was running with one of our sub-contractors. He had been a Bell’s driver before buying his own truck. We had been good friends, he was always cheerful and when you were with him you were guaranteed a good laugh.

The contract to carry the pipes was for six months. We were now in the third month. We had arrived at one of the dumpsites and had taken the chains off our loads. As the crane approached the driver lifted the jib to position it ready to lift the first pipe off of my friend's load. But, the crane driver got too close and touched the pipe with the end of the jib. This shook the load and the pipe on top on the far side, fell off all we heard was the sound of the pipe hitting the ground. I shouted a warning but heard no reply so I ran to the other side of the trailer. The sight that met my eyes was horrific. My friend never knew what hit him; he had been too busy with his chains. The pipe landed squarely on him, killing him instantly.

Jane and I often went to Perth to do some nighttime window-shopping and took the children with us. Although Perth City centre was an 18-mile drive, it was well worth the effort. As it was nighttime, the boys were dressed in their night attire, ready for bed when we returned.

It was common to see couples walking around Perth in the evening with children dressed ready for bed. On warm summer night’s a walk along the riverside or into the city was very pleasant. Nighttime river trips added to the lights of the city, and the stars in a cloudless sky made the river sparkle with a myriad of reflected coloured lights.

Sometimes we would get a takeaway from Hungry Jacks and drive over the ‘Narrows’ bridge. We would park where we could see the lights of the city across the narrow strip of water. The Swan brewery building had an array of lights attached to it. When they were switched on, they took on the appearance of a three-mast sailing ship, and then they would change to a large ocean-going liner. A nighttime visit to the viewing area in Kings Park gave you a sight of the city dressed in all its lights.

Bells were finally pushing all the drivers to go as owner-drivers. I found myself without a truck, mine being sold from under me to one of them. Given jobs around the yard loading and unloading trailers, I found it boring after all the miles I had driven in the five years I had been here.

I was beginning to regret turning Don’s offer to buy a truck between us down. It was too late now, for he had found someone else to partner him. And he seemed to be doing well, for which I was very glad. If not a little envious, but I had only myself to blame.

One Sunday afternoon, I was talking to a member of the Kelmscott football club as we watched the boys playing a game. I told him I was thinking of packing the job in but did not know what I was going to do for a job. He came straight out with an offer. Have you done any selling he asked, well yes I replied I had a job selling door to door part-time when I was working as a cook?

Right he said we have just started a building company that is part of an estate agency. It is going to be called Sheridan Homes, would you like a job with me. I was taken aback by the offer! Then said I don’t know all that paperwork. I would like to try but I am a lousy speller and shy away from anything to do with writing.

“Give it a go,” he said, “we have a building site that we are building show homes on, come with me next weekend, and I will show you the ropes you can keep your job going till you make up your mind.” For three weekends I sat with him in a small caravan on the site, until they had finished the first show house. He showed me how to work out the building materials needed to build a house. How to cost the jobs that were not on the standard brochure of houses. How you could change the layout of a house, but keep it in the overall cost.

I must say I found it to my liking; meeting people talking to them about what they wanted in a house gave me a feeling that I was helping them. But that paperwork still had me worried, he even showed me how to get around part of that. Get them to fill out their personal details, if I had to write anything I could tell them I would get it typed out for them to sign later. John