I'm really enjoying the locals here.
This morning, the neighbor, a sweet lady named Scarlett showed up. She is middle aged, lives a few hundred meters ip the road with just her dog and cat. She was late for work and has no car so was hoping for a lift. Cole had gone out for his firefighter training update, so I took one of his cars and drove her the 4km to work. Exciting to drive on the other side of the road still. After I dropped her off I couldn't get the car started again, and had to fiddle with it a bit before I realized the car was in drive. I felt so stupid, but was glad I hadn't broken Cole's car.
Back to the house to work a bit and have lunch. I was having a bad day, feeling like I was toiling my vacation away, so I took my time and enjoyed myself.
Cole came back from work and he and I went for a ride. He wanted to show me a 'roo skeleton from one he threw on an ant hill a few months back. We went across the road and found an old timer poaching rocks. Cole told him he had to put them back, but after a few seconds, let the man keep them. We walked around the countryside for a bit and he showed me some huge sacred rock formations. We talked about the plight of the aboriginal Australians and American Indians.
We came back to the farm where another local, known as MC Hummer showed up. Other locals I had met told me about this crazy specimen. He is a short stocky white fellow, balding, with big ears and a cheerful demeanor. He was coming over to fix Cole's tractor. He pulled up with a box of wine in his lap and a full wineglass in hand. Probably in his 60s he had the look of a man who has lived in the country and is used to hard work. A plaid flannel over a plaid shirt, unbuttoned just above his belly, his belt fastened, but not through a loop so it stuck straight out like a semi-limp dong. He was obviously every bit the character I had heard he was. He had a few joking rhymes for us and a smile that never ended. Cole convinced the Hummer to regale us with some impromptu bush poetry. Hummer was happy to oblige. Some clean, some dirty, all his poems were hilarious, with perfect rhyme and meter. A few heads around the tractor with me in the cockpit flipping switches. No luck on the machine, so we retired for dinner and a trip to the pub.
