The Druid Of Puhoi

On a sunny day in Northcote Daniel lay himself down on the grass.  His two friends followed his lead.  Daniel's eyes stared straight ahead, towards the Harbour Bridge.  Transfixed, he watched as the noisy chunks of metal wound their way along the motorway. 

   Daniel hated everything about cars.  He hated their noise.  He hated their smell.  He hated the way they interrupted his street games.  Most of all he hated the way they allowed adults to control his life.  Staring at the quickly moving traffic he could not help but think 'what if?'.  As his two, younger friends began talking Daniel's mind came back to reality.

   "...Nope, no power at all!" said Mike.

   "What do you mean?" asked Eric, who had curly brown locks and was the youngest of the boys.

   "Well, when a wizard gets married he looses all of his power." responded Mike, who had short, sandy hair and was perhaps a little smarter than the others.

   "What?  You mean this bloke gave up his power for a girl?  Man!  That has got to be more than a little bit stupid," said Eric.

   "Who gave up his power?" asked Daniel, wondering what snippet of information Mike had hold of this time.

   "That wizard bloke did.  A couple of years ago I mean.  I was reading about it in my tourism book." said Mike.

   "You read too much." said Daniel, who much preferred daydreaming.  "I mean what do you mean by wizard?  There are no wizards anymore.  Those magic guys and girls are only in books."

   "Sure there are some real ones.  Haven't you ever heard of the Wizard of Canterbury, Witches of Whangarei, or the Druid of Puhoi." said Mike.

   "Wait up.  Who is the Druid of Puhoi?  I mean isn't that pretty close to here?" queried Daniel.

   "Sure." said Eric.  "Puhoi is only about an hour north.  The Druid was in the paper last week, when he got the cows to give more milk in Waiwera.  He got paid $80 for doing it."

   "You know, we could raise $80," said Daniel.

   "Why on earth would we want $80?" said Mike, who was not very fond of milk.  "We don't even own any cows!"

   "Not to get milk, stupid, I want to get rid of all these cars." replied Daniel.

   "What?" asked Mike and Eric, in unison.

   "I," said Daniel, with a tone of seriousness, "have had quite enough of all this metal flowing over the harbour bridge.  All these cars that drive past our houses and disappear into the city.  Do we really need them?  I say parents should have to walk, just like we do.  Let us get rid of all the cars!"

   "Excuse me!" said Mike, who had understood everything, but wanted to check that Daniel had not lost touch with reality.  "You want to get rid of every single car?"

   "Sure.  Eighty bucks, a quick spell and Bob's you're uncle and fanny's a rude word." said Daniel.

   He had to spend another half-hour convincing the other two.  Normally they did whatever Daniel suggested, but this was a little bit bigger.  This was the removal of every single car from the adult world.

   Finally he had his two co-conspirators roped in.  The plan was hatched and through piggy bank raiding and adult-begging, the money was gathered.  Without letting their parents know what was going on, the bus was booked.

   On one Saturday the three boys set out with $86.50 and two packed lunches.  Daniel had once again forgotten to bring his.  They had assumed that their 'bus' would be a large, four-wheeled vehicle, going to Puhoi.  What they got was a rather dirty little van that went as far as the intersection of State Highway One and Puhoi Road.