Tip Rats

Part 22 - Lettuce

As he headed south on the Pacific Highway Ned made his first petrol stop at the Big Lobster service station. It had once been bright orange but now sat mournfully atop the station, blotchy and faded like something had eaten its insides and left its shell. Ned had raided the Bulwarra Bay op-shops for some cassettes to arm himself with for the 10-hour drive to Collombindee. Neil Young, Credence Clearwater Revival, Queen and Bob Seger would be keeping Ned company as he baked slowly on his vinyl car seat.

The long drive gave Ned time to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming week. Debra Roach had left Bundleton abruptly 5 years ago to take up with Daryl, a man she had met on an internet forum for fans of Kenny Rogers. Daryl was a butcher in Collombindee, a town nobody had heard of in the middle of nowhere. Daryl's wife had died a few years earlier from ovarian cancer. After Ned's mum moved down, Daryl sold his butcher shop and they bought a lettuce farm outside the town. Daryl's son, Julian, lived with them intermittently between sex holidays to South-East Asia.

Ned stopped to buy some pies from parked-up van and drove a little further to a riverside rest stop to eat. He sprawled out on a bench and watched the cars and trucks passing by on the bridge high above him. Below the bridge some swans were menacing some ducks that were eating scraps of bread being thrown by some kids. After a good rest Ned returned to his car and opened the door to be greeted by a burst of warm air. Without thinking he dropped his shirtless torso into the driver's seat and heard a sizzling sound as his bare back made contact with the super-heated vinyl seat cover. Ned let out a squeal and quickly sat forward before any permanent damage could be done. The steering wheel and seat belt buckle were also far too hot for human contact so Ned had to leap from the car without touching any part of it. He ran like a man covered in ants to find something cool to press his back against until the car cooled. He had to settle for the shit strewn underside of the bridge where the shaded concrete pylons provided some relief.

300 kilometres further along, at the point where the Pacific Highway crossed the Hunter River, Ned made a right turn and headed west, away from the coast and towards the dry, flat inland, Collombindee was 3 hours away through an undulating sea of wire fenced brownness.

Collombindee was not so different from Bundleton, it was a bit smaller and it was flanked by a muddy river rather than an ocean. On the opposite bank of the river from the town, down a long, straight dirt road was where Ned's mum lived. As Ned turned off the tarmac and on to the dirt road he crossed a cattle grid that managed to shake the Bob Seger cassette out of the tape deck midway through the second chorus of Hollywood Nights. In the rear-view mirror Ned watched as a plume of dust kicked up by his balding tyres obscured the grazing hills behind him. Ned pulled up behind Daryl's Land Cruiser and fished around behind him for his shirt. He pried himself off the car seat with a sound not unlike the tearing of paper as his skin unstuck itself from the vinyl. He emerged gingerly from the car, stiffened by the long drive he took a minute to stretch and regain some human mobility.

'Allo doll!' Ned's mum sang out from the porch. She was dressed in a pink and white striped tennis shirt and cycle shorts, the sound of his arrival having clearly disturbed the serenity of her evening's television viewing.

Ned gave her a wave as he slammed the boot shut and limped over to the house.

'Did ya have a good trip?'

'Yeah alright. Long' replied Ned walking stiffly up the porch steps.

Ned's mum nodded vigorously as she expelled a jet-stream of smoke from her puckered mouth, 'Yeah it is'. She flicked her cigarette stump over on to the lawn and moved forward to give Ned a hug. Her menthol cigarette odour caught Ned off guard and made him feel momentarily nauseous.