The Helter Skelter.
Went up to Penrith to see my dear, daft Mum. Her cries at not having seen me in almost 2 months ringing loudly with Scottish Brogue in my ears, only barely drowned out by the steady thrum of the Toranas engine and gibberish driveline as i gunned along the M4 at some guessed speed that felt more right than what the darkened not completely functional speedometer might have alluded to. That car revs its arse off at high speeds. It aint no highway cruiser, 13 inch wheels, a 4 speed box and a low ration differential placing it in the only-wants-to-go-faster basket when at highway speeds.
I met my dear old mum (not so old really but the old bit has the suitably affectionate ring to it) outside the Dame Joan Sutherland Performing Arts centre behind Penrith Plaza. Laid the Torrie up on the roadside, where it spat an 8th of its radiator contents onto the ground in derision at being driven so far and off we went in the Echo to a steakhouse, where me n my dear old mum choked back 700g Rump Porterhouses together, medium rare, with French salad, chips and Sunkists. My mum can be nervewrackingly aware, aware of so much, this time aware that she hadnt seen me in a while, so the chinwagging got to levels that could have qualified for prize giving ceremonies in 'valid relevant communication', and after id made myself feel ill on Sticky Date pudding, i chummed her up to Lawson in the Blue Mountains so she could drop off recordings to her singing students. I drove, hostile to the lack of power and dodging playful swipes to my ear when i took corners at Toranaspeed rather than the more sedate momentum shes used to. The trip back down was interrupted by shrieks to 'get on the right side of the road, ya wee fucker' and roars of laughter at all the funny shit the two of us cook up. We arrived back in Penrith and i left my dear, dear old mum with promises that id head up soon, to see the new house, almost finished as it is and that i wouldnt stay away too long.
And i wont.
Port Kembla Copper.
Was hella windy when i took this, but it gives you an idea.
Insides.
A random pic i took of Beachbum which i quite like.
I met my dear old mum (not so old really but the old bit has the suitably affectionate ring to it) outside the Dame Joan Sutherland Performing Arts centre behind Penrith Plaza. Laid the Torrie up on the roadside, where it spat an 8th of its radiator contents onto the ground in derision at being driven so far and off we went in the Echo to a steakhouse, where me n my dear old mum choked back 700g Rump Porterhouses together, medium rare, with French salad, chips and Sunkists. My mum can be nervewrackingly aware, aware of so much, this time aware that she hadnt seen me in a while, so the chinwagging got to levels that could have qualified for prize giving ceremonies in 'valid relevant communication', and after id made myself feel ill on Sticky Date pudding, i chummed her up to Lawson in the Blue Mountains so she could drop off recordings to her singing students. I drove, hostile to the lack of power and dodging playful swipes to my ear when i took corners at Toranaspeed rather than the more sedate momentum shes used to. The trip back down was interrupted by shrieks to 'get on the right side of the road, ya wee fucker' and roars of laughter at all the funny shit the two of us cook up. We arrived back in Penrith and i left my dear, dear old mum with promises that id head up soon, to see the new house, almost finished as it is and that i wouldnt stay away too long.
And i wont.
Port Kembla Copper.
Was hella windy when i took this, but it gives you an idea.
Insides.
A random pic i took of Beachbum which i quite like.