From Mansfield to Benalla

[Rhonda Tallnash]

From Mansfield to Benalla continues...

Now I can get things rollin’, put me foot down finally,
And leave that blasted stargazer inspectin’ every tree.
I’ve put the pedal to the metal but now can’t believe me luck,
I hit a slippery patch of road - jack-knifed the blasted truck!

The steering wheel’s jammed. A heavy towie’s what I need,
If he hadn’t got me so riled up I wouldn’t need to speed.
And now what’s that bloomin’ racket comin’ round the bend?
That slow poke mongrel’s caught me up. I could smile and pretend…

That he can help me out. I stand six foot four in shoes,
And I could use some language that I guess he wouldn’t choose.
His little putt-putt Sunday car screeched to a screaming holt.
And as I helped him out I sensed that he would rather bolt.

He smirks at me. He could assist and make a telephone call,
He’ll happily help a truckie. No task would be too small.
I know he’d rather look at sheep than drive his pee wee car,
But he figures that my road block won’t let him get too far.

"Well ya’ offer would be bonza mate. See me radio’s gone off line,
So using ya’ mobile ’phone to ring a towie would be fine.
There’s just one complication, but I’ll sure you’ll get ya' fill,
The only place ’phones work ’round here … is from the top of that big hill!"


...over to you Stephen x


© Rhonda M. Tallnash 2016

[Shelley Hansen]

I'm loving this, you two ...

I'm thinking it's a good thing I don't know this road very well - it sounds like a killer!!

Stephen, wiv yer reply yer'll 'ave ter bring the stror 'at inter it! 'Oly wars!

Cheers
Shelley

[Rhonda Tallnash]

I am too Shelley, but I'm dreading what Stephen might write back. I've thought about hijacking his car while he's up that hill! R x

[Stephen Whiteside]

I look to left. I look to right. I see there's no escape.
Alas, I am not Superman. I have no magic cape.
I still could turn the car around, and putter back to Yea
And pick the Hume up that way, but the trip would take all day.

I have no doubt he's placed his truck like that to stop my trip,
And soon around my neck his hands will have a deathly grip.
I'll stop and lock my car a good way short, and have a think.
This scenic little driving tour has pushed me to the brink!

This is like "Deliverance" on bitumen, no less.
If I had a banjo I could struggle from this mess.
The problem with the country, with its kangaroo and cow,
Is it's full of redneck bogans, like the one before me now!

But wait! Is that a skid mark? Is this all an accident?
That mark upon the road is like a message heaven sent.
Perhaps I'm not about to die at all! Well, blow me down!
Perhaps he needs assistance from this road pest up from town…

His body language also looks quite promising, I think;
Less like "Say your prayers, mate!" and more like "Like a drink?"
I'll play this tango carefully. It might turn out all right.
I wouldn't be a match in any stand-up two-fist fight.

I hear his little tale of woe. Should I believe or not?
For all I know, this bloke is spouting out a load of rot.
I play along, and then a notion strikes me like a blow.
"Yeah, sure. Give us your mobile, mate. I'll help you get a tow."

He looks at me suspiciously. "You'll walk right up that hill?"
I nod and smile. He's puzzled, and he reckons I'm a dill,
But part of him's uneasy. Could this be some sort of trap?
I do my best to look a really honest sort of chap.

I take his phone, and make a show of just how high above
That hilltop is, and then I try to drown him in my love.
From out of all my pores I squeeze my full supply of charm
Until, at last, he's quite convinced I mean him no more harm.

His mobile in my pocket, with a handshake and a nod,
I turn my back upon him, and begin my weary plod.
Half an hour later, he is just a tiny speck.
On the top, I have my doubts, then mutter "What the heck!"

I take his mobile out. I hold it like I hold my fate.
"You still could ring that tow truck!" says a voice. "It's not too late!"
I listen, but I shake my head. I have my sense of pride!
I put it in my pocket, and sprint down the other side!

[Shelley Hansen]

Classic, Stephen!

Just love the "banjo" touch ... now I'm being "earwigged" by the Deliverance theme and I'll never get to sleep!!!

Can't wait for the next episode ...

[Rhonda Tallnash]

You bugger! Now what am I going to do? You are a fantastic wit Stephen. Truly genius! Again I need to sleep on it - or maybe someone else can help? Please!!! Rhonda x

[David Campbell]

Can't refuse a damsel in distress, Rhonda!

That weasel’s gone an’ done a bunk an’ pinched me mobile phone,
so now I’m stuck ’ere with me truck, abandoned an’ alone!
But little does ’e realise the error that ’e’s made,
for I will ’ave me vengeance soon…and ’e should be afraid!

Me phone ’as a locator app, so once I’m out of ’ere
I’ll track ’is little putt-putt down an’ make it very clear
that I’m the boss of any road, so ’e should move aside
and let me through before I come and tan ’is flamin’ ’ide!

[Rhonda Tallnash]

Thank you, thank you, thank you David! You are a gem! The only place I had to go was radioing every other truckie within cooee to grab the little beast! It has been loads (pardon the truckie pun) of fun Stephen and I'm sorry if I spoiled your lovely serious poem that started all this. For those of you who haven't driven it, the Mansfield to Benalla Road is worth the trip and Stephen captured it beautifully! Kind regards Rhonda

[Stephen Whiteside]

At first I just run wildly, with no sense of strategy,
High on the excitement of discovering I'm free,
But bit by bit it dawns on me I'm in a mighty hole
That I have dug all by myself. I need some clear goal!

I think I should descend this hill, and circle round its base.
With any luck, I'll navigate my way back to the place
Where I have left my little car. I still possess the key.
I'll lie in wait a little while - perhaps round two or three,

When all the world is fast asleep, the stars are blazing bright,
I'll start my little engine and slip off into the night.
Then, when dawn arrives to mark the starting of the day,
And people start to search for me...I will be well away!

Of course, my wife will be half spare. I cannot think of that.
I know she will be pacing back and forth across our flat.
I've stumbled badly through a fence. I've torn my clothes and skin.
I also came across a dam, and nearly fell right in.

I'm at the bottom now, and panting hard. There is no track.
I'm far from confident that I will manage to get back.
Holy smoke! What's that? A great explosion to my right,
And up above the hill great flames are leaping through the night!

Don't tell me that the truck's gone up! That's really all I need.
I reckon someone's come around the corner at great speed,
And ploughed his way right into him. Oh, what a shocking blast!
Why do all these bogans feel they have to drive so fast?

At least the light is useful. I can see quite clearly now.
There's lots of silhouettes around of horse and sheep and cow.
I can in fact turn sharper. It will save a lot of time.
I wonder. Have I played a part in some horrendous crime?

He could have climbed the hill himself. But then, I stole his phone,
And left him standing by his truck upon the road alone.
Ah well, I'll find out soon enough. Gawstruth, that fire is hot!
I should be safely home by now, and tucked up in my cot.

There's two trucks piled against each other. Both are well ablaze.
I see the driver leaning on a tree, and in a daze.
At least he isn't dead. That's good! I don't know where my bloke
Has got to, but it's hard to see against this pall of smoke.

Ah yes, I see my car, too, now. It's a just blackened shell.
The general impression is a scene from Dante's Hell.
I started on a rustic little trek of simple bliss.
Who could have imagined it would finish up like this!