GHOST TRUCK (Campfire Yarns)

[Terry]

My recent trip back to the Ashburton prompted this.

On the gravel road into Ashburton Downs there is an old abandoned Mining Dump Truck, (a big one) and the story of how it ended up there is a story in itself. (I must tell you about it one day)

It’s been there for at least twenty years I reckon, and I have driven past it many times without stopping. On this recent trip we had a smoker and a bloke with a bladder problem, so it made a good spot for a pit stop on this occasion.

If you pass the truck during the day you can see it from miles away because it’s out in an open treeless sort of plain and as you pass it just looks like a tired worn out old truck. But should you pass it on a bright moonlight knight when approaching from the north, it takes on a whole new appearance. Cloaked in moonlight and its own shadows, it looks kind of spooky, a bit like a glowering malevolent monster ready to pounce. (writers do need imagination)


GHOST TRUCK - (Campfire Yarns)

Out on a windswept stony plain the old truck rests today,
abandoned there for twenty years to slowly rust away.
A mighty Dump Truck in times past; a worn out relic now,
this battered sad old wreck still broods, out where the dingoes prow.

But when the moon is full each month; I’m told by one who knows,
strange things begin to happen there, or so his story goes.
Bill swears he won’t go near the place on any full moon night,
because of what he saw out there - a terrifying sight.

I’ve known old Bill for years and he’s as honest as they come,
but tended to exaggerate, when he was on the rum.
He swore he hadn’t touched a drop; was sober for a change,
then launched into this story that’s intriguing and quite strange.

His car had broken down one night so had to camp nearby,
the full moon shining on the truck out of a starry sky.
He’d barely nodded off out there when woken by a sound,
a kind of moaning from the truck that echoed all around.

And then as though by miracle the truck transformed that night,
its tyres were inflated, and its paint work shiny bright.
The mighty engine coughed just once, then roared back into life,
“believe me I was praying; like you do when you’re in strife.”

“It sounded like a demon and my heart was full of dread;
for it was now a Robot Truck; the noise could wake the dead.
The tip was rising up and down and screeched an evil tune,
then reared upon its rear most wheels and roared there at the moon.”

“Its headlights flashed out signals then that looked a lot like Morse,
perhaps to call in Spooks somewhere to form a ghostly force.
I really thought this was the end; the way things were to be,
its lights were searching all around, like it was hunting me.”

“I hid behind a lump of quartz and watched the lights pass near,
the Robot roared in anger then, while I just shook with fear.
The lights then started searching elsewhere; much to my relief,
though safe there for a moment; it was likely to be brief.”

“And then as though a switch was flicked the scene had changed once more,
the truck began reverting to the way it was before.
A faint flush in the eastern sky had seemed to put things right
and driven off that demon with that tiny speck of light.”

“And when the sun had risen not a stone was out of place,
despite the things that happened, there remained now not a trace.
And that’s the way it happened mate, and what I’ve said is true;”
he reached then for the billy and he poured us both a brew.

=========

© T.E. Piggott

[Neville Briggs]

I believe you

[alongtimegone]

Terry ... great yarn told well.
Wazza

[warooa]

truth can be stranger than fiction - and at its best, it is.

Cheers, Marty

[Terry]

You're a very wise man Nevile.

cheers Terry

[Terry]

Thanks Wazza,
Glad you enjoyed it.

Terry

[Terry]

Hi Marty,

You think that's scary?

Our two Grandsons 7 & 5 fly in this afternoon and that is the truth, now that could be scary.

Cheers Terry

[manfredvijars]

I know photographers who keep returning to a particular spot to see how the light will impact on the scene. And others who will camp out for days 'just looking' at a particular scene and then just walk away without taking a picture.

A great yarn Terry. Amazing how we take for granted the things around us and a slight change brings about a completely new dimension. As poets we look for 'difference' and celebrate it in verse.

Well done.

[Terry]

Thanks Manfred,

I know what you're saying and this was a perfect example of it.

Cheers Terry

[Ron]

Good one Terry,
A touch of, 'And freeze the blood of trusting youth around the boree log.' in that one mate.

Ron