Come here, he called, I want to show you something.
Ever obedient, I dropped what I was doing and went to have a look.
He was sitting at his computer desk.
Next to his hand was a teeny tiny little nondescript looking black box.
He was watching a video.
Look, he said, pointing at the screen.
Oh, is that you on your bike? It’s a very clear picture.
Yeah. I bought a camera.
Really? When did you do that?
The other day, he said, pointing at the teeny tiny little nondescript looking black box.
Is that it ? That teeny tiny little nondescript looking black box?
Yeah. Takes good pictures.
Sure does. How much did that cost then?
Oh, couple hundred. It’s for my bike.
Oh? Does it go on your helmet then?
I’m going on a road trip.
Really? It’s about time. You’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. When are you going ?
Where are you planning on going? Will you be gone long?
What, to visit Lisa and Ken? Maybe Ken can take you fishing. They catch a lot of fish up there. You could bring some home too. Freshly caught King George Whiting would be awesome. You could clean and fillet them up there. Ken will help with that. He’s got a good set up there for it. Apparently he’s very good too. So are you. There’s never any bones left. You could freeze them and pack them in a freezer bag in one of your side-saddles. They would stay frozen for the trip home.
How long will you be gone?
Leave Tuesday. Back Friday.
Good oh. That will be a nice break for you. The weather is lovely just now.
He’s a man of few words, The Retired Husband (TRH).
He left on the Tuesday morning as planned. Contrary to usual trips away, I had no hand or say in the travel arrangements, packing or planning.
Ready, he came to give me a quick hug and kiss.
Have a safe trip. Make sure you stop and rest along the way. You don’t want to end up as road kill. And let me know when you get there. I want to know you arrived safely.
Sure. See ya.
And off he went.
The daily mobile text messages were equally as brief as the Facebook posts above.
Thursday night was wet and stormy. All night. I was worried about him riding home in those conditions. So I sent him a text and told him not to come home.
Then I sent another one in case he wondered why he couldn’t come home. It’s too stormy so the roads will not be safe for travel, I explained.
He arrived home early afternoon Friday.
Hello, I said. You came today after all. I thought it would be too wet and dangerous to be on the road in this weather. It’s been really stormy here all day yesterday. Last night was really bad, and this morning. That’s why I suggested you stay on another night.
I had no problems.
Well, that’s good then. Did you have a nice trip? Did you do any fishing? How was everybody?
Good. No one was catching any fish so I didn’t try.
(I had to rely on the text messages, video and Facebook photos to fill in the gaps.
Coobowie is a small country town at the south-eastern tip of Yorke Peninsula here in South Australia. Proclaimed in 1875, Coobowie comes from an Aboriginal word meaning “wild fowl water”. At the 2011 census, Coobowie had a population of 220. It is roughly a four hour motorbike ride one way.)
© Raili Tanska