We’ve been everywhere man, of travel we’ve had our share man
We’ve been everywhere man, of road trips far and wide man
this married pair have traversed everywhere man
o’er this great brown land man, called Aus-tra- li-a man
from east to west to north to south and everywhere!
‘twas in years gone by he and I took one memorable trip.
He enjoyed the freedom of the road, taking control of the wheel.
Once in charge of moving wheels no power on earth would stop him.
I enjoyed a freedom of another kind altogether knowing I was in the safest hands
snoozing by the mile waking only when the wheels slowed down.
Travelling east to celebrate the nuptials of a long time friend
to a place where yesteryear gold was panned in Ballarat
and chinamen with sweat of brow created dynasties and family fortunes
peddling to the miners wielding picks and sieving slurry
ever searching for a fortune of their own and rising in rebellion
against the greedy corruption of government at the Stockade called Eureka
We arrived in heavy slurried weather, a fog so dense we could not see
the road in front let alone the rear or sides but still no power in this world
would stop the man behind the wheel. He drove. Slowly.
Heart in throat we crawled lights blazing ‘long the road.
We’re going to die! I cried. We’re lost! I lamented.
Ballarat was reached in safety and sleep soothed my frazzled nerves.
Next morning ‘twas time to head to the nuptials of our friend
not far from where we stayed the night, he said, as he took the wheel.
We’ll go early, he said, they may need some help.
He drove. And drove. He read the map and drove some more.
‘twas when he stopped I ventured to enquire if by any chance he knew the way.
Mumbling under tightened breath he said, of course, and drove some more.
At the third passing of the same roadside stall I ventured to enquire
if by chance perhaps we were lost. He glared and said he knew the way.
And drove some more. It seemed to me that we were passing familiar
landscapes, going round in circles. I ventured to suggest perhaps it would be good
to stop and ask the way. Muttering under ever tightened breath he said
it was not necessary.
At this point I thought it prudent to enquire if perhaps we would be late.
Time was ticking on. The wedding would not wait for guests who were late or lost.
As we passed the now familiar roadside stall, he stopped.
Opening the door, he ventured out to enquire about the route best taken
to reach our destination. Map in hand with markings he returned. And drove.
We arrived just in time as bride and groom strolled down the grassy carpet.
Perhaps it had been prudent after all that we’d left a good two hours earlier than needed.
© Raili Tanska
This has been written in response to Lady Calen’s Sandbox Challenge 39 : Lost
*TRH = The Retired Husband: he has a Category all his own in this blog