Love is a '66 Phoenix: The First Three Chapters

Chapter One
‘Pass us the timing light Jo,’ my brother Tim said bending over the engine bay of his Valiant. I grabbed the timing light and shoved it in his direction.
‘Ta,’
The hemi engine idled lumpily.
Beside us on our front lawn, my dog Max played with his frayed tennis ball.
‘Josephine get the dog out of the roses please,’ Mossy, my Mother, called from the veranda. She had one of her friends over. You know the type: drive a Toorak Tractor and spend their afternoons drinking coffee, gossiping about who’s doing who and who’s doing what. This friend had brought her daughter, who looked a couple of years older than me. They had just arrived and were sitting on the veranda chatting about whatever those types of people like to chat about.
Our front garden looked like a colour spread from
one of those glossy home magazines. The lawn was cut to measure, the edges neat, and not a blade of grass out of place. I’m sure Mossy had ordered the grass from a designer catalogue from the gardening gods. It was the same shade right through to the back yard; not a yellow strand or weed insight. Mossy would have the gardening police onto them the minute one should dare lay root in our yard.
The rose bushes boarded our wide stucco veranda and were colour coordinated to match the house’s décor. The house itself was a 1920s Californian bungalow.
‘Josephine, come here please,’ Mossy said.
‘In a minute,’ I said. ‘I’m helping Tim with something.’
‘Go play tea parties for a while kid, otherwise she’ll be accusing me of leading you astray again,’ Tim said. ‘I can finish up here. You know how much she hates me playing with my car in the driveway.’
My light brown hair was in a ponytail under a baseball cap. My jeans were dirty and my favorite flannelette shirt threadbare at the elbows. This was my standard weekend dress, well to be honest, most of the time I wasn’t at school or out with my parents. I was supposed to change before our guests arrived but I’d forgotten making Mossy mad. I just had home from a speed shop with Tim. I love wandering up and down the isles at the accessories for cars. Of course all else was forgotten. Mossy had other plans for me; she wanted me to make “normal” friends rather than Tim and his “rev head” mates. By this stage, you are probably wondering why I call my Mother Mossy. Quite simple really; it comes from bossy, which my Mother is, I just dropped the b and added the m, which stands for Mother, and there you have it. Mossy
has no idea of her nickname and I wouldn’t dare call it to her face.
I climbed our front steps and sat astride the brick veranda wall. ‘Please take that dirty cap off,’ Mossy said passing me a glass of lemonade. I did so and my flyway hair bounced out everywhere revealing an oil smudge on my forehead. She motioned to me to tuck my hair back under my cap before her friend could notice.
‘Josephine, this is Elizabeth she attends the same university as you will be,’ she smiled. I looked at the girl sitting on the couch. She wore a white skirt and matching top, the sort of clothes Mossy dreams about seeing me in. Elizabeth’s blonde hair was in a short trendy bob, not a hair out of place. Her face was made up which gave her a ghoulish look. I guessed it was the latest fashion.
‘Hello,’ she said. She looked me up and down finally rested her eyes on my worn boots.
‘Hi,’ I said turning around to pull a face at my brother.
Max thought this funny. He bounded up the steps and tossed his ball straight in Elizabeth’s clean lap. Her face went a sickly green colour.
‘Yuck, that’s disgusting,’ Elizabeth said flicking the ball off with her napkin. Max took this as a cue to play. He grabbed the ball and plonked it back in her lap.
‘Get that revolting thing off me,’ she said glaring at me.
‘Josephine get that dog out of here—NOW,’ Mossy said. But not before Max pinched Elizabeth’s cream slathered scone.
I grabbed Max by his collar and dragged him down the steps

‘Josephine, the minute you go to university that dog goes. No one has the time to look after it,’ Mossy added. ‘I’m terribly sorry Elizabeth, come inside and I’ll get you something to clean up the mess’.
The perfect parents. Was there such a thing? I’m sure if you looked up parents in the dictionary you’d see a picture of my parents staring back at you. Not that I’m complaining, but I always had what my parents wanted. Always had new clothes, which I tossed aside in favour of my jeans and T-shirts. My parents wanted me to be an accountant. Not just any accountant but an ace one like my Dad. How more perfect is that; a guaranteed position in my Dad’s business in Melbourne. Only one problem; I wanted to be a mechanic.
Tim had his own shop in our suburb. He taught me, in secret, all the workings of a car. He was willing to take me on as his apprentice but I had to convince my parents first.

It was the first day of December 1982 that the most exciting thing happened. I had finished my HSC exams and school was out. I was at breakfast with my Nanna, Bev, in her granny flat. We sat on the decking drinking tea and eating toast piled high with thick slabs of tasty melted cheese. The big Oak tree in our yard over hung part of the decking. It was a lovely place to sit away from Mossy’s critical stare. Before Nanna moved in with us, I’d sit in my tree house and throw acorns onto our roof. She was convinced we had possums, or worse rats.
Max was by my side scabbing for bits of toast. He had been a gift to me from Nanna a few years ago. Max had been the runt of a farm dog’s litter. He was
a kelpie and his coat was a rich liver colour, which faded to red in summer. He was my best mate.
‘That dog is a living vacuum cleaner’, Nanna said. Max squatted and growled. ‘He even sounds like one. Devil eyes, that’s what you got,’ Nanna said giving him a hard rub over his coat. ‘Reminds me of this mean eyed horse dealer back in the 60s. He had green close-set eyes. My mum used to say never trust a man with close-set eyes. Means their mum came face to face with a snake during birth.’
‘You believe that?
‘No…don’t be silly; of course I do,’ she replied with a wink.
Nanna had been living with us for six months. She had sold her farm and needed what she called a “small break” before she decided what she was going to do with the rest of her life. My pop had passed away a couple of years ago. Nanna had tried her hardest to keep the farm going. However, without her only son, my dad, to help (heaven forbid, honestly the thought of my Mossy dressed as a milkmaid makes me laugh ‘til I’m in tears). I had spent every weekend and holiday at their farm helping after my pop had died. I was willing to leave school and go help out which was out of the question.
Just shy of 70, Nanna defied the age gods by looking no older than 60. She was my height, which is five foot three, with a waist length greying blonde plait. She still had all her own teeth. She was fit, most probably, from all her years spent working on the farm.
Nanna religiously bought the Weekly Times and I liked to read it. Especially the job section. That’s when I saw it. The ad that changed my life.
‘Wanted. Apprentice mechanic for busy workshop
in country Victoria. Apply via mail,’ I read aloud.
Nanna gave me a wink ‘Sounds right up your alley.’

Chapter Two
I knew the postie was out front that morning as I could hear Max growling. The postie (as usual) was bailed up against our hedge. I ran out to save my letter. Mossy ran out to save the postie.
‘What have you got there,’ Mossy said in between apologising to the postie.
‘Nuthin…’ I said skipping off with Max at my heels.
‘I wish you would speak proper English Josephine’.
I ran directly to my Nanna’s flat. She was exercising to Duran Duran. I could hear the music thumping through her walls. Nanna was bending and stretching in time with Simon le Bon, her plait swinging back and forth. Her green lycra leotard was dotted with sweat. I honestly didn’t know how she did it.
I waved the letter at her and she turned the music down.
‘Come on girl, just open it,’ Nanna said pulling her lime green leg warmers up. ‘I’ll stick the jug on,’ she
said.
My heart thumped as I tore open the envelope. I carefully pulled the letter from its papery prison. In between the greasy smudges and a coffee stain, I unravelled the inky words. ‘I got it…I got the job,’ I said.
‘Wow just like that! Beauty, well done love, I told you you could do it’ she hugged me after she plonked our tea down on the coffee table. ‘What does it say?’
‘He says, Mr. Benson, Jo, I am Mr. Benson, the business owner. Seeing you are the only applicant to apply for the job at my workshop, I guess you will have to do. No need for an interview all you have to do is put in the hard yakka and the job’s yours. Be here this Monday, 8am sharp. I have a flat out back you can rent unless you have your own arrangements.
Your’s Mr. Benson.’
‘Sounds like a positive happy chappy. He’ll be in for a surprise when he finds out how good you are with cars.’
‘I didn’t even think about getting there! There’s no time if I got to be there Monday.’
‘I’d love to drive you up there Jo but I don’t think the old ute will make it. Let me make a call to some of Pop’s old trucker mates. I’m sure one of them is heading up that way and can drop you off before Monday.’
‘As long as they know Max is coming with me. I’m not leaving him.’ I said. ‘I’ll make that a priority love, no worries.’ Nanna said.
‘Thanks Nanna. I still have to get around Mossy and dad. Otherwise they’ll think you’re helped me to run away.’ I said

‘You’re not running away. I’ll deal with my son and his wife.’ Nanna said. I honestly believed she liked to stir Mossy up. It wasn’t a secret that there was no love lost between them.
I tiptoed into the house hoping Mossy wouldn’t hear me. Unfortunately, she was in the hallway marinating herself in perfume.
‘I wish you’d come to the hairdresser with me this morning,’ Mossy said as she spied me in the hallway mirror. ‘You really should do something with that mop of yours. You haven’t had it styled in years.’ She ran her hand through my long straight hair. ‘There’s a lovely style in at the moment. It would bring out your hazel eyes,’ she studied me for a moment. ‘I wish you would make more of an effort to find some female friends, you can’t be a tom boy running around with your dog forever.’ I thought she sounded more like a woman’s magazine everyday. Actually, she should be the make up editor with all that hookering up she does each morning.
‘A woman should always look her best Josephine,’ she’d say as she applied yet another coat of mascara. I swear the make-up industry would collapse if she ever decided to go natural.
‘Sorry Mother, Max needs a walk.’ I said making a dash for his lead.
‘Yes, that dog. You are lucky the postman doesn’t sue us. Luckily, as I explained to him, he knows the dog doesn’t bite,’ Mossy said. ‘And really, he’s a farm dog and needs to be in open spaces, not couped up in the city on a lead.’ Yes, I thought, Just like me. I need open space and freedom to make my own choices too. There was no way I was going to mention the job; I knew what she would say. Better to
leave. I was nearly 18 and old enough to make decisions about my life

Dad was drinking coffee in the parlour (that is what Mossy called it). Dad was sitting in he’s favorite armchair by the open fireplace. Mossy didn’t like us using the room as she didn’t want the polished floor boards “scuffed up” in case we had guests. Dad was engrossed in the paper. I stood by the open French doors and watched him for a moment. Nanna told me Dad was a normal bloke before he met Mossy. She was always telling me funny stories about his youth. How he was quite a character when he was growing up on the farm always inventing machinery, tinkering with cars or getting into mischief. He met Mossy when they were both 19 and at uni. Mossy was a law student but gave it up when she fell pregnant with Tim. Dad wanted to set up a small business in his hometown, bring Tim up in the country and help his parents around the farm. However, Mossy hated the country; she talked him into moving to the inner suburbs and starting a more classy business with city clients. Mossy didn’t speak of her past but I did know her family was poor.
‘Hello Jo. Not much happening in the world today,’ Dad said in his usual quiet manner. I couldn’t imagine him as a wild youth gallivanting around the countryside.
‘What ails you?’ He closed his paper, as he did I glimpsed a sports car magazine in the centre.
‘Buying a sports car?’
‘Oh no…it belongs to an employee…just having a look.’
‘You should get one dad. Those new turbo Starions;
you’d look cool cruising around town in one.’
‘Ha ha your Mother would have a fit if I did. She’d say I was suffering from “Second teenage syndrome and rush me off for counselling’. I better stick with the Volvo.’
‘Dad, would it worry you if I didn’t become an accountant?’ I said kneeling beside his chair. I watched his eyebrows rise.
‘Jo, we have been over this before. When you’re older, you’ll understand. You’d break your Mother’s heart if you choose not to go to university.’ Dad said with a touch of sarcasm. He gave me a quick smile and opened his paper again. ‘I don’t mind you tinkering with cars, Jo. But you’ll soon grow out of it and regret not doing something with your life. I had to work long hours and build my business up to what it is today. Not many children get a job given to them. Now go take that dog for a walk, he’s been huffing around here all morning.’
I lowered my eyes and bit my tongue. How much I wanted to scream at him and tell him I was leaving tomorrow. But I knew he’d tell Mossy and my future would be over. I’d be doomed to wander through life as a number cruncher living in a two-bedroom apartment with a rich husband and two point five kids.
I left the room and went to my room. I pressed play on my tape deck and turned it up loud. All my parents wanted were a carbon copy of themselves. I looked around at my pastel pink and lemon bedroom. I tried hard to cover the wallpaper with car and dog posters. Everything was so crisp and clean. It was almost as if dirt was too scared to blow into our house. I was sick of frills and lace. I wanted thrills and chase

Nanna bailed me up just as I walked out the front gate. ‘Jo wait up.’ She said. ‘I got a lift for you but it’s tomorrow morning, early, I’ll take you up to the truck stop just on the other side of the city where Chris will meet you. Chris is the step grandson of Pop’s old mate Charlie Fox. He’s heading up to Bendigo first thing so make sure you’re ready.’
‘Thanks Nanna,’ I said giving her a hug. Max pulled on his lead excitedly wanting to go for his walk.
‘Off you go then you little red devil,’ Nanna said. I took Max for a walk down to Tim’s workshop. The air was sweet with summery smells.
I passed the local playground and saw Mothers pushing their kids on swings and sitting in small groups. That was exactly the life my parents wanted me to have; A life of marriage, children and a well-paying career. They wanted me to fit into normal society and graze with the other sheep.
I walked into Tim’s Automotive Centre and smelt the oil and grease. Car smells, such a contrast compared to the flowery smells of home. Tim took great pride in his work. He was no dill when it came to business either and had built up the workshop from his own sweat and money. Our parents had allowed him to be a mechanic because of Tim’s persistence and low HSC results. Mossy wasn’t happy about it at all. But Tim had stuck to his guns.
Tim was bent over the desk in his office filling out paperwork, rock music blasting from the radio. Every time I saw Tim, he was bending over something hard at work.
‘Hi ya sis,’ he said looking up. Max put his feet up on the table to say hi. ‘You too Boofhead,’ Tim said as
he grabbed Max’s ears.
‘I got a job,’ I said.
‘Great! Part-time? Where is it?’
‘No it’s a mechanic apprenticeship’.
Tim raised his eyebrows. ‘Do the olds know’?
‘Nope’.
‘So where are you going? Do I know the shop? I hope it’s not my main rival,’ he laughed.
‘Somewhere near Bendigo, a place called Chickdale.’
‘Where will you stay? It’s too far to travel everyday.’
‘There’s a flat there for me to rent.’
‘How are you getting there?’ Tim said.
‘I’m getting a lift with a friend of pops.’
‘When do you go?’
‘Monday, but I have to go tomorrow, with my lift’.
‘What about Mum and Dad?’
‘I don’t know …Nanna said she’ll explain’.
‘So she knows too… Jeez how about telling your favorite bro first…Boy the olds are gunna freak!’

On Saturday morning, Nanna drove us to the truck stop in pop’s old farm Ute. The doors creaked and the body groaned. You could feel every bump in that old Ute. I had helped Tim rebuild the tired engine a few months ago. It was a shame about the rest of it. The paintwork was peeled from years of sitting out on the farm. A draft came through the rust spots in the Ute’s body.
‘She’s got a touch of arthritis in her hinges but there’s still a few years in the old girl yet,’ Nanna said.
I knew Nanna kept the ute purely for sentimental reasons. No one had the heart to tell her it really needed scraping. ‘I’m sorry I’m not driving you. I would have liked to see your new digs,’ Nanna said. I
looked around at the ute and shook my head. ‘It’s okay Nanna; I’m looking forward to the trip. It’s not often I get to go on an adventure on my own,’ I said squeezing her hand. ‘And in a truck! Pop would be pleased!
I gave her a hug and climbed out with Max. ‘Chris will look after you, I’m sure, …there’s his rig now,’ Nanna said nodding towards a silver and black Kenworth. Nanna got out and had a few words with Chris then turned to us.
‘This is Jo. Make sure you take good care of her.’ She said.
‘Hi Jo,’ Chris said from the drivers seat. ‘No worries. I used to baby-sit my sister’s kids.’
‘Hi Chris.’ I said. ‘And I’m not a kid. I’m 17.’
‘Well sorry there young lady.’ He said with a grin.
‘See you Maxy boy, look after our Jo wont you,’ Nanna said giving Max a hard pat.
‘Good luck Joey girl, show ‘em what we sheilas are made of.’ She said.
Chris leant across the seat and opened the passenger door.
He had shoulder length scruffy dark brown hair and dark brown eyes framed with thick, dark eyebrows. His muscular arms were covered in tattoos. The growth on his face told me he hadn’t seen a razor in a few days.
‘Has ya dog had his brekkie’?
‘Yes, two cops and a taxi bloke’ I said sarcastically.
‘Well come on then I haven’t got all day,’ he said with a laugh.
I threw up my bag to him as I recalled something we had learnt in school Stranger Danger. I then lifted Max up before jumping up my self. Max gave him a good sniff. I waved to Nanna as she drove off in her
old ute.
Chris started his truck and drove out onto the highway.
‘G’day dog,’ Chris said.
‘His name is Max.’
‘Yes I know. My pop told me I was picking up a girl and her dog Max.’
‘He’s not your real pop.’
‘To me he is. I never knew my real one.’
The truck smelt of stale sweat and diesel. My nose tickled and I sneezed. There were empty beer, cola cans scattered around the cab, and the bed in the sleeper was strewn with clothes and pizza boxes.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said, ‘what ‘arya doing for a job in Chickdale, it’s kinda dull out that way. Not much action if you know what I mean’.
‘Mechanic’
He laughed.
‘No way…come on what ya doing.’
I didn’t reply I just looked out the window.
‘Okay Jo, so ya gunna be a mechanic…that’s cool….tell me- I’ve been havin’ problems with me VW beetle. It‘s using a heap of water. No matter how much I top up the radiator it still overheats,’ he looked at me through the corner of his eye.
‘Ha ha…very funny… That is so old… Beetles are air cooled so they don’t have a radiator,’ I replied.
‘Okay…okay just checking.’
‘Are you going to Chickdale?’
‘’fraid not. I’m going straight through to Bendigo. I will drop you at the Chickdale turn off but that’s it. I’m on a tight schedule with this load, otherwise no worries. You should be right to find ya way then’.
‘Here have a drink’. He passed me a can of cola then opened one for himself. ‘There’s a bowl and
some water in the back. Give the mutt a drink’.
Max proceeded to make a mess slopping water everywhere.
‘I was a mechanic for a while,’ Chris said. ‘Worked on Rigs mainly though. Liked it but I much prefer driving…so why a mechanic Jo?’
I told him the story
‘And Beno was cool with you being a Sheila?’ Chris said cracking open another can of soft drink. ‘Yes I know Beno, I’ve even had a drink with him at the pub…hey if ya wanna a drink, just help yaself…esky is full.’
‘No I didn’t mention I was a girl, and it shouldn’t matter. Girls can be mechanics or anything for that matter,’ I said reaching over for a can.
‘Wooo…is Beno gunna be shocked,’ Chris laughed, lemonade spurting from his mouth. ‘And la de da, an accountant. That sounds kinda flash. I couldn’t imagine myself couped up in an office all day, although some would say this was an office on wheels.’
‘Dad has his own business. I don’t care about having a job which pays well.’
‘Okay miss non-material what do you care about,’ Chris said.
‘Earning my own money in a job I have found myself. I want to buy my own car. My Mother has this idea of some trendy girls’ car. She’s thinking Gemini; I’m thinking Dodge and V8.’
‘Ooooo that’s a lota car for a little girl…joke.’ He said holding his hand up as if I was going to hit him. ‘So what’s mumsy do?’
‘Oh she spends money. And she plays tennis twice a week with her gossipy friends. Oh and when she’s not doing that she’s organizing my life. Just this once I
want to do something for myself’.
‘Sounds like a real hassle having parents like that,’ Chris said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Poor little rich girl… I see. My family were the opposite. They didn’t care what I did. So I left school at 14 and became a mechanic. Now I drive trucks. It’s a great life, I get to see so much of the country and meet heaps of new people, no hassles, no family. Don’t have a home as such,’ he tapped a sticker on his dash, which read “Love is an open road and my rig”.
I gazed out of the window at the passing suburbs until they turned to paddocks and the odd lonely house. Chris seemed to sense I didn’t really want to talk anymore and was quiet. The drone of the truck’s tyres on the highway made my head feel woozy and my eyelids grew heavy. I was asleep.

Chapter Three
‘Well here we are mate…your stop,’ he said pulling the rig up opposite a dirt road. I snapped my eyes open at the sound of his voice.
‘You dozed off and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. You’re been out of it for over an hour.’ Chris said.
‘Sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry. I wish I could fall asleep that easy.’ he said with a wink ‘well good luck with the job Just Jo. I will be seein’ ya ‘round’.
‘Thanks for the ride,’ I said climbing down from the cab of the truck Max leaped down beside me. Chris tossed my bags down.
‘No worries look after yaself. Give my regards to Beno. I’ll be drivin’ through in a coupla weeks, I’ll drop in and see how our little grease monkey is going, besides you owe me a couple of beers,’ he blew his air horns a couple of times. I watched the truck drive
off. Chris waved for a while and blew the air horns again. I gave one final wave and looked down at Max. ‘He was an interesting person in an odd sort of way wasn’t he Max? ‘So here we are,” I said looking around at the parched paddocks. I could see the heat radiating up from the road causing a mirage.
‘Two kays. Not too far to walk,’ I said to Max as he peed on the signpost. Either side I saw rusted barbed wire fencing attached to ancient looking posts. I could hear the long dry grass whispering in the summer breeze, it seemed to be saying, ‘Go home little girl…go home little girl…’ It was bloody creepy.
It was getting warmer as we walked. Max panted and licked his lips. It would have to be the longest two kays I had ever walked and we still didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I was sure we were walking in circles, every fence post and tree began to look the same. Max needed a drink. Why didn’t I bring water, I thought looking around for a dam. Nothing but flat yellow paddocks and gum trees.
I heard a rumble of a V8 behind me. I turned and through the heat, haze saw the biggest bull bar on a car I’d ever seen in my entire life. It would look more at home on a Kenworth truck. Ever inch of the bulbar, roof and guards was covered in ariels. The Holden ute slowed to walking pace and pulled along side of me. The paint was a faded canary yellow with stickers plastered over the back window and bumper bars. Jimmy Barnes pumped from the speakers.
‘G’ day,’ the driver said.
‘Hi,’ I said gazing in at the driver. There was a bloody chook behind the wheel! Not a real chook, but a man in a costume.
‘Where ya goin’,’ it clucked. ‘Jump in.

‘Ah…no thanks…we need the exercise and town isn’t that far.’
‘You going to Chickdale?’
‘Yep. Not too far to walk…sign said 2km back at the turnoff’.
‘Fraid not, it’s actually 12km, the council forgot to add number one before it.’
I sighed and looked at Max’s little thirsty tongue hanging from his mouth. The back of the Ute looked tempting.
‘Okay, we’ll ride in the back,’ I said
‘Please yaself,’ Chook man said and gave the Ute a rev.
It was an uncomfortable ride. Funny how you don’t notice the ruts in the road when you’re walking. The chook smiled at me through his costume head. I looked the other way. How embarrassing, I thought, arriving in town with a chook. What if he’s the town loony that everyone avoids and here I am in his ute? I tapped furiously on the window but the Chook couldn’t hear me. Cold Chisel boomed from the speakers. It was too late we had arrived.
‘Thanks’, I said to the chook man. ‘No worries Love,’ he said and drove off with a spin of his tyres.
Max sniffed around curiously.
‘Let’s find someone.’
To the left of the street was a dilapidated looking hall surrounded by long yellow grass. Right next door to it was a butcher. One of them real butchers shops my Nanna used to yak about. Nanna still bought her meat from a real butcher, not one of these mass-produced super market chain stores. The shop sat on its own; bluestone brickwork fancy cement front lots of glass and a bull nose veranda. Leaning up against
one of the butcher’s veranda posts was a phone box. It was one of those old red ones with glass panels down each side. I hummed the theme from Doctor Who.
Next door the general store, much the same style as the butcher but larger.
Opposite the General Store was a pub made in the same style. The half-rusted bull nose veranda wrapped around the corner with the building. I had to heel Max; real chickens roamed freely, painted bright colours and numbers displayed on their bodies. Max watched them eagerly wondering if he should do something about it. The smell of BBQ wafted our way. I had forgotten how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
A canvas sign strung across the Pub’s veranda posts declared, “Annual Chookfest today, BBQ and chook race…prize for the best chook costume”. Max lapped water from the old horse trough out front of the pub. Then he climbed in and splashed about. There was a chook operating the BBQ out front of the pub. Patrons walked in and out sporting all sorts of chicken products.
‘Hello,’ I said not really knowing what to say. The chook man looked up from his cooking. Chicken pieces sizzled on the hot plate, which made my stomach rumble.
‘G’day young lady, wanna try some of my special marinated chicken wings,’ he clucked. He handed me a napkin with a wing before I had a chance to answer. ‘Visiting someone in town or arya passin’ through,’ he added. A few more curious chooks had gathered to check me out. Max, meanwhile, was wide-eyed and slathering for a piece of chicken.
‘I’m starting a job here. Working for Mike Benson,’ I
said.
‘Oh. Beno. He should be somewhere round here…Maureen,’ he called into the pub.
‘What,’ a loud female voice said over the top of the pub noise.
‘Is Beno round?’ Chook man said.
‘Nah, think he popped back to the garage,’ she said walking out onto the veranda. ‘Hello, what have we got here,’ she said wiping her hands on a floral tea towel.
Maureen was also a chook. Her plump curves suited her costume.
‘I’m Jo,’ I said offering my hand.
‘Jo…’, BBQ chook said. ‘You are Jo. Beno’s new apprentice?’
‘Yes,’ I said. Max was busy sniffing all the wonderful chicken smells both living and cooked.
‘Boy, is Beno gunna be surprised to see you,’ Maureen said wide eyed. ‘I’m Maureen Jackson; and this bloke here is my hubby Jim. Welcome to our town luv. If you go up the road a bit, you’ll come to Beno’s garage…just on the left. Good luck luv. Oh and don’t mind us, we do this dress up thing once a year. Chickdale is a farming town; nearly everyone around here has chooks, so we meet up for this Chookfest to show off our goods.’
‘Sounds like a lot of fun,’ I said meaning it.
Jim saluted me with his tongs.
Clusters of people were in the workshop driveway and gave me a friendly nod. ‘G’day luv,’ a man said. ‘Is Mr.Benson around?’ I said. ‘Yeh, he’s around here somewhere.’ He said.
It was a large whitewash building. Chickdale Automotive painted in faded red on the front gable. The roof, like most of the town, was tin and rust
coloured. Two ancient looking petrol pumps sat in the driveway. On the left of the building, the garage had a double door in a faded blue. The office door to the right was the same colour. I tried it but it was locked. I peered through the dusty window and saw no one. Great it looked like I was working for a chook dresser uppera. I thought. I could hear Tim clucking away with laughter now. My sister the chook mechanic, he’d laugh to his mates. ‘Try around the back,’ the man called.
I wandered down the left side of the building along a gravel driveway. There were four louvered windows along the side of the workshop covered with steel bars. Half the louvers were missing or cracked. There was a wrecker’s yard to the left of the garage. There was acres and acres of cars; A car enthusiast’s dream. A chook stepped out at me from the rear of the building.
‘Can I help you girlie.’
‘I’m looking for Mr.Benson.’
Max sniffed madly around the chook’s legs. The chook looked nervous he moved sideways.
‘Don’t worry he’s had his brekkie,’ I said.
The chook didn’t laugh.
‘That’s me, Mike Benson,’ he said removing his chook head.
His face was weather beaten like the garage’s facade. Hundreds of lines etched his deeply tanned face. His eyelids drooped lazily over his faded blue eyes. Although bald on top, he had a grey ponytail, which bounced off his shoulders.
‘Can I help you girlie?’
‘I’m Jo,’ I said offering my hand not knowing I’d be shaking hands with a chook.
Mike “chook” Benson straightened up with a jerk

‘Hey, what…you’re Joe? Joe my apprentice?’
‘Yep, that’s me.’
‘But you’re a girl.’
‘Yep…that’s what they keep telling me at home.’
‘Sorry you’ll have to go home…I can’t employ a girl…you’d never manage, it’s all too dirty and hard for a girl,’ he began to shuffle off.
‘Hang on a tic,’ I said. ‘You said I had the job, you told me to be here Monday morning and it’s Saturday afternoon. I’m early and ready to start’. He stopped in his tracks and scratched his chin. His fingers made a rustling noise through his whiskers. You could’ve heard a chook feather drop.
‘Well, I guess I could use a girly to do my paperwork part time; the misses is too busy with the grand kiddies these days with the daughter working in Bendigo…. Can you type?’
‘NO, I can’t type!’ I said. ‘But I can rebuild an engine, change a diff centre, change springs, jet carbies and juggle bloody penguins.’
‘Give the little girly a shot,’ said a chook from behind me. I turned and saw the group of people I saw earlier, gathered around in their chook costumes.
‘Yeh Beno, give her a shot,’ a burly man said cigarette rollie dangling from his chook lips, beer in wing. Jim Jackson, who had walked up, joined in and clacked his BBQ tongs together. ‘Yeh, she seems to be a good kid.’
Suddenly the town’s people were cackling away about giving me a go. I felt my face go bright red. Max barked. Beno was shuffling his chook feet and scratching his chin. He wrinkled his creased forehead. The town’s people backed him into a corner

‘Okay okay…girly, here’s the deal. I’ll put you on a coupla week’s trial. THEN I will decide if you are good enough for the apprenticeship,’ he said. ‘But I still don’t like it. One stuff up and you’ll be packing your kit for home.’
The crowd cheered. ‘Well come on then,’ Beno said. ‘I’ll show you where you’ll stay…bloody people butting their beaks into my business.’
Beno guided me around to the back of the garage mumbling obscenities.
‘It’s not much,’ he mumbled. ‘I wasn’t expecting a girl’. He said it as if it was going to taint him.
A brick building loomed before us. It was as high as the garage. The walls were painted the same whitewash. It was attached to the main building no escape from work here, I thought.
‘Place is hard to keep warm in winter but stays cool in summer,’ he said as he slotted the key into a sliding glass double door. ‘Last kid kept it like a pigsty; it took me misses, Cheryl a month of Sundees to clean it’.
The smell of bleach hit me as soon as he opened the door. ‘You’ll have to open some windows, give it an air out. The last kid liked oranges and the place stunk of them. Cheryl was gunna do it tomorrow, we weren’t expecting you ‘till Mundee,’ he said waving his left arm as if he was presenting me with the Taj Mahal.
I noticed the heat. Beno flicked on a light to show more. The only natural light source was the sliding door we’d just entered. Over to the right rear corner was a kitchen area. A bench top jutted out into the centre of the room. There was a small sink under a series of lime green cupboards. Better not put my head up too quickly, I thought. The stove looked
newish in a second hand way. It looked clean but with chipped paint. There was also a fridge, one of them old rounded types from the 1960s. I wondered if it worked. Nanna’s voice popped into my head. Never trust anything modern, bah. Give me good ol’ fashioned stuff any day.
The walls were cement sheeting; plain off white with blue TAC stains. Beno muttered on about this and that as I looked around. The floor was black and white checkered lino, which reminded me of a race flag. The room also served as a living area. There was a vinyl grey couch with wood armrests, another product of the 1960s, a stained coffee table made from solid wood, an empty bookcase with a black and white telly on top of it.
Beno led me through an open door to the left of the room. A double bed filled most of the space. In a corner, there was a Queen Anne dresser with a cracked mirror. The opposite corner had a spooky looking wardrobe. Through another door was the bathroom. It was tiny with the same lino as the kitchen. There was no bath, just a shower and loo. A tiny wind out window above the toilet provided the only light and ventilation.
‘There’s a shed out back with a laundry trough and twin tub washing machine. The other kid used to hang his washing in the kitchen. Too much dust around here otherwise’.
‘I’ll leave you with it then girly. Your rent, gas and power will come out of you pay every week. If you want a phone, you’ll have to pay for the connection yaself. I don’t like staff using the shop phone for personal calls either.’
He turned on his chook heel and headed out. ‘There’s grub in the fridge. Should see ya through ‘til
pay day. Unless of course ya want to get something from the general store. Oh, there are blankets in the wardrobe.’
He opened the sliding door and handed me the keys. Max went to follow him. Beno bent down to give him a pat. ‘A bloody sheila,’ he said as he left. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. You bloody women belong in the kitchen, dam women libbers.’
As soon as he was out of sight I dived on the fridge, I was absolutely ravenous. Max joined me in a tail wagging frenzy. ‘Look Max…we have a cartoon of milk…and …wow a dozen eggs… no two dozen eggs… And in the freezer we have what looks like chicken drumsticks and a few wings,’ I said fishing through the icy container. Max had made himself at home on the couch.
In the cupboard above the sink, I found some bits and pieces. Mrs Benson had filled the bottom cupboard with pots and pans, plates and bowls nothing matched. I picked out two bowls for Max and found a can opener. I gave Max a tin of his food I had bought with us. The other bowl I filled with water.
I cooked a few wings and made a pot of tea with stale tealeaves. I threw the rancid milk out and drank the tea black.
‘Well, here we are Max. Our first home together in the big wide world.’
He looked up from his tucker and gave me a cheery big dog smile.

To find out what happens next order the book from
Love is a ‘66 Phoenix

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80s, bendigo, book, cars, dog, drag racing, kelpie, mechanic, novel, phoenix, retro and young adult