From Swearing To Beaufort

I don’t know if there is a town called Swearing anywhere but for a while a street in Mount Dandenong could definitely be called Swearing.

Our street is narrow, single lane and gravel. Not exactly conducive to a 24 foot caravan to traverse. But there was no choice we had to bring it down so it could be packed. There is enough space for the garbage truck to turn around so I was hoping to get the van around as well.

I was able to reverse it into the entrance of our neighbours driveway and from there swing around and be pointing forward up the street. Well swing I did, unfortunately the caravan did as well and the back corner hit one of the many Mountain Ash that line our street.

Well that’s when the swearing started. Wedged against the tree it wouldn’t go forward and couldn’t go back. More swearing. Nina at this point is trying to calm me down but I had flicked the switch to sweary Ross and there was no stopping it.

The Touareg was spinning its wheels in gravel. More swearing. So we had to connect a snatch strap from the Amarok to the Touareg and pull together. This finally detached us from the tree but also detached the neighbours letter box from any servicability as the bumper bar of the van smashed it to smithereens. That’s letterbox number two we have destroyed for them. We have had to deploy Tess with wads of cash and a bottle of red to apologise.

So this van was not for turning. Instead I had to reverse it up the street, which I did manfully with only moderate swearing. We were finally on our way. Next stop Beaufort.