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Authors: Brian Robertson,Ron Smallwood

BOOK: Riotous Retirement
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Buying into Burnside retirement village some time after he retired was a big decision for Duncan. He was in his 70s and still a single man after a lifetime living, very frugally, in the bush. Truth be known Duncan’s reluctance to part with money probably had some bearing on him never having married because he was always a reasonable looking fellow. He very sensibly purchased himself a villa in Burnside Village at the more affordable end of the scale. Obviously Duncan’s outlook on life, his attitude towards other people and his concern or otherwise about what people thought of him, were poles apart from these same traits in the likes of Gabriel Bovary. The one thing Duncan did stipulate to the sales lady was that he had to have a double garage. This was necessary to house his pride and joy, his one and only indulgence, a beautiful, yellow, 1969, V8, Chevrolet Camaro. It was the muscle car of all muscle cars. Although Duncan had always driven a ute, chosen solely on the basis of efficiency for his work, he had been a muscle car enthusiast for a long time and this car was a reward to himself now, at the end of his working life. It had cost Duncan almost as much as his new villa, so he needed a double garage just to give him the space to be able to walk all around it, admire it, touch it, and to keep his tools and the other bits and pieces he needed to keep it in tip top condition.

“Can we take it on the motorway for a bit?” Alex said, conscious that he had to speak above the noise of the engine and make Duncan hear him.

“OKAY BUT PETROL STATION AT THE VILLAGE FIRST.”

At the petrol station Duncan drew up at the pump. He looked over at Alex and Alex got the distinct feeling that he was expected to jump out and fill her up! He jumped nowhere; instead he just leaned forward and fiddled with the radio controls. Duncan then very slowly got out of the car and operated the petrol hose. Alex could see out of the corner of his eye that Duncan had only put in a few litres and he knew that the tank had only been just over a quarter full. He said nothing.

When they got to the motorway most of the traffic was coming towards them on the opposite side so Duncan was easily able to demonstrate to Alex the muscle in his muscle car. Alex could feel his body being pressed into the bucket seat and the sensation of power, as the car accelerated to 140 km/h. It was phenomenal.

Alex let out a loud “Wahooooow!”

Duncan just smiled, happy to be doing just a little showing off—which he very rarely indulged in. He did not demonstrate anything else of course because he would never risk a fine and so he quickly decelerated to the legal 100 km/h. They left the motorway at the first off-ramp and cruised slowly home to the village.

“PERHAPS YOU COULD ASK HER FOR ME?” Duncan said on the way home.

“Ask who, what?” Alex responded, pretending not to know what Duncan was talking about. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. It’s as though we were back in school. “I’ll think about it, you bloody old Romeo you—but it’ll cost you. You can’t take Mrs. Kennedy out to any old fish and chipper or the local Chinese joint! You’ll be up for spending real dough, mate. Are you sure you can afford it? Have you got a suit?” Alex slapped his mate’s knee and they both laughed.

Over the next few weeks Alex made the first approach to Susan who flatly refused Mr. Stuart’s kind offer but, as she had need of Duncan’s skills on her car a couple of days later, Duncan took the opportunity and summoned up the courage to ask her himself. She still refused, but in a kindly way, and Duncan got the feeling that she might eventually be persuaded to accept his offer. In fact as they both got to know each other just a little better Duncan learned that she and her late husband had once owned a Leyland P76. Duncan knew about the Australian built Leyland and that the model that Susan and her husband owned had a V8 engine like his Camaro but he knew it did not have the muscle of his model. Still it gave them something in common to talk about.

“Have I got a proposal for you!” said Alex the next day. “I’ve just been to see Mrs. Kennedy and she said she’d love to drive your car. What do you think about that then?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROPOSAL? LET ME TELL YOU THERE IS NOBODY DRIVING MY BLOODY CAR EXCEPT ME.”

“Now just take it easy,” said Alex. “Let’s think this thing through. You want to take her out, right?”

Duncan nodded.

“Okay then, just let her drive your car for a little bit. I think if you tell her or hint that she can drive your car, she will go out with you. In fact I bet you a tenner she will.”

Duncan was not a gambler so he didn’t accept Alex’s bet, but he did think hard about what he had said and in due course, after much arrangement twixt the three of them, a date was set up for a night when Mr. Duncan Stuart and Mrs. Susan Kennedy would go out for dinner together. Duncan could tell that Alex was almost as excited as he was!

Much as Duncan was looking forward to this outing, there was still a little nag at the back of his mind about Susan driving his car. But she had a car of her own that looked as if it had never had a ding so it should be okay. He would let her drive to the restaurant, which Susan had chosen (let the lady choose was the advice from Alex). Alex also said it had very accessible car parking so it ought to be fine—and only about 20 km down the motorway and just the one toll to get there—which was also good!

Duncan went over in his mind all the important aspects of this date just to make sure he was prepared. He calculated the mileage and the rate at which his car devoured petrol and knew just how much he would need in the tank before they set off. He would allow a little extra just to be on the safe side. He didn’t know anything about the restaurant but Alex had approved of it so it couldn’t be that expensive. He also couldn’t imagine that Susan would drink alcohol. He certainly wouldn’t, but he’d better budget for one glass of wine. Now had he missed anything? No he didn’t think so.

Susan was a little apprehensive about this outing with Duncan. She always referred to it in her mind as an outing. The word ‘date’ brought up all sorts of things she did not want to think about. It had connotations of specific activity between teenagers. She shook her head and shuddered as she thought about it. It was just going to be a pleasant ‘outing’ with a friend—and a friend with a terrific car.

Susan had not explained everything to her new friend about her past life such as the fact that she had several past convictions for speeding and one, which was her pride and joy, for street racing. She still had a copy of the ticket, written by the policeman in the car she had failed to notice behind her, and she still had the receipt for the eventual fine. Every now and then she thought about getting them framed and hanging them on the wall.

When Susan and her late husband had their Leyland P76 and worked in Canberra she would take the car to work. On Canberra’s wide, straight, well built streets she was always on the lookout for a likely street race. All it took with many a young male driver, (they were always young and male) would be a certain look from Susan and perhaps a forward signal with her left forefinger and they would be on for a race as soon as the lights changed. There were few young males put in this position that ever refused the challenge. She loved her Leyland P76 and invariably she won the race.

If they were having a good time she might tell Duncan the story tonight.

“A DEAL’S A DEAL,” said Duncan and tossed the keys of his car to Susan as they left on their date/outing. “JUST TAKE IT EASY—OKAY?”

“Stop worrying about your car. It’s safe with me and I’ll tell you more about that after!” Susan settled herself into the seat, checked out all the controls again and started the engine. My God, she could feel the engine move on its mountings from the torque as she revved it. The vibration travelled from her behind cupped tightly in the bucket seat, up and throughout her entire body. She hadn’t felt this kind of excitement for years.

“NEVER MIND THE REVVING—JUST A WASTE OF PETROL!”

Susan said nothing, she just engaged reverse and travelled gently out onto the road.

She drove very quietly, observing all speed limits on the way to the restaurant and parked the car beautifully, engaged the hand brake and shut down the engine.

“Did I pass my test, Sir?” Susan asked as she dropped the keys into her bag.

“YEAH, YEAH, THAT WAS FINE,” said Duncan as they walked towards the restaurant.

The restaurant was nearly full, and, as Alex had directed, Duncan was able to let the Maître d’ know his name and let Susan walk first, following behind the Maître d’ to their table.

Well, he knows a bit about the protocols, Susan thought, good man! Soon they were seated quietly, each studying the menu. They had not spoken since entering the restaurant. There was a background buzz together with a rather large loud birthday party at a nearby table. As Susan looked around she was glad to see that she didn’t recognise anyone. They both began to study the menu. Duncan was the first to speak!

“GOD ALMIGHTY, HAVE YOU SEEN THE PRICE OF THIS STUFF? THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS. I’LL JUST HAVE THE SOUP!”

There was now a deathly hush! As Susan looked up from the menu it felt as though all the eyes in the place were on them, especially from those at the next table.

“Oh I don’t know Duncan, it’s not too bad. It’s probably that you just haven’t been out much lately.” She was also able to force a laugh along with this comment but inside she was seething. How dare he embarrass me like this, she thought? The old bugger asks me out and then complains about the cost! The restaurant buzz gradually returned as everyone involved themselves in their own affairs again.

“Look, I’ll pay the bill,” she said as loudly as she dared in the hope that Duncan could hear her above the general hubbub. He heard her all right!

“OH YOU’LL PAY WILL YOU? — WELL I SUPPOSE THAT’S OKAY.” And before she could hush him or say anything else he followed up with “IN THAT CASE I’LL HAVE THE STEAK!”  And those at the next table stopped their conversation once again but they weren’t quiet very long. They were getting used to the loud old man at the next table. And so now everyone knew that Susan was paying. Not only that but paying for the most expensive dish on the menu. God, the man had a hide on him! But Susan decided there and then to make the best of it and already had a plan in mind to get her own back on the miserable old sod!

Susan took charge and she quietly ordered the meal including a bottle of wine—even though she knew Duncan didn’t drink.

God he looks so smug, Susan thought to herself, forcing a smile across the table to Duncan. He is obviously okay with me paying. He is probably thinking that he has paid for the petrol and the wear and tear on his bloody car. Just you wait, mate!

There was no conversation during the meal. They both ate and Susan drank at least half the bottle on her own as she imagined the journey home. She couldn’t wait.

They were out of the restaurant within the hour and Susan led the way across the car park. She did not look back and had the keys in her hand by the time she reached the car. Duncan was a short distance behind. He was walking slowly searching all his pockets.

“HOLD ON,” he shouted, “CAN”T FIND THE BLOODY KEYS.”

“Okay, I’ve got them,” and Susan was in the driver’s seat with the door closed by the time Duncan got to the car.

“NO, NO, YOU’RE NOT DRIVING,” said Duncan as he stood outside the driver’s door. “YOU’VE HAD TOO MUCH TO DRINK.”

Susan’s reply was to wind down the driver’s window a tad, and say loudly in reply, “Just watch me, mate,” and she started the car and began to reverse out of the car park. Duncan had his hand on the driver’s door trying to open it but he couldn’t of course and so changed his tack and ran around to the passenger door thinking Susan’s plan was to drive off without him in his car. He managed to get into the car and had just closed the door when he was thrown back into his seat as Susan gunned the car out of the car park!

“GOD ALMIGHTY, TOO FAST, TOO FAST, SLOW DOWN, SLOW DOWN—OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!” Duncan was struggling to put on his seat belt. He obviously felt the need of it.

Susan completely ignored any speed limit and drove through the built up area towards the motorway at near 100 kph where she could. Duncan’s loud voice all the time in her ear, pleading with her to, “SLOW DOWN, SLOW DOWN.” Poor Duncan didn’t know, or couldn’t think of, anything else to say. On the down ramp onto the motorway, just as it began to parallel the main carriageway, a large Mercedes was on the inside lane about 15 metres in front of the Camaro and doing at least 100 kph. Susan didn’t think for a second, she double-declutched changing down a gear in a flash. The engine screamed and the car leapt forward. They made it onto the motorway about 10 metres in front of the Mercedes and all they could hear was Susan changing up again into top gear and the blaring of the Mercedes horn in protest. Duncan’s mouth was open but there was no sound coming out—at least none that Susan heard. Both hands were clasped onto the strap of his safety belt.

On the motorway Susan negotiated her way into the right lane and put the accelerator to the floor. Had Duncan been brave enough to look at the speedometer he would have learned that they were hovering between 180 and 190 kph. As it was, he must have been aware that the red speed limit signs across the motorway that say 100 kph were flashing past at a helluva speed and he released one hand from the seat belt long enough to point to an overhead orange light notice that read ‘Speed cameras are in . . .’ but then they were past!

Susan slowed down as they entered the village in deference to all the folks that went to bed at around 8 pm. She parked outside Duncan’s house and left the keys in the car as she climbed out.

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